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Dedication Prose Poetry Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Dedication

These Dedication Prose Poetry poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Dedication. These are the best examples of Dedication Prose Poetry poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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 | |

Dedication To All My Poetry Friends

                  ~Dedication To All My Poetry Friends~

My head is spinning my ears are ringing my system is living 
my singing don't know why I felt like writing with no books 
just words to explain my remarkable intentions after meeting
all of you through our poetry. 

Although I had average education, that is why when I write poetry
I have only one way of sharing my feelings, and it is the simplest 
way, the way I talk casually and I try to be proud of myself, especially 
when I read poems written by all of you, such deep words, such smooth 
lines, quality, beautiful, rhyming, your writings are pieces of rare art, 
and I am flattered and honored to have had the opportunity to be 
accepted by all of you.

I had low esteem of myself for not ever trying to force
my dad to allow me to continue my studies well now its too late,
but I can write with pride as I am self educated to write poetry 
between thousands of very highly intellectual colleagues.

When I am with everyone of you, I am so impressed by your writing skills
nothing seems impossible our discussions through writing and reading 
changed the course of my dreams and added hope for another tomorrow.

When I am with all of you, I feel so fortunate to have met
everyone of you through sharing our poetry and comments
I will look forward for deeper friendships. 
When I am reading your poems it awakens in me a stronger 
intellectual consciousness. 
Thank you for allowing me to have a new life,
with immense happiness. 



Poem of Dedication....... Sandy Ivy D
       5/4/2013


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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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!!!


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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.


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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 | |

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 | |

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 



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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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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.