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Prose Poetry Education Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Education

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

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Words Of Wisdom To My Child

You grow so fast, already showing glimpse of awesome creativity and transform discoveries from the industrious nature of your observations so squat at my feet and raise your attentive head up high to be equipped for this compulsory journey oh sweet creature of my seed. My hands of your molding and chastisement are already the processing engine of your refinement my strong willed mind and love soaked heart complete the stages as you hold steadfast to the train I’ve prepared for you Listen attentively as I perform this segment of my duties and lets take a tour round the routes of wisdom and gallivant the landscape of experience while I pedal your feet and smoothen your soles Seasoned flavored virtues are an armour through which life’s shots are overcomed and a colourful behaviour becomes a saviour in times of need Labor not your whole life in chasing vapour for out of vigour, flour is made from wheat, Bread from flour, but all for a time of enjoyment and satisfaction Guilty syndrome is exhibited when a person answers unasked questions and don’t force out jokes from your head or else people will think your sense of humor is on a life support Sunset is no accuse for the clock to stop running ad infinitum thus, an excuse is like a punctured umbrella it’ll still not stop the invasion of raindrops Your natural desires are borderless, but your ability to strongly control them is what makes you distinct from other species in the animal kingdom Love has no prefix, suffix or adjective it is what it is and as powerful as causing natural instincts to be abdicated in favour of kindness just for the carnivore to embrace abstinence. He who begins a tale becomes its reference don’t say what you cannot defend in court rumour is a bad odour which spreads beyond the neighbourhood and puts a noisy siren on your personality Bad companionship will lead you to the garbage and corrupt friends will join others to marvel at the immortality of your adopted stupidity Wash your face every morning with these words and take your every meal with these lines then would they be spices to which your life is preserved.

Copyright © Funom Makama

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Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"

Copyright © Perry Campanella

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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.


Is It Poetry 

Copyright © Poetry Is It

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7 Gifts of the Holy Spirit Prayer

Lord God,
Stretch our mind/s with deep understanding of Wisdom
To obtain positive understanding with every complications
Counsel us with guidelines in our work

Give us Fortitude, strength, Patience and Tolerance to finish in peace successfully
Deliver knowledge in our mind/s
For us to receive Piety, goodness and devoutness to get satisfaction
With Holy Fear of the Lord-God, I/we ask in the name of Father Christ Jesus to be with us now and forever.


People can change the “our” to “their”, “him” or “his” when praying for others.

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza

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Poiesis on poetry

Inception of poise anon-times.) And burgeoning..! 

"Plays" of & to; each entered instance...

To posterity through eternal inference..!

Copyright 20 12 2011 Joe Maverick..

Copyright © Joe Maverick

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Mellors math teacher

this poem is dedicated to my Mr mellors i hope he reads this

The Cop, The Math Teacher, The Guide you've been there for me when i was confused and could not see the forest or the path you were there when school was hell and life was black as midnight you were there when i screwed up and found myself trapped by my own mistakes even though i disappointed you at times and made you want to tear your hair out you were there you've always been there and cannot thank you enough Thank You Mr. Mellors

Copyright © Wolf Lief

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	It was kind of nice having money all the
	Looking back when I was seventeen,
		I looked forward to going to work.
	It is unlike what I feel about work now.
		I did a lot of reading as a child.
	I read all kinds of books.
		I would consider Oak Lawn a safe
	Community then. 
		I can’t remember any times when I got beat up.

	I did a lot of running home and telling.
		I avoided a lot of suffering by talking to
		My parents about the bullies.
			It wasn’t until junior high that I had to
		Take care of a fight that went way wrong.
			I was scared to death of a seventh grader.
		I fought him, and found out he wanted to 
		I wasn’t that good of a 
			Wrestler then.

		I got better
			In high school.
		It was kind of chaotic, and the wrestling matches
			Were more “fighting” than wrestling.
		I hung in school and made a name for myself
			At Oak Lawn Community High School.
		My sister gave me a collection of albums
			My junior year.
		I was introduced to all kinds of music by

		My first good introduction to music came
			My sophomore year.
		A friend introduced me to “The Police” with
			“Zenyatta Mondatta” and “Ghost in
		The Machine”.
			He told me what he did at his party
		In eighth grade.
		They sat around and played Gin.
			They drank soda.
		They went bowling.

		I got off to a late start with music,
			And I finally caught up with my tape-
		Radio I got for Christmas my junior year.
			I could have had a big party,
		But I decided to wait.
			I didn’t really have one except
	 	The one’s I had in grammar school.
			My friend thought he was going to
		Get married to this one girl at O.L.C.H.S.
			It fizzled out like my relationship did.

			That girl liked someone else though.
		I should have given up calling her,
			It was no fun talking to her.
		She didn’t talk to me at all in school.
			I’m not sure she even knew who I was
		In lunch.
			I didn’t have anymore classes with her.
			Her boyfriend went out for basketball
		Like I should have done.  I was pretty good.  Maybe just
		Doing my chess and studying was the best thing for me to do.


Copyright © Hannibal Lecter

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Bitter Truths

                                  Bitter Truths

How much of bitterness is truth we cannot swallow.
The acridity of words held idle for too long, fermenting
in the cauldron of conceit, the spoils of victory flaunted
in feigned servility.  What scales measure life against
life, gain against greater gain, success against success?
Can we not savor the sweetness of another’s gifts
without coveting them, bathing them in our envy,
sullying them with our rancor?  Could we not applaud
the valor and perseverance of the triumphant, revel
in a rivalry well played, tip our equally soiled cap,
nod in an appreciation of a job well done?
Must the fist of failure pummel all who do not win,
remove the joy of competition’s camaraderie,
negate the lessons learned, the hours shared,
diminish the successes in setting and
eclipsing goals and gains.  Does not the acrid stench
of final gun fade, slowly drifting on a passing breeze?
Why must the truth hold bitter still, unable to accept
the success in every failure and the failure in
disparaging success.

John G. Lawless

Copyright © John lawless

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myanmar poem, poetry, poet from myanmar

For many people outside the Myanmar poetry, it may come as a surprise that there is such a thing as language-oriented poetry contemporary poetry scene in Myanmar. The Poetry of the bourgeoisie and the "art for the people" left-wing poetry.
I feel like I have to say to me about how this had happened in Myanmar, the country was under military rule over the past 60 years their poetry broke away from the traditional style classic writing about the monarchy the old and the Burmese Old Burmese way of life before the annexation of British Burma in 1886. The hair experimental poetry movement 1 of the 20th century, was 2 in the movement of new writing, which led pilot Dag on (which is now in his 90s and blind), after the end of World War 2. Influenced by left-wing ideology known of the historical period popular poetry, realism and the Marxist-oriented, through the 40S late. There was at that time, an ideological struggle between the so-called "art for art's sake" The Poetry of the bourgeoisie and the "art for the people" left-wing poetry. Has described those who did not support writing the new "bourgeois" and blasted the "progressives." Although the new writing system that is based on experimental poetry rhyme 4.3.2 with some changes in the number of syllables in each line rhyme scheme, which makes it more flexible, and was aimed at, faith, and the content of a revolutionary. The art for the masses, and poetry is the weapon of the masses against the landowners and capitalists and national. It is unfortunate that the writing of new, while winning the hearts and minds of an entire generation of young poets, and in some cases made just propaganda, and the adage is that the hair must be less aesthetic and utilitarian more so that even the common person would low education "appreciate" poem with ease. UNSUPPORTED CODE myanmar poem UNSUPPORTED CODE 

Copyright © sanjit saha

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Diction ENglish grammer proper nouns predicates verbs learn the way the language 
works then grow up to be a poet and throw it all away today to make new words to 
make poems bleed to make the rhymes the prose doth need. Shakespeare is an 
affluance. He rubbed off some on my purple prose. O God! how wonderful are Thy 
works! Thou makest the rotting log to nourish banks of violets, and from the 
stagnant pool at Thy word springs forth the lotus that covers all with fragrance and 
beauty! Sonnet #3,000,745,001 OH LORDy 
OH LORDy, howe wondrous is thy working beauty. Thou doth makest the rott sprout 
violets from olden logg on water bank nearest stagnant pool whilst at Thy WORD the 
lotus springeth forthwith to cover over all the smelling salts nearest hand to hold in 
cuppboard bare the bone for elbert Hubbard gone. Hark the light from yonder glaring 
glen forsook the frames the lenses now opaqued. Blind to world of beauty winter 
paints a white mistaken ache in me. Amid the bones of whited elephaunt skunks 
rome near me to harken when the crow calls daybeak come. Caw the raven quoth. 
God forbode a man, that an Englaisman should tell or act a lie, neithor the Son of 
GOD my Jesus, that He should feel repentance or compunction [for what his Father 
has promised].  Has He sayeth, and shall He not say on?  Or has He spoken and shall 
He not make it gooder. Oh LORDy. For the reasoneth He stays upon His bethroned 
placement is quite evident for iff GOD were to walk the Earth as a mere man in sight 
of all this assembled Heathorns even for just one day twold make us all so jealous of 
the miricles in the clay. For Jesus could open up his hand wiht a plott of dirty clay 
and make a violet blooming say. Oh Lordy. 

Copyright © charles hice

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Elimination of Stress and Strife in My Life

Broke the Rules...
Left some clues...
I'm a fool...
Living in a cesspool...

I hear the economy is bad...
And getting worse each day...
Although it hasn't affected me in any way..
I can even keep kosher if I choose.
So what do I have to lose ?...
I get three meals a day..
And sometimes a snack...
Clean clothes everyday I put on my back..
Exercise is a daily routine..
that I choose to do ..and it keeps me lean..
My quarters are small..but after all..
We have a room with a big color TV...
And a place for family and friends who visit me...
Healthcare ? not a problem you see..
As I don't pay for insurance like thee...
Problem with teeth...rectified
Education, Degree, I can even be Certified..
Because unlike you, who lives outside..
You need to work to survive...
Now I'm a part of the system you see..
And have it much easier than any of thee..
I broke the law and now pay the price...
But I'm still better off than your lousy life...
And when I'm released, I will qualify for...
Medicaid, Medicare and even more...
So you may have done it different than me...
But in "old age ", we're equal you see...

Copyright © kj force

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                     Be the best you ,you can be...even if you have stereotypical strikes against you. Use the back door, dressed in khaki not Gucci, armed with knowledge and the courage to know that you be the best ,at whatever you do. And let it be proved, no one can perfect on being you. Make sure what ever you do ,you do so well that once you are gone. you'll still be remembered;   Remembered for the improvements,and not destruction. King wanted not to be martyred, as he wanted to prove:  As I have done you can also do:There's no difference between you and I; So do as I have done and even more he would say, prepare your self with education and the knowledge thereof.

. Stand on passion and be guided by LOVE. Passion and self determination is the lamp at our feet. Even if you cannot afford a college degree, Grab a book from the library and read, be you self taught or guided by ancestors voices. Its all in a book, the ancestors still care.  The way has been paved and the motivation is there. Some made it through on wisdom and prayer. He did not die for us to praise him, he wanted to be an example and his example was ample; To show that just an ordinary man...could leave a legacy and a dream. That all men are created equal ..SO do even more than I have done he would say Because he has already opened up doors and paved the way..  Let us not run backwards ,forward we tread. His dream is alive and his memory not dead. Stop looking for A leader and become one instead,by his courageous spirit, let us each be led...Billions are looking around for a King, put on your gloves and get in the ring.You are chosen by the mighty....Yes you are the one...each of you have a Job to do. Be the best you,you can be. And lets get this done.!                         YOU ARE THE ONE!

Copyright © Vicki Acquah

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The failing education system

the Indian education system is the worst
because the parents and students aim for first
this is because education is turning out to money
but this is not funny
each individual has a dream
but sometimes the light does not beam
because of the society
and the parents anxiety
every parent wants their child to get education stardom
and snatch away the child's freedom
the parents doesn't want their child to gain knowledge
and they want their child to put their effort till the edge
no one can understand that marks are just numbers
and they make us climbers
how can numbers be a mark of our thinking capacity in our brain
the sentences we read from our book will vanish like rain
the disaster is the television publicity for the topper
and everyone thinks the toppers are sharper
but most of the topper are just blind fold in mugging up each line
without understanding, but everyone thinks its fine
because of this attitude of Indians we are down
and other country treat us like clown
and mold us according to their wish
like their favorite dish
memory is just a skill
it cannot lead us to the top of the hill
in depth knowledge will lead us to great height
like wright brothers who found flight
whenever this situation changes our country will shine
and other countries will wait back in line
India should make leaders
and not workers 

Copyright © yashika ramesh

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It was the dawn of a new day;
knowledge and truth sought and given.
As I gave, so was I again taught.

(Ask, and it shall be given)

“Teacher, same said Egypt ina Africa
lak ina de Bible?”

“Same said Egypt, son;
same said Africa.”

(Seek, and you shall find)
“But Teacher,
dem neva tell we 
dat, Sah.”

(By night they stole us; by day they maimed our minds)

“I know son;
But we now teach ourselves”
our story.”

“Ah true, Teacher; ah true.
Dis day be a new day dat’a com.”

(Truth, trampled to the ground, always rises)

Free your mind and you are;
but like butterflies, be aware
of the rain.

(The truth shall set you free)

Copyright © millard lowe

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Soltive pre ordained priest warlike additives initially a Jesus Freak becoming cold 
hearted in the winter. Bane has come with hatred of simple minded people. Sexual 
orientation is nill. Macabration indentation on the quilt. A welcome matt with a towel 
for spills. I have a small fortune tied. Up is not an option now. There is only snow up 
there eventually. The water line is nearer the river then the streaming stream of 
water near me on the highway catching all the melting riverlets as they run away 
from home in WinterBane. Some men still have strength but they abuse it think to 
break down boarded ruins tearing down old barns and cornors of old abandoned 
houses where homeless and poor people might find shelter from the rain. Where will 
they find to dwell. Because of wealth they have a large area to heat in WinterBane 
they have a larger of a structure the more expensive in the WinterBane with sleet 
coming down in Sheets of Ice looked like a solid wall of water hitting me Frost icing 
clothing no thing was DRY ice all over me a few moments after I stepped toe out of 
sheltor walking on the SIDE of the road cant walk on the roadway slipping on the ICE 
stepped offroad walking in the treelined. I found what looked like a Najavo Hogan 
brogaded outside there was clothes hannging on branches a Babylon Garden in the 
snow. While the whole city was whited out at degrees zero. The goose has a liver. 
Oh Pâté the liver rules the Goose is cooked with too many alcholic incumbents while 
the minutes of the meeting Read all old activity reported long ago nothing is new 
under the sun. Nothing there is nothing is there nothing in my past has preparred me 
for my future education has failed me for the alcholic eye was ruined for functioning 
in SOciety degenerate reborne. Nothing smelles worse to a man then sex mixed up 
with tobacco and alchohol how can anyone live as porn objects and still survive the 
toll booth smells like whiskey before three pee em it takes the heart to control it 
takes the lust to want. I feared to die for I was sinnor I feared one day to lay 
underneathe the snow ensheathed but then one day has come to eye EYE Fear No 
Snow EYE Fear No Snow I am a man. The snow no longer bothers me. I am beneath 
it all, My soul is not inside of me. It leaves me when I fall. As I lay here 
silently,wating for the trumpet, It will blow! 
I do not any longer fear the snow. 
Copyright © 2006 charles hice

Copyright © charles hice

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Stupid Question

Blog?  Is that when your sink is clogged with blood?

Copyright © tom bell

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 (Dedicated to Dana Rugina)

On that very cool and refulgent evening
Flying from Europe to Africa
Luck placed me beside you
How beautiful it was to look at your pretty face
How wonderful to know you are from Romania
How pleasant it was to have a seat beside you
How glad I was to know you are a mathematician
Though accented, paid kin attention to listen to me
I had a smooth and sweet flight
Not because it was an Egypt Airline nor that I sat in business class
But because you keep my company
“Is your final destination Egypt?” ignited our conversation
“A man that keeps quite will die” will I always remember
Because they are words of wisdom
I believe I’ll see you again
Friend on the flight
Where and when, that I cannot say. 

(c) 2011

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande

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                          In my  life , i find pressure to be different and extra ordinary.
it is a struggle;
a battle;
a discomfort, 
and above all a 'challenge' on how to get to the top.
In a super and extra ordinary life , I see myself as a best friend to the Eagle because it settles for nothing less,
A cousin to the Elephant because its strength and courage are unbeatable,
Having a chance to be spoken to by a Beaver because its words are more less like its personality, i.e a hard worker.
Having a chance to hear and know how an ocean really is and what makes it outstanding despite having the same 'waters' as the lakes and rivers.
Being given a chance to run with TIME in the race called ''BIT IT and ATTAIN'' a reward called SUCCESS.
Indeed it is a quest within,
A quest for extra ordinary...

Copyright © chimwemwe chiluba

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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. 

Copyright © charles hice

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Sliced Her Like A Knife Slice

The Story: 

ragged faded 
lady hoarder, 
diva boarder, 
dancin' to the tune 
of her Dandelion Wine. 

milky-eyed maiden, 
peddles paper posies, 
masticating carnivore, 
toothless, useless whore. 
not on her best night! 
not anymore! 

acclimated alleyways, 
rodents without fear, 
muddle-minded Faustian , 
soul redeeming martyr - 
thirty-seventh year. 

The Memories: 

broken boned beauty 
forged in her mind, 
conscientious duty 
lost to time. 

could have been 
a skater, 
rockefeller rink, 
sooner came later, 
locked and loaded link. 

pride of Arizona, 
class of sixty-one, 
a devotee of luna, 
loves her remy rum. 

many bitter winters, 
bitter winter winds, 
sliced her like a knife slice, 
bled her bone thin. 

The Story: 

gave away her gravity, 
east L.A. 
weighted down reality 
roles she plays. 

saddle-strapped sad hag 
gone insane, 
never gonna' lose 
'cause she's never in the game. 

always aware where the 
light lays low to the ground 
livin' in a clap-trap 
jingle-jangle town. 
runs for the shade 
when the sun goes down; 
safety in crazy, 
crazy shades and shadow 
hides her braided hair 
and her Royal golden crown. 

salts of lithium 
took away her name; 
doesn't even know 
who the hell to blame. 

wants to be codified, 
once and for all, 
as prophets once prophesied - 
another Jackie O. 
with her hag-bag shop rags 
ready to go. 

time is always lazy for a lady goin' crazy!! 
midnight, brain-drain, middle of the boulevard, 
ragged lady bag-hag screamin' out her rage. 

The Lady Speaks: 

up there with your pixilated palindromes, 
sippin' fresh-dipped sewer juice 
and french champagne - you blue-blooded, high-borns, 
listen to the tale that I wail at you. 

i'm a sack-cloth, busted, shackled crusted scab, 
gonococcal wet-brain - slippin' on the ledge 
of pain on pain, while livin' on the edge 
in the whorin' pourin' rain. God died, I cried, 
now i'm lookin' for some gain. 

leave your flush plush penthouse high-flying life; 
see your bleeding sister, see your bleeding wife. 
that's right, once a wife, mother to your kids. 
your kids are gettin' shifty, siftin' on the street; 
private school, brittle-veined, maggot-tagged gods, 
waitin' for the reaper with the universal odds. 

i'm brain-drained, insane, dissipated plain, 
a bucket full of truth even Jesus wouldn't claim! 
so crucify your comfort, your gentrified name, 
then bring it to the street, bitch, let me see your shame. 

Copyright © tom mcmurray

Details | Prose Poetry | |

CADD part two2

"Vision Zero" -- no more deaths from highway accidents. The idea was born in Sweden, where it's had spectacular success in reducing traffic fatalities. Now zeroing out all traffic fatalities must become an explicit U.S. and worldwide goal. Otherwise we have no prospect of taming the appalling roadway death toll -- 42,000 lives lost yearly in the United States, close to 1.2 million worldwide. THE LAW IS STATED FOR EACH AND EVERY DIFFERENT STATE IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
 › Alabama DUI Law
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 › California DUI Law
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 › Florida DUI Law
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 › Illinois DUI Law
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 › Kentucky DUI Law
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 › Maryland DUI Law

 › Massachusetts OUI / DUI Law
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It is hard to do the will of GOD and judge not a brother for what he eats or drinks but they THE LAW aer seeming smarter for they judge no content but amounts thereof. This is number twenty in my CharlaXTitles Cadd. 

Copyright © charles hice

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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.

Copyright © Natala Orobello

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Plaids.docx Plaids Satan and Daniel one last word “Checked or checkered worsted or suited to be nude under your clothing is transparent apparently non existent to my naked eye think this will be easily my last try Daniel answer me what is the last word” ? “Remember it means your soul against your long and sinful life”. Daniel shuffled his feet there was only a long silent night. “Away over there in the manger”, the Devil began to sing. “Stop that” was from Daniel, “How do you expect me now to think” ? “eye need a drink a stiff one or both, ? eye need to THINK!!! The merciless Devil began to sing louder “Baby Jesus in the Carriage rhymes with perfect Marriage” yes you never married Daniel Webster but you played the bombast lots of times. Tell me now this one last test of time repeat after me “the last word is now just fill in the blank for your life ; at this the Devil Satan rocked back and forth in a Mimicry of him and then HE smiled. You always defeat me so quickly so smug in your Lawyers britches. While Christians die naked and stoned in the bull rushes of “GOD”. Daniel was smiling now. The Devil slapped his hand up over his mouth TOO LATE he realized just what he had done. Daniel seized the day. “GOD” is the last word howsoever you say it Jesus or Our Father the last word is “GOD”. Then the Devil rode a giant lightening rod back up to the Heavens and Daniel did his little Webster definition of a dance shuffle full of saving Grace. He shot his cuff out and buffed his sleeve and looked down at his Plaids.

Copyright © charles hice

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MTV's 16 and Pregnant

There's always an issue with teen pregnancy. And when watching "16 & Pregnant" on MTV,
still on the air, this "wanting-to-be-a-parent-at-an-early-age" thing has gone way too
far. This show's about teen girls, who got pregnant at the ages of 14,15,16,and/or 17.
They had their hopes and dreams in tact, but all of them have been put on hold. One of
those dreams included being a lawyer, doctor, or whatever. MTV's "16 & Pregnant" means the end of
one's so-called "social life." It means no more going to the movies, no more going to the
mall, no more going to exclusive parties, nothing. There was no way that these teen girls
were to be mothers at an early age. They needed to concentrate on getting their high
school diplomas and their college degrees, and then have kids. There was no way that these
teen boys were to be fathers at an early age, either. They needed to focus on their
futures, like going to college. Those teen couples, they should've used condoms. Now I
know why I never became a father at an early age, let alone 13 or 17. Some teen couples
should've waited until both teen parents had finished their education and they were
married. But despite all of the drama and the stress, I still think that all teen moms are
doing a good job, raising their children. And if "16 & Pregnant" were to stay on the MTV
network for at least two (2) more seasons, that would be great, but teen pregnancy has got
to stop. No children until after marriage.

Copyright © Brashard Bursey

Details | Prose Poetry | |


“Preacheth” Simpler version is better. As in the poem so is the days of our lives. The Congregation wants the King James Version. The Preacher wants the NIV New International Version. The Hobo comes in the Church in the middle of this Sunday Confrontation. Eye have the Gideon Bible eye took it from the Motel at the edge of town they had a disclaimer on the page said for me do not remove this Bible from the room. The Church is quiet now not a sound not a mouse moves in the house. “Why did you take the Gideon Bible”? said the Preacher. “SAYETH why” said the congregate. Eye like to have a Bible in my hobo bag so when someone steals it they can find the Bible in the bag and it keeps them mad. But eye promise you one thing preacher when eye meet this Gideon fellow eye will give it back. The preacher says, “eye will Preach.” The congregate says “no you will Preacheth.” The hobo says “read it from the Gideon.” Deuteronomy 5:19 (New International Version) 19 "You shall not steal. Deuteronomy 5:19 (King James Version) 19Neither shalt thou steal. Deuteronomy 5:19 (The Message) 19 No stealing. Open the night stand drawer in almost any motel room in the world and you will find a Bible placed there by the Gideon’s International. The oldest Christian business and professional men’s association in the United States, the Gideons have been around for more than 100 years, and have been placing Bibles in hotel rooms for almost that long. They also give the small New Testaments to people at schools eye havd had many of them and yes eye am the hobo that steals bibles from motel rooms.

Copyright © charles hice

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Leader among leaders
Beaten, never die
Stressed, not strained a bit
Pulled apart, never deformed
But better than former
Been through fire,
never burned
Walked through storms,
last man standing
Super eagle among the eagles
Catering for the falcons
Having a heart of unconditional love
King of one queen
Great example to his offspring
True friend to his friends
Man of his words
Always walk the talk
A true ambassador in a foreign land
True champion of our time

(c) 2011

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Puke all over the seat and get some on your dogs head 
and a little on the wife’s  purse get her good 
and Madd at yew so she will take the car keys 
and drop them in the piranha pool to keep 
the control of the car away from yew. 
DO not ever try to drive the car like that again. 
Be my friend let the motor idle when the belly 
has an idol in the center of your disgusting 
fatness leave the driving to the women 
or call the rental. Drinking is a disease 
of the mind heart liver central being alcoholic yew. 
It is now not only whiskey but people drugging 
swagging smoking of the left handed Turkish variety 
just puffing passing smoking inhaling 
like a Clinton Will. Stronger measures now aer 
needed to stop the added danger of a high 
mucky muck brown frame toker from totaling 
the soccer van of Mother. There is station wagons 
on the road this mourning with whiskey bumps 
all over them the women drivers not exempt 
from hitting poles and other cars 
and then my friend there is the LAW of Johnny 
combined to probable cause. When the police man shines 
his light inside the car and sees at least thirteen 
empty beer bottles laying in the back seat empty 
he has a right to ask ewe iff ewe aer recycling them 
or drinking. A road test complete with breathalyzer 
please make them touch the nose 
never mind the sneezes please.

Copyright © charles hice

Details | Prose Poetry | |



The mental quality of spirits is unveiled.
Anne saw them in imagery.
They were in small shapes as a displayed mural.
A bust of lives demised with estate being conveyed as an inhabitant or the occupier.
Their capacity was that of full animation and stream.
Anne watched the mystical images that were once all men.
Their colors came as black, white, and olive.

Attuned to their surroundings, they did not alter their position on the wall.
They desire was to rectify a wrong.
Calibers are competent to their form in which Anne was not afraid of being forewarned.

Anne began to name them the ones that she saw.
The black one was called Magic because he was the leader of them all.
There were two level of white men seated by rows.
Anne named them Parchment because of their lab coats.
The olive one was called Mixed-Blood.

Stature they formed with ability to construct.
The degree of their mental capacity paraded the capability of the physical you being possessed.
Might they enter via an oval of the body?
They haunted this house to influence cognizance.
Anne’s knowledge is such that she may not be aware of their existence from where they exist.
Ignorance is the perception Anne lived in.

Anne and her family moved from this house in her seventh year.
She saw their presence first when she was four.
Once Anne and her family left, she did not see them anymore.

Anne moved on Briesch when she was an infant.
She never spoke of what she saw until she relocated.
Anne’s mother stated that a veil was over her eyes, a pall of despair trying to develop premonition.

Caliber is a degree of mental capacity or moral quality.
Anne cultivated this identity.
Penned February 17, 2014!
For Anne Currin Contest Any Poem/Any Subject! 

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mum's Hero

Mum, you bought me shoes, socks and a football kit,

'You were willing me to see me as your ‘hero’.

Fifteen years have passed away,

I still have your gift that you bought for me on Christmas. 


Your son is a really hero, have you seen me,

I am top scorer as you can read in the local newspaper,

When I kissed my first trophy, my tears poured out, 

My friends thought that I am crying in happiness.


Mum, have you remembered me? 

As I know, I always missed your shadow,

I go to the pond every week, 

Where you fed the birds and spent hours with them. 


You never come to learn, 

How your son spent days, weeks and years.

Perhaps you don’t know, dad also left me, 

When you went out, he ran after you. 


I saw his picture in a newspaper,

When I grew up a little, I heard from my carer,

Your dad died in an accident,

Have you come to attend his funeral? 


I learnt when he left church nobody was behind him,

Only service that he received has been delivered,

I went often to kiss his stone, as I found him,

Few days ago it was a fathers day. 


When I join my mate’s birthdays, 

I saw their parents curdling them with gifts.

They dance and laugh, enjoy food and drink,

I feel loneliness and lost myself in puffs of smoke. 


Always I got drunk but never forgot that incident,

When you tried to stop dad, not to drink more,

He pushed and slapped you strongly,

I saw blood touching your feet. 


You don’t know, I also ran after you,

Door slammed shut, road was icy and frozen,

I hit a stone and fell conscious on the street,

When I found myself, I was in a hospital bed.


Mum, is your face looking the same as before?

How will I recognise you if I met you suddenly?

I am sure mum. You will recognise me,

At last I am your son as same as I am Dad’s. 

Copyright © Daljit Khankhana

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Cottons Southern Man

More than a man, the south made.
Black and white, south one started, 
great oaks refused no man a child
to hang about it, call dark christmas.
Hallow was a name, old now hollow.
Stigma inside wears grey cotton
memories, alive die uncompensated.
Here, electricity has that sick sweet  
smell about it, as if it were once alive.
While morality, debates in pockets 
of isolated votes packed together.

Is It Poetry

Copyright © Poetry Is It