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Prose Poetry Dedication Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Dedication

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

When the Time is Right

For nearly 45 years I never spoke of  that day; the emotional pain was too great.
I simply hid it in the lining of my soul, knowing in my heart you didn’t stand
a chance with me as I stood in the rubble of my life and let you go, wrapped
in my heart with a wish and a prayer- all I had to give. And for 45 years, 
I dreamed of you and me playing in fields of daisies under blue skies as
I cried inside, wondering where you where, and if there was a part of you  
that somehow would remember me- would remember the bond we made 
in that single moment we shared together, when the nurse held you up to the
nursery window for me to see as I  stood on wobbly legs, with my trembling 
hands holding unto a pole with a dripping IV?

I prayed. Lord! How I prayed that someday, by the grace of  God, 
you’d come back to me when the time was right. 

So I lived my life. Got back up and crawled out of the rubble that was me, 
and lived with half a heart that somehow still managed to beat.

With the passing of  time, I bloomed; sometimes red, sometimes blue when I thought of all the years we could have shared as I sat and listened to family and friends 
tell me of the joyful times they shared with their children, grandchildren 
and great-grandchildren as, I  smiled and  cried inside and dreamed of you, 
and all the years of your life I  missed and, all the years I would never know. 
It was then I realized I was a very lonely soul. So, I wrote and wrote and
wrote, never suspecting for a moment that  nearly 45 years later,
you would find me through a poem I wrote for you.

I know I can never replace the mother and father who raised you, for the bonds
of time shared  are  much stronger than blood. Yet knowing what a wonderful 
women you turned out to be, beautiful, intelligent, compassionate  
and now with a daughter  of your own, is enough for me, and someday  
when the time is right for you, I hope and pray , we will meet again.

                                               ~~~~~~

                                                 Elaine George 


This is a true story.  It was through this forum ( poetrysoup ) my birth daughter found me. 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Galaxies Came Between

He'd be typing away on his desk
with blueprints for the next big thing,
While I'd be staring off into the azure sky
appreciating the "insignificant" things

You really are a genius
in your field of technicalities,
with which you thoroughly water;
A wife, a place of your own,
and a destination in mind

Me?

You'll find me in the corner
(no not a corner... think rounded edges,
much more safe)
Half past ten, still in bed,
with rolls of cash in a Ziploc bed
(I'm not dealing and I'm sorry if I gave you that
impression... more likely
just a descendant of Scrooge)

Your perfectly organized life
(my just screw it attitude)
Well I must say you are on your way,
but where exactly too?

I solemnly wish
we had, but one thing
in common, dearest brother,
Even with the knowledge
that I wrote this for you
I'm sure deep down
you'd think this quite sappy

And being the person that I am
I'd immediately think of tree metaphors
(now what what rhymes with cedar?)

And being the person you are
you'd probably just go about your day
wondering about the latest Apple product

You live next door
and yet somehow
galaxies came between us,
Practical you gathered sticks and stones
for your shelter here on Earth

(I was too busy daydreaming
on Mars)

From the moment I opened my eyes
and peaked my little head out
from the pool in the backyard,
we were brothers, through and through

... so why do I have this nagging urge
to shake your hand and ask



"Have we met?"


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Listen To The Unsaid

 
"Because I Love You."
 

     Because I love you
      together, we could
       sleep on our bed head to head,
          listen to the unsaid 
            light the flame without a name.
                                                    
Because I love you
together, we could 
   pretend its real
     listen to the unsaid 
        blow the snow & steal the wind.
                   
Because I love you
together, we could
   dream and scream 
      listen to the unsaid
         when resting in our nest.
                  
Because I love you
together, we could 
    watch the tide 
       listen to the unsaid
         while sitting side by side.
                  
Because I love you
together, we could
     be from the very few
           listen to the unsaid
                  as we only knew.
                        
Because I love you
together, we could
    hold hands just stand,
         listen to the unsaid
             then dance to the band.
                     
                                          I Will Always Love You
                                                     Together. 
                                                              . 2/6/2013
                                                             By. Therese Bacha


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mama's Song

I wander through my journey, interspersed with joy and pain, always grateful 
Though not by choice, some days are somber; yet others follow with abundant joy
In my solitude, memories come alive with the recall of some old song from another time
When life was carefree in everyway! No worries and not one care!
First heard as a child; the title now lost to me, so I’ll call it "Mama’s Song"
It’d start off soft and slow; its rhythm smooth, graceful, incredibly beautiful!
Then lingering on my mind, gently reviving memories lost somewhere in yesterday
It’d calm my spirit, take me away- away from countless, mundane tasks
All necessary things, but they arrest my days, imposing, threatening, vying for attention

There’s a constant battle that rages within, and I often ask, “Should I lay down this burden  
of joyless pursuits which hinder valid expressions from my heart?  Should I?
And to what profit?  Surely monetary gain is a necessity, but at what cost to my spirit??
Were I guardian only to myself, I’d simply choose to live lean somewhere by the sea
I would cast my net for food, and barter for grain and herbs.  However, the compass is set
So, I escape in the melodies, with my eyes closed, and fly high, above this terrain
Sailing on the massive wings of a Condor, unafraid; over rugged pathways and
Jagged edges of mountains that rise above the seas, far away from this place of constant 
weariness, on my way to a place more tranquil, somewhere in yesterday
I hover over rivers that give life to green valleys below, quite an amazing view to see!
Like black velvet ribbons they meander through the changing landscape
At an angle they shimmer like fine crystal in the afternoon sun, and in one breath,
I am there! At Mama’s feet, studying her as she sews dresses for my sisters and me 
I watch, I listen to her, softly singing; feel her contentment and peace through the song
Never complaining, never too tired to go beyond the call, to love and care for family 
Teaching by example, using less words, her quiet spirit, ever steadfast, strong
Those times when I feel I can not go on, when afraid I'll falter, I still hear the the melody 
and "Mama's Song"!

Note:  For Mama - Thank you for putting us first! For the many lessons learned which we nowteach our children.  RIP w/Papa!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Harvest Of The Seed


  
  Each field is barren white with snow, 
around me blind, they know.
I see.
Darkness brings the haze of dawn, 
how many must it show.

While many miles of web it's barb, 
my flesh, 
it tastes and grows.

Bringing home the wheat, 
ground white, 
and powdered souls, 
spread open far and wide.

Touching only youth, 
not men, 
Each gem from stone, 
pours out and lost our seed it keeps.
No more.


j.McC. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Gertrude -- Gertie -- Gertrude Stein

-- Re:  Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, Rue de Fleurus #27, Paris --

What would Gertrude.What Gertrude.What, Gertie?Have thought.Have thought what
thought?Thought thought driving,forward,remorselessly.Remorseless Remorse?Forward.Never reverse;no reverse.No.No remorse.Remorseless,spurning reverse,seated.High!Seated high in Auntie.Then in Godiva seated. Looming.Enormous.
Looming enormous.Unsinister presence. Certain presence.Definite.Definitely not sinister.  Positively looming;enormous in brown.Brown,in brown corduroy,driving Paris.
In Paris,through Paris.Looming high in Paris in Godiva.With Alice, quiet beside her.
Quiet; always, Alice.Alice always. And zipping, about -- coming to Rue de Fleurus 27.
Zipping to Rue de Fleurus.To 27. And Alice so able.Able Alice, each a.m. transcribing.Able Alice typing.Automatic Gertrude.Typing Gertrude.Great Gertrude.GeniusGertrude.Talking Gertrude.Genius talking.Great brown Gertrude;Gertie to Alice.
Absorbing, talking, buying art --- buying Matisse.Absorbing Matisse.Showing Matisse.Banishing Matisse.Selling Matisse,collecting Picasso.Great Gertrude -- genius Gertrude at court, holding court at Rue de Fleurus 27.And Leo.Gone Leo.No Leo at Rue de
Fleurus.Not at 27 After Leo, after Mr. Stein, after brother Leo.But there was Alice.Alice
was there Among Braques.And Cezanne.(Not Matisse.)No longer Matisse, but Picasso.And Picassos, Picassos, Picassos!And Alice; alongside, was Alice.Next to, was Alice.Alice
next Gertrude,Gertie, G. --- Gertrude, Miss Stein. Genius Gertrude Stein Quiet Alice
always.And a great Gertrude.A great brown Gertrude.A leviathan. A passing ship; a
great leviathan.Gertie, a genius.A hugeness.A shibboleth.But to Alice, just Gertie.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Only For You

Only For You

Known, nothing will be written about me
In any poem, story or essay

Known, will not receive any co-operation from Governments
Any honest or dishonest award...

Nobody will burn incense on the day of my death
Except my wife!

Nobody will celebrate my birthday
My birthday celebration will not happen...

Although I am walking...thinking...creating...

Only for You....Only for You...
Only for You...My dream future...

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WOMAN

Day by day we pray to stay alive, ladies, the face of this world is slowly changing, no longer do we need to hold our heads in disgrace, and it’s about time we take our place. No longer let us be connived, nor let us forget the silent cries in trees that our sista’s souls are still hangin’, see the true in others denies rather waistin’ yourself complaining. Nor keep us from strength to stand by man, strength to leave if struck by hand, no more bruises upon our face for we also help to make this race. No more scars upon our souls for only marked with beauty moles and let our stories be fortold for we are women who behold, a key to inspiration and moral pride, coming out of our hide, Gods rules are to which one should only apply, but most chose pain to keep inside, left alone and died. Your elimination of God’s creation, we are but faith to this nation. Men of ignorance we are sick of belligerence, cuz we prove intelligence, cuz where there’s no woman there is no man strong and on this land we belong as distinct and separate persons walk along. Before your ignorance get the respect that you so vainly seek, practice what you claim til' all things you do or speak shall in reality be the same, nor let us be so eased to blame and give us our well earned past due fame, all musical and sorrowful stories contained. My people, make me proud to know your name and I’ll return the favour by doing the same.
For all men whom think us fast, remember the good ones always finish last, we women are still raped future and past so personally you can kiss my ... In us your babies wombs all your life fluids we consume, to mothers growing up too soon, to those mommas babies and daddy’s maybes.....REMEMBER, when your round to actin' shady, we are the ladies of this land, women with pride we stand, I am a WOMAN and for equal respect, I would do it again!!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

RISING WITH THE GLORY OF THE SUN

Rising with the glory of the sun,
But never to go down with it,
I'll fly higher and higher,
Side by side with eagles among the clouds,
I'll tarry until the day is done,
I'll soar waiting patiently to reign,
With the moon among the stars all through the night,
And eager to rise and shine with the sun again.

(c) 2010


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who Is The Poet

Who Is The Poet

Poet is a different personality in the universe,
Whose voices come from soul
Not lip, throat, heart, brain....

Truly voice of the Almighty
And every voice is universal truth
Poet is not a part of any country, political parties and ism
Poet creates different universe and true-ism

And true leader, guide of the people in the universe.

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Today God Asked

do you love her?
cant you see it in my tearfull eyes
and when i am angry
what hurts me inside
what are my worries 
and why do i cry
why cant i just forget the things
i want to hide from my pride
what are these prayers
while walking and wondering
why do i suffer 
from yearning and longing
as if grief is not enough

why is it that i refuse 
to be comforted by anyone else
why do i feel so sorry for myself
no one seems to know my pain
nor does the one i love
when my voice should make it so plain
it doesn't have a choice
it can feel her name
is it a greater sin to covet
what i wish i had
and is blaming God, all together bad
why am i constantly reminded
that it is time to let go
yet hoping, always for an open door
and while i suffer all these pains
i never know if they are for loss or gain
when or if they will ever end
or do they just come again and again
do i love her?!!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mort De La Mort, The Death Of Death

There is something intoxicating about the absolute stillness of night
I am most at home, at ease, the tell-tale heart of a vampire
Indeed, I have never been anything but, born into this life a demon
Spawned into this life by hate and resentment

I have fed upon everyone I have ever known, everyone I can ever remember
All that was human in those around me, seldom have I not destroyed

I have been merciless, I have been death

 

Tonight, the hunter becomes the hunted and who would have known it
Magnificent a creature, a natural born killer, meeting her bloody demise

What was a heart of stone has now started beating to the sound of human dreams

I can only thirst for one thing, with satisfaction impossible elsewhere

Him, my reaper donned in perfect flesh
A powerful being that has broken me so entirely, I have been forced into mortality
I am a mere shadow of the monster I used to be

 

The tragedy that is seeing life with the hearts eyes, I offer myself to him completely.

I will not move, I will not run and I will not hide

Tear me to pieces like I have torn all I have ever encountered, I yearn for it

Every cell in my body begs for our final dance, the Waltz to my own demise
Now, to look upon you would be worth a thousand deaths, and I invite them all
Find me, take me, end me.
I will rest in the memory of your flawless face for eternity, as hell welcomes me with
open arms.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Immorality

It was not the deceit that I was bothered by but instead the lies and the injustice 
through false preach and practice of a rule considered golden. I in turn vowed 
vengeance upon the lass that felt wise and sly in the breaking of said rule and set 
forth to derive a plan, the plan a lesson that would teach so deep as to chill the 
blood; ensuring the rule never to be broken again and allowing for its return to 
golden. The plan was drawn slowly and carefully like the execution of such plan will 
be. Creating multiple roads for investigation all with dead ends, false starts and 
sharp surprise; all the while carefully through time, inch by overlapping inch in 
stealth towards climax. False clues for fun with hints of no relevance, never ever 
shall I stray from what will be done. Day bled into day and so forth finds me fine 
tuning from evil edge to beautiful core what is already I am sure a masterpiece of 
plans. Early stages of watching and documenting habits as well as the habitats and 
lives of those listed, hundreds of random keys tried in locks, finding fits. Alas! Ten 
keys too turn, ten doors open at will, silent will.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Mama

Dedicated to my mother who, in my youth, I did not fully understand.. 


I wish my callings be sweet to thee; 
Abate not Oh lady the tenderness I'd missed 
Prolong thy tenderness and never a dreary; 
Your genteel should I suck from thy breast. 
From being a toddler remember I; 
That not so often I heard thy lullaby. 
And thence I asked Oh whence I came? 
I sought for answer; I didn't think ‘twas fine. 
Then years rolled by I attended school; 
Why art thou the source of my ridicule? 
The boys would laugh by what thou hinted; 
That I didn't fit a sport; I couldn't hit a target. 
It confused me much – yeah it hurt me badly 
The way thou saw me was never comely. 
Mama! Oh mama! I beseech thee 
Tell me the truth in anyway thou tell me 
Thou needest not to be subtle in telling the truth 
Let it be that I can have peace in my youth. 
The future is waiting and thither I goest 
Wish me luck; I don't want to be the lowest. 
Oh Mama, Willful as thou art, bestow in me some courage 
That even in my lowliness, I can live my life the fullest… 


                                    Date & Time of Writing: 
                                    October 4, 1988 
                                    12:03am - 10:10am 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

BEYOND by Anna Lo P

..beyond fantasy, beyond reality
  beyond past, beyond present
  beyond belief, beyond faith 
  beyond imperfection, beyond beauty
  beyond youth, beyond gray.

  beyond joy, beyond hurt
  beyond honesty, beyond lies
  beyond truth, beyond doubts
  beyond humility, beyond pride
  beyond good, beyond evil.
  
  beyond kindness, beyond cruelty  
  beyond happiness, beyond sadness
  beyond possession, beyond obsession
  beyond boundaries, beyond time
  beyond death, beyond Life.

  To surpass all these, lies both their Fate.
  
  He will find Her, to have a purpose & see the light
  She will find Him, to have a meaning & feel the life
  Fortuity, Serendipity, Fate and Destiny 
  They'll meet again, holding onto their Love & Faith...

  ...xoxo...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wish

Wish

Seven years I’ve been waiting for
A Christmas with you I wish for
Just like the other years that passed by
My wish for Christmas never gone by

A thought bothered my mind
How do you feel fine?
How do I feel fine?
If it breaks your soul it breaks mine.

Everything you have to sacrifice
A tear drops in your eyes
I wish I could make it dry
But I too can’t stop myself to cry

I hope he will grant my wish
If not now, maybe next year
I would still be waiting here
The same wish that I wished.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

First Kiss

The instant our eyes met we knew the kiss was imminent. We smile playfully all the 
while in pursuit of this aforementioned kiss. Each time we part ways we audition 
attempts at the kiss in know of its accelerated position. The instance was right, I 
knew it would be this night that I without trepidation, boundary or fear. Free from 
hesitation and wonder of return, tonight will be the night of concern. At suns set I 
stretch forward my arm, a coward no more. We adore the charm of each other and 
are ready to explore, risking harm without worry all kiss" long and longed have I for 
the moment on approach. I chose you as my love to share after approving smile this 
incredible moment of kiss. This here is the moment of truth, I can hear your heart 
beat in your ear, the same ear I now peer through into your mind and find it's true 
that all fear has disappeared. My fingers brush through a handful of your fair hair, 
together we share one final breath of single air. Our lips are now erect and on direct 
intent of meeting, millimetres remain. The time for our minds to change has past, at 
last the moment is here. Your eye sheds the tear of fears farewell, I taste the swell 
flavour of "please kiss me" and I do because I have wanted to kiss you so badly too.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CHRISTMAS GIFTS FOR MODEST POETS



Charlotte, the imagist, I give you a dream, one that leaves you stunned upon the waking, for this is your poetry. Your stanzas dance with meanings, symbols in cymbals, the red in what’s read. How your lines spin, fly and fall. Sleep, now, and experience the rationalized fantastical that you pen. Come, wonder-wander in the missed-mist, soon.

Elizabeth, the young of heart, I give to you an extra hour a day. Poet and painter, stretching each minute dawn to dusk, you capture romantic renderings in watercolor and rhyme. Darling lady, how you outwit time! Your hands are never still nor is your imaginative, active mind. Lizzy, the sun should yield to you. How bright you live.

Gwendolen, the kind, I give you a fairy ring where anything may happen. What whimsy you bring, that and a quiet harmony. Your poetry shifts from funny to thoughtful, tender always, never rough. When we are shadowed, when the dark rumbles, you are the will o’ wisp that tickles. The ethereal deserves the magical. Go, then secrets reveal!

Joann, the all seeing, I give you a frame that you may use however you wish. You ink words sparingly, precisely, to capture your view(s). Your lines need no thick border, no gold embossing. Simplicity is art, this you know, so all I offer is an appreciative casing, a mosaic of global glass, which like your verse, only clarifies what it magnifies. 

Kathryn, the humble, I give you a candle, wide and tall. It’s wax is unlike your poetry, miniatures that breathe  sighs. Readers immediately recognize honesty, their natural beauty. The candle is for a window sill or whatever table rebirths those memories. May it glow like you do, illuminating all those daily joys, tears, glimmers, flickers and all.





*Poets, Charlotte Puddifoot, Elizabeth Wesley, Gwendolen Rix, Joann Grisetti and Kathryn Collins are those quiet(er) souls who move amongst those of us who are loud, tankard slamming, wordy misfits. Their poetry is special. Each has a strong voice, a style recognizable. Bless you Modest Poets, and Merry Christmas to each of you!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Prayer

From the solitude of the clouds, the safety of the heavens,
I have started falling.
Swept to ground by forces stronger than anything I have even known,
his arms, they’re calling.

Oh, to be a flower in the bloom of his love!

The irrationality, the insanity which lies amidst my overwhelmed heart,
not even my head can reason.
The days have become little more than a blur of perpetual motion,
I am completely devoured within his season.

Oh, light me in your sunshine, paint me in your snow!

Fear has become the devoted lover and friend my endless nights endure,
a poison running through my veins.
Constant thoughts of my own shortcomings and my putrid flaws,
potential happiness they stain.

Oh, I will fight to be the reflection of perfection you deserve!

Still I am, not moving an inch, and every night I pray of god and the universe,
I beg of you all, let this be.
I have never in all my years yearned for a mind, body and soul this deeply,
that face, forever, is all I wish to see.

Oh, let this be the reality I see in my most perfect of daydreams!

 

Amen.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Soldier: An Emblem of Sacrifice

We know only those faces,
We have seen in history.
Yet countless strange faces are there
Who fought for the country.
We can never repudiate 
Selfless sacrifices of those men,
So I am paying tribute to all those
Martyrs and soldiers through my pen.
	
Indulged in your duties,
Far away from your family and loving ones.
You fight for our
Dreams, hopes and liberty,
Strutting boldly amidst the raging guns.
Whether it is scorching rays of Sun
Or it is blood freezing cold,
You fight relentlessly
Standing so strong and bold.
You are the true sons of the nation.
For the sake of our lives,
Irrigating this land with your blood
Is your only passion.

Time will never obliterate the fact…
You stand for us like an adobe.
With lion like courage and firmness of temper,
You have made our tricolor 
Shimmer throughout the globe.
Death can’t cease you to live
As you live even after dying.
I salute your martyrdom,
For you never got older.
Fighting to keep us free,
It is the stiffest thing 
To be you- A SOLDIER......




Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope You Know I'll Always Love You

I am what you call a hopeless 
romantic,
But im also a lost lovers cause, my 
heart belongs to another
Yet in my head a love triangle starts 
to form, the girl I love doesn’t love 
me
She holds the heart to another and 
mine caged to the floor,
She isn’t afraid to fight for what she 
wants, not even when it comes to 
leaving another man torn
Trust me she’s happy, as that boy 
holds her heart ever so close
Seeing what I shouldn’t I smile as I 
wear my blind fold,
Blind to everything around, lifeless 
staring into air
My train of thought running so fast, 
the second I stop you’ll hear a crash
Derailing my hope, for ever finding a 
love so pure & rare
Wishing I could hold the hand of the 
lover who stole my flame,
Wish I could change the last days in 
which we parted ways,
Realizing now that we can never be 
the same
Finally saying it out loud as tears run 
down my face
You stole my happiness, as I walked 
away that day
But it’s because as of what you said 
I guessed I changed,
Now every relationship has just be 
the same,
No one can seem to bring back that 
flame,
Because a love likes ours comes 
once in a lifetime
Well at least it does to me,
But I mean you’re happy with who 
your with 
I mean I only wrote this as I heard 
exchanging “I love you” flow from 
each of your lips.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Diamond Toes

When life seems empty
And there’s no place to go
Unlike most artists I became Salvador Dali
 My Life daily tasks as a poet
It’s allow my spirit to go from high to low


 With my blessed hands and my tired feet 
  a hard working peasant woman with diamond toes
  I set the countdown each passing day while I slave away.

Those Infectious bole place in high positions,
 Governor of all the Nurses
Using their authorities to weaken the spirits of the peasant
And the down trodden souls who line your corridors both day and night

 however, this  burden that seem too heavy to bear now....(bibilical
God will lifts away on the wing of prayers.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sandy Winds Roar

Sandy ‘winds roars, deadly Sandy roar ashore
As the night darken, the people screams no more! No more!
You Ocean whore!
Along the broad walks Hurricane Sandy barreled towards land. ...
Ripping two beautiful little angels from their mother’s hand

 Cockamamie dwellers, fled from their homes 
The high winds were no match for fowl, beast or man

Sandy winds roars, Sandy roar ashore
 Leaving tons of sand;
 On the main land
 Roof tops, the barbed wire, with sharped edges were defeated
 Mortal men lost again to winds of fate.
Sandy winds’ roars, she whistles; she roars ashore.

The long summer of 2012 became a dream
While our footprints fade in the sand 
 
  Our hearts ripped apart
  We prayed in the dark. : For calm and peace
Everywhere she went it was darkness
  Our hearts ripped apart
  We prayed in the dark. : For calm and peace
Please, please! Sandy spared us please.




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your Hands

You might think it’s strange.

But along with my seemingly awkward gestures, and my dazed expression…

You’d never know that I was paying attention.

Paying attention to the way your hands rested in your lap.

As if they were waiting for another perfect mold to keep it safe, warm, protected.

Your hands…

Pink, ivory, delicate.

Soft, course, sturdy.

A dark scar bruising your right ring finger.

Your tiny fingers in a knot, looking for release.

Folded like the pages of the Bible. Holy, yet unspoken.

I just want to know what it feels like to have a hand like yours.

Do you think people would assume that I was delicate too?

Fragile? Feminine? Dainty like a flower?

Why are women so defined by the texture of their hands?

Why am I glanced over because we held hands that one time and yours were clammy, mine were rough, and you looked at me.

You looked at me and it was not a look of conviction, nor a look of disgust.

It was a look so much worse.

The one expression that let me know that I was simply not enough.

No. Bath and body works just can’t fix the callousness from my steel guitar.

Or the dry palms from scrubbing bathroom floors.

The things I’ve had to do with these hands have been strenuous, crafty, and beautiful.

You might think it’s strange, but I just love you for your hands.

Pink, ivory, delicate.

And his.

Clammy, dark, indifferent.

You’d never know that I was paying attention.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ApplefortheTeachor

 ApplefortheTeachor 
ApplefortheTeachor 
 
MAS come on down front you have been chosen by the frozen tender tundra to eat the 
apple i can give her. Staccatto beating in the background leaning to the south moving in the 
night polish wont make green apple to shine. The love GOD has for all of us in is SON Jesus is 
also inside us in our Souls inside our Spirit. He did this even though none of us are worth this 
a freely given gift. Something that opens up inside us each and every day. Better then the 
food we eat the apple red and green. Better then what people give on Christmas Day the 
packages wrapped and placed underneathe the tree dont open that dont shake it up dont let 
Johnny see. Perhaps its all the things that boy has stored up all year long some new toy he 
saw on television laying on the lawn. He never picks it up now or plays for very long. This 
Christmas please think of how the Son Of God must feel when we ignore his gift to us. I feel 
so guilty of his love inside this green forgotten apple in the bucket in the snow. Sorrow not 
the answer the apple catches worms so the food stored in the bucket doesnt turn to molded 
into love when I get hungry having none I go to cuppoard never barren there. I cannot eat 
much fruit anymore but mix the trail will fill me up when there is none to find in town. For 
CHristmas is two missing weeks after Thanksgiving missing one. SUnday on the November 
twenty nine untill Friday December Eightteenth then back for three more days then Monday 
the eleventh of January I solidify for more solid days activities perhaps the apple won. Bright 
red and polished up for teachor loves. Look for me with love. 




Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Love You

The memories, they do nothing less than kill me now,
every one comes bearing arms and how they shoot!
Never missing and always aimed, right at my heart.
I am forever throwing myself before the firing squad.
Oh, how I can barely believe I ever held you, you of all the stars!
Those nights feel less and less real as the days goes on without you.
No amount of lifetimes however, can erase the fingerprints you left behind.
The way you sang to me, the songs you wrote, that guitar.
I was convinced my heart was growing wings, ready to fly out of my chest!
The time when you kissed my scars, every one, you kissed them all.
Named me your patchwork perfection, and I rested easy in my skin,
for the first time, in all my decades of existence.
I close my eyes to see that cherub face, it smiles at me still.
The same smile I fell into deeply, head over heel,
the first night we met amidst the first lights of twilight.
My god, how he crafted you with all the love in the world.
You radiated of it!
Still my skin glows, with the colours of your soul, eternal.
They may have taken your body away from me, but your heart,
our hearts...I still feel you inside mine. Tightly entwined.
I often wonder if I will ever be able to love another,
it's been years and the tears still stain my face with longing of you.
If only I could give up everything, all of it means nothing in comparison.
Reality tells me there are no deals I can make, no offer that won't be refused.
Well, these murderous memories, I will hold on to them for eternity
since they are all I have left.
Thankfully, I have learned to love the pain.
The exquisite pain that was born of losing you,
and now takes the form of my bullet riddled heart.

I love you.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

For Love

If you love me very small
I will give you a new pen

If you love me more
I will give you poet Rabindranath Tagore

After that you love me
I will give you my intuition 

Known , you love me
I give you the poem

Now if you love me
I will give you two drops of tears

It's the ability to give by me...

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ALWAYS A CHAMPION

I was born into a whole wide world
With feeble limbs and simple mind
At entrance, I could feel the heat
Suggesting another world different from where I was
Opening my eyes, I could see the faces of warriors
With hands to battle though with smiling faces
I could feel a great burden on me
I knew it was time to face my destiny
It kept ringing on my mind you are a champion, born to win
With my guardians, I began to learn
Took a step, one after the other
When I fell, I rose to walk, limp or do both
Muttered what I have to say hoping to communicate
I began to advance in height and knowledge
With great sensitivity to my environment
I felt love and hatred, brutality and friendship
I heard lies and deception, sincerity and truth
I saw light and darkness, day and night
I learned the right from wrong but found it difficult to do the right
Because the system was stuffed with evil
Since the nature could not accommodate vacuum
I chose the right because I knew my destiny
I chose to profess the truth despite the challenges faced
The opposition was great that I had to remind myself of my destiny
Born to war, destined to conquer and win
Always a champion stamped from above

(c) 2010


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Holy Passion

ALERT: A carpenter's son is loose in the Temple
Birds flutter, animals hustle, merchants scream.
The zeal for Jesus' Father's house consumes Him
As the place for foreigners to pray had become a zoo.
 
ALERT: A prophet is setting up for a Baal battle.
Baal's priests even cut themselves yet no fire.
After taunting, Elijah fills his altar with water.
Calling on God, fire consumes and people bow.
 
ALERT: An old man is building a huge boat ship.
Without a cloud in the sky and only son's to help.
When finished the animals come on call to board.
Rain starts, doors close – 8 saved by holy passion.
 
ALERT: Jesus is telling a tax collector he'll join him for dinner.
Heedless of the Pharisees despising and the crowd's surprise.
Zacchaeus totally changes – offering to multiply stolen money.
A single sinner saved multiplies even more this holy passion.
 
ALERT: Peter plus are preaching in the Temple again.
After being imprisoned for just that, now rearrested.
Whipped by the authorities, the disciples rejoice -
For they've been counted worthy to suffer with Christ.

ALERT: Daniel's praying openly even after it's become illegal.
The royal advisers gleefully have the king throw him to the lions.
Strangely they don't seem hungry till after Daniel is pulled out.
So the king openly praises Daniel's God for this amazing miracle.
 
DOUBLE ALERT: Jesus is talking to a Samaritan woman!!!!
Breaking cultural barriers to share the message of salvation
To her who has been married 5 times and is living with the 6th.
She believes he's the Messiah and brings the town to Christ!
 
ALERT: Paul's going back into the same town that stoned him.
He's preaching again after shipwreck, jail, beatings, and such.
Persecution seems to encourage Paul that he's doing the right.
Passionately following the Savior who turned Him 180 degrees.
 
ALERT: Bible translators burned at the stake for God's Word.
Missionaries avoid death and disease long enough to share life.
Stirring Holy Passion in receptive people who repeat the cycle.
Changing cultures in bondage into those sharing Jesus' love.
 
ALERT: What passion has the Lord put on your heart? Mine?
Can we pray to see His will find its way in our everyday lives
So the lost shall see, hear, find Christ and grow to share Him?
Eternity is forever, this life is not. Fill us Lord with holy passion.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Woke up from the nightmare

I woke up from the curiosity
And slipped down from my bed
I crashed down my left leg
and too injured my head

It needed so much aid
So I decided to 
get it fast
And I ran to the door
Got out from the 
room as vast

It surely was so serious
It made great a pain
Made me bleed when I 
Stepped out in the rain

I was going to shout
when it came in front
It was the blackest night
and there came a grunt

And I was stunned to
Hear that type of sound
And I ran violently
From the night made me bound

And slipped down from my bed
I realized it was a dream
And again crashed my head
And saw another dream

(Jamshaid Ghani)
25-11-2012


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A TRUE DESERVER

Thanks for being my life,
Which I could live my own way.
You deserve my breath that beats my heart.

Thanks for being my mother,
 You nurtured me from roots of my life.
You deserve my soul that you’re only by birth.

Thanks for being my father,
You sacrificed your big smile even for my small dreams.
You deserves my company whether in your bliss or in pain.

Thanks for being my elder,
You’ve given me sacrament for my sacred life,
You deserve my respect which is really for you.

Thanks for being my teacher,
You are a reason for making me sagacious,
You deserve my wisdom that is of yours only.

Thanks for being my friend,
With you I can share my feelings,
You deserve my luck through all the paths you go.

Thanks for being my love,
With you I can lead this life of mine,
You deserve my love  in return double than yours.

But still the one is missing- A true deserver,
To whom I daily request to sanctify me, who is creator not only of mine but of all 
those mentioned above,
He deserves my entire life from when I started my life.
 You can call him in any language,
Whether as god, Allah, Jesus but the soul is same.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fallen from Grace

Fallen from grace, 
no longer do I sit high upon the pedestal that you had once put me 
No longer am I seen as idol or mentor
Nor wanted as provider or protector 
But now looked upon as an outcast and banished from your heart. 

Betrayed by the one who now blinds you 
With a veil of lies and deceit that weighs on your young fragile heart 
With heavy words of animosity and abhorrence
 
You have been trapped in a malevolent web of hatred and retribution 
Used as an unwitting pawn in a game of emotional chess. 

Your words of respect and adoration 
Have been replaced by venomous accusations of brutality and oppression 
Taught to you by the on who now holds the chains that bind your heart. 

But I will not be vanquished or deterred 
By these attempts to falsify or dilute my love for you 
I will be strong in my resolve and true to myself
 
I will not let these misguided asseveration's destroy my confidence 
In knowing that my spirit is pure and that one day 
You will be able to break free from your restraints 
And uncover your eyes so you can distinguish the truth from the lies. 

To understand the choices that need to be made in life 
Through your own mistakes and life experiences 

Until that day comes I shall be waiting, 
Ready to stand next to you as opposed to being on that pedestal 
And walk down a new road with you as your friend and equal.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Matter of Creativity


Capital letter …

Right now, please note: it is time to dust, not write.

Dust was eating away this besieged body;
Amassing with all the misery that delights in ambush.
It crept into secret crevices,
Quietly dulling senses, as it blended in;
Softly choking, mimicking flu,
Before weaving a blanket so thick
It embraced and insulated;
Gently burying body under the weight of
An elephantine duvet with speaking tongues.

Write now, right now that house pride has succumbed to ash
As caked and empty cans and bottles decorate.
The dustman hurried by the empty drum
For rubbish barricaded the front door.

The inconvenience: to eat, drink, shop, to pay bills
Without leaving one’s desk these days.
Friends and adversaries seep out of pens,
Alphabetically springing to colourful life.
Who dares miss a thought so precious, so elusive –
Might never occur again.

So grasp it, rack it; right, left lobe battle dire emotions and reason.
Let dust prevent thoughts from leaving from whence it came.
Incarcerate all grey matters. 
Now one can write how it feels to have dust as qwerty companion.
Then fling open the door,
Let light and the world in.
Shout: “I write because I can.”  
Full stop … Exclamation mark!
End.

(PS: begin again.)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Education is Power

Who is in charge of our children's education?
What happens when parents don't do their job?
When children have no sense of reading, writing,
till they hit that school room head on?

Who is responsible to initiate, ingratiate, the word,
so language is understood from infancy and
not suddenly at five years old when
communication receives the attention it deserves?

Parents stand up and take notice
schools do not provide the only source
You are your child's first teacher
You are the one who gives him voice.

From you he will learn expression
From you he will learn who he is
From you he will learn his roots
Give him your love and attention.

Provide an environment filled with books
A place where reading takes precedence
Instill in him a joy for learning
With gentle hand and loving looks.

Model the love of learning
read on your own or with
till without even knowing
he'll develop a yearning
to know, to explore, to evaluate
all there is and more.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Forever Trail

They roam miles over hillsides
stride aimlessly cross open plains
and grassy fields
unseen and silent to all cept' those
who see with more
then their eyes,
hear with more 
then their ears,
and believe with more
then their hearts and minds.
Twilight,a gray blue haze,settles in
quiet, no sound(s) heard
but those of time almost forgotten
souls lost, blanketed by death
foot-steps hushed by time
travel now in ghostly silence
their destiny, to travel the forever trail.
Physical lives long shed in defense
of the very ground they are now one with
their cries must be heard! always honored
never to be forgotten
lest their lives were sacrificed for naught.

Melody A. Coster


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BECOMING A WOMAN

BECOMING A WOMAN

Someday...
I will be all woman...

I will be the mother...
A mommy who will tenderly care..
A mama who will prepare..
A mom who will be her "kid's saver" .

I will be the wife...
The lawfully other half..
Who will stand on his husbands behalf..

I will be the light of a home..
Each will feel happy not alone..
Giggles; laughters will be heard..
If there are tears, sure it's rare..

Despite these, still i'll be a lady..
Even if there'll be malady..
I'll remain gentle yet sturdy..
I'll be jolly ready...

I will walk in grace..
I will attempt "eloquence"..
I'll not live in tight fence..
Rather i'll be alive knowing sequences..

Even if wrinkles will steal me..
Even if illness claims my health..
Even if old age squeezes life from me..
I know, i have live as a woman..

***Hope you can check my personal blog as well: http://myblossomingthoughts.blogspot.com/... Thank you so much for reading my composition… God bless us always….. >> Olive Eloisa ? 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Sit and A Smoke

I sit there on that wooden bench, simply sitting. I am not waiting for someone, not for anything. Sunlight peeks through the leaves of the two oak trees whose branches are mingling above my head. It is pleasant to feel its warmth. There is no reason for me to be outside other than the cigarette resting between my middle and index fingers. I walked down three flights of stairs to simply sit and smoke and be judged by the occasional passersby. I lift the cigarette to my lips and place it there gently. It sort of dangles there as I light the lighter in one hand and cup the other around the flame to protect it from a nonexistent breeze in the dry Southern heat. I suck in, trying to puff, which is hard to do without a hand to steady the cigarette, but it is lit and that is what matters. I take a deep drag, deep into my lungs, deep into my soul, and I can feel the calm wash over me. The nicotine is my oxygen; I can’t breathe without it sometimes. I blow the smoke out, admiring its delicious taste and scent. I like to hold the slowly smoldering cigarette in my right hand and then smoke out of the left side of my mouth. The way I hold it makes me look like a nineteen-forties gangster. I like that. Sitting there, on my wooden bench, I react. I don’t moan in ecstasy and I don’t close my eyes in pleasure. I don’t take it for granted and I don’t have a habit. I just enjoy my cigarette, no more and no less than it ever should have been. As it slowly converts itself into smoke and ashes I think to myself that most people probably wonder why an eighteen year old in this day and age would choose to take up smoking. At least I assume that is what the occasional passerby must be thinking when they see me sitting here on this wooden bench, for no other reason than to smoke the cigarette in my hand right now. I wonder what I would say if any one of them ever bothered to ask me. Because I want to, I would reply before standing, putting out my cigarette, and walking away. I look down and see that if I took another drag I would be smoking the filter. So I stand, put out my cigarette, and walk away. I walk away from the sunlight, from the two oak trees, and that wooden bench. I walk away with my fingers smelling like nicotine and that makes me smile because I know that I will sit at that wooden bench tomorrow to do the same exact thing. I know because that is what I did yesterday.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Necklace

My mom and dad bought a necklace for me from
Scottland. It is sterling silver with a pendant and in the 
middle of it is my birthstone. A purple Amathyst stone.
I wear it all the time and never take it off, because I love it
so much and it is a gift from somewhere I have never been
to before. If I get to go there someday, I have no clue.
This necklace is my favorite one also because it is chosen 
for me, with love. I hope it never gets lost or broken, or I will
be very upset. As pretty as a sunshine on me and as bright as a 
star shining at nighttime out in the still beauty of the background.
I believe it means alot to me to keep me calm and to remember
My mom and dad, all of our good times together, as a family.
They are getting older in age , and sometime we need to
think about how much time we are spending with them.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Moments to Reflect Forgotten Valentine

 Moments to Reflect 2/5/2013
                                              The forgotten Valentine
The Lord is my shepherd and the keeper of my hope and dreams. I hold Him close to my heart so that we are never far apart. The love of my life and in this I take delight. His light will always be seen in me in all things that I do. The way I walk even when I talk. For it is not what inside of you that defiles you, it’s what comes out. 
My trust in the Lord is sight unseen and it is my faith that keeps me clean. My problems may be many but there is no need to worry; because my belief is just too strong. Can’t you see that in Jesus, you will not go wrong? Your love is so pure and clean it gives life new meaning; Rose are red, reminds me of the blood you did shed and violets are blue there no truer love than you. There a song in my soul that sends my spirit high and I will praise Jesus until the day that I die; in doing this I know that I will be by His side. Keep in mind of what Jesus divine nature is not all mine and it not hard to find. It’s the gift that the Father has given to all of mankind.
Now I tell you about a Child that was born in glory, salvation was the pearl that was bought into this world and this is His story. To the poor and the despaired He gave hope and healing, with His power reveling. Love and praise the people did give. All that He wanted was for us to stop sinning. To you I give a thousand roses and a million kisses for you are a truly my blessing. The dead He did raise, and life He gave. Those that were in power never did they honor; but instead they fear the One who was foretold as the prophecy before their eyes was unfolded. Crime they cry and this was the lie that sentences our savior on earth to die. A thousands tears is not enough I fear; so in my heart I will hold you dear.
From the Heaven to the earth He came to teach us a way, from the earth to the cross, a debt He paid, from the cross to the graves, from the grave to the sky He ascended home to His throne. There He sits waiting for those that he paid that prices so that we might have life and have it more abundantly. Having faith and trust in the Christ you will find an everlasting life free from suffering in a paradise. You will always be my Valentine love.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

How Did Santa Claus Broke The Reindeer Back

How Santa Claus broke the reindeer back

I am just disappointed he is such a play ball; he refuses to joined the community gym, he have no consideration for a hard working reindeer like me. Please do us all a favor and stop telling everyone that you’re tall and slim Mr. Claus
Santa put this in your pipe and smokes it. I am forming a union; you can contact my Lawyer Mr. Tin Tin

 I need some Fringe benefits else I am going to quit; year after year after year I chauffeur you around
This is not a smooth ride on green grass, it’s cold, cold snow “please looked around.
Breaking into people houses late at night, dropping off toys, we are plaster on every walls and poles
Santa this reindeer is off radar; you get off your fat ass or hire Casper the friendly ghost.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

DeadSeaScrollingbyeCharlaX

Who is Edgar Rice Cakes? What does HE have to do with John Burroughs. Jesus Crisis. a 
google search What is this? A novella nuevo bye charlaxandroidoneseven. CA17. Short for 
Para Cayce. I have read the DeadSeaScrolling. On the PDF machine. Let me inform on my 
brothers in the LORD there is seldom any evidenced.  These fragments of Aromaic Archaic 
would cause language EXPERTS in the field years of Formatting on a Word Processing 
machine. Butt Doctor Caycey has Decided it somehow pertains to Jesus.? Oye Vey.  I 
admitted in a Court Room of lawyers I have not studied all his problems yet I must admit I 
cannot read those fragments of isometric triangular wordage. You must admit these people 
did preserve it as iff it were a GOSPEL message. crisischronicles dot com A cave a bunch of 
yearns placed near the Monestary Remains to find considering the way Climatic Changes 
occur the evelation of the Earth is never level Seas rise where desert climes once failed to 
thrive. Perhaps a sub culture of Future Post Apolyptic Snow Men; all white and hairy like the 
Yeti. Abominable in every way with patches of glowing purple hair where the radiation has 
burned some of the fur away to reveal faults underneath no clothing there. They find a 
pristene City walk into the Revolving Door and fall back out until Discovering when to exit 
one. What fun. The lobby generator comes on. The Computor Hums. One Yeti moves the 
mouse Experimentally they gape at Windows song. Not one of them Yeti can get the 
Computor to do anything they are all just too old. A Robot walks up to the terminal. May I 
help you SIRS? and /or Madames? They step back agape at this hairless ape a tinsel steel 
replica of charlaxandroidoneseven. He types in poetrypoem dot com charlax7 Let me show 
you my website boys? Do you like poetry as prose? As they fall about the place guffawing 
they come out rolling the first time I ever saw a bunch of Yeti lawghing. So here we pause. 
As DeadSeaScrollingbyeCharlaX grows cold. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

lie with me

lie with me 
speak with me in twisted tongues 
be my hidden breath 
awaken my souls quieted song 
longing to be sung

lie with me 
in undressed eden's peace 
in lasting moments 
under shaded palms of a summers eve
through silent early hours of wispy flakes 
in the still of winters sleep

lie with me 
wrapped in dawns brilliant ray's 
warming skin under augusts burning fire 
lost in the ache of your wanting gaze 
we unite pressed together 
heated in desire 

lie with me 
for this last escaping breath 
in this final moment 
lie with me 
set my heart to rest


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Leymah Gbowee



Leymah Gbowee   O’ Nobel Laureate 2011
Is a pride to her world
A gift to her country Liberia
And an eagle that is never tire soaring for peace

In the midst of storms
She trek on advocacy’s avenue
Risking her life
To ensure that peace prevail
In her country Liberia

She believes that every woman
Has the right to freedom
Has the right to live without fear
Has the right to speak out
Has the right to work
And the right to contribute to her country’s development

She opens the umbrella of education
Giving every woman the opportunity to learn
Empowering women to become self-reliance
And developing Liberian women to become great future leaders

O’ Nobel Laureate O’ Nobel Laureate
As peace and justice sings in your soul
As you give hope to the hopeless
Heaven hails you- for the women of Liberia is your priority 




Details | Prose Poetry | |

DeadSeaScrollingbyeCharlaX

Who is Edgar Rice Cakes? What does HE have to do with John Burroughs. Jesus Crisis. a 
google search What is this? A novella nuevo bye charlaxandroidoneseven. CA17. Short for 
Para Cayce. I have read the DeadSeaScrolling. On the PDF machine. Let me inform on my 
brothers in the LORD there is seldom any evidenced.  These fragments of Aromaic Archaic 
would cause language EXPERTS in the field years of Formatting on a Word Processing 
machine. Butt Doctor Caycey has Decided it somehow pertains to Jesus.? Oye Vey.  I 
admitted in a Court Room of lawyers I have not studied all his problems yet I must admit I 
cannot read those fragments of isometric triangular wordage. You must admit these people 
did preserve it as iff it were a GOSPEL message. crisischronicles dot com A cave a bunch of 
yearns placed near the Monestary Remains to find considering the way Climatic Changes 
occur the evelation of the Earth is never level Seas rise where desert climes once failed to 
thrive. Perhaps a sub culture of Future Post Apolyptic Snow Men; all white and hairy like the 
Yeti. Abominable in every way with patches of glowing purple hair where the radiation has 
burned some of the fur away to reveal faults underneath no clothing there. They find a 
pristene City walk into the Revolving Door and fall back out until Discovering when to exit 
one. What fun. The lobby generator comes on. The Computor Hums. One Yeti moves the 
mouse Experimentally they gape at Windows song. Not one of them Yeti can get the 
Computor to do anything they are all just too old. A Robot walks up to the terminal. May I 
help you SIRS? and /or Madames? They step back agape at this hairless ape a tinsel steel 
replica of charlaxandroidoneseven. He types in poetrypoem dot com charlax7 Let me show 
you my website boys? Do you like poetry as prose? As they fall about the place guffawing 
they come out rolling the first time I ever saw a bunch of Yeti lawghing. So here we pause. 
As DeadSeaScrollingbyeCharlaX grows cold. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My love for you

My love for you will never change it will stay as long as you love me.no matter how heard it is.and no matter how we fight it just makes us stronger and wizzer.from the top to the bottom.I will love you untell the end.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A true best friend

Murder.

My soul's contaminated with spit
and you walk all over me- 
each and every single time-
It's like I blink 
and you take one more slap
whack!
While my face red spurs out guilt of being a victim-
the one who always to blame
who is always wrong
and does wrong-
while you look down to me 
expecting.
It's neverending
and i'm unsympathetic as we speak.
Now so vulnerable and familiar to your cursed speech
lucifer's lies-
becoming true between the lies
you just start the fire.
You don't know how to put it out,
gassing it, lighter at hand 
yet you don't seem to care.
And my emotions,
they're toys-
broken, stomped on,
crushed.
Like my loyalty is not enough,
after I stand behind you,
strong and neutral-
while you whip my heart
and test me some more.
I've had enough.
And you've had plenty of chances before,
plenty of criticizing 
and it's too much,
 i'm not good enough
I'm the "bad" friend
i'm just not worth your time
so this is the end.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LOVE ON DEATH LINE

I have not eaten today,
But my heart is filled
Not hungry of affection.
I had a fill of you last night
A fill of you for a life time

All around us are walking corpses
Corpses of political disregard
Humans of no nations
Even when they are bona-fide citizens
Your blood and mine flows in them

The government abhors the poor
Feeds them with empty promises
Shoves them through the door
They pay the bills
For social amenities they can’t find
Pay taxes for their castles 
Government built in the air
But we know their ancestors
Filthy dogs eating from the king’s crumbs
No; Lets not unknot the knot
Soon a messiah might heed us

In heaven’s book of life,
I heard the poor names are there
In here’s book of life
It is deleted.
Thus, in your head,
Lays your kingdom and glory 
Get rich or die trying
Or; be their poor and keep sulking.

Well, like them I saw… 
I have not eaten
Flesh gone weak to skeleton
Nevertheless, 
The solitude of love within
Keeps me living; I am breathing
But I am moving,
Towards your direction
I see your beam

I feel new
When I see you
From my heart 
Seeps through the rays of the sun
Its fun; this love on death line
We survived the genocide
We survived the war
We survived love
We survived us
I love you too.

This poem is dedicated to the abused tribes of Rwanda and Nigeria during their respective civil wars resulting in near human annihilation. Though time has passed, we still feel your pains chilling our bones. The survivors.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ In the Innocence Sublime ~

We lay fallen as velvet roses divinity-promenading in our wake. Innocence sublime weeping still-puddles... blessing-our-first-kiss. Beauty eminent one heart securing all we share-tongues-entwined hopes defined joined together-soaring-free-as-one... a kin to love, swept-away-by-it-we-were... . I believe the heart of grace adamant, generous-tender and-aware honest and faithful- awaiting-patiently... moves freely, because it knows, the-pureness of love always inspires the-opportunity, and so enchantment-gazed upon innocence and desire knew-itself, when-first God showed Adam Eve... ! Now-here today as time has-kept-us in-its ardent-march-I-say I believe-it was-the same with-him back then... . Because simple-smiles day-dreams and quiet eye-beams alone... for me-too-with-you just wouldn't have been-enough, and-when-I-think-of-you, I thank-God for the blessing of our-time, because my heart enchanted, elated, complete... from-here on-out will I forever- know-and be-grateful to-have-loved the-beautiful-angel, that is you. As-so-enticed by the light in your-eyes, the hopeful-manner the-playfulness of your-lips, I tell-you-intrigued, to entwine-them-together, (with mine)... ! I figured I'd have a day to share, and a lifetime, from-then-on, (to touch)... . (if only just), I-could-chance to-embrace them... ((once)). Author notes The hyphens are all used in conjunction-with one-another for recording-purposes for the- disabled... . My Mac computer I can here and as it interprets the differing punctuations it gives the work in there differing usages a clearer and more realistic soft higher and lower Ebb and Flo when it is heard... ! The work can as well be reformatted into proper engine form for those whom may not be disabled... ! Entered into this contest as such and mainly for these reasoning's... ! Thank you for allowing and for considering my entry. I am entirely honored to be a small part... ! Written for my Jenny... . ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqTLlHkfSC4


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Milroy Farm

Milroy Farm
11-30-08
By
William L. Moore
For
William McCracken Milroy

Sitting in my Deer stand
Upon my Uncles land
Feel the simple breeze
As it whispers through the trees

Waiting for the Deer
Not a single hint of fear
Hear the leaves rustle
In all of the bustle

As they encroach
The closer they approach
It’s really really strange
As they cross the range

As you hear the gun go CRACK
I may have hit his back
He stumbles gently away
And falls where he may lay

I must wait until he dies
Let alone through the cries
I am through with the season
Since I have accomplished my reason

Uncle Bill I thought of you when
I wrote this and wanted to make
Sure that you got it
Love
William Lewis Moore
Bill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

128

 128 
128 
 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
UnderwaterLover 

 I do love you Charlie Blue My brown eyed merman I kiss your hand Down by the 
sea Turn into me Eye love ewe fairest Ianthe just come there and drown me We 
live in caves Awash with waves Anemones our flowers We pass the hours 
Chasing turtle and fish Finding a lost kiss the hours at the sea make me weak in 
my human form my fins allow me to swim but only to your arms the legs eye use 
to walk allow me to be free but only fins can bring my back to ewe to kiss to 
drown the underwater lover there she is my mermaid playing me I do love you 
like the fish eye am used to better days sometimes sick and needing help yet I 
do love you the merman is so far away When eye drown in the desert cactus 
between the city and the mountain my mermaid kisses save me from the cretins 
she is fighting for my life eye can feel her call my namme Charlie Blue I do love 
you. Woman in the foamy waves 
swimming near to me, my love it comes. It is a heart, a mermaids heart. My 
brown eyed merman I do love you eye love to watch the shrim:Pe crawl across 
the ocean sea she feeds them to her strang pelican and water can be breathed 
by a Knight of drownded love. This was harder to do than it looks adding verses 
sent to me from she who loves the eye then reaching somewhere south to find 
the love to add the words to add our mixed and many feelings making this into 
this fabel. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sunshine By WLM November 25, 2008

Outside the sun is grand
In which I love to stand
Soaking up all the rays
Hope it stays this way for days

The breeze is cool
Like a shining Jewel 
The noise is so quiet
You wish you could buy it 

How heavenly I feel
It tis the real deal
The beauty abounds
As I walk around

The planes fly high
In the deep blue sky
Marking their time
Just follow the line

The tall trees that show
Will continue to grow
And are the trees we love to see
Glory Be!  We will jump up with Glee!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Nikhil Chandwani releases his poetry book titled Ink'd With Love

The must awaited poetry book by a national awardee Nikhil Chandwani has finally been released. With high expectations and very high potential buyers due to his massive fan support, Nikhil finally released his poetry book titled Ink'd With Love.

There have been books on teenagers and there have been books on their emotions but somehow, these images are not of only one individual. Hence a new poetry book that is titled Ink'd With Love.  It involves many romantic poems written by a national award winner, Nikhil Chandwani.. At every stage of the teenager’s life he or she faces deception, is cheated and the hurt refuses to go away. It is an interesting portrayal of the neo-adult life- where aspirations are on the high, the zeal to make a difference for oneself is acute- and still the mind is overlapped with childlike innocence ready to take the deadly plunge into the real mayhem of chaotic existence. What seems rosy attracts but the taste of reality is later bittersweet leaving a long lasting impact in the reader’s mind- giving him the chance to identity with the protagonist.

Much of the work comes across as poetic images, disjointed sentences… the stream of consciousness that pervades the young… they do so many things at the same time. They live their own lives and also lives of others around them. It affects them and yet they are unable to perceive the feelings as one whole. Some can take the hurt along with the accolades but some are unable to take the hurt. They suffer broken, disjointed lives and some are even forced to give up the struggle. This is the life of a teenager portrayed by one of the fastest rising author from India, Nikhil Chandwani. 
This is his second book. First one of an international best seller 

Nineteen year old Nikhil Chandwani is a prolific writer. He writes fictional stories for various magazines, newspapers and websites. He is a gifted lyricist, best selling author (I wrote your name in the sky) and a national award winning poet rolled into one. He is, at present, pursuing his engineering degree from VIT Vellore.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beacon

A world of sadness envelopes me. A world of pain most don't know. A world of sorrow quilted in. A world that I must never show. A world of friendships crumbling down. A world of fear for what's to come. A world of anxiety of pressing matters. A world that not many are from. Yet here I find a beacon, To shine it's light on me. It brightens up the darkness, And now a path I see. There is a future for me, A future I may hold. To learn the minds of others, And practice 'til I'm old. The darkness has all faded. I have friends to walk beside. And now that I have seen the light, I'm glad I haven't died.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reality

perfection, who would have thought him perfect?
without his words, i know no other truth
reality,
the mother of my existence, you gave birth to twins
euphoria and agony,
oh agony!
reality,
i ask for only a moment to bury myself inside
his soul, his mind, I want to be with it, of it
i need to breathe him, fill my lungs with love,
with life,
why can't I?
REALITY!
oh to cast you back to the depths of hell, demon!
to come into a life, just to taunt...
there is no hatred so pure, as the one i hold for you
for you today,
reality,
you have taken away my heart,
that was your wicked plan all along
was it not?
well,
reality,
without him,  I have nothing left to lose,
no sanity left to keep me afloat
so,
reality,
today you have been defeated
i have always held the key
it's almost tragic, oh
reality,
do you realize you cannot exist
without me?
so say your prayers,
as this war comes to a bloody end
we were both martyrs for the same cause-
reality.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unexpected Circumstances

   



a voiceless wind howls in the evening twilight, slowly he crept to his feet to performance 
his theatrical delusion once again. Passionate words to stifle the innocent, precarious 
actions to trap the unsuspecting. Dying inside, this man, held in torture within his own 
mind, he cries for a way out of his twisted lies. Stumbling down the stairs, sweat 
pouring down his ageless face, nervous rambling spills from his mouth, he contemplates 
the words to to dominate his need. Arriving in grand fashion, the elite club redeem, 
scanning and searching the fortress like a ravenous pig, a lovely lady chosen, his mind 
complicate. A sweet word of encouragement, to her oasis of comfort, agreed. This man: 
a man of great intelligence, a man of a complicated need, a tainted glass of white wine 
elegance, gone, a diamond legacy. He forces her to her knees, black clouds arrive, 
misery appears a dream. Stripped of a million dollar masterpiece, tied and bound, he 
leaves.Morning light comes painful, a desperate realization she sees, 
in confusion, agony, her soul, empty, she bleeds. Alone he sits in silence, a 
song of a dark victory he sings, tortured. 



_________________________

*For a Man whom steals and harms another human being for monetary value.
*He shall stand in judgement!!



______________
 PROSE CONTEST


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Magic of Indian Democracy

President of The U.S.A says that
Prime-minister of India is the man of action.

Prime-minister of Australia says that
Prime-minister of India is the man of brotherhood.

Prime-minister of Pakistan says that
Prime-minister of India is the man of diplomacy.

Prime-minister of Nepal says that
Prime-minister of India is the man of worship.

Prime-minister of Japan says that
Prime-minister of India is the man of technology.

President of China says that
Prime-minister of India is the man of commerce.

President of Russia says that
Prime-minister of India is the man of friendship.

Prime-minister of India is enchanting to the world....

But Prime-minister of India says that 
He is a servant of one hundred twenty five crore (1.25 billions) Indians. 

It's the magic of Indian democracy.

Indians are all kings in their kingdom.

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA



Details | Prose Poetry | |

So Much To Live For

SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR…

Night has fallen on us again
The light of the sun has faded for the stars
Against the dark sky
The moon now in its glory
Reflecting through the trees
And every picture tells a story
Depending on who sees

I gaze into infinity
Never reaching an end on the horizon
What goes around will come around
We carry the circle with us through time
Never knowing where to start or to finish
I carry on getting lost in the rhyme
Waiting for the idea to grow or diminish
I’m so in love with life
So deeply in love with you, Adrianne
Sometimes I’m lost, not knowing what to do
Because I want so much for us that up until now
I wasn’t sure we could have
But now, after fulfilling this sacrifice to each other
I know, I truly believe
Everything that seemed out of reach is now within our grasp

You; Adrianne are my strength when I’m weak
And I yours…
You are my anchor when I need stability
And I yours…
You; above all are my life and my love
And with you I can finally begin to live this dream
A dream that begins and ends with you by my side
And I by yours...
Now we can truly live, to make the most of life
The most of ourselves, for each other and our future
That on this night looks so bright and full of promise
Like the moon this night reflecting on the water
My eyes are focused on us, on our tomorrow
There is so much to live for…



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost Love Found by WLM on March 29, 2011

I need not scream
For the return of my dream
I feel so much better
For from her I received a letter
Her feelings were not of being mad
But of making me feel glad
She still wants me
And that is the way it should be
There was never a great cost
Nor even a feeling of being lost
When I heard from my love
All was still sent from heaven above
She finally did show
And my face had such a great glow
For me she does still need
So for now I will not concede
She still loves me so
In my heart I will always know
To me she will still marry
Now my head is not in a flurry
And a family we will still start
In mine heart I will sing like a lark
As God meant us to see
Together we will always be
In the simple breeze
I will hold her in my arms to squeeze
Now that I have my dear
I will lose all my fear
I have my best friend back
Oh God thank you for that
For with her I have no doubt
Thank you God I will never be without
She has made me so happy I still cry
For in my heart I do not want to die
All the feelings of dread
Have been put out of my head
To her I have so much to give
And for all of that we will always live
We must always treat each so well
My heart can only swell
I feel so young again
And that is where she will begin


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Une Douleur Exquise

I have never seen such a face, not in my most perfect of dreams
To look upon you would be the purest of masochistic pleasures…

I beg of you, be the death of me!

Destroy me!

 

Self-aware, I cannot understand what is behind our paths intertwined
What a cruel mistake fate has made, to bring you into my existence…

Yet, here I am!

Here you are!

 

If it were only your face, had the artist only perfected your portrait
If you were nothing more than a vision, still you’d…

shine in the darkest of nights!
Silence the loudest of sounds!

 

Your mind, your words, every action creates a chaotic stillness inside me
I fear I could lose myself in your flawless existence…

I can only taint it!

I am only poison!

 

I have now seen such a face, often in my most perfect of dreams
I have looked upon you, felt the purest of masochistic pleasures…

You have been the death of me!

Destroyed me!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

an angel

An angel.

I thought I saw an angel today when I was remembering you.
You are in my waking day, I dream its just me and you.

When I go and walk a while I think your by my side
And then I remember the truth of it all and that you had to die.

I don’t know why im so confused
They say death is  part of life
But you were so little my love
You had not lived your life.

They say you have gone to heaven
And that you are a star
But I don’t believe them, not at all
I just know that you are far

I hope one day I will see you again 
And we will smile and laugh and dance
And I wait with anticipation for the day
That I will get another chance.

I love you


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lithium, Lithium

My torment contains their solution,
I never wanted your pollution.
Why must I force myself to decompose?
You're nothing but a thorn without the Rose.
How can they tell me, this is existence?
Why must you fight, my every resistance?
Don't you understand? I'm in love with my despair!
It is my reason for enduring, it is my light, it is my air.
I fear I cannot fight this war much longer.
Every day you grow strong and stronger.
Why is no one helping, can't anybody see?
Slowly, but surely, you're destroying me.
However, surrender, I never will.
This is one soldier you'll have to kill,
A life with you I refuse to share,
My only love, is my darling despair.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rubrics Cube Delight


Befor I make any decision's
On how to play this game
  I take the time and ask
           For Jesus'
Because He really
Know's how to play
        The game
      ------ 
     Because of He
Fore He entertain's wisom
   This gift is his fame
     And something else
    He is the keeper
             -Of- 
     Thy Holy name
      ------
Now I know that I can
Play the cube in this game
           Of life
I can make my His own
         Decision's
Maybe even land me a wife
      ------
I can play it more than twice
    With time permitting
I can play for the rest of my life
             And to think
I will never have to think twice
This is my eternal, everlasting
             Vice for life

                 GF


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Woods

The Woods
11-29-08
By
William L. Moore
For
William McCracken Milroy

In the woods the trees so tall
Mourning birds begin to call
Waiting for the break of day
Scattering seed where it may lay

From the little wooden basket
Which resembles a tiny casket
As far as it may be seen
The willowy grass so green

The leafy branches may break or bend
But in the time it takes to mend
Grow roots so straight and  true
Forever catching all the dew

So straight, so true, so strong
At which they do belong
Keeps us all on our toes
So we should always know

The trees so full of Dove
Cooing of their love
Always will return to dust
This great earth belongs to us

After the end
We will begin again

Uncle Bill
This was written
When I thought
Of the Farm west of 
Okmulgee, Oklahoma


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lady Vice

That smell, there ain' quite nothin' like it.
Not an aroma on gods green earth so intoxicating,
it has taken me on a roller-coaster ride;
through love,
through hate,
heaven and hell,
past and present.
Toxic to every ounce of my being-
yet life without it does not exist, could not exist
-it infuses within me, setting the wheels of my mind
in motion.
It only takes a moment for all I know;
about right,
about wrong,
to dissolve into pure impulse.
There is faux euphoria inside us all.
The memories wash over me,
wave after wave they hit.
I am broken,
drowning amidst the stormy seas of nostalgia,
down the bottom of a bottle.
With every mouthful I sink deeper,
I'm being suffocated by the love of my life tonight,
and,
I'm loving every breathless second.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Another Miserable Love Letter

Dear Victory Girl from the bay or [dock]

I knew you'd be beautiful

for the sake of the decline...let hedonism take its toll...
Just so I Can Forget

How do you smile like that?

I'm bleeding gallons thinking of your face.

My most sincere pains,shames,claims,and thought about pet names, lie with you

signed-

Unused,and abused


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Remember When

Remember When
Remember when I was twenty
and you were only twenty-four?
Remember how you looked at me
and how my eyes rested on yours?
Remember the eyelash on your fingertip
and how you blew it away?
Remember my prayer, my wish
and what I wanted you to say?
Remember the pounding of our hearts
as love embraced our very souls?
You and I
Have known each other from long ago
Before there was life
Before there was breath.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Still

Still

You put smile on my lips
Oh! How can I resist?
It’s like bringing me a magical piece
Where I am the princess an you’re my prince

But it seems I have no place
In your heart where can I stay?
Oh! Maybe I should go away
Away where I can’t feel more pain

Because it’s harder even more
The pain inside my heart slowly breaks my soul
I tried not to think of you
Believe me I did but I failed too

And now it’s been two years
My heart beats still the same
Still shouting your name
Two years of loving you still gives me pain.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lies

I wake up in the morning, The smell of your perfume lingering on my skin, I roll over to see if your body still lay there, & I realize everything I loved vanished. I just have these images and scents stuck in my head, I have everything you ever gave me packed away, I look through it again and again each day. Trying to piece the puzzle together, & figure out why we drifted apart. I want to know if you still think about me like I think about you, I want to know if you still have the things I made and gave to you. I just wish I could stop smelling you, Stop thinking about you, Just everything about you brings me to my knees, & I am begging you please, Please just let me forget you. I wake up the next morning and realize, Everything about you was lies.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dream Come True

Dream Come True
WLM
January 12, 2011


I will not be blue
For my dream has come true
She has come to me
We will just let it be
I have waited so long
And my love has grown so strong
To have and to hold
For to always be bold
To let her know
How my love will show
To make it right
And look into the bright light
I want her to stay
For she will have it her way
She is so smart
I will sing like a lark
For she is mine 
In this day and this time
Our love will grow
To others it will show
Her and I surely long
For together we belong
And to her I yearn
Not a hint of concern
We will always be
As one entity




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beauty Surrounds

Beauty Surrounds
WLM
Wildncrazy555
June 27, 2011


See the wonders of the world
As they pass to us unfurled
Such an amazing light
Sun shining so bright
Flying on the wing
Hear the birds sing
The grass so green
Such a sight has you ever seen
The lilies in bloom
Orange hue in their flume
I see stars in my head
Of the roses so deeply red
The crate myrtles so pink 
They cause me to blink
Birds sitting in the trees
Catching the cool summer breeze
Dogs continually play
Let them stay and have their way
The fluffy clouds so high
Up, up high in the sky
The trees they sway
In the wind they play
The magnolia blooms
The beautiful pearly white flumes
The scent so pungent
So sweet to the smell
The bees they separate
Jump from flower to flower to pollinate
God’s wonderful earth
Created for our birth
We shall begin again
From now until the end



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Nikhil Chandwani releases his poetry book titled Ink'd With Love

The must awaited poetry book by a national awardee Nikhil Chandwani has finally been released. With high expectations and very high potential buyers due to his massive fan support, Nikhil finally released his poetry book titled Ink'd With Love.

There have been books on teenagers and there have been books on their emotions but somehow, these images are not of only one individual. Hence a new poetry book that is titled Ink'd With Love.  It involves many romantic poems written by a national award winner, Nikhil Chandwani.. At every stage of the teenager’s life he or she faces deception, is cheated and the hurt refuses to go away. It is an interesting portrayal of the neo-adult life- where aspirations are on the high, the zeal to make a difference for oneself is acute- and still the mind is overlapped with childlike innocence ready to take the deadly plunge into the real mayhem of chaotic existence. What seems rosy attracts but the taste of reality is later bittersweet leaving a long lasting impact in the reader’s mind- giving him the chance to identity with the protagonist.

Much of the work comes across as poetic images, disjointed sentences… the stream of consciousness that pervades the young… they do so many things at the same time. They live their own lives and also lives of others around them. It affects them and yet they are unable to perceive the feelings as one whole. Some can take the hurt along with the accolades but some are unable to take the hurt. They suffer broken, disjointed lives and some are even forced to give up the struggle. This is the life of a teenager portrayed by one of the fastest rising author from India, Nikhil Chandwani. 
This is his second book. First one of an international best seller 

Nineteen year old Nikhil Chandwani is a prolific writer. He writes fictional stories for various magazines, newspapers and websites. He is a gifted lyricist, best selling author (I wrote your name in the sky) and a national award winning poet rolled into one. He is, at present, pursuing his engineering degree from VIT Vellore.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Apart From Me







Somber silly little Setter, English; painting trapped himself in the side yard whimpering, howling away wildly. 


Sunscreen-on, moseying on over, in His tenderness He offers a helping hand. Hot Summers cool vapors the blessings found  here, there to and fro leaning midst the still lulling; gentle calling of the Rains. 


Yes the Grace of God, in His joy humming, arriving just in time, and so is Patience the greater venture I suppose the eminent virtue. 


His Love always; Honest, Open... Willing already beholden... . Far beyond the wreck I make for myself and others... chains stretched bounded securing me yes, my freedom in kind stripped away from me given in the effort this provisional very prominence preceding me when in denial of these facts.     







Details | Prose Poetry | |

They Came Running

They came running
Without pause
Without thought 
Without hesitation
Not away
But towards the dangers
That lay ahead

They came running
Not because 
It was their job
Not because 
They were brave
But because 
Their brothers
Their sisters
Their friends
And most of all
Those they never knew
Needed them

They came running
Because someone disagreed
With the way 
We chose to live and believe
And worship, and pray
With the way 
We did something 
They did not do
They came running
 
They came running
From down the street
Across the city
Across the boroughs
Across the rivers
From miles and miles away
And they stayed until
Nothing remained 

And when
It was all over
And many 
Who had come running
Had died
Along with those 
Who could not be saved
The brave sat and cried
Not because 
It was their job
Or because 
They were brave
But because 
Many of their
Brothers, sisters, friends
And those they never knew
People with and without faces
Who had called out to them
Were lost
In the smoke 
Of what had fallen

But I remember

I will not forget
That when 
They were called upon
When 
They were needed
When 
The world 
Seemed to be falling
And when others 
Like me
Looked on
Not knowing what to do
They came running


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Keepers Of Reality

 Our only reward is to realize
    when thinking to achieve,
  one’s essence of immortality,
They - we, are as keepers of reality,
reality seen through our minds eye,
       Drama, Comedy, or Tragedy 
  ~*~ there is but one place ~*~

They may gather to unite, draw strength
  from one another, sharing their pains,
   joys, hopes, innovative dreams, Love
through a language common to them all,
                   poetry
That place is here, Poetry Soup


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hazel Eyes

Hazel Eyes
WLM
Wildncrazy555
September 15, 2011

Such beautiful eyes
So full of mysterious disguise
They have the sheen 
Of a light light green
And yellow as the autumn sky
As you gaze you wonder why
As I wait to meet
Surely my heart will greet
Of the feelings we share
Surely, Do we DARE
As we run through life amongst and with it
Through our devoted commitment
Follow the long forgotten past
In our hearts we know it will last
Our love is so fine
In our eyes you see it as we dine
To feel the warmth of her skin
The feelings I know she will let me in
From this day forward I know she is mine
Our love will last till the ends of all time
The feelings in my heart are a must
Truly, truly they are JUST!

Dedicated to a lady I know
Jacki Wahner McDowell
With Beautiful Hazel
EYES


Details | Prose Poetry | |

STAND OUT

you can be in demand
with gods hand
don't run
there to be done
come out of the sun
no doudt
you must
STAND OUT


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BACK TO SCHOOL

its that time  
kept this in mind
leave party behine
now make your mind shine
for this world
you need the tools
GET BACK
TOO SCHOOL


Details | Prose Poetry | |

You've got skeletons in your closet I've got hearts

No one does it better than I.
Be they outgoing or a touch shy.
And to sit and think about it now,
And I tend to really wonder how
I got in the business of stealing hearts.

Whispers of a life draw them in.
Sweet smiles and laughter keep them pinned.
And in an instant, I think we could be.
And then I remember we're dealing with me.
Trapping souls forever is a tricky art.

I've never set out to hurt a soul,
But when I leave, they're never whole.
And I sulk for two or three.
And then I move, 'cause I'm me.
In the end, I break them apart.

Falling in love is never my plan.
But then again, such a dashing man.
And I guess I have a charming way.
And I guess I make them want to stay.
Is there ever an end to what I start?

I've never asked for all these hearts.
I was searching for the missing parts.
And then I wake up one day and see.
And then realize it's not meant to be.
When composing love, I'm your Mozart.

I'll come into your life, and make you fall.
I'll take your heart, I'll take it all.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Pity Trip

Pity Trip
WLM
Wildncrazy555
July 24, 2011

I need to die
And I know why
The pity trip
My soul to rip
I have no life
So full of strife
No one knows
How can they
There is no way
Shall I stay another day
WHY oh Why
I just want to die
But what of Darla
My only friend
What will happen to her
She is the only one who needs and wants me
She is the my freedom
She soothes my soul
And makes me whole
She always knows
When I am down
With the whole world closing around
I need my puppy so
And only she will ever know
Now I must go
To where I do not know




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Writing is an art; I am an artist

Don’t criticize me for loathing mathematics
I don’t like history, I’m not one for dates.
I thank the Lord for my patience,
While I’m gone, my pen awaits.

I write about goals, about dreams and the like
Perhaps today’s will be a story, an insight to the human psyche.
Once my pen meets the paper, it will not stop,
Like a river, it runs its course, twisting through the mountains,
Useless dams will keep it still, but that’s not how nature
Designed it.

So distract me with your lessons, and teach me all you can.
But know that when the day is done, my pen has the last stand.
Perhaps I will incorporate my impatience with history and math
Into my writing today.
No, I think I will write about my story.  The peace, and love that
Your lessons cannot teach me.  I don’t need to know who won what war, 
In order to succeed.  
I only need my pen, compassion, and feelings.  
My life is complete.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Pretentious

Your so pretentious,
The repetition is endless-
And the conversation relentless;
Though my restraint is tremendous.

Trying to keep cool and collected-
But even I, will be affected.

I'm sick and tired of being falsely 
corrected;
I'm uninterested, in the fact that you feel 
offended,
Unprecedented-
Consider this the new me; reinvented.

-Carly Larkin


Details | Prose Poetry | |

End

End
WLM
Wildncrazy555
April 24, 2011

End of the line
For it is directly time
That we will be
Just you and me
The way God has sent
You know we were meant
That we should always live
And always give
The way we see
And it will be
Together forever
Through all we will endeavor
Our hearts are one
And will not be undone
Will not separate
In this time not ever irate
But hand In hand
Listen to the band
I always long 
That they play our song
Across the threshold I will carry
Directly after I marry
And make you my wife
For the rest of my life
The beginning of the line
Forever through all of time


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Suppression of Suicide

I sat there,
"My God, I can't take another day"
my mind cried;
 My heart was so cold and black...

"Look at yourself", 
I looked in the mirror... 

"You have turned into a Monster, 
you are no longer living,
You are a zombie."..


"You love him so much, 
but look at what is happening"...
Life isn't worth living...

This is not love, 
this is not what I want out of Life, 
This is Madness...  

"Does he really love you?"...

Yes, he does---
I don't know...
He doesn't stop me from the things I do... 

All I know is I really love him...
 
I want to Die!!!
But what would he do?..
What would he feel, 
if he found me dead here?..
 
I wrote this little note 11-14-1996 that night:  
Telling him I love him and will always love him... 

I don't want to die and hurt him, 
if I killed myself, 
"Then it would hurt him!".. 

I wished he really believed me... 
I wish this nightmare would go away... 
Why can't he accept the fact that I'll never leave him?.. 
How do I know he'll stay?..

I know how he feels, 
I know why he feels the way he does about me... 
I feel the same... 

Why am I repeating 
this stupid feeling of rejection?.. 
Why, do I care if he leaves me or not?.. 

I got a nice spot to be buried, somewhere..

I know the other side is much better... 
I'll get a new body, another life... 
I don't want to die unloved... 
I don't want to die alone... 
I don't want to hurt someone I love... 

Maybe he'll join me, 
maybe he won't... 

Whatever he chooses, 
I'll never stop loving him... 
I'll wait for him forever... 

He'll blame himself if I die... 
But it's not his fault... 

I should of spoken up... 
We both should of been more open... 
We should of communicated more... 
I don't know?..

I guess we were really scared of one another!!!
                                                                   
"Feelings of Death" 11-14-1996


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Pa







Had a dream about my Pa tonight, We all went out with them to Lake Loral Nancy His wife cooking up a good ol' Chicken Pot Stew slow-cooked set way up high atop the hickory us loading up the Bayliner for our afternoon fishing trip. We reminisced, Canoe in toe as we used to do just in case, yes just as we did back then; you-know if either would wished to float to one or more sides with the Canoe tied to the railings of the boat, or more or less to widen the chance at a greater spot to cast a gander upon our luck... . My Father by adoption; having-stated many times early on in-all of our teenier all together, God being-in-charge of all good-Blessings and if-you will--luck... we'll always catch some albeit one Yes I began to see through this statement he mentioned often God is always presenting always providing this-His Honest Hope, for us both--as I believe like my Pa, for any one yes everyone who is patient remains-open... ! Our woes, and Peace abiding... uncertainty grievances questions yes laughter were our main recollections as we dropped our first lines as we cast them... . I tell you I truly did love Him, still love Him, will always I figure... yes I know Some folk are so defined never wish to grow any further their Character divorced by Cancer, Nary did my Father allow it. On the day he passed He told Nancy, "I love my life. My Family Children. Love all those close to me.... but I'm tiered just plain wore out." the Lord took Him that night, the next day forthcoming I was told and O how I cried — But then realized as I saw he lived the greater life - He worked on this purpose until the day he died, and so for all he work for this final reprieve — it was for all of the ones he loved, because I feel for all whom he loved, he'd prayed for all to do the same... Yes a suffering in kind the same I'm seeing now - All-of-it I'm-finding; because he taught me the greater of his Faith nary a day apart from Him, and me... his youngest Son two Others older Sons if you will, yes I feel his family and friends still have this eminent belief to boast; Yes, in-the Company--Comfort... of Jesus' Peace... !


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Finding My Pure Heart

All the violence on TV was probably not good for me
All the decapitated corpses on video games not the brightest idea for me
Life’s real dramas just frustrate me
All the fabricated television dramas annoy me
We all love a happy ending yet we consume the misery and pain of others
Haunted by life changing events
At times I just simply need to vent
Why be educated and humble when being ignorant and shallow brings you fame
Why save your virginity for marriage, when society’s sluts take all the good guys that a girl covets
Why be a nice guy, when all the respectable women settle for assholes yet are surprised when they are mistreated and cheated on
Why live a life down the correct path, when the wrong path is glorified and admired by society
Beneath the darkness and rubble of life exist the flickering white light of my once pure heart


Find more of my writings and poems at jorgesouthkorea.com


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TIP FROM OLD FOOL

i been there dot that
heres where it at
be smart as a bat
choose your friends
alway win
in your head be cool
TIP FROM A OLD FOOL


Details | Prose Poetry | |

to The Public

Not really a poem, but the truth of my being.

To the Public
WLM
Wildncrazy555
June 28, 2011

When I write the words just flow. I get an inspiration or a thought and have to write it down. 
Why, I do not know.  They just flow and all follow a story.  I write my innermost thoughts with 
the deepest passion imaginable and all are TRUE life experiences which have occurred in my life. 
I am diagnosed Severe Bipolar Disorder and disabled and draw SSDI. I no longer have to work 
from over 40 yrs in Maintenance and 2 degrees in Electronics and Electrical maintenance. I do 
draw disability now for over 2 yrs time and depression is a daily bout which I face every day, 
but try to be positive. The medicine I take is for my head and helps with mood swings and 
depression. As to date, I cannot read many of my works as I Bawl like a baby at most of 
them.  I remember when and how I felt when I wrote them.  But all of them follow a story to 
the end.  I cannot recite a single one because once written they are gone, otherwise they eat 
my Brain.  I am crying now as I write this and divulge my deepest thoughts and experiences of 
my life. I feel better now that it is gone from my head folks.  When a situation arises, I just 
know which ones will deserve recognition to be told.  I suffer from arthritis on my left side, my 
hands hurt all the time, and I practice herbal medicine for the pain.  I create my own remedies 
from my herbologist named Daryl Collins here in Okmulgee, he gives me the herbs and I am 
the guinea pig first and foremost for the experience.  Anyone else who suffers from this can 
contact me at trenton6896@yahoo.com.  I am willing to tell you the recipe for my
Creations.  I hope all appreciate this testimony of mine.  All I say is true to fact.
							William Lewis Moore
							June 28, 2011


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Her Eyes So Blue

I look into her eyes
Which seem full of surprise?
The sparkle and the shine
That makes me sublime
To me it is love at first sight
Like looking into the brightest light
My heart is a glow
On my face it must show
Of the love that I have had
In my heart I want her so bad
I know it will be
Always just her and me
Together we will live
We will always learn to give
And people will know
For on our faces the love will show
My love will surely stay
Praise God I will never let get away
So she will not scurry
I must catch her in a hurry
Forever she will be mine
For now and the rest of all time
We will be so content
As God has meant


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Freedom Fighters: The End of an Era

America fostered a generation of people that cared,
Time has passed, and suddenly,
They are no longer here,
The next generation is dangling on a string,
because no one truly cares about anything,
They take civil rights for granted,
Freedom of speech gets no respect,
The young generation abhors conflict,
even when the Constitution is in jeopardy,
They are still relying on the past efforts of Freedom Fighters
to set them free........,
One morning minorities will awake 
and find a fate worst than Haiti's earthquake,
They will find their "say" has been taken away,
Then they will wonder if the "old timers" took a Holiday,
The progress only continues unless the youth stay on task,
If not.......,
History will repeat itself, and Freedoms won't last,
The dream will die and minorities will find themselves
succumbing because they all need help.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

OMUBBI -"Thief"

Like a thief at midnight
He came along
Sending whispers down my heart
And shivers down my spine
Entrapped in his line,I was
	
They say he is a master of all trades
But he passed my way today
And even I was caught unaware

But then he opened his eyes
And lit up my life
And everyday I hope
He never blinks 
That this light never dies out
The one that makes me smile.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE SPIRITS OF LELAND, MISSISSIPPI

They were deceive by their city government.

They were people that were burden by the struggles of the universe.  [Image]

Why?

No one knew.

It just was their way of life.

They farmed and industry was that of invention.

They will see growth from unity and togetherness.

If this was not form from strife, the city would be dead beaten.

The worst would not become any better.

Money was not feasible.

They must share to live a healthy life.

It was not right to try to build an economy.

Money meant nothing.

The story is not a tale of two cities.

The story is of the City of Leland.

We are the family from the Hills.

My great grandparents came via The Trail of Tears.

Wolfe’s Plantation and the quarter houses that were built during enslavement 
     is still there in Crystal Springs.

My great grandparents tenant farmed.

Emma and Lenny did well.

Lenny died.

Emma left the Hills.

The Mississippi Delta is where she died.

My mother did as well.

The tears I did not let drop.

Weeping was in my heart.

Eternity now.

The holy scripture of humanity is written.

No more do I see yesterday or the present.

I am high because I know what is beyond the sky.

The colored Sextons and Die Mr. I.
__________________________________|
PENNED ON DECEMBER 27, 2013!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

10 reasons

Let me count to ways I love you
WLM
4/13/2011
1,  The awesome beauty of your sweet voice when you speak
2.   The fact that you are so beautiful to mine eyes
3.   That you accept me for all of my faults and medical problems
4.   That our lives together will be content, happy, and wonderful
5.   The beauty of your eyes and the smile upon your face
6.   Your luscious lips which I kiss as often as possible
7.   The fact that we will always be as one entity
8.   That we can lie in bed and talk for hours on end
9.    That when we make love, it is always as if the first time each time
10.  That I can change for my sweetheart and wife when needed 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tragedy---for Jon

Lost? 
Found. 
Never has life's cruel temper dealt its deceiving hand as this day 
Lost-found in a place, living know not. 
Kinship friendship - words, verbiage to describe mortal bonds 
While those of the soul grasp bonds endless and dimensionless 
Youth is but a stage of dying 
Time cruel to its very essence. Time blows through us all as our sight through glass 
Its dark fingers paint our walls and carry us to our HOLMES 
Its cruelty is its existence. Defining agony, depriving experience 
Youth felt emotion lost through existence 
Found youth soul existence beyond comprehension 
Youth to us all? Youth has been lost but found where else 
But where time confronts us all. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Antiquity Of Love

They sit together after supper, two forks, two plates -dishes cleared, put away. She, with her tiny spectacles perched a little crooked on her face -  he, with his favorite pipe. Her withered hands lay peacefully in her lap…he reaches out, gently touching them - not speaking any words. 

No words needed between the two of them-having been together for so many years. Memorable words, touching phrases spoken ore’ the years spent together as one. One heart - one mind. Not always a life of sunshine and roses, but devotions never ceased between these two old lovers, these two best friends. 

They held on to one another through each new day, each new tomorrow - catching one another’s loving gaze, uttering a graceful word now and then. Wrinkled faces beautifully bestow them now - yet to him…she’s just as lovely as the day they wed -his lovely bride - his cherished, sweet wife of many years. A smile creeps across his lips in remembering their cherished wedding vows. 

“Will you take this women to be your wife”? He did then, he still does now.

The words sweet and strong - like the fragrance of orchids… everlasting, forever long.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Forgotten Love Found

Forgotten Love Found
Wildncrazy555
WLM
March 31, 2011

I thought she was lost
I did not know at what cost
She did not want me
So she let me be free
But now I have no more fear
For now she has returned here
Do I really know to see?
That she really does need and want me
For now I will think and just sit
This is her chance to prove it
I will truly be very strong
And she must show me that I was wrong
Should I let go of the slack
She must show me she wants me back
Will she really come and show 
If so my heart will have such a glow
As the sun is so hot and bright in the sky
I will lose all my fears and know why
I want to hold her so bad
And by doing so I will never again be sad
All my love I will give to her now
The amount she will never know how
We will make love for the first time
It will be so exciting and so extremely fine
I hope she will want me forever
If to be we will always be together
We will have to be till the end
This is the best time we can begin


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rain begins again

Rain Begins Again
WLM
Wildncrazy555
June 28, 2011

Dizzy Lizzy sitting in the rain
Waiting for it to sustain
Hear the thunder rolling
The giant in the sky is bowling
The rain is so cool
As the mourning jewel
The birds in the trees
Feeling the cool breeze
The rain gives new birth from the heart
It quenches the earth from its start
The rain feels so fine
It makes my head feel so sublime
The earth needs the rain
So all life can sustain
The feelings that we share
Surely, do we dare?
Revel in the glory
Of the never-ending story
With the land and it’s age
From this to another stage
The flowers so much in bloom
With such a beautiful flume
Surrounding our earth
From the beginning of it’s birth
Will be the rest for me
For all time and my destiny


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Drugs

DRUGS
11-27-09
By
William L. Moore

They been coming around
I just blew into town
Look, See the junkies
Acting like Monkey’s

Passing out the Drugs
Acting like Thugs
Watching all the others cower
Enjoy the sense and feeling of Power

Beating the people down
Deep, Down in to the ground
Giving up a ring
Just to feel the awful Sting

As the flow goes up my nose
From sucking on the hose
We hope the bread’s that leaven
Will surely send us to Heaven

Forever, Endless flight
In search of the Pearly light


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Green Eyes

Green Eyes
WLM
Wildncrazy555
August 14, 2011

I met a new friend
She will be there till the end
With eyes so green
With the most beautiful sheen
She is so fine
As the sweet tasting young wine
Though we have never met
That is no sweat
For one day 
It will never get in the way
One day we will
As my name is sweet Bill
Kathy is her name
She is one in a million and the same
Just one day it will be
Just hold your breath and see

I met Kathy Stafford playing on pureplaypoker.com and we hit it off immediately
Her eyes are the most beautiful green as my eyes are too
We will always be friends and meet one day
William Lewis Moore
But my eyes change from Green to Blue to Gray
But that is another poem I have


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Too Much Love

Too Much Love
WLM
Wildncrazy555
June 29, 2011

Too much love
Sent to me from heaven above
Why would they want me
Shall it ever be
I have finally found her
She will soon be here
Her name is Cindy
My heart goes windy
We were meant for fate
But was never out of hate
I may repeat
But never from defeat
We will always be
Just her and me
She has made me be
So totally free
People will see us
Amazement in their eyes
Of the love that we share
Yes, We shall dare
We shall begin
From now until the end


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Earth

The Earth
WLM
Wildncrazy555
June 26, 2011

Sitting in the breeze
Wind whispering through the trees
Sun shining bright in the sky
Accept it, do not wonder why
The world is a wonderous place
And covers an awesome space
Accept it as it is
As surely it will be, it tis
For all life abounds
It is always with us around
Accept it
Do not reject it
For from his birth
Our God created this earth


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Amanda

Amanda
December 12, 2011
WLM
Wildncrazy555

Amanda my Dream, 
Just let out a scream, 
I know it will be, 
For YOU shall be with me, 
For the rest of my life, 
Without all the strife, 
We will always give,
Through our lives we will live, 
So happy and content, 
As it should be meant, 
And live and learn, 
In my arms I truly yearn, 
To have and to hold, 
For this I will be bold.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rescue

Rescue
WLM
Wildncrazy555
June 15, 2011

She is coming to rescue me
And I will finally be set free
My heart will be aglow
On my face it will soon show
She is my sweet, sweet dear
As the day will soon be here
I know she loves me so
In my heart and soul this I know
We have known from the start it was fate
It will never be from hate
We will have our very first date
After that she will be my mate
The doubters will finally see
Amazement on their faces it will be
I will laugh as it will show
For they will finally eat that Crow
She will finally be mine
For the rest of eternity and till the end of all time

this poem is in a contest with thousands of entries to be included in a book by all poetry contest. wish me luck grand prize is 1000.00$


Details | Prose Poetry | |

st john paul ll

gently we measured
our compassionate realm
I was takened by the mental storm 
of quiet gestures beckoning

the calm bayous the sinking earth
of hanging moss craving darkness 
while seeking lights inner most hues
catered to the wild eyes of daintiness
 
and empty sorrows kindered between 
a bias immortal sphere within thee eternal
wrath folded beyond di Vaticans core
beneath the rubble of solid structures

formed from masses of rotting flesh
and the bindery of soiled stained 
souls of cold shattered existances
beyond the robe an awakening era

permitted silence among 
the sheepcotes again
through a weakened weariness
reaching clawing clinging to a timeless cradle 

a quickening naught of emptied virtue
while death had resided in me
underneath a slab of raw gravel 
apon the holy see


Details | Prose Poetry | |

june

Glorious Hot Summer Days,
Where the only relief come from the onslaught of rain. 
The rapid release of air,
 followed by the high impact of colorful spheres filled with paint.

Cooler nights,
filled with the consumption of Chinese food, plate after plate after plate...
the cleaning of our armaments deep into the night, until the dirt and grim
of the previous days war is removed, and the guns are ready for new dirt and grim.

Hot day after frigid night, 
We’re assaulted. Battered beaten and bruised.

But,

We Fight.

Hour after hour, minute to minute,
Not knowing whether or not you’re going to get hit,
By one of those deadly spheres and the men in black and white come to call you,
Call you out of the game. Just to be re-inserted again and again.
Until that final horn blasts its wondrous song, and we’re forced to rest.
“Until next year my friends” is said before you leave the battle field,
As everyone trickles off to their places of residence, 
We all reminisce on the past weekend, tell of exhilarating moments,
But alas... We leave, until next year my friends.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ebony and Ivory

She hides her heart behind misleading eyes, layered with mahogany colored armor & a cloak of insecurities, walking as the proud figure of beauty when all she really wants... is to be accepted. She is, n open book of words unread, full of dread she wished she could express but is too afraid and borders herself away from the world around her. With pearls as her microphone head, lines of poetry as its staff & a background full of instrumented blasphemed romance, attached to an undercoating of Verde. She is, misunderstood and outspoken.. &she reminds me so much of myself. The well anticipated J. Cole concert we'd all been waiting for. She is, the reincarnation of musical masterpieces played through nimble vocal cords, & she's capable of so much more.. than she'll ever truly know..


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Technology

Burning lungs and driven minds,
I wouldn’t dare take a step back.
No one would believe me.
No one thought I had it in me.
If they only knew what we were capable of.

Let the crowd gather ‘round,
To see what they cannot deny.
Go ahead and eat the crow,
I am a machine.
If she’s got the fuel, then I’ve got the power.

Is everyone still watching?
Where did that train come from?
What power do I have against a locomotive?
How could I possibly stand up?
Please, everyone, turn your head for just one minute.

Wait, did you all see that?
I made a spark; I was running!
I swear it’s true!  I swear!
Ah ha!  It happened again; surely you saw.
If you had only faced this direction moments before.

Alas, it’s revealed.
I’m not bluffing, and now you know.
Now you can see her skin-carved “A.”
It’s right there in plain sight.
Credibility must bestow itself upon me.

I turn only to find your cosmetics at work.
You’re quick enough to be a beautician.
You’re dangerously quick,
Here I am, blushing red.
My shame is too much to bear; I’ve lost my alibi.

I’m outdated, worn down.
In these circumstances, can you blame me for rusting?
Not a soul has looked on me kindly since the day.
What once was luxury is being sold on a lawn.
Must you take all the fruit from the queen until she bleeds to death?

The back of this closet looks awfully dark.
I can't hear anything from in here.
I haven't a clue where everyone's gone.
I can promise you one thing is true, though:
I'm not broken; I still work.  I swear.  Just plug me in.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Life is Good

Life is Good
WLM
Wildncrazy555
July 26, 2011

Pity trips are for losers
For they are just snoozers
I feel so high
So high in the sky
For I can see
I belong I will BE
See the birds on wing
And hear them sing
For life is so good
As to be it should
For life to begin again
Until the end
To hear the BOOM
To be as a bee and Zoom
From flower to flower
Waiting for the shower
To quench their thirst
And fell the burst
Of life to be
We shall all be free


Details | Prose Poetry | |

GET HIGH ON WHATS RIGHT

why drink 
why stink
its not kink
black or white
to get
HIGH ON WHATS RIGHT


Details | Prose Poetry | |

HOUSE POOL

how i stay in shake
i do what it takes
and this is not fake
my home hads the tools
we also have a
HOUSE POOL


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WALL PHOTO

i have them all
picture of water fall
and kids playing ball
 i love to shot
i toots
at pictures takeing
am not fakeing
my pets are shot on alog
theye
WALL PHOTO


Details | Prose Poetry | |

One For Love

Your sweet breath escapes you and engulfs my soul 
Through words spoken as though from some celestial being 
Warm emotion floods me, floods my very fibrous core 
Love I feel is not a mere four letter 

Word that reluctantly man takes for granted, but more a 
Monument to the jubilous fire you set my soul alight with 
Speak, I cannot, the true magnitude of shear bliss 
Endured by my mortal flesh. With the slightest brush 
Of your angelic fingers. None can know or fathom 
what true insurmountable beauty lies within 
green fields of yet discovered highland plains laden with 
flowers and sweet honey aroma blows within. Feeble 
in my attempts to profess my own meek emotions 
turmoil of my own past colliding with the yet to be. I destroy 
myself knowing such turmoil I cause in an entity 
none like yourself. Meager apology and material possessions 
offer no hint of emotion of love and remorse contained 
My, love, our love, will endure of that much I am sure. Open my mind 
My only wish, to show you things I need you to see. I have known 
No strength such as yours you take for granted. Times as this 
I've never known but with you only would I have it to spend. Forget 
Not the who I was, the who I am, and the who I will be. 
My love, our love will endure of that much I am sure 
 
Monotony & Mundane remain the same 
caught in this slippery pretty net 
we're all falling in and around our own whirlpools 
our upward spiral climbs too high - the higher up the further down 
Fly the same play the same one with the other 
floating always floating 
This sea we've created weaved in the merciless 
fabric of the time we all flock to certain death 
holding the hands of our clocks & wondering why 
our own bleed. double edged is the face of 
a sundial. With each shadow flicker anguish & 
joy death & life exist permanently & are lost forgotten 
by time held by life lost by eternity. 
Let's all rally hand in hand while the band 
plays on 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mans Man

Man’s Man

WLM
Wildncrazy555
April 18, 2011
To the gay population in the world

He is quite a man
And he will make his stand
For he will always stay
In his mind his own way
To most in the world it is a sin
But to him it is his place to begin
He is not sappy
He is continually always happy
For the love he has to give
Makes his life so great to live
In life we always change things and arrange
To most in life they think we are strange
We will sit and feel the simple breeze
Knowing ??????’s heart is at ease
In this world we will not desist
For millions of others exist
We must always give them their own space
Since they will always win their race
And they exist in their own place
Which is full of God’s wonderful grace

Written for a friend of mine
Who will always be a friend
Regardless of his lifestyle
William Lewis Moore
Bill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Modern Florida's 'Chain' Of D.N.A.

It's been so long since i have seen her smile.
Thirty five years give a month or two.
Boy you best get back in that line, 
your dressed in blue to her you all look the same.
Boss she covers me, with all her dreams.
Reckless eye balling boy, no supper tonight for you.
I'm only asking why, 'Boss' man.
Boy your dressed in blue, your blue from head to toe.
Each day my wife, she comes and brings my lunch
besides that cup of fruit is not for fools.
Boss.
Boy now what! 
And then get back to work and just shut up.
Boss your eyes are blue and she is white like you.
Boy and whats the point your trying to make with me, 
be quick or back in side the hole you go to keep.
Boss it's the kids...I see inside the car.
I think and I may be wrong....I've been wrong before. 
But they look like twins or is it 'Boss' I'm color blind. 
Don't they appear 'Boss' and your eyes seem clear..
Are they not looking to be...of color the same as me.

Is It Poetry


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TRUE DESIRE

Burning Love and hot desire, consumes me like a wild fire. 
Pierced by cupids bow and arrow we are made for one another.
Joined together under the starts, not even nature can tear us apart. 
Rising together, Spiraling hiring we are made for one another.
The love we share share burns out of control like a raging fire. 
Nothing can stop us, not even our own desires.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

and 'Ladies'

 
  and 'Ladies' young and old
do you even know
when i go into the grocery store
and how they come all around me
and i
not even paying attention
as they watch me squeeze this and
squeeze that
and they being all that you are
some what more and some few less
and they
take my hand and place it there
and in my hand they squeeze it
they squeeze it harder than they should
but i'm not paying attention 
and as i'm thinking about squeezing
that which needs to be squeezed
in my mind i am squeezing it more
and watching some become flushed
there faces grow dark and pink
so many
and so many my head spins around 
looking down as i feel
all of that juice run free
through my hands
and all of my critical thinking
has left me it's gone. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sweet

Sweet 
WLM
August 15, 2010


You are as sweet as the Rose which blooms on the vine
Therefore I will be with you for all time
You make my day 
In such a shining way
The clouds in the sky
Are nothing like the high
Which makes my head reel
This feeling I feel
For the feeling is real
And such a great deal
We will be
As just set free
To live and learn
For you I only yearn
To make my life
Free from all strife
I am so in love
Like the white mourning dove
Who flies on the wing
Just listen and hear him sing
Our life will be fine
Like the sweet tasting wine
Of the purple fruit
Which will always suit?
God has sent you to me
For us to be free


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reality Vol.II

Ya know alot of people talk about
truth, reality, fact, fiction ya know
hypocrites in da church even the 
Apostle Paul witnessed these so called
divisions, but my focus, where I shine my
light today is on marriage. Yeah true
God adores it, thinks highly of it and 
this here is the perfect topic for discussion
yeah it looks easy when ya see it,
two people deeply in love with each other
best friends turned lovers leaving ya parents 
house to live in holy matrimony with each other
Beautiful right?

Aite now hears the grim truth God's always testing
you and the devils always tempting you 
so you try to stay strong. Dedication, honor, 
respect, loyalty forget special occasions candle 
lit dinners whenever to let ya spouse know to 
you they're more than royalty, but life ain't easy
let alone marriage it's far from simple. But question?
How hard is it really thru your years of hurt,
to let that special someone know that your willing
to go that extra mile to make it work. How you
gonna stand when you gotta patiently wait for God
when love hurts and it gets too hard. Thru ya worst 
time would you still let ya spouse climb into ya mental,
God loves a sanctified Christian but the flame in some
marriages is something most couples really need to rekindle.
So tell me whether good or bad times loyal or dishonest 
before you decide to throw in the towel maybe you 
should think long and hard about ya promise.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Spoken

Spoken!


Are we meant to walk a tight straight line,
Wouldn’t that be saying to walk like the blind.
How will the hollow be treated in the end,
The two edge sword is being used for family and friend.
A crooked smile is hard to bend right,
The strong is most needy when using their might.
Unconscious wisdom spoken to bring down to the top,
A cliff is extended in sight of the short stop.
Wrongful delight can’t teach a child confusion,
But a picture made by evil hands gives a right way illusion.
Falling short to the tall brings along a silent bed,
Hot air in a head makes no stop air blown on hot makes stop while ahead.
Carving your pumpkin with heart out of chest,
To take a heart out of evil empty chest is best.
Cut off your left if it hinders your right,
Close your eyes to see dark to realize whose light!

Ashley Hogan AH


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hard Reflections

Living today in the wake of yesterdays yesteryears, 
following the footsteps not walked for a while. 
Finding hope in the pages of time unwritten fearful 
that hope is all for nothing 
Offended by all of the offenders that crowd my sullen day 

All along the way I know in advance 
that the way I've lived most is 
the last way to live, 
knowing the way is hard to find when the 
days amount to nothing. Production slows 
as the motion becomes all to apparent, 
apparently just going through the motions. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LAND OF THE FREE

today they say Usa
the place to be
to get your key
there's no fee
come you'll see
this is the
LAND OF THE FREE


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Great Existence

Moving up over through 
Into
All I've known is felt through the end 
Never a beginning always ending
Falter as I may, myself I hold - alone in company 
Tress in to limestone pillars of my great hall 
Great as the Norse and proud as well
Threads of time woven with clumsy hands led by blind eyes 
Thus is the expanse of the web of life The Great Existence 
Not where but it's the being that is. Is what I am and 
What we are


Details | Prose Poetry | |

dawn

day break is dawning
I captured the moon yawning
while the sun was getting dressed
I heard cars rolling over the wet pavement
from the mist of the morning dew
the smell of open granduer arouses my memory
of colonial pastures and beckoning hues
of crawling grapevines creeping around the banyan tree
of warm wood cold rock crisp cedar too
why day break is dawning its dawning anew


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TWO OF A KIND

you and eye
see eye to eye
here's why
we don't try
its do or die
and thats know lie
thats our sign
TWO OF A KIND


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Silent One

Who is living alive inside of you? 
Do you even really want to know?
Have you ever spoken to the one that is always speaking to you?
Are you stacking all of your priorities with any proper perspective?
You know it is your battleground or so this is how you make it seem.
A zest for life arises in you continuously only to later be continued. 
So abruptly, you have dismissed the silent one inside of you to go!
All because you were swiftly overpowered by your own self-greed 
Nevertheless, where does the silent one keep retreating off to?
The silent one holds onto every single chance for a timely thought. 
Even all of those improbable unachieved least possible dreams!

What is it that lives alive inside of you?
What makes you even want to breathe?
Have you ever really felt the one who is always feeling you?
Innocence is sweet standing in your way of a divine pleasure. 
Again, it is your battleground or so this is how it surely seems!
Your blissful moments are in the hands of the silent one inside. 
Again, poof vanished indeed this time without a trace or lead!
Yet, you are completely indulging in a definite feeling of gratified.    
Still yet, where does the silent one keep scooting away to?
The silent one holds every crystal-clear thought, 
Even the ones all of you will still clearly demean!

Who gives you to you? 
Have you ever once thought deep and hard into that?
A restricted area due to the danger foretoken, your battleground or so it seems!
Excitement swells up alive inside of you with ecstasy’s loud bursting screams!
The silent one is slipping away while verbal battles are fueling into a combat.
Overwhelmed by self-indulgence your every breath is thoroughly exhausted! 
Still yet, where in this world could your silent one be gallivanting away to?
The silent one holds your every thought, even those you have so deemed!
Now do tell, who knows you better than you do?
Have you ever given this up for a chance of much thought?
Have you ever seen the one that is always looking at you?
Conflict of interest guards the main entrance, the battleground or so it seems!
Enticed to indulge the silent one inside is finally caught when truly sought.
Lured by the sight at hand, but why did the silent one have to stay too?
The silent one holds your every moment in your every thought, 
Even those you always seem to unfortunately forget to redeem!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

American Scream - The Bill Hicks Story

Bill beat them to death. Verbose and belligerent, banal and brilliant, Hicks would beat
you with a joke until you weren’t sure it was funny any more. But you’d still laugh.
Advertising advocates he indicated, would be best dealt with through suicide. Like
lemmings, but really jumping.

Clearly he can’t have so concisely come down on those poor cretins alone. Blasting and
berating the bourgeoisie, leaving no stone unturned. Advocating erogenous interaction and
nature’s narcotics never felt so fresh.

He cut a legendary figure, shining in mono on the stage, an anti-hero in the spotlight,
questioning the questionable and querying great quandaries for our bite-sized attention
spans. All joking asides and jeering anecdotes. The great, the goat, Gods and grass
gripped us throughout. 

In his own immortal words, life is just a ride. Rails and loops, dips and troughs. Thrills
and chills. 

Bill’s the ticket inspector. Taking names and kicking ass. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Crystal Clear

She cajoles my soul without the need for a comfirming hold.

Our conversations are intelligently, respectfully, and seductively full of eloquence.

Her soul fits my mind's definition of sexy.

Her lips recite the language of sweet licorice.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Prayer

  A prayer, that no one hears
as i walk through the blinding snow
and up each creaky step, 
they pause to let me by.
Chafed my wrists, your lips
i see, 
each face looks on concerned.
One ask them why.
My love for her, each call, each tear, 
i feel, 
by all around, i see them arm in arm.
The levers pulled.
My head, 
rolls down the wooden ramp, 
and muddies her clean feet.
i stood alone before the bench, 
without a name. 


s.t. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

PARK RUN

to stay in shape
i don't debate
i put on my shoes
listen to news
listen to the blues
get out in the sun
for a 
PARK RUN


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BABY YOU MADE ME

am nuthin at at all
you are my call
thats why am at the top 
and not stop
you see your my heavenly
BABY YOU MADE ME


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ONE GOD ONE LOVE

we'll his star
who you are
near or far
his loves 
from above
life will be smooth as lard
ONE GOD ONE LOVE


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Departure in Contrary Directions

I've made a home time and time again,
with what seems like effortless motion.
When it's over, I'm avoid sifting through
abandoned damage, just leave it  to sit
in a space I can no longer be.
I've never given concern of money to this home.
I must have the mind set of a crazed militant.
Willing to take the pain and the pain and the pain...again.
To get what is sought after,
for what feels right, for what will work in the end.
Without this contrary situation
I become a survivor of what has passed...
The soul that never wants to see or live
through given situation again.
unless the opportunity presents itself again
in a time given that you still have the strength
to fight and fight as hard as you did
all the same all over again.
Until, steadily and rightfully a path is built back to
the place of peace and meaning.
The place that was needed and wanted,
because you fought to be there.
The place that haunts every soul
until they finally arrive and in some cases, re arrive.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

GET ALONE

get stablt
should be able
to hold hands
and stand
together
make the world better
to hate is wrong
why can't we get alone


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE POWER OF FRIENDS

when your blue
you  need too
from wthin
have a ture blend
and you win 
there 's repect
you won't regret
won't run to the wind
thats
THE POWER OF FRIENDS


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WORK TO BE DONE

don't sit back
and relax
its a fact
there's a stack
that needs to sack
stop the sunforgun
there's worked
to be you can see
WORK TO BE DONE


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Liars Pen

Plagiarism is the great liars tool to rejoice in others work with a liars pen,
They live a liar’s life and disguise their stupidity with a liar’s conscience,
We should pity the liar’s theft as the lying thief has no words of his own,
He revels in stupidity because he knows there are many words unguarded,

To surf the great networks of knowledge seeing how other people write,
The liar wants recognition but he knows his words are as impotent as he,
So he searches in the deep dark archives hoping he will not be caught,
Liars have a disease as does a sociopath he cares for no one but his ego.

Writers and the men of knowledge have integrity they respect, respect,
A liar is an outcast from this world because truth is the key for the door,
To smile into writers face then steal his jewels when no one’s around,
Liars feed from the gutter as their soft minds cannot raise any higher.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ON THE RUN

i committe no crime
am always on line
 trying to get thur
  have so much to do
i will make time for you
and will lay in the sun
now
AM ON THE RUN


Details | Prose Poetry | |

SUMMER FUN

am going to have ball
and let the splash fall
going brind all
my friends as summer began
and party hard
im my back yard
going jump and bump
have a beach run in the sun
this
SUMMER FUN


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Being (Part One)

Aeons and Aeons and Aeons  of  Energy
Beaming Both Ways into Infinity
Ultimate – Top Level – Supremacy
Pure – Power, Full-Force – Almighty
… Too Awesome in The Intensity
for Either you or me, to See…

‘… The Being ’

We – Cannot Look Fully Nor Comprehend
That There Was No Beginning and Never Will End…
He  Exists!  He  is Alive!... Have you Not Felt The Wind?
Have you Not Heard of The Garden of Eden
and The Miracle of Life, He Continues to Send?...
… If its Just Too Much Mystery for Men
Just Bow your Head and Say… Amen…

to ‘… The Being ’

… I Cry at the Thought of Your Handsome, Vigorous Visage
Saying to Your Son, “Let Us Make Man in Our Image…”
Oh, That We Should Have Such a Prestigious Lineage
And You Gave Mankind Every Advantage
It Was others, who Came Along and Damaged
With False-Food, they Gave, Left Humans Famished
… but Your Children Will Return One Day – Unvanquished…

to  ‘… The Being ’

‘ He ’… Who Makes Become… Is ‘First – Cause!...
And We… Are All-Entourage, Entailed, Excited, Enthralled!
‘ He ’… Is to Be Blessed – Above – All
This Is ‘ The One ’ , Worshiped at Kingdom Halls
His … Is The Voice… We Wait to Hear – Call
We … Are To Follow All Of His Laws…
… from the A to Z… Alpha – Omega… and ‘Aleph – Taw…

‘… The Being ’

The Omnipotent Personage Is Excelsior
O’ Maker, Most High, Your Majesty Is Superior
There Was Nothing Before Your Shining Mirror
We Will Never Know All You Wore
Yours,  Is The Pitcher, Which Pours – Always More
… The Opened – Window of Wonder and Drama of:  The Door
Everything Is Yours and You Are The Core…

‘… The Being ’

‘ He ’… Is Our Journey and Our Destination
‘ He ’… Is The Quintessential Manifestation
‘ He ’… Is The Innermost-Part… ‘ HE ’, Is The Passion
‘ He ’… Is The Giver of All Satisfaction
‘ He ’… Is The Privacy… ‘ He ’… Is The Protection
His  Moving, Is A Marvel… Watch Him  In  Action!…

‘… The Being ’

Such Indescribable, Yet Desirable, Dynamic Dignity
Your Grandeur Is Like Immense Gravity
So Immeasurable Is YOUR Ability
Again… Is True Love… Too Much A Mystery?...
There Is No Greater Identity
than That of The Eternal- Emperor – Entity…

‘… The Being ’