Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Prose Poetry Faith Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Faith

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

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Salvation comes with a far greater sacrifice than blind faith and car-wash fundraisers

Travelling to a foreign land,
engaging in a cause not rightfully yours to join,
illegally taking up arms
with a desperate desire to save baby orphans
(only to dig them into the ground anyway);
is a life-altering experience.

There is an old line which goes something like:
"A part of my soul died on that cold, November morn."

But, such an experience can have the opposite effect entirely.
Yes! An experience such as this
can re-kindle a passion within,
so that every single particle,
every minute of each passing hour,
feels like a sacred gift -
the most sacred gift imaginable.

Yet upon returning home from such an experience,
after being grilled by Internal Affairs,
threatened with charges of International Treason,
Subterfuge and Espionage(but in the end,
you were only trying to save baby orphans
that you had to dig into the ground anyway,
so Internal Affairs drops the charges, telling you to scram),
you are inevitably slapped across the face
with an inescapable new reality....

....everyone appears to be whining and complaining
about the most trivial things,
as if everyone simultaneously feels wronged.

And this is wot you feel compelled to do:
you want to take these whiners,
transport them one-by-one
back to the foreign land with you.
After they see living skeletons
drag themselves across the dirt,
moaning, groaning, pleading for a drop of clean water, 
a miniscule morsel of food,
you hand the whiner a gun,
point toward an ominous dust-cloud on the horizon,
and this is wot you say:

"See the dust-cloud moving closer towards us.
It is filled with psychopathic horsemen.
These psychopathic butchers are wielding bayonets, machetes and Kalashnikovs.
If you and I do not successfully kill these mad horsemen,
they are going to chop apart all of the baby orphans
congregated in the courtyard over there.
Do you see the beautiful baby orphans in the courtyard?
Yes, those are the orphans.
And if we do not successfully defend this camp,
yet somehow survive with our lives,
we are going to spend the rest of the night
digging the baby orphans into the ground.

So, it best be high time you wipe the tears from your face,
stop worrying about how so-and-so called you a loser or wotever,
how your retirement funds appear to be shrinking
and so you won't be able to play as many games
of hitting the little white ball across a course 
fed with enough water to run an entire city.
Forget about your little boo-boo.
Pull-up your chin, straighten that spine,
and start squeezing the trigger like there's no tomorrow."

September 25th, 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |


                            Swallowed by the night rain;
                       I chased the light.
                 Though you knew I could not trust it.
               It changes itself when it meets a black hole.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Disappear

wake up to serendipity
ignorant and unknown
shaken and not stirred
blond can be bond

Reality, metaphor and cliche
cheesy juvenile decay
Love, care and hate
past the use by date

of fights and torment
and well deserved lament
salute to the solitary reaper
with Metallica... I disappear

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Power Of Faith

Why do birds have wings,
Did you ever watch them fly?
Gracefully they fill the air,
Beauty in the sky.

Why do puppies wag their tail,
Their happiness so pure?
The little squeeks and special sounds,
Steal your heart for sure.

Why do trees have leaves,
Their branches reaching far?
Their start in life a tiny seed,
Their growth wonder and awe.

Why does the sun rise in the East,
Brighten our life each day?
It then sets in the West,
When it is time to go away.

Why do flowers only bloom,
For a little while?
We enjoy their beauty,
They soon go out of style.

Why is there a rainbow,
Whose colors have no end?
Why is it not straight,
Instead of in a bend?

Moses brought the Israelites,
Out of Egypt's land.
How did they get there anyway,
We do not understand.

Thomas, do you believe,
Because you see and feel?
Bless those who accept the Son,
For it is God's Will.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Tale of Sandy the Snail

This is the tale of Sandy the snail...
Who always wore her hair in a ponytail...
She was different from others and I’m sure you’ll agree...
As her colors were bright neon fluorescent green you see... 
She wasn’t content just moving slow...
She wanted to run like a Marathon Pro...
Up early each morning...
When the Sun arose...
She did pushups, pull ups and touched her toes...
Alas... it was then she realized this was futile...
As everyone knows...
If she had feet, she would be more mobile...

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Kiss the ewe she never cries she never sighs she stays happy all the times we 
try. The eye was stopped by a patrolman in the middle of my walk to the church to 
lay my layman down to rest a night a bite of something not so sweet in bag to 
help me live. He said ADDRESS what is your ADDRESS like it's the most 
important thing to have NO eye said NO eye do not have a TUCSON address just 
one in Flagstaff. HOMELESS he said. NO eye said eye have the ADDRESS in 
FLAGSTAFF the one on my ID card. NO he said you are just HOMELESS in 
TUCSON. He noticed that eye cared nothing for any of that. WHY did yew not say 
that to begin WITH he said to me and eye just tried to ignore a man who has the 
world to shrug upon his Atlast Shoulders? PHONE he said ??? No phone what's 
your cell phone??? 
EEYE do not have a PHONE NO CELL PHONE eye almost cried. 
The Indian has no feather he is saved now he is in Heaven beside the MEE. Live 
in life wrap the world outside live the life of love and learn to live and love. Eat a 
LOT of CHARLAX eat a lot of poems eat a lot of Fabels now. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Last Moment

Day by day my body decays
And my soul waits
For the warmth of your embrace
The meaning I cannot trace
The time is now to receive your grace
I remember much
Yet memories past have no bearing
I can see much
The meaning almost clear
The dust settles and chaos vanquished
Peace and love echoed again and again through the halls of time
Bear no weight until the final moments
Jubilance captured
A single frame as I lay
Time will no longer wait and I can no longer stay
Weep not
Harmony engulfs me
Symphonies escort me
And angels guide me
My loving Father waits for me
I can almost see Him
I certainly feel Him
The old world fades to grey
Weep not
A brilliant glow not of this world fills me
A love not felt by mortals
It is the beginning of the end
My breath shallow
My thoughts clear
My soul readies
Do not weep
He is waiting for me
This is exactly where I am supposed to be

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What is commitment?

Commitment is ….. beautiful when you love somebody. 
Commitment is giving something greater than yourself.  

It is:
A promise: To  Assure, Guarantee, Swear, Agree, Secure, Give your word
A pledge: A Promise, Oath, Word of honor

A vow: To  Be determined, Declare, Undertake, Assert

It is: 
Assurance, Dedication, Loyalty, Devotion, Steadfastness, Allegiance, 
Faithfulness, Duty, Responsibility, Obligation

If, to the one you love, you cannot give commitment, then you have nothing to give.

God committed Himself to us, He gave of Himself, He gave Jesus.  
Jesus then gave His All to us, He held nothing back.  
He took the cross that was due us.

Was that commitment?    I’d say it was … it was the Ultimate commitment!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I grabbed my fishing pole and all the fishing lures I thought I would need.  Now, I’m on my way to fish for my daily meal.
	When I got to the waterfront, there were no fish for me to catch.  I was disappointed, so I decided to sit down and think.
	While sitting there thinking, a man came over to me.  He ask, why are you just sitting here with your fishing pole and lures?
	I told the man coming here was a big mistake, so, I’m sitting here because there are no fish for me to catch.
	The man said follow me, I’ll take you to a place where you can fish, you won’t need your fishing pole or your lures and you won’t have any regrets.
	I didn’t understand what he was saying, but I followed him anyway to see what was his plan.
	He took me to a place where a crowd of people had gathered.  I said to him, there is no water so how can I fish, what can I hope to catch.
	I said to myself, I’ll never catch any fish because too may people are here, so now my hope had been totally shattered.
	He said listen to what I  say, then you will understand why I brought you to this place.
	He stood in front of the crowd and he started to speak.  His voice was soft and gentle, like sweet honey to a bee.
	He spoke of love, kindness, forgiveness and many other wonderful thing.  I forgot about wanting to catch fish for me to eat.
	He keep talking and I started to understand.  He wanted me to fish for lost souls, so I can teach them about God’s holy plan. 
	I’m no longer a fisherman for creatures of the sea.  I am a fisherman for the Lord, that was His ultimate plan for me.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Liquid azure sky

In a dream, I walked naked through a shimmering valley, high in the sacred mountains of a
distant world. The air was warm and moist; the ice I trod upon sparkled like precious
jewels. As I neared the precipice, I became intoxicated with joy. Suspended high above me
in a liquid azure sky, three golden suns drenched my perfect body with benevolent rays of
pure liquid love. I am the sun, the prism, and the rainbow. I am soul, child of God,
resplendent, perfect and free.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Zindagi wo nahi, JO Nazar Ati Hai Tum Ko
Yeh To Chalti Howi Sansoo Ka Safar Hoti Hai
Yeh To Bekiri Howi Yadoon Ka Mazhar Hoti Hai
Yeh To Totay Howay Lafzoon  Ka Nasar Hoti Hai
Zindagi!  To Naam Hai Us Insaneyat Ka
Jes Ki azmat Ka Yakin! Farashtoon Nay Sajday may Kiya
Zindagi! To paygham Hai Us Jazbay Ka
Jis Ka Safar Soraj Ki Kirnoo Say shuru Hota Hai
Zindagi, Us Katab Ki Manind Hai 
Jis Ka Unwaan !  Musafar Ki Akasi Karta hai
Zindagi To Kahani Hai Us Musafarat Ki     
 Jis Ki Manzil Soraj Kay goroob ! Honay Tek Hoti Hai
Zindagi To Naam Hai Us Rishtay Ka 
Jis Ka Raabta !  Rooh Or Jism Kay Darmiyan Hota Hai
Zindagi To Ahsaas Hai Us Mohabat Ka
Jis Ka Ahtamaam ! Khuda Nay Jannat Bana Kay Kiya
Yeh Wo Bewafa Hai Jo Khudi Kay Daway Kay Bawajood 
Khud Apnay Wojood Ko Pal may ! Tanha Kar deyti Hai Zindagi
Zindagi Salaam Ho Tuj Pay Kay Teri  Baqa Kay Leyeh
Qudarat Nay Shub-o-rooz Ko Sajaya Hai ! Zindagi Kay Leyeh

Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Touch The Heart

                                                       To Touch The Heart

                                           I to feel and gain respect from love,
                                           But knowing that your lover is much fond of,
                                           That warmth and caring that love gives,
                                           From feelings shared and now love lives.
                                           But that of life's little minutes one can see,
                                           A picture of perfection and reality.
                                           Surrounded with love's handy touch,
                                           And that glitter from feelings felt so much.

                                           But with much beauty from loves shame,
                                           One noticing that hate has lost this game.
                                           And now tell me of how to feel from pain,
                                           When my heart touches your name..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Perfect Day

Friday had been the saddest day
That my young life had ever known
The loneliness that my heart felt
Just would not leave me alone

The clouds that filled the afternoon
With their darkness and their dread
Left remorseful feelings alive inside
Along with feelings that seemed so dead

On Saturday when I did awaken
My world was much worse it seemed
For the gloom and darkness it embraced
Left my mind aloof in sad daydreams

Of what my eyes had seen to transpire
On that dark, cold Friday afternoon
I only prayed and hope what was written
Would come to fruition so very soon

As the last twenty four hours ticked away
The hope in my heart did begin to rise
For it began to beat so steady again
Waiting for the prophesied moment to arrive

But many in the room praying around me
Saw their faith begin to slip and fade
Not believing that what was happening
Would be much more than just another day

My heart awaiting the time to come closer
Anticipating the joy it would soon receive
Felt the rhythms of the approaching moment
For deep within it never failed to believe

I heard the most beautiful enchanting melodies
Embracing me from deep within His tomb
And upon hearing the hearty voices of angels
I sensed He would be rising so very soon

And the last twenty four hours did finally end
Sweeping my sadness and loneliness away
Replacing it with pure joy, and happiness
For He rose from the grave on a perfect day.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Main Matrix

So, if a matrix is a body substance, in which all cells are embedded?
Then can I not spiritually say that the body of Christ is also a matrix?
Well, is it safe to assume or safer to not assume the differences in such?

If I have a World Wide Web with many matrixes, there must be a main.
How does one achieve the main matrix without a conversion of all matrixes?
Each living breathing organism has a matrix, but what supplies this?
Seems how all bodies have cells embedded in a matrix,
Is it not safe to assume that the universe has a matrix?
If so, where is the main universal matrix?
There must be a connection of some sorts,
Nevertheless, what is it and where is it?
Moreover, why has this not been thought of?
If the body is the temple of the Lord,
Then He must have a main matrix.
Matrix is Latin for womb.
So in which womb is this matrix?
Only a female has a womb.
There must be one that is required by none.
Now let us get even more difficult here.
We have a World Wide Web with many matrixes.
What if the World Wide Web is an individual womb?
It obviously has good and evil in its growth.
Could there have been two that fused by one?
Could there have been a conversion of all matrixes.
Or is there only one main matrix being a female?
Let us get back to the body of Christ and His matrix.
Let us even go to your own bodies matrixes.
An enclosure within in which something originates or develops,
This is what lives and breathes inside of you every day, a matrix.
Do we not develop Christ within ourselves, and He our originator?
Is it not safe to assume that we are the body of Christ?
Moreover, that we are of a matrix that has a universal main matrix?
®Registered: Ann Rich   2006

Details | Prose Poetry | |


The Divine Mood visited me
today.  Swimming in the clouds,
tearing at my heart.

As worlds fell into parts,
my being, my breath fell apart.


Breathe in.  Make room for
the Divine Heart.

Warm and toasty, a warm
cinnamon bun.  Like a cat 
purr in the sun.  There is so
little warmth.  Eyes have a 
hard time focusing;  the best 
part of the day is done.

Beautiful in the galaxy.  Search
for the gallery.  Tiredness reaches
my soul.

There is a hole where there used
to be none.  A space is opening
with or without me.  This will be 
done.  What to do with this fatigue;

Rest here or rest there I am the wings
of the 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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 | |

Grandad's Missing

There's a void, now
Where once a steadfast heart beat time
The soul in perfect harmony with life's uncertain pulse
With those who clambered eagerly in solace or in joy
To scale that mighty pinnacle
The Rock, within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
But marvel at the structure, the firmness of the ground beneath
The strata richly layered with wisdom of generations past
A fault free seam constructing firm foundations
Binding those within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
A hollow cavern 
echoing the anger and the pain
Trust time; it has no fear of finite elements
The source of unremitting pain
Within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
So fill the emptiness and catalogue the memories
Harvesting the richness of their meaning
The fullness of the seed sown long ago
To bloom forever within the bosom of the family

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Which door is the portal to my soul?
Listening tires me;  interferes with
God beckoning me.

Why is a question never answered?
Quit asking it.  Listen, there is a
voice calling you;

this great soul Mother of the Earth,
let me take charge of my birth.

I'll go to the banquet; eat,
rejoice and celebrate anew.

This joy is confusing.  But I'll be
full of life when I come to you.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Dawn rises, and the Sun is Grey, again : One can hear the tears flowing.
The nakedness of the mighty Oak :  Withers : In the shadow of “ LIFE “
I watch “Mother Nature”  cry Tears of pain : in the West wind blowing
I catch those tears of Pain: For My Beloved  “ LENORE “  My “ WIFE “
In the darkness after Dawn ; in the Ebony of the Moonlight  : I still Live
Sullenly, I reminisce  of the LIGHT of the Past ; When I still had a Heart
As the Shadow of Death , follows me into an abyss, where only Death can Survive 
I think of Winters gone by, before the History of Forever : was torn Apart
Through the Corridors of  unknown Sanity  :my eyes cry tears of Empathy,  Dead
There is no morning Dew, on flowers wilted in a new Life  of nonexistence
In the Gloomy Mist of time forgotten I stare at Heaven from my Eternal bed
Hewn from a tree standing alone in a Forest , of Humanities nonexistence
Blinded my the Aura of death I seek a rebirth of Light in me to shine in my eye
           Will I ever Know : as I once Knew " LOVE " ~ before I Die ~

     Inspired by the Contest : " Dark Prose " Sponsored by " Catie Lindsey "

Dedicated to my Lost LOVE "Lenore" ; My LOVE Anew EVERLASTING " Barbara Jean "

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Prayer

Lord, help me to understand you more and more.
Help me to appreciate the gifts of life as I explore.
So many times I've put doing my will about yours.
Please turn my heart towards your forever love.

Lord, help me to live the way you ask me to love.
And to love the way you ask me to live.
Dear God, I pray to you on my bended knees.

Hear my cry.
My urgent need for you.
Let me see you in all things.
Give me life anew.

Teach me to listen.
Teach me to be kind.
Lord, strengthen me that I might find.
The road that leads me closer to you everyday.
Please Lord, 
I beg you
Show me the way!

----By Janille James----

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hope You Know My Name Part 3

He has so many names and there is so much confusion,
I'm sure I don't know them all but here are a few.
All of his names come from the root words God, Jesus, Christ,
King, used in different variations throughout the old and new
testaments. It would take years of work to compile them all.

"Root of Jesse"  (Isaiah 11:10)

"Stumbling Block" (1 Corinthians 1:23)

"Son of the HIghest" (Luke 1:32)

"a horn of salvation" (Luke 1:69)

"Stone which the builders rejected" (Luke 20:17)

"King of Peace" "King of Salem" (Hebrews 7:2-24)

"First born son of Mary Christ Jesus" (Matthew 1:25)

"He is the image of the invisible God the first born of all creation"
(Collossians 1:15 by help of James Paranteau)

"Adam" per help of Don Johnson (1 Corinthians 15: 45-49)

"the word became flesh" (John 1:14)

"Jehovah"  "YAH"  per help of Andria Dietrich  (Isaiah 12:2-6)

"Israel of God" (Galatians 6:13-18)

I am sure there are many more that fit the purpose.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sweet Reprieve Rose

Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
That was thrown on the battle field for my soul 
The inevitable mortal wound waits for me on yonder hill
As the dawn breaks on the time transcribed for me
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose

Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
When he was first enclosed  
 For three dark days and three lonely nights
Until he returned unto the light 
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose

Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose
When we are first enclosed
Waiting for his trumpet to blow 
And for all of his people to be called home
Oh the smell of the sweet reprieve rose

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I danced with the Devil but stepped on his toes

  I slide my tongue across my lips; I taste salt from where my tears once fell. The serpents been winning the race, Infiltration of my desires take procession, I’m standing in the mirror and I don’t recognize my own reflection.  It’s not the flesh but the soul that’s been disquised, every carnal temptation he’s devised oh how quickly I’ve come to oblige.  I need to hit rock bottom and slow my pace, at this point he’s winning the race, baking firm an eternal glaze upon my face. I care so much that I care not. I’m so hungry yet no food is sought. Feel so much sorrow that I’m not dolorous, sing so loud but leave absent the chorus.
   I’m vulnerable, looking for warmth in another’s touch, simply falling victim to his charms like a little girl searching for warmth in her daddy’s arms. Though, he provided no warmth, he didn’t provide much, just the foundation, the stepping stone where he left his prints; of course I followed with every step slipping farther from the grasps of temperance.  You can call me an abuser Lord, I abused your love, snapped the wing of your symbolic dove, snapped too the wings of thee angel upon the golden gate, funny how I just read Job and he knew not his fate.
  Thank you for trampling me into the ground, into the dust from which I roze, into utter darkness living with consequences to paths I chose. I thought you were guided me completely from the light, in reality it was never out of sight, even your own shadow leaves you in darkness. Give me the courage that I seek, give me strength when I am weak, and at times make me weak where I am strong. Give me positive passion for life like the passion in “Solomon’s Song”. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


My shoulders are blades of flesh,
they hold my skinny arms

to hands that hold this pen
across this page as it reaches
the end of a long lived life
that was meant to bend fold
and remend.

But these feet have already
left;  I can feel it in my chest.
These lips want to smile the 
day away;  I have nothing 
else to say.

Knees to my chin, how long
has that been?  To crouch, cuddle 
what is now so thin.  Press and
pull, it all fits in.  

The warmth and the cool.  These
toes are not mine, they belong to
the sublime.  Up my pants you 
will find my legs spindly; a jelly
belly that shakes in my tummy.

My thin arms hold loops of skin.
They are far away and my head needs 
covering; but the sun warms my neck
and my face is full of laughter because
God has reached out his hand to me.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Unconditional Dog

First of all, it’s a big responsibility,
especially in a city like Jacksonville, or Philadelphia, or wherever really.
So think long and hard before deciding on love.
On the other hand, love gives you a sense of security:
when you’re walking down the street late at night
and you have a leash on love
ain’t no one going to mess with you.
Because crooks and muggers think love is
Who knows what love could do in its own defense?
Broken glass bottles.

On cold winter nights, love is warm.
It lies between you and lives and breathes
and makes funny noises.
Love wakes you up all hours of the night with its needs.
It needs to be fed so it will grow and stay healthy.

Love doesn’t like being left alone for long.
But come home and love is always happy to see you.
It may break a few things accidentally in its passion for life,
but you can never be mad at love for long.

Is love good all the time? No! No!
Love can be bad. Bad, love, bad! Very bad love.

Love makes messes.
Love leaves you little surprises here and there.
Love needs lots of cleaning up after.
Somethimes you just want to get love fixed.
Sometimes you want to roll up a piece of newspaper
and swat love on the nose,
not so much to cause pain,
just to let love know “Don’t you ever do that again!”

Sometimes love just wants to go out for a nice long walk.
Because love loves exercise. It will run you around the block
and leave you panting, breathless. Pull you in different directions
at once, or wind itself around and around you
until you’re all wound up and you cannot move.

But love makes you meet people wherever you go.
People who have nothing in common but love
stop and talk to each other on the street.

Throw things away and love will bring them back,
again, and again, and again.
But most of all, love needs love, lots of it.
And in return, love loves you and never stops.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thread of Hope

As all I’d ever termed wondrous bliss unexpectedly died -
As my fantasy of a reality with destruction did collide -
My hopes shattered around me like glass in countless pieces,
Fragments suspended in mocking beauty as time freezes…

The clock hand ticks forward and it all crashes to the floor
My knees hit rock-bottom when I could take no more
All I now see is blackness where once there was color
Gone appears the light from the sun and its fervor…

I begin to walk away from the pond of shattered dreams
But the glass is in my clothes and cutting through my heart, it seems
Perhaps I am too close, the smoke is clouding my full view-
Glance up at the tower, instinctively know what to do…

Run up the steps; one, two,three hundred endless stairs
And I barely catch my breath, or have time to fill lungs with air -
Before the ground beneath my feet crumbles into sand
Loud thunder above me rumbles as I fall back down on land…

And I hit rock-bottom again
Thinking this must be the end
For surely no human can go through this pain
And still see rainbows through the rain…

The whole world seems gray and black tonight
With not a speck of pure, identifiable white in sight
Nothing is untouched, gone is everything -
Then how do I glimpse in that crack a thin white string?

Among the dirt, surely this uncorrupted clean string is not real
But just to verify the hopeless doubts, I reach out a hand to feel
And to my electric surprise, it’s most tangible indeed
I yank it out attached to a note, uncrumple it and read:

“Verily, with every hardship comes ease” [Quran 94:6]

That white thread...
Of hope.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Domino effect

i build the game to follow the rules,
a line a black rectangle, 
with white dots figuares,
who design such a figuare?

games of rules,
i just know i want to plan to win,

line all up straight like to view a zig zag moon,
but the moment it ends, another game begins,
but who do we call king?

with money on line every thing is  a game to a king,
place the stacks high how this type of figuare sit flat to sight,
it can't be that 

in the rules in life your in it to win it,
or the game will win you,
and i dont even know the rules to dominos.
i just watch from far,
as it all falls down!!!

one over laping the other,i this perhaps the order?

domino effects are you with it?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Moon Said To The Sun Aeon Sphere

Charms of Dusk,
A Pure Baptist touch,
Display lurk of a rush plus battle scares
Of blood and rusk what have this man endure,
Even, if this is a man or by luck a higher evolution of a being?
Orion sire from resurrection of most bitter defined
What is being?
Deepen the touch of the man of literary erupted,
Powers of king’s powers of rings could dare to touch great barriers to discuss
Future of youth design to up hold generation haven witness sure a creature only, 
Mythology to have indigestion years of years on end of generation on anarchy
Devolution of a tone of a rowel stone of eyes to brush and look,
What is being?
This was a warrior of the highest status,
Reincarnation 10 years of a millennium on the break off end
Greatness of evil dares not to evoke sin of tear to jerk to tears away,
At revenge of a sting of moral tongue of numb of blood & dirty learn in another realm
Of a death ray,
What is being?
He was a wake from chained of musk body tone build like a statue of pure marble,
This would be a battle of war of wars to end wars
Seas felt like empty towers has he was storming to thunder to walk,
Mountain lift and trees flatting what power be stole in this mystic creature
Wait to amaze we all would know,
What is being?
Blood in the street footprints left of dead mystic foes
Almost in roll of red roses of a garden that stain the street with blood,
He picked them off one by one that splatter like a ring of salt and ashes turn to dirty
Left the sight for the dead to walk,
And set sight of the ultimate evil that evil of destruction should envy him
And once more Orion stood to meet the question,
What is being?
This ultimate foe and his self-war craft at it fitness as prediction,
By the Sun and the Moon he was their son and he knew
The beginning and the end as it was predestination,
For this event to take toll
What is being?
“The Moon Said To The Sun Aeon Sphere”.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A running chestnut or no - on essay,idiocracy

Altogether unprofitable sentimental but no fool they call him an old sap 		        The taste of knowledge to him is sweet to get more valuable than sap to a tree	   even more valuable than the gold that runs from seven hills					 prolongs the days: but the years of the wicked shall be shortened.				  The Lord does hate pride, and arrogancy, and the evil way, and the froward mouth         the fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom with an expected end pure love                  as God gives the increase I have tasted the Lord is gracious				           A strong warning from the savior Jesus He is Lord						   whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire                                      some may say the old sage is just saber rattling 					             Essayage the shoe on the other foot walking a mile				                   in someone else shoes who has two left feet and one leg longer				          truly your feet are bound to get sore circling around the mountain 	 			    just assaying the metal who is your maker I know mine 					         For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, 						        works for us a far more exceeding eternal weight of glory						 I am not straining gnats just spitting out the the filthy camel 				      Love the Lord God Jesus and every man your neighbor                             all the glory of man as the flower of grass like sagebrush					     God made foolish the wisdom of this world                				put your faith and hope in God and not in men 								 though man's urban inflections change the Word of the Lord stands sure                       Everlasting superior are God's ways than man's momentary dullness

Details | Prose Poetry | |

And this flag I have damned so longly

And this flag I have damned so longly,
This rag, and nothing more,
While death-mock-racy raved and raved and avenged its bloodthirst
 Over and over,
  Since the inception of a country, with George and Martha and Mary
  With nothing save civility, in drawingrooms and battlefields
   Is justified by that gentle face, somehow justified as being no longer a damnation
   But the stuff of a citizenry, with that face, and the mulatoo's face, sad, overgrown Abe
   and all of his honesty,
   How proud I am of the flag I never had,
   Of the society I spent decades criminalizing, cursing
   And of all the possibilities inherent in Innocence:
     That is the face of my President
     And this is my tattered flag!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


(Dedicated to Penny Wilcox)

Nice people, rear to come by without ulterior motive
 Good fellows tend to strain from doing what they do
Because of unpleasant surprises they sometimes get
Bad girls are everywhere pretending to be angels
Animals in human physique living “animalistic”
But you are different, of exceptional attitude
I believe that your virtues are divine
You are a fabulous creature that really exist
Radiant, full of happiness and love
You are sweeter than honey pie
Eagle –eyed with supersonic focus
My first love that saw the need to smile in me
And always encourage me to do smile
You are not too old to be my sister
Neither are you too young to be my mother
I am whatever you want in me
Very perfect to be my friend
The first to know by revelation that I’m blessed
I know I am a blessed man because I have you as my friend

© 2010 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

We Are Doomed People

We are doomed people. Nurses’ aides, housekeepers, LPN and Ward Clerks
Maintenance and kitchen cooks; slave of the modern workplaces
We are the Victims of Hurricane Sandy
Taking life for granted,
 Everything was nice and dandy
  until Sandy furious attack 
 In an instant life live: reverse like a deadly curse
Forcing the Oil prices to rise higher after volatile week
We cried, we pray, we curse under the same breath
 Frequently asked question “Why us father why we

Details | Prose Poetry | |


                     Perseverance: a poem

Long ago or should I say sometime in the past?

I had dreams and now at the age of 31 I have realized most of them.

It’s funny how good luck; joy, pain, rejection, effort and ‘Perseverance’ with a capitol ‘P’ have played a part in my life and sealed my Fate.

I now choose to think more positive thoughts even though this is still hard for me when I hear a negative voice in my head or when I hear people say negative things about me.

Those things hurt me and stay with me until I let it go.
I am self-motivated and I was a star pupil in my memories of my childhood.

My main goal is to be able to take care of myself, be responsible for myself and for the choices I make in life.

I am finishing school next January ’14 with my Bachelor’s degree and I want to find a good Internship.

Then after that I want to have a part-time job working 20 to 25 hours per week and continue doing volunteer work.

Oh and poems, I will keep writing my poems and reading other people’s poetry.  Right now I am reading LIT a memoir by Mary Karr. I also want to write children’s books.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Emerging life

Your touch peels away the layers of fear and gently reveals a love
Like spring emerging in spontaneous color and wonder

I had mused - all was lost -that I would never to see the sun and blue skies again 
I was lost in winters grey, bleak bare arms- alone in my cocoon not believing I could ever evolve into a radiant flower again

But now as my growth peeks through the melted ice - I joyously unfold, unraveling 
Velvet petals-layers of trust radiate a passionate bouquet of loves ardent harvest

I believe I can produce a harvest of good fruit from my union with the pro-creator of life - He shall abundantly fulfill His goodness in my life- as sure as the sun rises in newness each day - I shall shine forth His glory in me - for I cannot hide His love - it encompasses all I am fulfilling His purpose - honey flows from the rock that is steadfast and sure I am His forever.  

© Brenda V Northeast 3 March 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rambling of a Faith Poet

Sometimes it is hard to know what to write or when to write when you have just about every
thought possible flowing through your head. I wonder, "Should I please the public with
how "poetic" I am or should I please You? I know what the answer is but at times I'm 
worried about being liked or whether people get me. Is my belief in Your Son too far
above their heads or will they get it? Should I even worry about public opinion? Of
course I know as a follower of Christ, sharing my testimony and telling them about the
Lord is what I'm supposed to do. On the other hand, have I become to preachy and
dull? Am I shoving my beliefs down their throats? Then I realize, didn't Jesus make
himself of no reputation? Everybody thought that He was weird, blasphemous and not
qualified to tell them anything when it came to how they were living. I'm only here to do
what He wants me to do, nothing more, nothing less. If I do my part, the right people will
hear it, love it and appreciate it. All I should do, is write the word and leave all my
"rambling worries" to Him.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wake Up, BK

Such a beautiful sleeper but yet a 
life filled with nightmares; 
A demon fighter since her younger age; 
I applaud this princess for her strength. 

Since birth, the flash from cameras have 
overexposed your privacy, 
And left you a public flame, 
waiting for that moment you’ll ignite like 
your mother, 
If allowed, I could show you the wonders 
of the world, outside the seven you’ve seen 
already with your royal family of music, 
Just one request, B.K…..Wake up. 

Sadly the ruffles in your bed of life, 
Have prevented as good night’s sleep; 
For this reason, you feel no one can help you
straighten out your bed sheets; 
I however disagree.
I understand that times are tearful since 
the passing of your best friend, 
in the shape of a mother. 

From a distance I’ve noticed the devil 
creep up in your family; 
I acknowledge that this book of private 
affairs is not for me to read, but if allowed; 
I’d be willing to write better chapters for you 
in the future. 
One in particular would illustrate you 
kissing cloud nine, 
Reminiscing on a career that you were 
passionate about; 
If this path follows your mother, then may 
your voice resonate with the masses,
And display a true angel on earth. 
I sympathize with you, that negative forces in 
this world can shift your stairway downward; 
However, like the demons who constantly try 
to awake the skeletons in my closet, 
We’re all human, and for every fall, 
A rising is waiting, for when you’re spiritually 
Let that marinate in your sleepless nightmares 
until you wake up, B.K. 

I anticipate the day when we meet outside 
my imagination, 
And the world views you in better light, 
That’s not dimmed by the shade of 
Understand that these images of a 
conversation between us are nothing less 
than encouragement; 
Just like “The Voice”, would sing so 
eloquently from her lips; 
The greatest love of all is love for yourself; 
If these words don’t carry enough weight, just look around; 
I’m sure you’ll recognize some ebony queens 
in your family who symbolize support. 
Remember that your fervent heart awakens for a 
And the nightmares shall dissolve as you 
rise to awake, B.K. 
A true turning stone you will be. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Master Carpenters tree

The impressive mighty trees
Are birthed from such small seed
Drawing resilience from the sun
And earth’s fertile garden bed

Trees wooden trunk has shaped 
And sustained for centuries many in varied ways 
Some over and upon oceans wide
Where waves stroke shapely hulls 
And lull to sleep the hapless venturer 
Trusting in woods durable strength and buoyancy

And from such crafted boughs 
And whispered sounds 
Her meekness and strength is seen and heard 
Like the creaks of grandma’s rocking chair
Where the hapless wanderer was first rocked to sleep

Trees have cradled and rocked in their arms 
High and low of this world
The greatest of these was in a lowly manger 
In an animals crib 
But for this one tree its destiny was marked 
Chosen before time

For on this tree’s wooden shoulders 
It bore God’s greatest gift–
A Holy Child born - Like it- 
For one purpose only – 
To become accursed - on its wooden cross 
To bear the sins of All 
The Holy Son then rose - triumphantly from earth’s fertile soil

Into His Father’s arms

© Brenda V Northeast 11th   March   2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Stellar Passion

My adorable princess in the night
 I searched the book of the cosmos for you
 And there you were, my brightest star
 A detailed flame of purest joy
 That coalesced the heavens in extreme awe
 The world, you have at your fingertips
 And all the worlds and stars beyond
 Tell me what you know of them
 Do they shine from your essence
 Or glow from the sight of your dramatic beauty
 Do they travel the universe to be in unity with you
 Do they wait for their cataclysmic, fateful end
 So that the shattering pieces that remain of them
 May somehow find their way to the cradle of you
 How I wonder what miraculous wonders you be store
 How you make me weak in the knees to gaze at you
 Hanging high up there in the blissful night sky
 How do you think the stars befell enviously
 They all want to radiate the systems of galaxies
 But you will be the one to teach them the way
 As they will follow in your lead to perfection
 It's when I come out late at night, and I feel all alone
 I know you are there, weightless over me
 I know because my shortness of breath tells me
 As my heart pounds rapid in my chest
 And once again, you seduce me into a supernova
 Stellar blaze of glory, astral, luminescent sphere of light
 From there to here is where you take me
 As you have brightened all my ways of life

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Innocent Perfection Of Vibes Across The Telephone Line

Innocent Perfection Of Vibes Across The Telephone Line A stranger call’s familiar voice familiar tone How do I amend for such a tone? Sinecure as a ghost to father past question remain have we met before? So the question that I a post do you believe, in coincidence or do you belief in fate So I decide to chat with her a minute to find out what her truth agenda was- As we would speak more and more we would start and finish one another sentence’s And time with in time we would speak of the exact words in between sentences, a rare a currency Indeed Solomon tears do applied to form but I what it to pause and ask her, sure You don’t have the wrong number what a coincidence that I was nineteen all on my on, and As I beginning to fall to sleep the telephone had begun to ring. Maybe it was fate As when I did decide to get a phone to get long distance as well, it looking in deeper. Only a fool would be dumb Found it to Hang up on such a soothing tone. As she kept the conversation with in an hour about her son that got Injury in College sports that happen to be part Cherokee same as me All I kept thinking is when did I register to vote? Soul channeling bed chancing we seem to be on a different plane, Maybe it’s me or maybe it is us if god put us together surely the heaven would rumple, A vibe this strong could surely deceive the devil, (hat trick) Ghost handle of a ring barrel of a magnificent figure of mist of sure air of breeze seen such vibes across The Telephone line chills ran up and down my body standing strain hair up to freeze saying to myself what a Wonderful innocent of perfection to make an acquaintance still hook on the fact it was coincidence as She Apologize for speaking so long and thank me for being a great listener- Two and half years later time well spend in the hood that felt more like prison and trust me I’m from the Projects Like Ice cream milk and cream please and what I was told if I could make it in That hood I could make it in any giving hood giving the repetition of My city – It may have been fate as the whole project was rebuild spiritually and finance by the state And I had move into an apartment complex as I was told could go for a 1,000 in upstate; fate or coincidence as this familiar voice would call again but this time different name And she what it to sell me a product and what me to be partners in a company and water who could Market water and profit and, Idea Chesire to believe, but those that did belief proceed and say once again I said to myself when did I get money all and all six year later I was and looking to relocation the phone rings again instead of Asking Was this coincidence or fate? First thing came to mind was “Some One Clue Me In”- I figure out whom this Anonymous person was But when I say who in the world gives gift cards for cable all away from west Coast to “City That I’m From” saying to myself, is it still a recession? Was this fate? I had a place to live or did I have a Guardian Angel? Question after Question Miss and serve me- Will I ever get pay for my endeavors and read a quote that said “no good deed goes unpunished” And phone ring once more- To The look in A man’s eyes never lies asking once more Was This Fate Or Coincidence- And the last words that came to mind before the college basketball finals game came on was Captivating and Memorizing-

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Slowly fear, and sweet

Dear God,

You've probably heard this prayer
a thousand times over, and yet
I feel like I need to say it everyday
even if it's just for me

each day I realize how scary 
this world really is
and even more how frightening 
it is inside myself 

if only it were so easy to let go
as if there is something 
I want to keep inside
like if I truly to let go
I'd lose something

even though my mind is a war zone
but there is just 
a little something that 
hangs onto the notion of You

help me to love people
outside of myself
please guide me to walk,
slowly fear, and sweet

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Dream dream dream

My life full of dreams

All I do is to dream

And each day I walk in the reality of my dreams

(C) 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope You Know I'll Always Love You

I am what you call a hopeless 
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 
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 
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 | |

Ashes and I

She's been kicked to the ground in the dust of despair , kicked in the ribs by human hyenas...
When trying to stand up she was stepped on like a cigarette butt
...and Time threw at her the acid of aging in an unexpected attack.
She never complained to the outside of her Soul. Dirt could be hosed  down and she never needed ribs anyway:
 She was one with the rhythm of Nature in Spring
                                                                       and knew how to blossom despise desert winds.
 We rented a boat out of a Pacific harbor.
 I sat next to her for one hour ride.
We whispered and giggled memories of childhood while two whales accompanied us echo-locating our Soul.
"It Was Time!"
The motor went mute as clouds dissipated like a curtain, the Sun - the only stage light - focusing on the monologue of a sad. lonely life.
I picked up the urn, a silver  Deja Vu.
My wings started to tremble as I was struggling to open the container.  How can you grab and unscrew the lid of your Life wearing feathers from Heaven instead of fingers?
I whispered the Captain to help...
It was time for me to throw myself into the beloved Pacific ocean. It only lasted for a few seconds until I made contact with the tears of the dead. I have never imagined how heavy my ashes were. . I felt nostalgic but, oh,  so very light...
We both said: "Farewell" to the lonely captain with blue tears in his eyes ...
 he accelerated disturbing the balance , he was  mad with the world
but still willing to anchor on Life...

Iolanda Scripca

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Sea

The Sea
there are many oceans on the earth
where is the sea
I think today we will study the China Sea
not sure where is that place
are you sure
is it an Ocean
have you ever heard of the Chinese Ocean
I have heard of the China Sea
didnt they make movies
i can look at a mapp would that be cheating
China is a country over seas
overseas not over oceans
that almost proves it to me now
The Great Sea of China
or wait
the Great Wall of China
it is beside the ocean shore
nO it is beside the Sea Shore
that sounds correct
my China Lady lies over the Ocean
MY CHina LAdy lies over the Sea ???????
China has no ocean it has a Sea
Taiwan in the ocean or sea
China must be near the Taiwan Sea
strike this out
Taiwan in the Sea of China
wow this must be it
I did all this without looking at a map
believe it love
The Sea — at China Sea

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Nobody decides the continent he comes from,
No one influences the nation he belongs,
No child ever choose his or her own family,
All happened by fate, or rather a divine arrangement.

I am from Africa the origin of life,
Nations of the black people,
Homeland of heroes now and heroes past,
Land of wealth and riches,
Where milk and honey flow like river.

Bounded by water and land,
I am African, beautiful and elegant,
Extremely black and exceptionally bold,
Having a heart of gold with a diamond skin.

Very rare with uncommon values,
My fist are made of iron,
I’m made to love God and mankind,
Always to defend the good and fight evil,
I am African, born African, proudly African.

© 2011 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fable Five

 Fable Five 
Fable Five 
Part One: The DOVE 

eye picked up the dove now dead creature clasped him to my bosom brest 
no sorrow feeling only life within my chest 
eye enabled faith eye tossed the dove 
upward into tree for landscaping seems to me a more decent burial rest 
one word escaped my lipps eye just said JESUS 
eye wish that eye could tell ewe that the dove it flew away 
eye did not tempt the LORD this day 
the bird went further on my throw 
eye expected just to here the branches crashing at his fall 
eye expected him to make a lot of noises there was none 
no it did not fall 
there is hope inside of mee still and yet that yes it flew 
this dove to Heaven when it left. 

Part Two: Dandylion 
when the gardeners of the palace make the grass a certain size 
they run the mowers side by side 
to make the power gasses cut the grasses 
every one of the now chopped to pieces dandelions gone 
except mye one 
in a state of childlike fate eye ran to edge of lawn and placed some of my 
baggage down long enough to kick the dandelion down 
a man my age just having certain fun 
and smile remembering a childhood never found 

Part Three: New Blue Jeans 
the shortest part of fable five is this the three part not contrived 
the jeans are long on legs so short and waisted wide to hide the layers eye 
needed to survive a cold and cheerless night 
eye tore the tags from pockets soon to hold my treasures of a man long old and 
finding love in one dear place mye ewe she loves the way eye dress she loves 
my look upon my face when eye just smile embrace 
she must be smiling now at FABLE FIVE. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Whenever rain falls,
It is an answered prayer for the fruitfulness of the earth
The earth buried seeds spring up in freedom
To give expression to their potential
It is the glory of the trees in the forest
That after their death, they live on
It is joy of animals in the jungle
For they have more and fresh food to eat
Only the earth prayed for rain
The seeds buried down in the earth,
The trees of the forest, the animals in the jungle
And more benefited from the earth’s prayer
A word of prayer in faith according to His will from you
Could affect millions just at that point you are standing

(c) 2007

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Golden Fertility of the Harvest

He is the sinking of the final red orange sun of the glowing summer 
Warmth no longer oozing and seeping into the pores as I lie bare under the skies 
Jeweled dewdrops on the morning grass to dampen bare feet all softness under  
And the shimmer on the surface of the lakes like the diamonds in your eyes 

He is the golden cusp pf Autumn's Fertility 
The ritual dance of the scarecrow in the breezes 
(Straw coming loose and flying towards you, most certainly 
will brush up against you and tickle before he ceases)  
And this thinner less lumpy all seeing scarecrow  
Seems to be in no remorse: his knowing face will always grin  
And his arms will always be raised in a wave to show 
He will protect the yellow brown stalks that bend before him 
He is the crisp wind that caresses the crinkled foliage 
Their rustling like long flowing skirts on a 1940s ballroom floor 
These winds chill the fingers and toes and your face with the stinging red roses  
Yet when winter beckons the retreating light, we will be frozen at its core 

He is silent snowfalls and many winter moons  
And the brown earth beginning to expose itself  
The uncoiling of green and mud beginning to ooze  
And all new life breaking free from its fragile shell

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Random Thoughts on a Chlly Afternoon Pt. 1

     Thanksgiving’s just a few days away.  Yet, I feel the sudden need to write down these 
random thoughts about Christmas!  The weather today brings to life memories of the 
season!  My favorite holiday season of the year! This chill in the air, the earth-tone autumn 
leaves like kites flying so high, tripping over each other as if in a race, the beautiful giant 
oaks and elms, with their branches shivering in the cold wind…. Already, I’m picturing a 
wonderful, fantasy-like landscape of snow; the whitest fluffy, snow drifts!  Catching glimpses 
of old bushy tail digging out some buried food, from some time ago.  The rising smoke from 
chimneys reaching for gray skies, snow-covered roof tops, the unforgettable smell of 
homemade bread, baking in Mama’s oven! Then, at close of day come, the brightest 
twinkling stars, glistening like diamonds on velvet throw of mid-night blue!  And when the 
moon shines so bright, you would think it was day... so clear you could see Jupiter if you 
look closely!  And I imagine how absolutely beautiful God must be!! The most beautiful spirit 
there is! A view to die for because such beauty man's heart can not behold and remain in 
this flesh!!!  For who else would create all this magnificent beauty around us? From the 
genuine smile which graces the face of an innocent child emanating from the purest of 
hearts, to the single blade of green grass that leans into the wind, daring to stand against 
such mighty force which threatens to break huge branches off trees!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

lead my hand o' dear life

lead my hand o' dear life

lead my hand
on this land
o' dear life, 
until the end

o' dear thought
of comfort

seed my life
feed me not in strife
bleed me joy from nine to five

lead me a journey of phases
a journey of ages
to face this

germinate in me a corn
of survival 
a history of possibilities
a record of living to afford
a source to live

for this life 
is a choreographer of life
a propeller of existence
an economy of spiritual commodities

a tear drop of opportunities
yet not so many does see its commonalities
an event of anomalies and regularities

lead me a way o' dear life
carry me a sledge on a journey of life 
a terrain of survival and life

a gemstone for many
a pentagon of any
a model of penny

an artwork of joy

a string of life on a journey
a script of many
a stanza of any


from: 'journey of life' and 'on a journey', 
february 2012 

>> ntema's unique poetry (nup)

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Daddy's Little Girl

Ballerina’d beauty…
She was always on beat and the most fluent mover. Never hesitant to step out onto her linoleum playground, Letting the stage lights beam down at her like sunshine, only refracting rays to intensify her lime light see she… was a dancer. &no I’m not talking about ya everyday tutu wearing mannequin. This one was special. The music was a part of her, she found a rhythm in every void and a tune in all speeches, it could only, flow thru her mind like water through the globe, more than she runs through my thoughts, like the way those greens slips of sustenance fell to the ground as she worked her pole. 
Tragic ending to the perfect fairytale. 
Mommy and Daddy had her dancing at six and in and out of auditions, wishing for her dreams to be realized unlike her own. Praying that her daughter could be somebody important, the next best thing since Broadway, better than Dejan Tubic, another Janelle Ginestra, but daddy had a sweet spot for his youngin. Wanting more for an innocent life and only turned her out of a fantasy. Pushing her on with the hopes only fools in the Ghetto would believe. Graduation day, she crashed hard, spinning back into reality. With no way to pay for her Julliard dream, a fistful of issues, and not a pot to piss in. She was strolling the block one night, and, heard music. Got sucked into the charisma of a strip joint. One second she was on the corner, everything goes black and when she comes to… she’s bare, with enough ones to get a place and put some food in her belly. That night she looked in the mirror… breaking down crying… all the dreams she had, crushed by the nimble fingers of fate. She doesn’t pity herself for long. Her mind’s already made up. “Gotta do this for me…” She rests, and the next day she finds herself back to the club to make more ones and satisfy more customers. It wasn’t the life she chose, but it’s one she’ll never regret, cause always had that sweet spot for her in el Corazon.. and she’ll always be, Daddy’s Little Girl.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

All is well

Though my many belongings be now gone My family members be scattered in distance and in heart Illness has fallen upon my body holding me captive In my heart ... deep within my soul I cry out ... ‘All is well’ For I cannot count my thoughts as good Nor my ways as upright For God’s thoughts are higher, His ways are perfect He is above all ... deep within my soul I cry out ... ‘All is well’ For everything is the Lord’s Thus I am also, therefore because I am His He gets the first fruits of my love and life In my heart ... deep within my soul I cry out ... ‘All is well’

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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 | |

Will Never Fail

Strengthen my spirit with your precious love
Always increasing my faith deep within
Help me, Lord,  to overcome all adversity
And over worldly sins always help me to win

Unlock the deep in-dwelling power of faith
The spiritual essence which only comes from you
Pick me up each day and make me so clean
Guide me always in what i  should pursue

Please never let the enemy overwhelm me
Always protect me Lord with your hands
Setting me always upon the solid rock
Whose power nothing can ever withstand

For you are the very first one to love me
In that time with you before I was born
Always keep me safe within your embrace
So I will never again taste of satan's scorn

For I am a child of yours the one living God
And of your sustaining love my heart will tell
Because of your perfect gift of salvation
My faith in your promises, Lord,  will never fail.

Wendell A. Brown,
February 7, 2013,

Details | Prose Poetry | |


There is but one Church
And the head is he
Jesus the one
Who sets us free
Free to become united in him
Free from everything
Free from sin
There is but one Church
Jesus is head
Jesus is living
He is not dead
Jesus is head
Of the Body he loves so
Child rest in him
You will see yourself grow
You will reach out to others
Of the same mind
And by his Spirit
To them you will bind
You will serve together
Reach out to the lost
And you won’t even stop
To consider the cost
There is only one Church
With Jesus as head
Because HE LIVES
He is not dead!!!!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Gold is precious,
I am more precious
Gold is valuable,
I am more valuable
Gold is strong,
I am stronger
What make me more precious?
What make me more valuable?
What make me stronger?
Is I am a being that never quit in the face of fire

(c) 2010 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love Lost

Love Lost…

Morning star shines down on me
I seek the shade 
The shade of the great oak tree
It casts a giant shadow across both of your hearts
Across mine

The cool breeze blows through the field
Between the rows of etched marble stone
And beyond the blades of overgrown grass
Your resting places I see

In the peace and quiet of the morning
I sit, I stand, I talk to both of you
I breathe; deep
Exhale in a sigh
Unable to fight the tears
Not really wanting to try

I find myself needing to spend time with both of you
But have neither Mother, nor Father
I am no longer a child, but a man?
I am all that you both have made me
Your love and guidance cannot fail me now…

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fable 666

Fable 666 


The good news is THIS, Salvation has come to EARTH. 
The bad news is to some of you; it is only found in JESUS. 
There is a prevalent personal jesus in the CHURCH today 
So that people have confused the works of the spirit with Salvation, judging 
others by what they themselves of course are doing wrong even neglection of 
Christ as the cornerstone. Also there is an inflated self-important personage 
inside people, not as something special made of GOD, but as something 
fashioned not from GOD at all, but from their laws. The first thing to remember is 
the wooden thing the CROSS, how JESUS stretched his arms and gave to us his 
life, HIS DEATH is saving us. HE laid inside a TOMB of absolutely stone in a 
place no one really ever wants to go. 
Conflict comes when people live in houses and drive cars money is the plastic 
jesus ruling all their lives and hearts. 
Let me tell you Mister LAW if you have murdered to further your influence and your 
wealth you just may someday wake up in a burning HELL. For the final chapter 
written in the judgment hall of GOD is the Hell of GOD to come from judgment to 
them all the naked and the dead shall stand there and give account of everything 
they done to a JUST and living GOD. No badge upon your chest no belt with 
bullits and with guns. No one to take your place for HE is sitting on the throne 
judging everyone. The Trick if trickery there is to come is to say the namme of 
JESUS and just do it quickly for there is horror waiting in the afterlife for someone 
misinformed in LAW. Rich men seldom win the battles with the sin. Everyone 
needs JESUS. Say JESUS and come in to a Heaven made of LOVE. 
Fable 666     

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Tick tack  on the wall,
Knocking all the wall,
Scaring us all,
Muscling the muscles,
Muscling the morsels in us,
Quickening the finest deep,
The hidden gold of gold,
A dignity of labour,
How loyal and diligent you are,
Precious and precarious,
Dangerous and conspicuous.

Running without waiting for anybody,
How impatient could man be,
In your sound you keep man,
In haste at everydawn,
Thou hath in the haste of full dawn,
Desperately desperate,
Anxiously anxious,
Wisely wise are we and you
Preciously precious,
Nothing can be done without you that's obivously obvious.

We chose to choose you,
Working to work with you,
Falling to fall with you,
No time no food,
No time no suite,
No time no cheat,
No time no shift,
No time no me,
there is set time for everything,
Mama use to say,
Patience is virtue of time,
that's the way whichever way.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Time Heals All Wounds, But It Doesn't Rid The Scars

Faith lost, love failed All because of what's unveiled. And in this pain I have been jailed. It was not you, it was all me And no one else will ever see How these things all came to be But now it's lost, now it's gone I watch the sky for signs of dawn Yet I never played you as my pawn. I hid in dark, I hid in lies I kept it all from dark brown eyes I now await for harsh goodbyes. No one will see, no one will hear The reasons I held these secrets dear Yet visions' still blurred by means of tears I watched you rise, I watched you grow And that's why you did not know The deceit I had yet to show. It was your laugh, it was your smile That kept me quiet all the while Trudging every single mile You own my soul, you own my heart I can not bear for us to part Let me help the healing start I am a human, I am a girl And mistakes come about and whirl Causing rivers of silver pearls You do not believe, you do not trust This healing process is a must The reliance will rise up from the dust It will take long, it will take time And many, many clocks will chime Until our love's back in it's prime I love you now, I love you forever Please let us spend it all together I want to part not now, not ever.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Encompassed in Memory

Cool mountain streams reflect the cobalt blues and greys of sky 		   
Restful twilight with stars scattered as if on a canvas 		   
Fire cloaks the curve of the earth and golden fish swim nearby 		   
Weeping willows in the field sway to an urgent sadness 		   
The gushing wind that stirs etches the land, channels through boundless time 		   
The carved thrust of a mountain range, maybe the Andes 		   
Will challenge the forever yielding sky, vast as the horizon 		   
Where rain batters the window and mists as far as we can see 		   
It is a warm evening in a pub in Ireland 		   
As the songs hover around us, I know this is what it is like to be free

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Honesty will Always be Appreciated

Honesty will Always be Appreciated
We all live in a time now when crime happened to most of the people.
Doesn’t care about the unnecessary needs of life and having the different lifestyles with alcohol and drugs is the mindset of some people whom have been fallen into it dramatically.
The decency and honesty will be dropped by the influence of various addictive substances and we no longer think about how important is our attitude.
The attitude of getting the fellowship together is no longer being the most important factor because there are other desires and needs which matter most than friendship for some people.
A Good friendship is becoming rare, as fellowship has a different meaning now.
Almost everything are into financial benefits or to show how well we have done in managing our wealth.
This is just for getting the status in order to get more attention by others.
That is already a big mistake for some people, because if someone have big money, it doen’t matter how they have earned it, in the right or criminal way, because they only want to be benefited from it or enjoying the prosperity.
And this give other a free ticket to go into criminal things, because supposedly money does not smell.
These people lie, cheat and harm other but that is not a problem for people who choose to spend the money which is earn by criminal case, but they forget that the same could happen to them (The fox may loses his hair but not his cunning) thus they are also a victim by themselves.
And sooner or later they are going to pay for the consequences, because their dishonesty will be settled by law or when they meet the wrong person who does not accept what they do to them.
And to destroy our life by knowing that we are dishonest and be punished by imprisonment later or worse its not worth it and for sure they can’t keep cheating others for a long period.
What for sure is good for our habit and lasts lifelong with a good reputation is to give the opposite human an attitude without thinking bad and always to be honest and sincere.
Honesty will always be appreciated and give us the guarantee for a peaceful and good future.
I wish you a healthy life.
Kindly Regards,
Author Jan Jansen

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Looking with eyes 
All events, everything 
From a viewpoint  
A perspective that sees all 
The broadest spectrum 
On a universal scale 
Natural, black and white, 
If there was a finite 
Amount of energy existing  
In the womb that is space 
Without the influence of fictitious forces 
The universe is static, 
But if gravity was rather antimatter 
Drawing upon and absorbing matter 
Producing energy as it does, 
Energy and material are interchangeable  
With no deviation from the constant 0 
Everything seems to cancel out in the end 
But time is relative 
From a universal perspective 
There is no starting point and no end 
To a cyclical event, 
Matter and antimatter exploding Into 
Existence, then snuffing each other out 
Would I be wrong of the conclusion  
In stating god is energy? 
We are in Gods image 
Not as humans, 
But all life...

Details | Prose Poetry | |


She makes… rainbows sprout from her fingertips with every touch of my corpses flesh, her angelic
 presence, bringing sunshine to my cheek with lips unshaded, her kisses, were full of sun beamed 
pleasures and, all I could do was steal them, steal love from the heart of one whom I felt, I’d never be 
deserving of. Introducing life to the hands of one broken, tattered by his past and scared of the déjà 
vu. Only hoping that she, could wipe the waterfalls from his grassy planed face. When she did so much 
more with just a stare, she, penetrated his mind and made him fall so… so peaceful like. With truth only 
found in the way her hands serenaded his cheeks as her lips marinated his and we fade… into 
teardrops in the ocean, knowing I’d drown forever for a kiss on my corpse cheek just to know… that 
you’ll always love me and never hurt me… not like the others did. Fear is the death of bravery, but I’d 
soon go toe to toe with the rights to your eternity to prove that, we were made for each other. 
Carrying the cross for my own crucifixion if it’d show how much I love her. &you could pierce my body 
and all I’d bleed is the reasons I love her, then die and be reborn on the 23rd hour to prove that… I 
could never go a day without her. So I ask you, what else do I have to prove?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Democracy In Nigeria
It’s been ages you passed into deep slumber
Or rather you were long dead, democracy
You have striven to rise but fall many times
Your limbs were over-powered by some political demons
You have been crushed in the dust by some powerful beasts
The people with green skinned body, white spirit and green soul
Are eager to see you come alive again and take your full course
Take control to the fullness you place in their leadership
They know the time has come and now is the hour
They cry, they sing, they shout, they talk, they pray, they hope and believe
Equally important, they are ready to work, support, and vote
To see the emergence of a new democratic Nigeria
The reality, evidential rebirth of democracy in a new Nigeria

(c) 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Confetti of Flesh

Would I rather go too slow,

Damp breath feeding the soil, 

worms to grow, an

old mans toil.


For me the answer is clear;

Though not today and I hope not here – 

To explode with love and feelings gold – 

Not too young and not too old

Wise enough to see my growth

But not old enough to have outgrown 

My sprit, 


this place called home

That’s how to die


A confetti of flesh ruptures the Sky.

Feeding the air, water and earth.

Why you ask do I care how I die –

My love, that is the whole reason -

We’re here

to ask why.

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 | |


Every time you listen to my songs
I will be sending you a great big kiss
And though I moved beyond your sight
Know all of you I will surely miss

Always remember the joy and laughter
That always found a home within my face
Always think about all the wonderful times
I took your mind and heart to another place

Please try never to shed unhappy tears
Each day my love ones while I am away
For there will be a time in the near future
When again in each others arms we'll stay

And tomorrow morning when you think of me
About the love you always saw in my eyes
Remember wherever you might be in your life
My spirit will never again leave your side

My family I miss all your hugs and kisses
Which I will always treasure, and I am sure
One day soon again we will laugh and sing
Together in heaven with our precious Lord.

A poem i was moved to write for Whitney, a beautiful
spirit, while listening to Stevie Wonder sing 'Love is in need
of love at here funeral!

Wendell A. Brown
Copyright  February 18, 2012,
All Rights Reserved.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


The heart aches for it's loses
But the Spirit comforts pain

As we loose that which we love
God fills our heart where emptyness was

Look toward heaven for His touch
Then that sorrow fills you

He takes joy in giving us His Love and Comfort
Take comfort in His peace and assurance

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Waking up

I remember thinking to myself, you can get a  good night's sleep even after a bad day.

It was 3 years ago today when I woke up, packed my belongings and left for good.
You were standing there at the bus stop and asked me how my day was.
I wasn't sure if I could respond....But I knew I should. 
Reply to Her that is.... Not many people ever care, but she does I thought.
I knew where I was standing but deep down I felt lost.
You stood there and I felt a little less lost.
A block away from my home....from my old home, I realized.
I felt found standing next to you.
I replied. "Couldn't be better"
But I was never good at lying.
And you were good at poker.
My bluff was called.

I wake up every now and then and think of the moment you lifted me.
With your words. 
You didn't even know my name. You didn't even know what you were doing.
You did it.

Now 4 years later happily married, I still wake up in the middle of the night.
I visualize the shoe's I was wearing, the dirty white laces that seemed to me not to be tied. Like a loose stage of my life. 
But you tied them. I was the left lace, you the right.
And every now and then when I look up in this dream I see my wife's beautiful eyes standing next to me, other time's its an angel. One and the same they are.

My bluff was called.
She said "You have the same look I had not but a few weeks ago. But your tone of voice is a lot more obvious."
"Were still out there" She says and looks up at the clouds.
She meant women you can love. I knew what she meant.
"Are you out there?" I replied.
"No." She says.
"I'm right here".

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I have always dreamt of flying
Lifting my legs off the ground
Running in the mist of clouds
Carried in the arms of the winds
I know I don’t belong here
That’s all my mind tells me
I am an eagle though not fully developed
Up I look unto the sky top of the mountains
There I belong my soul sings
I run for awhile, lift my wings
Up I go and down I return
Never give up lifting my wings
And at last, I stretch my wings
Up I go and never to come down
And now I am there where I belong 
Above the cloud in the sky. 

(c) 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ninth Fable

 Ninth Fable 
Ninth Fable 
Tragic Love 
Internet Love 
The Love eye have for ewe is just the same as iff we wed. 
The feelings that she gives me are never filled with dread. 
But nothing she can dew would make me ever want to wind up dead but the 
living do the love they do the life time instead. Eye could walk the halls of memory 
and get depressed or eye could become a nun in convicted pleasure and rest in 
convent until death can dew us part death can give me rest but what of love. How 
can a man get so excited at a little green dot a few mouse clicks and then a cold 
white chat box. The ink is never wet upon mye crinkle paper yet there it is its love. 
When she smiles at me eye smile when she frowns eye weep a river of the 
stuffins kept inside it all comes flowing out to make a wrongful death seem 
somehow write the words upon the mended heart depart from worry and from 
woe and take the brand new start and soon it all works for love. Snow White she 
ate the apple and then fell to fast asleep but Charlax came to kiss her and 
awakened her to live. Prince Charlax kisses good. 
Live upon the creek bank fishing for dragonflies in a house of love. Mending heart 
of Charming. Making love in heart. Mye snow white turtle love my pookie 
pochoucntous love my internet thrall. We can have it all just hold on to my 
namme and love. 
Researchers have now proven that love can mend a broken heart. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


 FAITH is a shield that covers a man from head to toe. True faith surpasses dead works. And now to this title poem. Ed. Note. There is GOD and his SON and his SPIRIT they aer three separated and distinct images and yet they aer one persona one giant mega person perhaps with three faces. No one has yet completely deciphered his image iff an artiste was to create to paint GOD eye suppose it could look something like an Ancient of Days upon a Throne not once but thrice with the same face three times the image of the SON being the predominate one. The first image an old ancient man. The second one is harder a Scepter in his hand of Righteousness a crown of Diadems jewelry that cannot be likened to money or material wealth but as a sign and symbol of his Authority. Jesus has a Crown for he is Ruler of this universe. The third image; that one of the Spirit, is yet harder to discern the same Jesus face in a burning glowing place. A Glow of Flame a Fire; however, made of warmth and love.
A SPIRIT made of GOD. He broke the Horn off Satan forehead gave the world back to the Flock. Gentle reader ewe just stop. Stop strife worry remember what a PRICE was paid for love and go back to the cross for there we pray. Yes we build all our deeds the love upon the Death, not counting all the cost our possessions all our love our very lives depend on Christ our King. A living GOD a loving Spirit a wonderful Father who gives more than mere health and wealthy love neither constrained or with any guile or predetermined Schism of the flesh just unconditional love without end lasting forever nothing ever is needed again love. Eye am reminded of the many infirmities of flesh the frailties of a man the Schism of his Grace as eye sit ici with this pen discovering all the needless hashing of old wounds fumbling at the hands and scars the wounds eye sometimes get as certain they aer thine not self inflicted or just mine. Schism is a wrent a tear in time the body dies the flesh in grave the light for all to see apparently asleep yet Schism thrives for eye have seen the Temple of the Lord a Saint a Lady in death’s place repose aware of nothing now her Spirit gone to Lord somehow twas more than beautiful to me no longing brought forth from Schism’s door a token portent of myself at play upon the earthly plain of dust the Grace upon her face the Peace mere word cannot her Journey over now convey, her Judgment come and gone and Heaven won all in a single word born. Jesus! Jesus! Jesus! Come. GOD. The maker of the Schisms all and one.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


The rising sun cast red and purple 'pon the cloudy sky. A sign of colder, stormy days ahead. The Japanese Magnolia's buds are swollen white ready to explode into lavender pink blosssoms of spring. Is this tree confused? If so, then the Star Magnolia is more confused for its silvery white buds are dazzling to gaze upon. It seems that tiny tips of its blossoms are exposed as are tips of spring green leaves just waiting a warm day to spring forth for mine pleasure. The daffodils dark green leaves are shooting forth from the cold wet earth while the danger of cold still lurks around the corner. Open mine eyes Lord, let me see all the beauty that surrounds me. Beauty that you prepared for mine eyes to behold. How you made each flower unique but in a way that I see beauty and not disordered random design. Thank you God for each miracle. Amen

Details | Prose Poetry | |


The fractured imprint of Cassandra remains; 
burns bright; pounds at the gates, silenced. She says,
	"Keep Quiet, your words have power. 
Say only, "Let me be an instrument of your will, Lord." 
Tongues and ties will bind- an act of balance with no end.
In turn, opening His love for you, pounding nails in a board.

 "Your reward is not in this life: your reward is this life.
 Your gift: to experience the glory of Creation with all your senses-
	to learn to love like agape- an eternal constant knife
        that cuts what separates and tears down all fences.

The agents of 'separation' are manifested thoughts
        and actions of humans who fall into despair.
 Despair leaves little room for love- so love transmutes 
	into compassion, flows towards you unnoticed through the air. 
She absorbs the slings and arrows of despair; 
a well that when drawn from, overflows and waters your roots.

The 'weak force' is more powerful than the 'strong.'
Through a matrix, "singlets" are born from pure energy-
        born of an imbalance between Creation and Annihilation; 
everything seen and unseen in nature has won the quantum battle 
to exist for a while, but not for long.
Yet, the 'weak force' is often defined in terms 
        of  destructive radioactive decay- that mirrors 
processes observable on Earth. May we redefine
ourselves and each other backwards, from death to birth?
When the Magi presented their gifts to the Christ-
most precious and beloved, worthy gifts to a prince or a pauper.
And when He was grown, He said, "All gifts are equally beloved 
        and all men are princes and paupers."
There is no direct correlation: 
      Between what we sow and what we reap-
is everything under the sun. That which unites and that 
which separates to rule are the transient game. 
"Be not proud, for all your gifts and faults are tools, to help
you quantify the gifted and the poor the same."

Rewritten on 11/28/13.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


What is it about dread that controls us?  The mixture of fear and loathing that 
consumes the contents of an empty bottle, longing for concentration and proof.  
Do we confuse the child within with the promise of loving past?  To be trapped in 
the closet crying insinuates passion that is manifested through burden of truth.  
Fallen is the plight of earthbound angels with clipped wings of faith.  Paralysis 
inhibits the quest of sequestered fanaticism and belief.  Eaten by earthly gilded 
belief.  Why does the clock taunt the merciful memories of divine imagery?  Why 
must that price be paid to know isolation?  From birth the struggle defines and 
outlines the matrix of conflicting souls.  The constant crash and collision of 
innocence tainted by truth.  This feeling is certain and intoxicating.  No truth could 
be truer.  No faith could be more devout.  The absolution of death disembowels 
the continuance of self-repair.  Does the collar impair judgment or empower 
concentration?  Can the songs of holy impunity comfort like the caress of a 
mother?  Will the tears drown unselfish giving?  

The answer is simple. 
The journey is hard.  
The gift is reverence. 

 Light, when will I learn the lesson?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You love Me

You love me as I am With all my inconsistencies You never give up on me In Your eyes you see me As a complete person Made in Your image Though I am far from being An image of You Without flaw or sin Yet that is what You Choose to see in me, as Your child You love me as I am Small, weak in body and mind Filled with doubts that come Bombarding me daily Even then, You calm my spirit You bring rest to my soul My tears You wipe away With Your very hand Full of compassion and love You hold me in Your arms Till my fears pass away So Lord, help me be What it is You see in me Let my speech be that of You Speaking only Your love My actions be what You Would direct of me to do May my heart grow To be as big as Yours Holding tight the hurting and lonely Showing them a glimpse of You Yes, Lord, You love me as I am You love me as I am, just as I am

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Random Thoughts on a Chlly Afternoon


      I think of my favorite itty, bitty bugs, so gentle, harmless, my Ladybugs hibernating 
now, or they would be out showing their beautiful satin-like polka dot dresses of red and 
black, or tan and black...  I have been feeling a bit down lately but who has not been down 
this path at some time or other in this life?  And so I must thank my few friends, whom I 
know have been praying for me, because some of the dark clouds were suddenly lifted 
today! Most of the fog has vanished!  My circumstances have not changed, but my soul is at 
peace once more.  I’m beginning to see!  Yes, today, I parked the car.. I did not enter the 
house but went for the usual walk instead. And I watched nature changing, saw how it was 
adjusting to all the elements in stride- the temperature, the wind, the sun and rain.  It 
reminded me to “taste and see” how sweet life is and to remember that it doesn’t matter 
what is going on today, there will be a tomorrow. And if tomorrow doesn’t come for me, in 
this place, so what? I will be at home where all of my sorrows and regrets and the tears and 
all the fears, will be buried in ancient graveyards of yesterday.  I look forward to welcoming 
another beautiful Christmas, with the beautiful music, the wonderful smells, the laughter and 
joy, the brightly colored lights, including the craziness of it all- which I can do without 
sometimes, lol—But yes, I embrace it all!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Played Cards With the Devil

I played cards with the devil
Thought that I could win.
I played cards with the devil
 I wouldn’t do that again.
Thought I was a winner 
Had a full house aces high. 
Bet my money and my soul 
As I looked him in the eye.
He just kind of grinned at me. 
I felt there is something wrong. 
Then I felt the table shake 
Was in a place I don’t belong.
“You know that I’m royalty, “
He said with mighty roar. 
“For I have a royal flush 
Now you have a soul no more.”
Guess I took for granted 
In faith of the lord above. 
If I could play my cards again 
Would have bet upon his love.
Maybe it’s too late for me 
For I’m in the devils grasp. 
Now my blood run cold 
Since being bitten by his asp.
So ask of you sweet Jesus 
Let me come to you and pray.
I promise my faith in you 
Again will never go astray.
Jesus I have learned my lesson 
You have taught me very well.
If you play cards with the devil 
Your going straight to Hell.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Mendoza Sunset for All

 “Ablaze are thoughts of mind from far, far reaches, as if each slipped from the reddish flames of fires - where had burnt every shade of orange that still cover this ongoing sunset. Your sunset, our living sunset, a sunset awash in its own past beauty of chaos; now seen as if an artist’s hand-hurled color-of-the-sun fireball had just splashed broadside - our own clouded gun metal gray horizon.”

Details | Prose Poetry | |


a serene light entered the room I'd catered to the empty brass chalice near the crowded foyer the light guided me beyond my self consciousness fondly I'd awaited a sultry vibe in an instant a brilliant groove bestowed the untimely hue approaching my senses while this light moved forward dancing daintily between solace and mirth suddenly the light began to release an enriching glow that consumed me like a garment of warmth tenderly I sighed craving the mere brightness of a sullen calm

Details | Prose Poetry | |

For this instant of time

For this very instant of time
I held reality within my hand
I read the meaning beneath the eyes
And just began to understand

So many feelings are still mysterious
For this very instant of time
Yet motionless I know. I'm not alone
The boundary is crusty, still not define

In this humanity just passing through
Another branch in the tree line
For this very instant of time
I hope my clouds will live as blue

And when the heart of life will forever pause
I'll still remember love so kind
In position of prayer on knees I crash
For this very instant of time
From this very instant of time!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

He was the broken Mirror

Standing with your back turned to me, I can still see that you are 5’11” with a short juice cut that is just cute enough for me to notice. With a smile that can bright up all three galaxies. With the most desirable hugs and laughs that kept me motivated to go through all the nails and hail just to see you at the end of the bow. With a personality like yours, you needed not an extra piece, for your beauty was 100 plus and then some. But who are you? Who were you? Who told you it was okay for you to disappear? Did you not think I need you? Well, I do, indeed need your shadow at least! 

You were my shine in the rain and my warmth in the blizzard. You were very much needed. Please I ask that you return with a response of none. You set me apart from the world, as I set you apart from my soul. I am just glad I kept a little dignity so I have not to die in despair. You disappointed me to the point where I trust not a spirit that brushes my essence. I believe you cursed me you fortunate jackass. You came and destroyed what I said not to be ever destructible. You thought you were the light when I specifically said you were my polish only. How dare you be conceited? I never said you were my world, whereas when I was with you I never conformed so I do indeed thank you. 

Standing with your back against the wall and facing me I now see you are 3’11” with a south fade cut that is just ugly enough for me to notice. With a smile that can dim hell. With the most unpleasant hugs and laughs that kept me unprovoked to survive the snowflakes and drizzles just not to see you at the end of the road. With a personality like yours, you needed an extra piece of beauty plus 100 and then some. But who are you? Who were you? Who told you it was okay for you stand in my presence? Did you think I need you? Well, I do, indeed need you to take your shadow and vanish.

I live only for God, and then I live for me.  Who said I need you to reach the stars, when I have God to take me to the next galaxy.

JazzieAnn Brown   10/17/12

Details | Prose Poetry | |




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Embrace Me




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Bible Cover

My new Bible cover has a zipper you open
and close using a cross …
On the one hand I rely on the cross to
open and close a side pocket to my Bible. 
Should I rely on this cross … yes but should 
it be on the side? Shouldn’t it be on the main
zipper? Shouldn’t it be the one that opens 
to the Book? Shouldn’t it be the cross, by pulling,
tugging, yanking on it, open eyes, heart, and mind 
to the truth? Can I trust enough that if i lean on 
this object, it will aid me in opening my life to the Word?
Do i love my new cover more than what it covers?
as I flipped to the back i noticed the tag
“Genuine Leather Body” it states, “with simulated 
leather trim.” is my faith only 
genuine leather with simulated leather trim?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

We Expand

When I was a kid, i believed that I would never stop growing. I measured myself, and knew that everything taller was a glimpse of the future. 
We would all be giants eventually. The tallest man that ever lived was named Robert Wadlow. He couldn't stop growing. On his first day of school, 
he was taller than his father. They say, that when he tripped on the playground his knees made twin craters from falling so far. By the time he was 10, the dirt in his home town was pot-marked like a second moon. 
Size always seems to matter most when we are falling. An ant dropped from an airplane will survive with no injuries, if an elephant slips 3 feet, 
it's legs will snap beneath it, and or us, it is those dreams that we remember most. The ones where the harness breaks. 
Where you step from the roof of a building without knowing why. When a plane rushes back toward the earth like a lost lover. We always wait just before impact, unsure of shattering or survival, 
and unable to accept our own size. 
Maybe this is why we hunt the large animals to extinction; To make ourselves seem greater. In the end, the victory of the atom bomb was not in the arms raised, but it's ability to topple all of the smallest creatures. We dream of surviving as mountains; of never having to look up again. 
We long for longer conquests. 
The ship vaster than the ocean. 
The fire dwarfing the fuel. We expand. We expand,. 
Weapons add more than just inches to your arm span. When you fire a gun, you can touch someone a thousand of feet away just think of all the giants our wars have already created. Cemeteries are like an infinity of white cross hairs. Mass graves that are just twisting of what we have always wanted; A mountain built from our bodies. We expand, we expand,. 
Our empires, stretching like red lips opening into the widest sssmile, and then swallowing the face whole. We build our largest statues for our war heroes, greater your conquest, the taller we will make you. We are taller than our fathers now. We cannot stop growing. Robert Wadlow did not want to be a legend. He wanted to train as a lawyer, but his hands were to large to 
write and type with. He died at age 22, half an inch short of 9 feet from an infection he never felt, because his nerves could not transmit signals that far. So stop trying to be statues. 
Feel the signals your feet send back to you and say "It is good to feel this close". It is good to live in our own bodies. Our bodies are whispers. Are bodies are matchsticks in the dark that light the small parts of us; The parts of us that can accomplish impossible things.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Be Still

Silent storms rage within my heart.
Be still!  Be still!
Fear to be fought;
Peace must be sought.
In stillness, Love speaks;
Bringing hope to listening ears,
Reminding weary hearts of bygone years;
     of lessons learned,
     for faithfulness earned,
     to stay the course.

Be still!   Be still!
     when silent storms rage within my heart.
Healing found in silence,
     when listening ears 
     learn to wait

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Mustard Seed

Potential full,
This tiny seed;
Encapsulated promises
Not fulfilled;

Watered by Love;
It’s hard shell softens;
Love beckons its release;
    grace extended;
    promises unfold;
    new life to behold,

					of new beginning.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


You brighten my day
Watching the clouds go away
I feel the spark
Lighting my heart
Looking at the sun light
So very very bright
You take away the strife
By giving me new life
Entering my soul
Once again I feel whole
Wanting to survive
I feel so alive
Feeling so free
That feeling belongs to me
And I will be
Just wait and see
Like a little boy
I see the joy
And feel the breeze
As it whispers through the trees
Singing a song
For now I belong

, This is how life should be, A new adventure every day

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Christ Crucified. 
The Cross 
 They took him from the crowd apart and nailed HIM both hands and feet unto the 
instrument of torture the cross of Golgotha complete the scriptures had prophecy 
concerning this event to complete the salvation of all of man. The LORD of all 
creation hung and suffered ridicule and thirst and hunger of a different sort for 
Heaven he was thirsty then. They cast lots upon his garment. 
The prayers were hardly out left far behind when eye began to reap the benefits 
of health improved my finances of wealth increase can be explained away by 
fools but ewe we knoe the truth for JESUS gives. My target Heaven my wealth 
health and all my food my found and scrounged and Easter egged 2 all come 
forth from HIM. A Poor and sinfilled man quite given to the drink may lie and steal 
and say he found it near his drink he “assumes someone has left it there” is 
what he barks at the beertender the drunk outside may soon die from his 
concussions the man left near the bathroom door he took a wooden batted 
thatch knocked upon the drunken noggin put the man all out took from him his 
wealthy purse to pay just for one more night out seeking oblivion again to drink 
perchance to dream the detectives came to task the man for overall complaints 
the thief he muttered “HOW? did you know that it was me ,yes? HOW?”  Detective 
Fabel was on the case he was pushing by the place the alleyway and heard the 
cricket paddle whack the commoner went down he is bound to get better now in 
the hospice we have found for him but you will only get worse in the old 
hoosegow. The old banded man in the alleyway digging in the trash can has 
more hope than you as they take the thief away the scrounger finds a basket full 
of boiled eggs left there an Easter 2 colored all purple and white inside the 
yellow yolk looking like a big surprise the color of a dandylion sunrise. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What Wakes Me Up

Monday – just happens 'round 5 am.
Tuesday – pretty much happens, but set alarm clock just in case.
Wednesday -  alarm clock more often than not.
Thursday -  alarm clock if I hear it, but sometimes I don't.  Thursday's a perpetual late day.
Friday – Fear of repercussion from being late on Thursday .
Saturday – what for?
Sunday – The sunrise the bird chirps the cats wanting food.  The garden, the neighborhood, breakfast with who knows who.  My religion's quite offbeat, I recognize that.  And Sabbath means something to me where I'm at.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Coming out on the porch this morning after the sun had risen far above the horizon...I 
noticed that my herbs looked wilted.  Checked but not really dry just potbound or rootbound
in too small of a container..Life___how many of us are potbound or rootbound contained in a 
container that we outgrew years ago___stuck, complacent not growing and soon will die from
starvation because we can't receive the nourishment from the source of our total being the 
giver of life the One Who gives the Living Waters....In the next few days I will get larger 
pots, fresh soil, and remove those plants..distrub their roots...Repot them giving their root 
system room to grow..They will come out giving me fresh French Tarragon, and Lemon 
Thyme all summer..I will enjoy watching them grow and produce....What about me?  Will I 
get out of the pot that is too small and grow?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The war that can be won

The mind commands the body immediately obeys, the mind order itself and it meets arrogance and lets that mean genie out of the bottle.

In your addictions the line between life and death is very thin a war that has only one win if you keep using and letting that evil genie in; death is slow and sure. These are the guideline that you have set; stop and think, do you like being satan pet? keep this thought on your mind, the setting of guidelines belong to God not man!

Logic is blinded and you forget about the past, the future is an unknown; why just to get high? Every endeavor is a challenge is it not, just for a high that just don't last.

Fear not all is not lost! Addiction is a war that can be won, that is if you keep certain things in your mind, fighting it with all your heart, and all of your mind. Lean not on your own understanding, but finding faith in God of your own understanding;. Place your trust in Him; He not demanding.

Addiction and recovery encompass neatly identical tactics, they are both learned behavior and they are both controlling factors. Neither one accept anything less than total victory. the first one will bring about your destruction and second one brings about a chance to live a life free from bondage.

Open your eyes don't let illogical thinking be your guide, living life with satan by your side, just for the brief moment of that high. This life type of living is shaded and it is unkind; demons controlling your mind.
 Word to the wise, wisdom and strength comes from the One that is Setting most high; let the Lord edify. Life in the Word will become excitedly gratifying ; in this your will find strength without any boundaries and all that you need is faith and belief that Jesus can set you free; Pick up His words and read John 3:16.  
Nothing beat a failure but a try; so I pray for you and so please stop getting high.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


A fit of laughter
Welcoming hands
Encouraging smiles
And love that never ends
I’ve never been here before
Away from war and pain
My Lord has led me here
It’s just been out of my grasp
It’s all to wonderful
For a sinner
Like me
Yet He’s brought me here
With open arms
And love
Before my eyes were closed
Now my eyes are open
And I see
My place in heaven
My love
My family
My home

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Milroy Farm

Milroy Farm
William L. Moore
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
William Lewis Moore

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Take me away

To where there is no pain, anguish and misery

From where there is no exaltation of my open wounds

To where the end is welcomed

I search my heart to find the promised place up there 

That place that people pray and yearn to go to

But I can not find it

It is not there nor where I can touch it or feel it

Or is it and I just don’t see it?

I ache for total and complete respite.

Will it come soon?

I can only hope that the

Holy One comprehends the anguish caused by my affliction and 

Comes to my rescue and takes me to his domain, up there, but 


All I know of the where is His son’s answer:

“Heaven is within you.”

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Big Heart

I have a big heart.
 With a big heart, the impossible becomes possible,
 And solutions emerge from hidden places, 
and cooperation comes from all directions.
 A big heart magnetizes help.. 
A big heart is the consciousness of wanting everyone to benefit, 
not just my small circle of loved ones and friends.
 Today let me expand my heart by sacrificing the limited 
consciousness of “mine .”

Adikaran 06/10/12.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sunshine By WLM November 25, 2008

William L. Moore

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 | |

An Honest Fate Pare 2

"Propitious the rondos' end-bold-in their cachinnation frilly whirlwind-June bugs caught up all about us flopping-around in-their-daily-dallying, teasing toying, have-left me-rather-intrigued." "As the-many-shimmering-bass' billowing-up-soaring-about-a foot sometimes-a-foot-and-a-half- or-two-above the waters under the clear skies-above-us-fall back down-into-the surface-to-try and catch them-as-the shadows-cast-their jest; and in-their-haste to catch a meal - out fly fishing- under-the full moon-so bright-a part of the glimmering-stars-with Jamie-now-I-have-faith-enough- to-know God being-in charge of-all-our-luck - one-or two-maybe-three-they'll-soon be-in our buckets tied up hugging the shore there, for-breakfast - but-still and yet with no bait - to pick-up- one-several a floating bug, to tie them-up as the bugs-themselves I know too now follow-after a purpose, would be to bring a sweet-honeysuckle-to them... and to be-as-faithful-give-to-all one-a taste as fresh-a love-everlasting - to-live I would die to-uphold-them in-their prominence, given- the-opportunity-of the-challenge - because if it be a challenge for my faith to embrace the elements; apparent facts knowing that fate always provides another opportunity; my faith is humbled - because my faith is as honest as what it follows after... now here and hereafter... ." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I invite you to read: as well investigate as to why I ask you of this, "please":. I am so honored you have stopped by friend you have blessed me-yes - I wish as well to bless you. ~ Love ~ James ~ (or if you will) ~ e v e r y o n e 1 ~

Details | Prose Poetry | |


 There is a personal testimony and everyone's focus is on the group and on the 
self and not on JESUS where it was supposed to be the reason eye won't go to 
fellowship with rich working Christians meeting at a SUNDAY SUPPER to drive to 
a pizza place where everyone pays something for the food even if they share it the 
cost is still beyond the pocketbook of yew. The added price of fellowship with 
world is loss of spirit functions eye am not suggesting we have meetings in the 
desert with the hedgehogs but there could be a meeting place for all the 
Christians like the fish doors of the early days of meetings they were in and out 
so furtive searching alleyways for soldiers avoiding arrests and fighting and 
bringing lots of food in the bags of fishes and the loaves of breads in pockets of 
the tunaes fishes smile eye could just not resist this in almost every Church 
there is a Kitchen and in some of them is love the people make the soup for the 
homeless and the court appointed prisoners and even important people come. 
Hang a fish upon the door of every kitchen in the nation make a place with tables 
where the poor can come in love do not forget the love the soup is  nice but even 
slabs of raw meat are not enough with hate. 
Eye could not write a word on yesterday the things that eye had wanted to write 
left on the flight of lost ideas and night came again without a thought and then the 
day came back this fable was born and eye decided to try religion again. The 
focus of a lot of people is the congregation the error being life is not a middle 
class house with people making money in a paper plate of life some people 
need a cup of soup just to survive please open up your love first open up your 
hearts then open all them kitchen cupboards up. There is another thing that eye 
must say to all the bible thumpers not yet in the grave what does it matter what 
the date and day of this my own salvation come the day of JESUS was 33 AD the 
date that GOD was saving me. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


#1. Armaggedon is not a geographical
location. The battle goes on within us
between the will or ego and the spirit. 
Divinity lives within this battlefield in 
our heart and souls. 

#2. Armaggedon is not a remote event in history 
but an occasion for the Self to connect more fully 
to the nature of Divinity which  resides both within
and beyond the self in three different ways.

#3. Armaggedon. The Self is the creation of God. 
The serial disasters that humanity accumulates
in our lives are not from an All Powerful God 
handing out retribution or revenge or indifference. 
Divinity promotes that love is primary. 

#4. Armaggedon is an opportunity to realize the
personality of God within our own lives.
Justice, wisdom, love, knowledge, thoughts,
feelings and behavior, except for evil, are aspects 
of the personality of God. It is our responsibility 
to merge with Divinity more fully to strengthen
those aspects of divinity within ourselves.

#5. Armaggedon is not a place outside of us, 
it is a symbol of our faith. Being a child of God
means you already have the inherent qualities 
of God within you, we all do, no matter what 
religion. Like a mother who gives birth to a child, 
the child has aspects of the mother’s personality
within her. Thus, as God has given birth to us all, 
we have attributes of Divinity within that we 
need to grow and strengthen. 

#6. Armaggedon. The fever is already raging.
in a war that surpasses all wars and that is
alive within us on a daily basis. This war
holds the souls weight of my loyalty
toward or away from love, the primary aspect
of God.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


She would fold, refold then fold again 
And from the paper arose a swan 
I was always amazed at what she did 
A creation of beauty from paper 

She would fold, refold then fold again 
And from her heart arose a song 
A creation of beauty from hope and faith 
And like the swan she helped me fly

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 | |

God and Evil

Was evil created by G0D?

Evil is not a thing

You cannot have a jar of evil

but a can of worms exists

So, is evil the lack of good

or is good the lack of evil

ponder, ponder, ponder.


Holes are real

but exist only in

something else

the absence of dirt

is a hole

but cannot be

separated from dirt

God created choice

we may choose good

or reject good

a bad union is

a lack or rejection of good

but is not created as such.


does cold exist?

or is cold the absence of heat

or heat the absence of cold


does darkness exist?

is darkness the absence of light

or light the absence of darkness


if there is no possibility

for the absence of good

then humanity would serve God

out of obligation, not choice

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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 | |

Calling You

Through the darkest of dark forests
Where the spiring snake-like sprouts
Fasten you,
And piercing the spooky blackness
That pervades all of your space,
Shoots the sound 
Of a gushing stream,
The ethereal smell 
Of a fire,
The intangible ashes,
The wet earth,
The rains,
And life,
Carried over to you.
Breaking away from
The binding shoots
That stake you,
Crossing the barrier
Of tapering stems,
That pain you,
If you dare to look at
The tiny source of light,
The small fire, the water,
At the very end of 
Your eternally dark forest,
Where the blue sky 
Extends to infinity,
On the other side
Of that stream of life,
I would be standing.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


 I watched the paper soak up the ink
as it blotched in breast strokes across the page...
 suddenly I was street bound
in hand signals
legs, pinned to the pavement
as July scrolled by in reverse
and a name scrawled across
the wheat covered hills...

 A single day took it's light 
from the crayon colored buildings
and the laughter rang from
a beautiful city where the call 
of seagulls brushed it's wings
against my cheek like friends
embraced, arm in arm, 
our hopes, crushed
long before infancy.

I plucked a locus from my eye
as petals of golden Roses 
littered the street like pieces
of shattered poetry.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


“To heed spoken words of the harshly learned is to survive, and to survive is to continue on living.”

Details | Prose Poetry | |


It is not enough to say I love you
It’s in actions it must be seen
It’s not enough to strike out on your own
We must walk where Jesus has been
It’s not enough to say I forgive you
If it does not come right from the heart
It’s not enough to say I’m sorry
If there’s bitterness there from the start
It’s not enough to stand outside the door
When Father says come in side
It is not enough to wear sin stained garments
When Father wants a spotless bride
It wont be enough to make excuses
If Jesus were to come today
There wont be the time to repent on your knees
There will be no time to pray
It is not enough to say I love you
It’s in actions it must be seen

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beau lacrima -beautiful tears

She cried and she cried
and i tried and i tried
but she just cried and she cried 
and i pained and i cried
she told me its alright to die
but i kept holding on 
couldn't let her go
she just kept crying tears
some from anger some from sad
My heart dropped right then and there
she clutched my shirt and cried more
I held her there and smiled small
"mi amor,mi corozan,cry no more for you will always have me in your heart" 
I whispered in her ear as i kissed away her tears
she looked up at me and she made me swear that no matter what
i'd stay in her heart 
i told her i would and to never forget me 
as i told her this she cried some last tears
I stroked her cheek and kissed her tear
one last time i told her,your still beautiful when you cry
mi beau lacrima

Details | Prose Poetry | |



Many have read the faith in the eyes of a dog for his master,
Is it that we humans cannot implement it whatsoever?

Nay, this is not the fact for people have passed,
More faithful to their people, irrespective of their color.
Thou have not seen true faith,
It is clearer than the water in which you bathe.

Ah! It is truly hard to find true faith,
Therein where we dwell.

Faith you can see in the eyes of a person,
So true it outshines the light of the sun

Faith is uncommon in the world of today,
Though it was round every corner yesterday.

The only people that ever do find faith
No why faith was created for man and why man was created for faith. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

To The Hearing Heart

Has the rain ever fell through your eyes?

Have you ever known stormy days?

Has the thunder ever shook you, body and soul?

Have you had the sun shine in your heart, even in clouds of darkness?

Has the lightning ever struck you beneath blue skies?

Have you ever known the meaning of complete?

Are you living for life, or is life living for you?

Will your life, without you, live?

Does your heart, understand?

(c)Rosemarie Schrock 
sept. 26, 2007

Details | Prose Poetry | |


He hated his brother
Because he practiced another
Men of same wombs
On each other, inflict wounds
The free thinker; their observer
And he saw; eye sores
Men beheaded… burned
Women disemboweled
Drug traffickers and the mafia
Show more angels heart
Men obsessed with religion
No place free of them
Hold this illusion
Four virgins and a mansion
For just one man in heaven
So die a martyr
And make it even
In the beginning, was this so?
When men die, do they go?
PLEASE: give me no fairy answer
Except self proven ponder

On the other side
I heard Christ died
Men turned it merchandise
One name, many voices
As the voices, so the vices
Repent. Be baptized
Or die ostracized
Yet in sex, their leaders
Abuse youths and feeders
Adultery in the upper chambers
Sucked the poor dry
So the rich benefits and not die
Name not names
Lest you give them more fame
The free thinker; their observer
And he saw…eye sores
Grieve not alone in chest
It’s same in north; south; east; west

I heard God has his own powers
And he for himself mighty might
So why do for him men fight?
I heard also, the goat can bite
When pushed to the wall
Be that so,
Then there is:
The goat-
The applied force-
And the wall.
Who is the Goat? Man
Who is the force applied?
Circumstances against man
And who is the wall?
Religions against man

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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 | |


Present, in this bed I lay, and
tonight, they will order me to pray.
Within these four walls that contain my madness,
only god and repentance will absolve me of my sadness,
for I had once dared leave the solitude of my mind.
How can I pray when my hands you bind?
No longer a free being am I, in this world.
I can no longer shout, so how will I be heard?
Yesterday, my spirit and I were defeated, and
tomorrow I fear this will all be repeated.
Haven't you heard a word that I say?
How will I get better, bound, gagged and unable to pray?
Why in your faces, does my agony bring you gladness?
Am I onto a secret, therefore deemed made of badness?
The only thing you have ever inclined,
is that no free thinking man will be left unrefined.
All will be plucked, one by one from the herd,
and if non-compliant, forever be labeled absurd.
Like sinners, and the insane, they will be treated,
and if not changed, they will be deleted.
Well then, a martyr in this life I will now play, for
your disgrace I will not now, I will not ever obey.

-May god have mercy on your souls.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


It’s been 22years now; and I look upon those hills
The twin hills; that stand facing each other
The great towers that rise in full distinct of each other
The great book says I was born a sinner; man says I was born a saint
With no blemish; a little child dressed in white
Who landed all naked with a cry; a cry into an immoral world
I grew in innocence and grace; till I became eve
Yearning for a forbidden fruit
It drew me to it; it told me it was the sweetest
I believed it; I tasted it
Indeed, it had the sweetest taste
I feel bad for Adam; he didn’t taste as much as I tasted
Yet he suffers a great deal
My eyes beseech these unlike hills that towers up to the heavens
The first a dump for sinners and its twin a heap for saints
I’ve seen Christ; I’ve seen the devil
I know them both; I try to belong to one
I try to be a saint; but my thoughts wouldn’t allow me
Is it my thoughts that cause me to sin? Or my body
Sin is sweet; sin is pain…It is a sweet evil
Being a saint is hard…and glorious
I dream of white robes; the songs of saints
I live in the joys of the world
The loud banging music; the clubs of men and stench of beer
I dream of showing the woman I can be; and having the praises of Adam
Don’t blame me Jesus…
Don’t blame me devil…
I was born a sinner; I was born a saint!

©Naa Takia, All Rights Reserved 2012

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 | |

My Inner Strength

I feel my inner strength,helped me to achieve 
what I have achieved today.
I had very hard life and struggled everyday for survival,
 But my inner strength always supported me,
 and helped me to overcome those struggles.
Then my husband become ill and
 There was no family or friend
 I could ask for help, and I was all alone.
My inner strength gave me the company to cope 
I went many offices and hospitals with my ill husband 
to get the. things sort out for operation in a foreign land
 and the operation was successful and he became well.
Then come the struggle to cope with a foreign land
 Again all alone,without any friends or family
 I worked hard and coped well with my inner strength
 I feel my inner strength helped me to have a good life
 with all my struggles and cope with it fantastically.
If anyone wanted to know who is my best friend
 I do not have any doubt to tell you that my inner strength
 my best friend. I can sit and talk to my inner strength 
and it gives me all the answers to my question
 and I am sure it does not leave me alone
 and stay with me as a companion in my life.
 We enjoy the happy and sad moments together.

Adikaran 14/10/12.

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 | |

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
     Thy Holy name
Now I know that I can
Play the cube in this game
           Of life
I can make my His own
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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Paid In Full

On this day we sing and praise Your name as You prepare to give Your life for ours. 
There is nothing in this life more precious than a man, although not a man, who would 
willingly give his life for another and asking for nothing in return only that we turn our 
life over to Him and walk out our lives as He did. What more must we do for You on 
this day?

We stand here tonight singing, praying and crying out for You. Our tears are of joy 
because we have come to know You. Our tears are of sadness of the horrible and 
brutal way in which Your life was taken. You were whipped, stripped, pummeled and spit 
upon before the brutality ended with Your being nailed viciously to a tree, a cross 
created for You at Calvary. Why, oh why did it have to end that way? Why, oh why, did 
Your life had to end so abruptly? You came, lived briefly and died for me.

 I thank You, Dear Jesus for all that You have done for me. I give my life to You. I want 
to follow Your words. I want to be a good student of all that You can teach me through 
those You may put in my life. Dear Father You have done it all. You took the abuse. 
You took on my sins and washed me clean. You showed us how we are to live…honest 
and good.

Tomorrow You will be lead to that place. You will lay and take Your last breath as man 
on that cross. Dear Father You have rescued us all, even those who do not know You, 
yet. Three days later You rose from the grave as none other has ever done. You would 
walk this earth again, briefly, letting all those who knew You before, know that You are 
real and You will see them all again in Heaven. Oh how I long for the day to see Your 
face. To live in a place of peace, love, no pain, just comfort and joy with everlasting life 
and praising Your name. 

Hallelujah to the Lord on High

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dying Dreams

The young dream their dreams away at night

Hoping they come true

A doctor,policemen,veterinarian and other dreams are developed by the young

Too naive to understand the ways of the world

Determined as ever to achieve their dreams

The old regret the dreams they could never accomplish

They had dreams but unknowingly never came true

You go from living a world full of dreams

To living the reality that is life

Why do we let our dreams die

We were so excited as young kids

At the foot step of our dreams

Were we haunted by the mountain we had to climb

To make our dreams come true

Did we simply quit

Because of society’s pressure

Did money deter our dreams away while we slept at night

Did we let doubt creepy into our hearts

Silently killing all of our dreams without realizing it

Why do dreams die so quickly

When we spent years of our youth

Hoping that we could get an opportunity

To make them come true

Dream big, chase your dreams and never let them die

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Seeking, searching For only God's truth Chattering flows Noises build intensly Calm my spirit Point me where I need go Let only Your Words Remain in my heart All untruths and vanity Need sift out from me Seeking, I search For You alone Let me stand before You With truth in my heart Shower me in Your Peace Let Your Spirit flow through me

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Soft Glowing Embers

The birds are rejoicing this morning...Each species is trying to out sing the other..The 
sunrise calls me to enjoy its glow of kaleidoscope of color dancing off the whispy 
charcoal clouds..The quiet__freedom from manmade sound is just temporary for cars and 
trucks constantly interrupt the peace but the birds don't slow down one bit...They are just 
praising God for the glorious day that he has honored them to live.. The mist or fog in the 
first valley is not as dense this morning as if it is has dried out somewhat but rain is 
suppose to come back in so we will be having more fog and mist..Thanks God for the 
moisture and the cool of the day for the heat of summer will be here and along with it 
uncomfortable weather...The color of the sky has changed again ..It seems that the sun 
is trying to warm the sand colored clouds with a soft glowing fire that is just barely 
burning.. The embers are soft red hot on the horizon. . The roosters are trying their best 
to bring the sun on up....The other birds have quieted somewhat..It seems that they have 
had their time of worship and have gathered food to carry home to the young...Now the 
embers on the horizon have renewed and a bright glow comes form the sun fire that 
warms the earth....Thank you Lord for the time on the porch to renew and refresh my inner 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lines, rewrite

My life is told in lines here
the ones etched upon my face
deep lines drawn in the sand
storylines I wrote past years
the lines rarely going straight
many written over again
fractured pages inked in tears
stories fade without a trace
wiped away by my own hand
a wasted memoir is what I fear
can I redeem my essential place
in spirit of faith I now stand
bright sliver of light shining clear
a crushed being saved only by grace

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Cry

I cry for a loved one
I cry for I hurt that he is gone
I cry through the memories of 40 years ago
I cry for I hurt deeply 
I cry for the comfort to ease my pain
I cry and as I do; I feel guilt grasping my soul
I cry for as I see memories pass away,  which I cannot reach again
I cry to see my dear friend again and his company to ease my pain
I cry for wrongs done in my life long to atone with my friend
I cry for the people I have hurt, and wish for them, with me to lament
I cry, for in 40 years I saw my good friend once as a complete and gracious soul
I cry, as God holds my friend’s hand and walks through death to a life with no end
I cry for I see happiness in the face of God and friend
I cry and mourn, with a yearning to see my friend again, a friend of God’s
I cry for all the pain I have suffered all my life as anger builds and to self hate
Teeth, grind, gnash and resentment builds within my self-pity
I cry for things I have not gained in my life and my anger builds higher, higher and 
mounts as if to reach no end
I cry! But it is true that my friend and GOD know my thoughts are hopelessly 
I pause, and listen to the silence
“You cry for yourself and you’re your selfish misdoings.” A voice does  
exclaim. “Stop; for your God and passing friend love you.”
 “You cry for the materials of a world which you leave behind.”
“Please friend of mine let our Creator and this friend smile with you.”
“Rise above your pity; smile, laugh and live, full, as we all did before.”
And cease your tears; for God and your friend love you.”

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Here’s the thing
Peer pressure, isolation and laughter
Doesn’t magically make wrong right
Or change a lie into truth
Just because so many
Who are uninformed believe
Doesn’t turn fiction into fact
Rewriting history doesn’t make it true
No matter how many times you try
Doesn’t matter if good people or fools
Are leading the way
If it’s down the wrong path
Doesn’t matter if you say
It’s for the children and the poor
If it’s not the truth
For only one thing
Will set you free
We can twist a man’s words
Into whatever we want
When He’s not around
But when He once again
Sets foot to ground
Twisting is not so easily done
But we did so with good intentions
Will offer no excuse
In the face of the Truth
We too long ignored
So does it matter
If a few facts were off base
And the Truth
Just a bit embellished
I wonder who among us
Is bold enough to say
A little white lie
Isn’t really so
In the face of the Truth

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beauty Surrounds

Beauty Surrounds
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 | |

Dream Come True

Dream Come True
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 | |

Neuvième Fable

 Neuvième Fable 
Neuvième Fable 
Tragic Love 
Internet Love 
L'amour pour les brebis ont des yeux est la même que iff nous wed. 
Les sentiments qu'elle me donne ne sont jamais remplis d'effroi. 
Mais rien ne peut rosée, elle me ferait jamais vouloir liquidation morts, mais la 
vie à l'amour qu'ils font le temps de vie au lieu. Eye pourrait marcher les couloirs 
de la mémoire et de vous déprimé ou des yeux pourrait devenir une religieuse 
coupable dans le plaisir et repos dans le couvent jusqu'à ce que la mort peut 
nous part de rosée de la mort peut donner mais ce qui me reste de l'amour. 
Comment un homme peut obtenir si excitée un peu au point vert en quelques 
clics de souris, puis une zone de chat blanc froid. L'encre n'est jamais humide 
sur papier mye frisolée encore là, il est son amour. Quand elle me sourit oeil 
sourire quand elle fronce les sourcils yeux pleurent une rivière de la stuffins 
conservés dans tout repose autochtones découlant de faire une faute de la mort 
semblent quelque peu à écrire les mots à la mandé coeur s'écarter de 
s'inquiéter et de malheur et de prendre le tout nouveau départ Et bientôt tout ça 
fonctionne pour l'amour. Blanche-Neige, elle a mangé la pomme, puis est 
tombé à s'endormir rapidement mais Charlax venu à l'embrasser et à vivre son 
éveil. Prince Charlax bons baisers. 
En direct sur le ruisseau la pêche de libellules dans une maison de l'amour. 
Mending coeur de charme. Faire l'amour dans le coeur. Mye neige blanche tortue 
pookie pochoucntous amour mon amour mon internet thrall. Nous pouvons avoir 
tout juste à tenir sur mes namme et de l'amour. 
Les chercheurs ont maintenant prouvé que l'amour peut réparer un cœur brisé.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I wonder
If this knife is sharp enough?
It has to cut deep to sever the vein in my thigh
I have been wondering lately
About death, about dying and of decay

What’s after death anyway . . ?
Does dying hurt, can I make it easier?
If I have a soul will it decay as my body does?
Will it grow old and die?

I wonder lately why I tried
What was it that I was reaching for anyway?
Why did I think it could be found in others?
I wonder why I thought they cared
How could they when I never did
How can I see them through another day all over again,
When I can hardly make it through one more myself?

I wonder why I wanted to try
I’ve done enough, more than enough . . ?
I can’t find anymore strength
They’ve sucked it all up
And never given anything back
I’m running on empty
No more, nothing anymore . . .

Why should I continue in the face of defeat
Day in, day out I can never hope to win
I wonder why I bothered
If they cared I’d know it by now
I can wonder until I’m blue in the face
I will never know will I?
Unless I try,
Unless I do it
Do it . . .

. . .

I wonder now that I’ve done it
And its begun
Will God turn away from me too?
I wonder
Wonder . . .

Details | Prose Poetry | |


You have gained that stature  of man
Holding  the sky on your palms.
Twist the world around your fingers
And diffuse the arrogant fury of the nature.

Your knowledge and intelligent   probes
Shall  restrain  the devastation wreaked
On the helpless souls of the earth,
You like a Phoenix rise from the debris  of  the ‘Dissolution’.

The Nature may please to thrust at you,
Out of its ghastliness, unleashing   the devils
Like Tsunami, Tornados, Earthquakes, Volcano blasts et all 
A dastardly act, annihilating the lives  created  by itself
In a eons of time so painfully creating that it will destroy.

But you have the will to survive the deadly onslaughts
Bearing   with the maladies determined   not  to surrender to the  Devil,
Its   devilry  can never decimate you or wipe you out of existence
Though since a eons it is indulging in such nefarious acts
Conforming to the theory  of   Malthus, namely ‘Malthus Balancing Act
And you shall live for a eons   more
In  spite  of all the natural calamities preying on you.                                  
                                                                                                                      – Jay-en

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I find it odd that as soon as I asked for forgiveness for my sins
they all came back on me - tenfold.  My seemingly 'bad' luck was caused
only by what I did to others against the will of the Lord.
When I honestly repented for the wrongs I had done, 
I didn't ask for ev'rything to go haywire, but that's exactly what happened,
because I hadn't tried to rectify my behaviors.  I tried to run from them,
and act like I'd ne'er really done anything wrong.  I tried to shield myself
from them behind a wall of lies that only created more lies.
Instead of facing up to what I'd done, and try to fix it,
I thought it would all just go away because I wanted to turn my life around
and be a better person.  I realize now that by hiding behind the hand of the Lord
I only got slapped in the face even harder.  I showed no respect for the laws of God
or the land I live in, so I got blown apart by the bomb I lit so long ago.
It's time I stop running, and face up to what I've done.  Only if I'm willing to do this
will the Lord show mercy on me.  I must apologize, and pay the price -
even if in secret.  Only then will the landslide that I created rush into the sea,
and be squelched by my honesty.  Once I take this step, all will be well again,
and I will be able to live my life in peace, knowing that I have done all I can
to right my wrongs.  And, when I die, the gates of Heaven will open wide,
and accept me unflinchingly.  Then I'll truly know I've been forgiven.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Faith walks with Sorrow and Suffering.
It’s Light buffering 
their weight,
too heavy to abate.

Why journey with these companions so unpleasant?
What purpose to achieve?
What must I leave

Faith walks with Sorrow and Suffering
To transform
All that does not conform
     to Love.

Faith allows my choices to be made.
Will I trust?
Will my heart not fade?

Faith beckons my blind eye to see
Far beyond me,
If I will but trust
And hold tight to Love.
It’s magic to behold;
Worth more than gold.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Love I've Waited For

Bless me with your
presence, with the 
tenderness of your

Bless me with your
radiant joy, for you
are all I do think

Bless me with the 
happiness which only 
you alone can bring...

Bless me with the
peaceful bliss which
causes my heart to

And in the morning
as I rise, the
prayer I will pray
to you...

Will tell you Lord
how deep my love is 
and how it will always
remain so true.

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 | |


Be like waves which crash on the jetty

Washing all our impurities away

Waves like a crescent curtain dangling in its fringes

Unearthing sunken precious stones

Hurling them up above the elevation

Hanging on dear life right ahead

Waves that don't crush us because we wish it

Waves that surface and in turn are subdued

Waves we are in this depth of consciousness

Appeal to and unearth your Godly wisdom

Uphold and hang in the untimely crush

Be strong, be heard, be known and be well

For all will suffice at the end of the spray

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Goodbye My Old Friend

you were there the day I was born
you sewed my clothes and spanked me when I needed it 
I wasn' t ready but you said it's ok your only a phone call away
so I moved away thinking it would be ok
then I got the call that you past away
I'm mad as he++ 
that much you can tell
I want to ask why you didn't say goodbye
was it because you didn't want me to cry
I'm going home but you will be gone
I think you went on
to make a home with a room just for me
you know it wouldn't be long before I come along
I didn't know I had brain cancer at the time you left me
I sit here and cry and hope it will not be long before I can come home
and join you again in heaven and sit by the fire then I know that is where I belong

Details | Prose Poetry | |


How glorious is Love ?
How magnificent it's depth ? 
How bright are it's visions ?
How true are it's directions ?
What can compare to it's shear delight ?
Where walking in it's sight
gives clarity to every living thing .
How bold are it's promises ?
It's paths hold wonder 
for every step taken upon it.
Vibrancy is it's assignation.
It beacons the heart ,
and whispers treasures in it's future.
It speaks of grand designs 
and builds it's dreams
into realities here to fore unknown.
In it the soul with happiness is filled .
Men have penned it's words
sang it's songs
and dreamed it's dreams .
It is desired above all other things . 
It's breadth is exquisite 
and vast are the many who
would sell all , to possess it
only to find it cannot be purchased .
It is a gift given freely 
it cannot be coerced 
No building can house it 
You cannot cage it 
It has no chains that can bind it
no prison can hold it , 
but within are  the floodgates of 
of heaven that waters all of life .
It is a fire that burns
all lies to ash
that purifies all intentions
and refines , polishes , and reflects truth .
Men have sought it's face
in every crack of his existence .
Men have apprenticed at it's feet
journey-manned in it's instruction
but few have mastered it 
and certainly only one has become it's Grand-Master .
But we run to reach for it's crown
we strive to bow our wills before it
to learn it  , receive it
then release it and set it free .
This the Rulers of this world 
would steal if they could  !

1 John 4
16 And so we know and rely on the love God has for us.
God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. 17 This is how love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment: In this world we are like Jesus. 18 There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
19 We love because he first loved us. 20 Whoever claims to love God yet hates a brother or sister is a liar. For whoever does not love their brother and sister, whom they have seen,cannot love God, whom they have not seen. 21 And he has given us this command: Anyone who loves God must also love their brother and sister.

COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Seed of Faith

A tiny seed
born of need
Planted deep
     within the soil of my heart.
Will it not depart?

This seed of faith
Laid deep;
It’s sheath decays,
Lying prey
     to all that prowls
without its beckon;
Death to reckon.

This seed of faith;
It’s treasures now lay bare,
Deep below;
Darkness surrounds;
All hope is lost;
This tiny seed broken,
Laying bare
     the promises within.

With hope yet abandoned,
Evidence appears,
Though barely visible.
Out of death,
New life;
It’s journey to begin;
It’s purpose to fulfill.

Faith not forsaken
Begins its way;
To unfold,
     through darkness,
     it’s promises within.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Waiting for an epiphany
A life in transit
Keyhole visions… narrowed too fine
Cynicism, mockery doing rounds
Despairing times… out of bounds

What could’ve been and what is…
Funny how the story doesn’t change
Driftwood listless, aimless
Who is your huckleberry finn?
Hypocrisies, deceit, lies and everything lame
That just leaves god left to blame

Details | Prose Poetry | |


She kept trying 
To make him 
Until one day 
After casting 
A powerful spell 
He vanished! 

Oh… I forgot 
He also took the car

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I attended a funeral today, for someone's loved one...
The room was full of garments of black, consoling gestures, and fond memories.
Tears were shed, sobbing was heard... but grief cannot be abated, with only a word.

Attentive ears, as the prayers were read...
Hearts deeply saddened by the loss, could only remain heavy in their anguish.
Memories of a life given, now taken the Master who leads us all on our way.

The slow ride to that final resting place...
Passing through red lights, as thoughtful men watched the cortege in respect.
The last lonely place of stone...where so many laid their troubles before the Master's throne.

A few last words of comfort said, before we say goodbye...
Sobbing will stop soon, as the gloves and flower are laid gently down.
The hand of the Lord is shown the silent petals are swept by wisps of wind.

In life there is death, for this is the rule...
It comes for us all too soon, and we know not how, or where, or when.
But in death there is life, for this is the truth...if only we believe, in God's holy proof.

The child born in Bethlehem so long ago...
Raised in love, youthful days filled with child's play and a heavenly mission.
His Son to die, so we could rise with Him, make no mistake.

The morning has passed, the mourning has broken...
Not through the words, or gestures, or flowers, or memories, or even the prayers.
Remember it was broken long ago...when Christ died for us, and then arose.

(See my poem - A' Ma which was dedicated to her.)

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Between Heaven and Hell

What shall I do
What shall I do in the meantime
In between this heaven and this hell
Believing in God more than what the people tell
What shall I do
What shall I do in the meantime
Under the sun
Never ending Corruption
In between this heaven and this hell

Between zero year and the end times
I've bidden my time
Smoke and mirrors
A day further
Time goes on
That  light on the horizon
Is just a mirage
Just the glare off a shiny nickel in the dirt
Nothing but Despair
The entire world 
In a state of dis-repair
We march on further
Into the abyss

A day further
Time goes on 
So what shall I do
What shall I do in the meantime
In between this heaven and this hell
Believing in God more than what the people tell
What shall I do
What shall I do in the meantime
Under the sun
Never ending Corruption
In between this heaven and this hell

Details | Prose Poetry | |

having weak faith

Evil grows and evil rules
Demons everywhere with all the fools
We’ve been distracted we’ve been disturbed
We all gone mad for what occurred
Satan’s here and is everywhere
As we let him rule for all we care
We’ve been blinded we’ve been deceived
All for one weak faith we believe

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dreamy Affection

There are very few ones who care
There are very few who share;
There are few who affectionately glare
Number of those specials are undoubtedly rare.

People whom you can trust blindly
People whom you can forgive kindly;
People whom you love passionately
People whom you can show your stupidity innocently.

Those who'll never talkbehind your back
Those who loves you even if you lack;
Those who often abusively whack
Those who have the key of your heart to hack.

you must be thinking who are they?
Why without greed they are behaving such a way?;
Don't they deserve an extreme pray
Its your FAMILY, Yes none but they.

They can forget you even for the biggest mistake
They are the one if you'll sleep ,they'll wake;
Their affection is as pure as shell
They know your every next step very well.

I really call it a dreamy affection
Seems like living in the world of perfection;
They are your family never let them down
Their single love can bet the whole town.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I tip-toe cautiously through each day
eyes cast down, a silent waif
nothing showing upon my face
my essence truly buried safe
an outward disguise carefully placed
but a glimmer of hope always saved
breath of renewal will now awake
the inner spirit never frayed
it becomes a blossoming flame
and with heartfelt promise I reclaim
the restoration of my faith
and inner beauty glows always

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Three Days, That The Three Of Them Changed Me!

The Three Days, That The Three Of Them Changed Me!  
I was minding my own business, when 
my wife wanted to go to a bookstore,
she just needed some cards,  dumb me I 
went in with her, looking around as I
started out the door a book caught my
attention. “Free Book” 50% off, of coarse 
I had to buy it God was just daring me not too.
Have you ever felt like Jesus was just talking 
to you alone and no-one else.
That is the way I have felt all weekend,
I feel like I am having my own alone time right 
now to get things right with God. For too long
I have been trying on my own, and it has not worked:
Now I am turning it over to Jesus and the Holy Spirit, 
and letting them take care of the big things, 
I’ll take care of the little things.
Oh yea, this week my bondage’s and struggles’ 
were taken over one by one by Jesus and his Father. 
They did not have a chance once the Holy Spirit
got moving in me. I never in my life
felt this way until I felt the Holy Spirit move in
on me. Now I know my life has been changed forever. 
Darn them for all ganging up on me anyway; I just was 
not ready for them all at once.
But oh what a ride, I guess I needed this journey 
I was on, for me to grow in Jesus’
name. So don’t despair in your journeys
as you travel through life, enjoy them as 
you grow with the Lord. The Holy Spirit are 
going to be part of your growing adventure.
Sit back and enjoy them, don’t fight them like 
I did; let them become a part of you.  Amen 
Steve L. Siegel
June 20, 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |


It's only the start now
...a road yet unknown
At times the whisper of other steps
...sometimes we walk alone

The best start of our lives
May at times cry in sorrow
But even on our deadliest days
The sun will shine tomorrow.

So we must do our best
Whatever time may bring
And look beyond the winter chill
To taste the breath of spring.

Into each life will come
A time to start anew
A new start for each heart
As lively as morning dew.

Though the responsibilities of life are great
And palms are bowed so low
The cyclone of time will leave behind
The beauty of a rainbow.

Time will never take away
Our chance to start anew
It's only the start now
So the beautiful dreams can still come true.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Morning Joy Comes Near

Morning joy cones near
Dispelling long night’s fear;
Hope rising within me
To set me free.

Heavy heart awaits
Relief from burdens.
Arise! Awake!
New day does not forsake;
Promises given;
Held tight by faith
Through long night’s journey
And fires burning.

Morning joy comes near
With promises held dear.
Love’s healing grace
Will not disgrace
When dark night ends;
Hold tight by faith.
Hold tight by faith!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Backsliding - A Love Story

Once a pastor became bitter with God, 
	And had stumbled in his faith with the Lord
For ev’rything in the sky fell in him
	And evry’thing seems so heavy for him.
“Seems God has forsaken me, ” he said
	And thought that God is no longer with him
“Where are His promises? ” he asked himself
	“Did the power of the Lord failed? ” he thought.

He said, ”Oh, God! Why is this happening
	And why are these things falling down to me? 
Do you really love me, Lord of Highest? 
	Do you really care about me, Oh God? 
You’ve said in your word ‘I’ll never leave you...’
	Yet you’ve forgotten and forsaken me! 
You have said that you’ll never let me go
	And yet I can no longer feel your love! ”

But the Lord answered him in a vision; 
	In a divine presence, Christ spoke to him: 

“I’m fatally wounded here at the cross; 
	Yet I cannot die because I’m spotless.
So, dearly child, please give me all your sins
 	And I will replace it with righteousness.
Dearly child, please give me all your sorrows
	And I will replace it with blessedness.
Most of all, give me all your bitterness
	And, child, I will replace it with whole love! ”

So he went back to the love of the Lord
	Turned back to the protection of his God.

Here is the wisdom of the Sovereign
	Here’s the message most cannot understand: 
What is our right to complain to the Lord 
	When Jesus Christ never complained at all? 
So just “Trust to the LORD with all your heart
	And lean not in your own understanding.”
For God says, 'Be still and know that I'm God; '
        Be steadfast and remember that He's Great!

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 | |

The Root of Love

                                            The Root of Love

                                 Comes from the principles of faith,
                                 To claim it one needs grace.
                                 That grace so defined that one will know,
                                 That the root's of love tends to glow.

                                 The root of love are those keys beyond life,
                                 Something that claims a sacrifice.
                                 That sacrifice of comfort and the desires of,
                                 For desire can bring forth compassion's love.

                                 The root of love know's all loves pain,
                                 And the memory that forgot shame.
                                 So if from pain love is found,
                                 Then love's root is firmly sound.

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Honeymoon of Jesus ad Mary Magdalene


I told   a poetry  crowd
 Imagine yourself in year 25 a.d.
 (Cana wedding scene)

What if mom God via his
folks Mary and Joseph at Cana
gave Jesus a bride for to learn
how to transform his life,
to live and die without fear.

I, the poet see in Mary  Mag’s
loving eyes as she stood at cross,
all their 25 years of love taught her. 
(engaged at age of 15 as good Jews do)
(they met at 5 of age)

So Persius a Roman  neighbor  
soldier who taught Jesus the teen 
horseshoe tossing loaned his chariot for 
the honeymoon to drive to plays in 
Roman & Greek cities and spend a week 
at Peter’s Capharnum family home in 
Galilee with  a swim beach.

John, Jesus’ bro wrote poems for  the 
couple, bro James putting old fish nets 
for chariot to drag.  Jesus packed his 
flyrod and Mary Mag’s  bait rod. On trip 
friends helped repair a broken chariot wheel.

The honeymooners partied with friends 
in every town they went, Romans, 
Greeks, Jews, all sang danced and drank 
and ate with them, Jesus did make friends 
who later became 72 disciples or the 12.  >

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Walking with me, it moves along,
Contorting with me, to me it belong.
It’s tied to me as a chain,
I know it’s with me, it would never wane.

There lies poise between it and me,
Grasping me, never allows to flee.
Together we go, without any tiff,
Casting my image, it stays stiff.

It survives in bright, perishes when it’s dark,
It does exist on a spark.
Following always, it never goes astray,
Stuck with me, can’t think of betray, it always stay.

Gives me sense to be stronger, as I walk,
I halt on the way, admire it, if it could talk.
God knows, why it is made so conventional,
Unceasingly it swings parallel.

At a certain time, everything departs, saying farewell,
Except for my shadow, the one will always dwell.
It certainly is the symbol of faith and duty,
It is the only companion, who has eternity.

A dark image staying in me,
Forever as one could see.
As long as I will be,
I desire to see, no ‘you’ and ‘me’, but a ‘we’.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


What is trust? 
Who can we trust? 
Can we trust our loved ones? 
Can we trust each other? 
Many questions arise in my mind.
Trust is tricky, trust is hard
 Trust is something that needs to be earned
 Trust in God and believe in him,
 Things will go easy and well.
Trust is such a powerful word
 Trust is to have confidence in one another,
 If there is no trust in a relationship then it will not work,
 If you have TRUST in the Lord everything will go right.
Trust, love and the Lord is the most important 
Just remember that trust is really important 
Without trust, there can be no friendship. 
Without friendship, there can be no trust 

Adikaran 16/10/12.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


They were deceive by their city government.

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


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.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

To where

Heart mind and soul
On my knees I pray
For my heart to be opened
For my mind to run loose
And my soul to soar
To an unknown place
Just past time
To eternity to where

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Psalm 34:19 NLT
The righteous person faces many troubles, but the Lord comes to the rescue each time.

There is a constant suffering in someones life. An affliction is a source of constant suffering. 
It could be a number of things such as poverty, sickness, or anxiety. Many people who suffer 
these afflictions believe that no one understands them, but they are mistaken, God does 
understand. He is always here for us, to show us the way out of bad situations. 

Many people ask the question of why God does not end suffering. God is able to do anything 
you ask of Him. God does not bring the trouble to you, but at times He will give you an 
affliction to experience or a time to walk through it, only for reasons that is olnly known to 
God. I think it is because He uses these reasons to draw you nearer to Him, or to make you 
stronger, or to have you become more stronger and secure in your faith. Trust God and He 
will lead you out of your troubles. He is the light.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tragedy---for Jon

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 | |

10 reasons

Let me count to ways I love you
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 | |


not about corlor
help other
pull one anuther
you see
you can

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wise Journey Long II

Wise journey long
     brings eyes to see beyond
      the toils of each day
      with steadfast heart
      to weather storms approaching fast.

Wise journey long
     brings eyes to see beyond
     past wrongs;
      yield grace;
      lessons learned will not disgrace

Wise journey long
     brings eyes to see beyond
     and focus for the day
     without dismay
     of treasures most precious,
     not purchased by gold;
     gifts to behold;
     and Love most dear,
     dispels fear
     for this journey long.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


no matter how quick
how slick
you are
here or far
you can't win
tho you fight hard

Details | Prose Poetry | |

link of god,man

still beating heart.give em ward and do.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Gift

THE GIFT 		09/15/2011			1526

God is great and God is good
Each of us is a wonderful gift created by our Father’s love
How everything that we need is present and represented 
In all that surrounds us in our lives, He is the one that sent it
Seeing His son hang for our sins with 2 thieves by His side
With His suffering for our trespasses, there was no pride, 
Only a beautiful gift dripping away in blood
God’s tears as He gave us His only begotten Son 

He gave us more than any earthly person ever would
Gifts we don’t appreciate, so often misunderstood
During this journey, the people in our lives are where we see God face to face
Victory after victory, splash after splash of God’s thirst quenching grace
All in the face of the people in our lives who can never be replaced 
From conception to laughter,
In each of our stories, there are unread chapters
With lovers of “the word” sent with their own gift, their own message
Their own interpretation, their own blessing
Helping us to pass each “transgressional” testing,
By blood or by acquaintance, misfortune or circumstance
Those in our lives are here with provisions and life lessons
Preparations and encouragement, by order of God’s suggestion
Neither lonely nor dismayed, unprepared or without truth
We will flourish and continue if the “The Word” is our root

God is great and He provides what is good
The perfected masterpiece of love has been withstood
Friends and family who are God’s chosen ones
Sent to love us unconditionally whether we are considered something or none
With shoulders to lean on, and with an attentive ear
Someone to offer their support as we dry that last tear
With God’s light and His salvation whom shall we fear?
His love is always near… 
A gift neatly wrapped called family and friends Registered & Protected

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Time and the lack of time

Today the time creeps slowly from the east to the west; across the grey heavy sky. 
Forty something is weighing on my mind, keeping me boggled down with guilt at my 
lack of accomplishments on this short journey. 
We call life, breathe in and breathe out. The world judges us
by exterior appearances and the amount of money we have in the bank. 
Time ticks and the pendulum swings, whether we are standing still or not. 
The journey and path we take, determines how our time will end.  
Rain is eminent upon the earth and the clouds have brought a cool crispness to the air.  
My thoughts still betray; second guessing my life's journey.  
Now is all I really have, time to focus on the goal and get started.  
Note to self: forgive yourself! God has already.

Time and the lack of time

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rain begins again

Rain Begins Again
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 | |

The Earth

The Earth
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 | |

I Met Jesus Yesterday

I met Jesus yesterday
Didn’t recognize His face
There was no long hair or beard
Just a woman who said
Looks like you could use a helping hand
I met Jesus yesterday
Didn’t know who He was
There were no miracles of wine
Just an old man
Who shared his time
I met Jesus yesterday
Could have sworn I was all alone
No crowds were gathered there
Just a child who seemed to care
Offered up his bike
So I wouldn’t have to walk alone
I met Jesus yesterday
Never even said a prayer
There were no wounds on his hands
Just the scars of many years
Written all across his face
As the broken man gave me hope
I met Jesus yesterday
With no sermons on the mount
You were the only one I saw
As you gave your love to me
Promised there you’d always be
I keep meeting Jesus
Though I never see His face
It’s hard to understand
How this Man I never see
Keeps showing up
Wherever there is love
A helping hand, shared time
An offer not to walk alone
A caring heart
Or whatever I may need
It just seems I always say....
I met Jesus yesterday

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dear Hearer

Do you think your okay? do you have a need unknown to even you? does the 
world close in on you and do you feel like it's falling all around you? I mustn't let 
you see me cry for you, I must turn away so you wont hear my tear drops fall, or  
see the pain in my eyes and feel the ache in my heart. You've heard all the 
stories that are told everyday, all the make believe and fantasies, everything you 
want to hear but not what you must. God forbid that I should think  thier was 
something I could do to block you from this cold, cruel hearted world. I used to 
think I was self sufficient and I could make a difference in someone's life; but I 
destroyed my own.

The greatest love story ever told or ever known to man, is that Christ Jesus loves 
eternally. He became as unto man, yet without sin, He grew up in this world and 
walked among men.  Served His father above while serving men below, 
performed the greatest service. He died for His! He gave His life for me that I 
might live, and rose justified that I am bound in His eternity. The lost He came to 
save and secure in Himself forever and ever and ever, a salvation unbound by 
self and sin. He bore my blame and suffered just for me! Did He for you?

I wont' make it easy for you, I won't tell you everythings okay, I won't lie to you, I 
won't tell you what you want to hear but only what you must. I'm busting out of 
silence, God's grace is strongest, instead of taking I am giving and if it breaks 
your heart,  I only pray God mends it because I can't. When God touches you, I 
know you won't run, turn or walk away, you won't be able too! You won't pretend 
that everything's okay or that you have no need at all. God will be all you need, His 
love will keep you strong, In Him you will abide and will have eternal rest. A 
meaning to your life, and all because of Him...

Before almighty God, my saviour first of all, I am bowed and praying for thee; for 
without Him you will not live!

In Christ alone, Mercy Vessel

(c) Rosemarie Schrock 
      sept. 26,2007

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Greater 'Minds' Than Mine

  Greater 'Minds' Than Mine; 
Have left the 'Earth' and walked away.
Einstein as a troubled child, 
mixed socks and locked away.
Hubble and his visions eye'd, 
are seen across the sky.
D.N.A...must free more how...
When freedom lies barred now.
Worlds within a world within a world, 
his world one waits.
Within our dreams.
We do not wast our time on germs, 
untill they show us how. 

Is It Poetry 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Seek, if ye will find.
Knock, if the door will not open.
"Will the father whose son asks for bread give him a stone?
So much more will your heavenly father give you
those good things you ask for."
I on my knees asked for understanding.
I asked for light.
I asked for truth.
I did not ask for more than I needed
in material things.
But I asked for more than I needed
in matters of God and truth.
I learned how ignorant and crude and low
my mind was, how much my soul
needed expansion,
and above all, how much love
was missing.
By the time my knees had become
pillars of stone

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Really? Hmmm,
So what you’re saying
Is covering up truth
With well intentioned
Though misguided facts
Changes a lie from what it is
By slapping goodwill
On the face of deception
Adding guilt to questions asked
Throwing in things seemingly good
That we all should do
Changes a lie from what it is
So by disregarding the truth
Saying it’s the spirit that counts
Makes following and joining the lie
An accepted worldwide truth
By adding a name who often spoke
Of the origin of lies
We find changing His words
Acceptable in our eyes
For after all, we do so for Him
Wonder what He himself
Would say and think
Of how we rationalize
Changing a lie from what it is

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sword In Hand

Sword In Hand

So, where do you think you'll be
when my father reigns down from the heavens
to destroy this earth of her greed
and deliver her to the meek

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Soul

I am a point of light,
 I am energy, 
I am invincible,
 I am indestructible
 I am eternal soul.
 I am beyond birth and death
 I am the spirit, soul, energy.
 I am the Master, child of Supreme Soul
 And my virtues are happiness,
 Love, truth, peace and joy.
Adikaran 14/10/12.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your Great " I AM "

And there you stand
with your hands on hips
telling the world why.
You liar; misguided fool.
Part of you is lost
suppressed in infinite
to be found with your great I AM;
free of distortion.
You will feel your pure pain;
the lot you were given.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


He came and found me
When I had given up
He came and found me
When I needed Him the most
He rekindled my belief
He found my discarded faith
Brought my mistakes to light
There were so many
Yet He still loved me
He never gave up on me
He held my hand
Showed me the way
Showered me in His love
One dreary day
Jesus came and found me
He saved me
When no one else could
Or would

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Night Watchman

When the night falls
And the moon is up high,
You can be rest assured the
Night watchman will be stopping by.

As he does each and every night
When we all go to bed
This is at a time when our comfort
Is most needed so we can rest our heads.

After a long hard days work
After a busy and stressful day,
Whatever the case may be
The night watchman is here to stay.

His role is the greatest of all
His position no man can hold
He’ll never fault at his duties
He watches over all both young and old.

As we go about our daily lives
Day after day night after night
The night watchman is always working
At any given time not once losing sight.

Of every man, woman and child
On any given day as they each come anew
No, he’s not alone he has an army
Of angels as his crew.

Keeping tabs on everyone and everything
Even creatures great and small,
There’s no such thing as out of sight
When the night watchman is on call.

So no matter who, where or what we are
Even if a word is never to be spoken
The night watchman’s eyes and ears
For you and I will always be open.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ Cry of the Muse ~

Of-gentle beginning-and tender song ... ! That we would gratify love in its truest affection. Stand stead fast- uphold it yield to no other-duty ... ! To-have our-souls' so-identified-unified coexisting- exclusively-mid-this ... . To-live, would I die to give the measure of my-soul- just-to-have this ... once ... ! So place me within, make me the-essence of-the-art- lay me down carry me off- as I would be a child lost amid the grandeur- of its promise ... ! Allow this ink to consume us be the genuine eminence, what we reach-for through the humble virtue, heart-of this quill ... ! So all may view soar higher, and even higher still. Be captured, taken within deep- far and away beyond- the bitter part of this world, into the true benignity, flourishing and forever evolving, amid themselves ... ! Yes help me build me up, mold me-yes- come find me ... ! Trick me friend by slight of hand bend me- yes break me down shatter me again, and again truly I care-not ... ! Fill this paper in-its preparedness ... innocence ... verity, hope ... with the sweet passion elation of our souls ... ! Yes carry me before this-vision ... ! Restrain me-not ... . Set our-soul-free ... ! Please ... ? That we may gratify love-uphold it. Yes yield-then ... only-beauty ... ! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author notes Written to the (Braveheart) theme By: Enya The expression of this poem was written from within the greater depths, of my soul. It was a cry of my muse. The passion beside which I stand and the hope through which I write. The joy we both carry for the other, and peace and faith in each other, in which we abide. Before this writing my muse had taken a vacation. So willing, I am open to suggestion. ~ Thank you for reading this piece of my work ... God bless you ... (The reason that there are Hyphens "so many of them") is because I have a computer that speaks them with a faster and slower and higher and lower pitch of voice, giving a certain kind of ebb-and-flow to the work with a softer more fervent and realistic and consistent tone, when I use the hyphens and other punctuation in the certain places that I do, when in telling it what to do. Allowing it to speak in even a moderate voice if I choose. It sounds very free flowing when I hear it, and I can only hope that you will be able to here it in the same way. Thank you for reading and God bless you ... ~

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Beat me into submission with your cross

Preach to me of pain and loss

Sit and pray for my soul

Control your only goal

I am evil…you are pure

How can we be sure

Make me confess sins I did not commit

Stop underestimating my wit

I know the truth others are afraid to see

I see past the man you pretend to be

Slander those who try to fight

Push them from man-made light

In the darkness the true light shines

For those who realize the signs

Religion is man and faith is God

Break free from the mindless pod

Let the truth set you free

Open your eyes and truly see

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Heavenly Journey Part I

I awoke, drifting up and up, over my bed.  I shook my head. A tugging at my 
heart told me to go.  I looked down at my sleeping body below.  Was this some kind of 
dream?  From above came a bright beam.  Beckoning me forward.  Several huge bright 
beings with gold swords stood in my path.  I suddenly felt unclean, like I needed a 
bath.  Their flowing garments were white as snow.  They wore crowns of jewels of all 
colors of the rainbow.
	I entered through these arched golden gates.  As I moved past those huge 
beings, I noticed an emblem of a cross on their breast plates.  An attractive man in a 
snow-white robe approached me.  He said, “I am here to take you on a Heavenly journey.  
I said, “Who are you, sir and is this Heaven?”  He smiled and said, “Yes, and I was one 
of those passengers from “Nine Eleven!”
	He took me by the arm and so my journey began.  He told me, no one could enter 
Heaven who had died in sin.  Beautiful, flawless people passed us by.  They all smiled 
with the gleam of love in their eye.  Each person wore a crown of jewels on their 
heads.  There were no sad faces nor tears shed.  Lovely women, children and men.  All 
around me I heard songs of praise and shouts of “Amen”.  My guide pointed out prophets 
of old.  I was still shocked by every street of gold.  As we walked, he would point out 
things; like the crystal clear flow of the springs; the fact that angelical beings had 
no wings and most importantly, the continuous light that shown bright from the one and 
only King!

Contn’d ….Part II

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Womans Touch

The gates of hell have been violently open. The world begins to rumble and scatter in fear. Earth’s volcanoes spew magma and ash from its core. The clouds quickly gather as the thunder and lightning signal the wrath to come. Earth’s crust opens its mouth ready to swallow cities and nation’s whole. Suddenly a white and peaceful light emerges from the horizon. This elegant and stunning figure seems not all frightened by all the chaos. She gingerly kisses and hugs the tormented man. All of this madness was inside the man’s mind. The stress and pressure of life almost got to the man. Drugs and alcohol never gave him relief but all it took was a woman’s touch.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Power to Judge

when I sit for meditation ,
 I often ask myself about
 Judging others and I get
 the answer that we all need
 the power to judge. 

If we dont have the power to judge
 we will not be able to understand 
difference between the right and wrong.
 We often takes it differently and judge others.

 We need to check on ourselves first 
what we think, say or act is right or wrong,
 When we use this power to judge our own actions,
 we will be able to differentiate between the right and wrong,
 and able to move in the correct direction.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Like a pearl waiting to be discovered,
The sun rose this morning,
Blinding my eyes with it’s bright smile
Suffocating me with it’s zest for new life.
This is so rude, I thought.

But then again, wouldn’t you be?
If you were given another chance to make all wrongs right
Another chance to smile at the world
Another chance at life!

Yesterday was gone
Today was here
Tomorrow I never knew
But I had today to make things better
To turn around my tomorrow

And so today I smiled back
An understanding smile
We were in this together
Me and the sun
Smiling at another door that had been opened
And so I arose specially today
Ready to conquer the world
That was my purpose TODAY. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


When my mind is made up
It doesn't matter what others say
When my mind is made up
I listen ,and follow my heart
When my mind is made up
There's no turning back
When my mind is made up
This is my final decision
When my mind is made up
Everything goes in 1 ear and out the other
When my mind is made up
I have no problem stating my opinion
When my mind is made up
I only see things the way I want to see them
When my mind is made up
It can't be changed
When my mind is made up
I say very little,and respond by my actions
When my mind is made up
I want,and need to be left alone
When my mind is made up
I know without a doubt God will see me through!!!"

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Jupiter and Venus

Jupiter and Venus

Bwood knocked on my door
To let me know what for
We looked in the sky
To see, but not to get by

There is Jupiter and Venus
Let’s wait for it’s seen us
In the year 2008
We won’t be afraid

It won’t be too late
It returns 50 years from this date
Though it is dear
It will appear

It’s a great thrill
It makes my head reel
Glory to be 
That we should see

The sight tonight
It will give no fright
Which was truly right?
Oh! Such a sight

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Final Prayer

Lord, let  my heart  be  directed  in  the  ways   that  You have  laid  before me.    May  my  
strength  grow  as I take each step toward doing Your will.   Chase  away  fear and doubt  
that  may  try  to plaque me, and keep mine  eyes fixed on You.

As I accomplish each task set before me, may Your blessings pour out, not only to me and 
my household but to those whom I have touched in Your name.

Let each life bathe in Your beauty, grace and grow in wisdom, strength and uprightness.

Let all  those  whom  have been touched by You, stand tall and fixed on doing Your will.  
Cause them to hate evil and love to do Your just will  in righteousness, being careful not to 
destroy those that are held captive against their will.  For it is not flesh and blood that we 
battle, but evil principalities, powers of the darkness.

Show  us  how  to  free  the  captives  and  destroy  the  powers of the evil one, that he 
may not retaliate against them or us.  Station your mighty warring angels round about us in 

Make our hearts strong in Your Word, give our spirits the discerning knowledge so as not to 
be fooled by an imposter

Enlighten us  to  the extent  that it is only You whom we seek and You that we see.   In  
the  faces  of  those  hurting  around  us, give us compassion  to  mend  their  weary  body  
and  soul.    Send  Your Holy Spirit to feed their spirits and bring life back to their bodies.

Let us not grow  weary  by  the news headlines that we see and hear, but let us stand up 
and rejoice for Your time is near.

Gather us  together in spirit, that no matter where we are on this earth, we feel the strength 
flowing from other Christians to minister to us and stand beside us in our final battle against 
evil.  Make our spirits as one.

Praise God, when that final trumpet blows and Jesus comes in all his glory and power!   Let 
His Majesty reign over all the earth!  In humbleness  we bow, in victory we cry out, for our 
Savior has returned, in  all  His  Greatness  to  rule  for ever  and  ever.  

Peace and love flow through our land once again.  Amen.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

These Falling Tears

Unexplainable pain swells in my eyes, tears go unnoticed running down my face,
pooling together into a tide of emotions. Unleashed anger threatens to break out 
in a mad rush to explode, but my steady stream of tears distinguishes it's only 
flame. Standing in this ocean of misery it's like I will drown, but O' the Truth 
triumphs strong and True; leaving no room for doubt. Often, I am quite blind and I 
can hardly see. Then, in my sight, I see only You as You shine within me.

Tears that go undiscovered may be hid from mans view, but are noticed every 
one by You. I can't give up, no matter the trials I face. I can't, turn away, no matter 
the pain I know. Enduring unto, the near end, I am  Fading more and more each 
day knowing that You are all of me. My heart cannot break in two when Your the 
whole of it. Though haunted by pain and anger, I'm embraced in You, ' Precious 
One' , where I'll forever rest.

Just what love can I compare? Take over me, be more in me and make me more 
of You. Turn from me my desires, cleanse me and purify me, so I will be no 
more. Just to cease to be, is all the desire I desire in me. I see so dimly through 
these falling tears, but the brightest star still shines and no tear can ever dim it's  
light. This terrain is rough and mountains are sure to come, but I'm climbing with 
Your grace... These falling tears shall cease, and I shall cease!

(c) October 30, 2007
Rosemarie Schrock

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lovers Of a Hundred Decades Ago

They had dreamed. They had gone so far with their dreams. Yet, so deprived they 
Like them, I have become a denizen of the desert, ever since I laid my eyes on 
Like them, lovers of a hundred decades ago, I was destined to wake up everyday 
in a new shelter, a new tent.
What would my shelter be anyway, that ceases lamentation.
So far from here I have gone. An inhabitant of the moon perhaps have I become, 
ever since your love was seared in me; ever since I started missing you like 
the desert misses the rain, I have been unutterably agonized.
Now, it has been a month, an eternity shall I say.
Now, to believe that you’ll be back, it would take me as many trials as there are 
miles between the moon and us. “Us”.  What a soothing word. As soothing as it 
is for you to realize that a series of flaws have been nothing but a lame 
nightmare, and as queenly as stereotype works.
Like the sand under the misty skies that I have seen from my window, scattered 
grains either cemented or carried away, is my salvation.
Waiting to be held closely, with cuddles and a sweet lullaby, the immutable child 
amid my exhaustions cries in grief…
…and when it rained, I had to believe…at least to recall the hope that I had lost.
Yes, today it rained, amidst the scalding and the warmth, it came; I believe it did, 
yet I still don’t know whether it was sent to heal the pain, or cut the line and cease 
the chain.

Jessica J. Hanna
November 2006

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Belief, what a strange and silly thing
Changing from day to day
Blown about on the wind
Like the chirping that birds sing
Changing like the weather
From rain to sun to fear
Brought on by the darken clouds
Of a coming storm
Changing like a beach front
With each succeeding tide
Like a canyons wall
From the rivers flow
So many beliefs 
Seem to come and go
Depending on our travels
And where we are in life
Still it seems from time to time
Something needs to stick
A core needs to be established
Held not within our hand
By a fruitless grip
But deep within our heart
So when it’s time to make a stand
Our feet and heart hold firm
To what we know is right
Oh sure this view seems out of date
Especially in today’s new light
But as time has always shown
Even in the darkest dark
Knowing what you believe
Gets you through the night
And knowing what you believe in
Enables you to stand
Instead of falling like a fool

Details | Prose Poetry | |

It Just Seems

Hate to say it
But I’ve got to admit
Sometimes I look around
And I just don’t get it
Don’t know where it was or when
But somewhere down the road
We seem to have lost our way
Used to be Father’s stood firm
Right alongside Mother’s
To keep families strong
Didn’t seem to be as many questions
About what was right or wrong
Used to be when a man
Looked in the mirror
He looked there straight
Just like he spoke
Now there seems to be
A lot more mirrors filled with smoke
Don’t know, maybe it’s just
The small town in me
But I just can’t see
This new enlightenment
People throw about
In my backwoods way
It just seems like throwing out right
So they can do no wrong
They say the last forty years
Have brought us so far
True or not
One thing can’t be denied
Lost somewhere in those forty years
Were the hard fought values
And lessons learned
Of nearly two hundred years

Details | Prose Poetry | |


What are you doing running all over town,
making plans and rushing around?

You're always watching your weight,
cutting down on fat.
Oh, I need my spirit lifted today,
I must buy a new hat.

The night is nearly over.
A new dawn is about break.
Be aware!  The Lord is coming!
Get ready stay awake!

Don't waste another minute.
Don't squander precious time.
Your salvation is nigh upon you.
Death's sting to life sublime.

So set your mind on what is coming.
All else is going to pass.
It's how you served and how you loved,
that will forever last.

Cause the night is nearly over.
A new dawn is about to break.
Be aware the Lord is coming!
Get ready! Stay Awake!

Milton L. Delgado
May 12, 2004

Details | Prose Poetry | |

She is mine

I am the formula that brings her to ecstasy 
Her beauty as craved my fantasy 
As she lay upon my chest 
Through her blossom, I am truly blest.
She’s the rose of my life 
The one to be my wedded wife
She’s my help meet through the hardship and strife
Every morning as I woke up
She’ as been my corn syrup
As I go out through the crack of dawn 
I am the one to mow her lawn
In her fears 
Through her tears
She yield to my warming embrace
I love her at every moment from beginning to end 
She’s brilliantly wise
I tell you the truth 
God has given me the correct prize
She has allow me to grow 
None of a scare crow. 
She’s hundred percent 
She’s no less than a cent 
I crave for her increase 
Through Jesus Christ the one who paid the ultimate price.
‘Me n she’ trusty love will never decrease.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Trying To Push A Buffalo Home

She was no longer young
But not quite old
Still deep in her soul
She was a romantic
Believing in love at first sight
And of course
Soul mates
On starlit nights
She would go outside
Looking up at the sky
Repeating the poem
“Star light, star bright”
Making a wish
On the first star that appeared
In the end
When all the wishing was done
And dreams unfilled
She would walk into an empty home
With hopes of tomorrow
Sometimes she thought smiling
It was so difficult keeping the faith
Almost like
Trying to push a buffalo home

Details | Prose Poetry | |


ABBA, redeem my heart
By Love’s sweet embrace;
Gently whispers life in me,
My soul set free.

Open wide your sweet embrace,
My ABBA, enfold me please
In waves of grace;
Safe haven in the storm.

Lost sheep cries out
To ABBA without doubt;
Love’s sweet embrace secure
Upon return
And lesson learned.

ABBA’s love is sweetly given
When open hearts abide
Resting by His side
In hope of reassurance
Unending love held near.

Will I receive
And not deceive
This fragile heart of mine?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

As the angels wake

As the angels wake 
They flex their wings
They count the tears
And they listen to the prayers
They count their blessings
And give thanks that they
Are about the work of God
And they begin to sing
As their voices rise 
They flap their wings 
Amplifying the joy 
Of every word they sing
To the throne of God
To The King of Kings

Details | Prose Poetry | |


won't say this
you i miss
health is weather
we know your sick
get better quick
in our life your right
and rings a bell

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Think Please

Once a person has reached the limits
of his or her capacity for tolerance
where does it go?

Strip joints?
Makeup counters?

Clingy stuff that needs only a dryer sheet
for ad believers

otherwise it's kinda ohm-ish

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 | |

The Golden Cord

The golden cord was forged long ago.
It cannot be broken or weakened,
though time and life may try.
Others do not realise how precious it is.
Between the sea and the sky,
in a place so sacred....
A blink of an eye in our time,
yet eternity's plan is everlasting.

The golden cord will remain forever.
It will endure and bring those lost together.
Never  lost!  Never alone! 
Never despair, my friend,
for the echoes of the golden cord will be heard.
Just listen!  ...  A whisper! ... 
"I'm Here!"

Details | Prose Poetry | |

They slip away

We come into Your house with humble hearts
Worshiping with others we lift our voices
With bended knee we pray

As Your Spirit flows through the sanctuary
A still small voice whispers in our ears
Who will hear it? Who will respond?

Quietly the voice tells us of Your love,
Sadly though it reveals those that we have lost
In our attempt to persevere in our walk, we miss the hurting

Those hurting souls that came in seeking something
In our efforts, we fall short, and neglected to relate
Until quietly they slip away, empty, sad and lonely

Forgive us Lord!  Forgive us!
Let us not be so self-absorbed in our own needs
That we miss seeing the needs of others

Let our hearts break, let our hands reach out
To lift up the lost hurting soul
Bringing love and comfort, more so leading them to You

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Part And Yours

No deeds today do I control, 
Except those that are mine. 
No thoughts or words can I withhold, 
Except those that are mine. 
No steps can I take right and true, 
Except those that are mine. 
No prayers today do I need,
Except those that are thine.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Summer's Here, Fall's Never Coming

I remember the first time you touched me, I pulled away, cause it just made me feel uncomfortable he said. She asked why and all he could say was,,, It's complicated. See he was like a pomegranate. Built with a hard shell on the outside, but lots of sweetness built up inside of him. He was just too afraid to let anyone in. He'd grown up tattered&beaten down like an overthrown baseball, the girls of his life being the pitchers and playing with him like he was a toy. They all had him dancing the night away making him feel like he was something special for the first time. Only to deceive and besmirch his kind heartedness. Until eventually all they'd wanted was his sweet seduction, Making love like the clouds were their bedroom, and the more these women touched him and received their pleasures, he died a little inside. Every other touch became another heartache, Every kiss and caress another nightmare for his daydreams, and every time his grandma leaned over his shoulder just to wrap his body and kiss his cheek to make him feel loved, all he could do was turn the other away.. &then came Summer, and he prayed fall would lay dormant, for he felt a satisfaction in her vocal cords and the symphony lips played as they dance to romance's acoustics. Stealing smiles and fanning cold chills to make it through the heat.. this season was special, so special in fact, that he asked it to stay forever. and for the first time he actually felt.. like he was special..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unremitting Serenade (Part five)

And so it was that I told my affections the one truth
That mine is the faith of cynicism
A faith cold and without compassion of another to aid me
It is a faith that is not necessarily for others
And yet it is one that has served me true and well for so long
Has it guided me into the shadows and brought me back
Back into the light once more
Back from where souls are barren
And the land is unforgiven and so many go unredeemed
Where so many never know the kiss of redemption
It brought me back into the world in which you live
Where it is full of lush wonders
And it lives all around you
And such is its beauty that it binds me with every breath
And it sings to me with a wrenching lyric
So I forget all my aching desires and lacerations
Of my world where Sorrow rules and Pain is a dark and faded
With laughter unseen and smiles unheard
And where I am alone
Like the many others all around me
All the empty shells 
Of the void”
I fell into a well of silence then
Neither was the Angel inclined to break the stillness
And together we two 
Sat with quiet contemplation
And for a time the sky grew light towards dawn
Though the sun did not yet shine
Nor did the moon set
And the fading remained steadfast
Heavy upon us both
But again I found within me a need to speak
So I turned to her
But she was faster and broke the silence first

She placed a gentle hand upon my shoulder
And then her head upon her hand
So comforting a gesture
Thus she spoke
“Tell me why, oh why
With your lacking faith and great bitterness
How is it you can find the strength to go on
With such sorrows of the world so heavy upon your soul
That your heart breaks with each parting
And your mind cries to be heard
By the one, the only one
Tell me why, oh why
You continue on
And you never summon the Sorrow
To take your hand in his?”

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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 | |

Unseen Oarsman

Each artist stroke created an illusion of depth, color, and placement by contasting colors, 
lights and darks the picture comes alive...A life that carries on into hearts and minds as long 
as that picture lives...It seems as though one know this person through the eyes of the 
artist...In pictures where one knows just knows that someone else is there...One's 
imagination can run wild with ideas of who this person is and what relationship to others in 
the painting...As in "Summertime" 1894-1895 Mary Cassatt (1845-1926) Oil on Canvas..Who 
is rowing the boat?  He must really love this lovely delicate woman  and precious child to row 
the boat for their enjoyment...He must look at her with eyes of love that says I would do 
anything for you even lay down my life if necessary..

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I guess Fear overpowered Hope and Faith. I guess
that way
is best.That way no one hurts. Just 
right. No
mistakes. No 
mess-ups and 
broken hearts. 
Foolishness, like a bird
sees no cat ready 
to pounce. To kill. 
To make it suffer. 
Well that bird 
had hope and faith, 
but forgot about the simple facts of life.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Transliteration

Greys-fuhl swords of light pierce the clouds,                                                                                										 into the deep oh-shuhns shimmering  																off of sequin kuhv-erd Mandarinfish.                                                                                                                        						Reflecting on the all the love yoor      															    giving hahrt has far removed our sin,  																onward the light travels bih-yond.                                                                                                                                                                                                                     	What yoor pupil sees into the mind,      																 of the eternal  ih-maj-uh-ney-shuhns.             															For time will tell of that which you per-seev

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Time and Work

Ecclesiastes 8:6NCV
There is a right time and a right way for everything.
John 6:27
Do not work for food that spoils, but for food that endures to eternal life.

We wonder sometimes with great worry about what time will bring. We must remember that 
God has given time to us as a gift. God was present at the beginning of time and He will be 
present at the end of time.

We cannot fear for the future because it is God's hand on eternity. It is you who dictates 
your time by the choices you make. We often feel there is not enough hours in the day to 
accomplish our tasks. We often feel there is never any time for ourselves. Remember to ask 
God to help you, and He will show you where and how to find the time.

God will put your mind at ease with time. Time is a gift, and everyday is yours. God wants 
you to live free and without worry of time. He will walk with us every step of the way every 

As all of us on Earth must work to sustain our lives here, we must also remember to work 
for our spiritual well being. Your relationship with God will provide you with the food for your 
spirit. The food for your spirit is a great variety such as wisdom, understanding, joy, peace, 
love, and patience. In this job you have only one boss and that is God. That is a great 
comfort in knowing you have such a great boss as God. This is a perfect side job, working to 
feed your spirit. Start your application process now by praying to God. He will surely hire 
you and your spirit will be fed.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Oh What Times

Oh what times we live in
Where even the rich and famous
Are reduced to trailer living
All those good times
When money was freely spent
Aren’t quite as free
As they once were
Oh what times we live in
Where war, crime and poverty
Are the kings that seem to reign
Where people devalue themselves
In an attempt to find something gained
Oh what times we live in
Where friend turns against friend
So many ways to love
Are constantly redefined
Where people march the streets
Proudly correcting what is right
Oh what times we live in
Where even Mother Nature
Shows her violent wrath
The winds of change
Seem to be blowing strong
All around curiosity builds
As we all seek to find
Where these winds will blow
Running round in circles
Jumping on each new thought
Raising new questions of answers already bought
Oh what times we live in
Perhaps it’s time we simply
Should pay attention to
A book written so very long ago
That throughout all the many years
Has always stood firm
In its claim to know

Details | Prose Poetry | |



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 | |


don't let bad
make us sad
don't let a lie
feel you won't die
here's why we must try
to make love our home 
yes the world torn
that why jesus was born

Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Believe

He speaks 
To anyone who will listen
About the wonders of God
Not because he believes
But, because he needs to believe

In the end
His faith remains unshaken
Faith in others
Faith of life
Faith of love
And faith
In which
He has no faith to speak of
Except the need 
To talk about
His need to believe

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unremitting Serenade (Part two)

She said
“We are slowly and always eroding
As we lose more and more
By little bits and little bits they fall
They are falling 
Prey to the fading and wasting away
Of the nameless one and all his dark children
Those of dark hearts and souls dimmer still
And yet we weep to find such ones as you
Who fade as well
For we see in you the ability to listen to the rhythm of the world
To the celestial hymns of the stars
And you heed the whisperings of those around you
So we grieve for those of you with hearts and souls so bright
And despair when you lose yourselves to unbelief
We cry when the listening becomes a burden
And thus as you fade
So we erode
And bit little bit we fall
Are falling 
I lament the loss of all I’ve ever known 
And it frightens me
That all the glory-bright children who guide you at night
My brothers and my sisters
Whose tears fall for you and so many like you 
Shall leave my sight forever
When comes the wasting 
And the fading’s complete
Yet all my agonies for you outweigh mine own
For you truly believe in the vasting
All its loneliness
With its great nothingness and all its tranquil non-existence
I weep for the breath of grey upon your soul
Tainted thus from scars of the past
And I mourn for the one who may yet still come
To shed you of all armours and shrouding veils
For I wonder if you will struggle 
And fight each step of the way
Because I fear the tainting and the fading 
Has dug in too deep

Or will you allow the one to see
Behind the reflecting pools of your eyes
To converse with you
The one only I have seen so clearly
The one that hides deep inside 
Behind those eyes

For you the future I glimpsed 
Was so bright
Because I saw in the palm of your hand
A key of hope
Such a key as could open any door
And yet I have watched with helpless wonder
As the hall of many doors began to lock
To one by one bar themselves
‘twas a time when you traded
The white rose for the red
So you might remain within your world a while longer
So that perhaps you might discover once again
The lost faith
And all the many wonders you used to see without the veils
The little things you had abandoned
And to this end you held the rose within your arms each mourning
To find the fresh reason why
Sorrow should stay his hand
And why
Why he should have left you alone
When it was you who brought yourself to the brink each day
To the edge of the world

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Broken Heart

Psalm 147:3  God will heal the brokenhearted and bind up their wounds. 

Allow God to bring sunshine into your world.

God's love is with us at every second of our life.
He is with us even more when our hearts and spirits are broken.
When you have suffered a loss or a great disappointment in life, 
God is there offering His comfort in the darkest hours.
God never breaks promises and He is always with us,
even in darkness.
God's love has no end.
Trust in God to understand your suffering.
God will always bring healing to your heart, mind, and soul.
God will fix your broken heart and all you have to do is let Him.
Opening your heart to God is easy.
He is waiting to comfort you.
He will offer you protection in time of need.
He will bring peace to your soul.
This is what brings happiness to someone's life.
Happiness is not found in material things,
not even money.
Happiness is found through God.
Allow God to dry your tears of rain and bring sunshine to your world and the ones around 

Offering Words of Encouragement
By=Shannon Lynn Farlouis

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Eternity without
 Beginning or end.
 God is timeless existence,
 Time is viewed cyclical.
 Symbol called Ouroboros, 
Serpent eating its own tail
 means cyclical or self reflexivity.
Adikaran 18/10/12.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Mother's Worst Nightmare

There you were

I held you in my hands

You were my gift

After nine months of care

I wished for you hopes and dreams to come true

You were my dream come true

I guess my prayers weren’t listened to

But someone took you away from me much too soon

I said hello to you

But I never said goodbye

I still can’t believe you died

My soul and heart forever broken

Nothing to make it better or fix it

I laid you to rest on many nights

Knowing you would wake up

Unfortunately,today I laid you to rest

Asking god to love and protect you

In heaven you wait for me

To resume our relationship of mother and son

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thank You For Lesser Blessings

I pray to The Lord to thank Him,
for gifts He provides each day.
A prayer of thanksgiving to Jesus,
for the blessings He sends my way.

I thank you Lord for the lesser things,
and not think it so odd,
for I know that even the smallest,
is given by The Grace of God.

Thank you for a stove and a pantry...
for a blanket, pillow, and bed...
for clean sheets, warm covers, and pajamas,
and sending my daily bread.

Thank you for washcloth and towels...
for soap, a tub, and sink...
for tube of toothpaste and toothbrush,
and a faucet of cold water to drink.

I have taken so much for granted,
hardly given it much thought,
but from now on I will pray to thank you Lord,
for these lesser blessings wrought.

I have prayed a prayer of thanksgiving,
for provisions The Lord has given;
may we promise and always remember,
to be grateful thankful children!

Milton L. Delgado
February 19, 2008

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You Were There

  When I was walking in pain and agony,
You were there to ease my suffering.

  When I was walking in sorrow,
You were there to comfort me.

  When I was walking without hope,
You filled my heart and soul anew.

  When I was walking alone and friendless,
You were there to hold my hand.

  When I was walking afraid and in fear,
You were there to give me courage.

  When I was weak and could not walk,
You gave me strength to stand again.

  Always, when I have walked in the shadows of life,
You have been there to lead me to sunlight.

  As I start on the path today,
Lead me, Lead me . . . I pray.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I'm up again, awakened by the brand of her face in my dreams, wondering if she thinks about me as much as i do her, even though I'm far too timid to tell her that. Instead of being bold about it, I leave my enchantments of she in the essence of time, to always be remembered & never diminishing with its sands. Letting every opportune moment to just say, "Hi.. how's your day?". slip from the coil of nimble fingertips. More than happy to gaze upon the paralyzing figure of beauty during humble greetings &even give a smile so she knows im listening. I don't know what to call this.. It was like having my first crush all over again, thinking endlessly about that person, always smiling when her name pops up, all the cute things about it. Remember your first.. how that person gave you butterflies. I get that feeling everytime she's in the same room, so much that each day around her is like seeing her for the first time.. Having that same reaction, &remembering every minor detail. She had this proud aura about her, with a fierce walk, a bubbling personality and an even more bubbling smile. I remember asking myself who'd be more jealous, Mother Nature or the Sun, &the way light danced off the glow around her skin, it'd almost seemed like she had wings.. I'm gonna do it. Next time, i'm gonna talk to her, even if it means rejection it could mean acceptance and thats the only exception I need. I'll face it like a gunslinging Bruno Mars. &if I lose i'll die with a smile. Cuz you shot me through the heart staring in your eyes, so I might die a happy man today. &if I survive I'd love to get to know you..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Navriss in the still

I closed my eyes to dream and my dreams were empty
The Angel, the stairway, the stars, the star
They were all gone
It’s been so long since I felt her presence in my life
In dream where once I liked to go for solace
I find a void

In the face of such silence
What am I supposed to do?
I reach out into the wellspring and find it empty
There’s nothing left and still
Still I know something secret
Something sweet

Silence has fallen across my dreams like a blanket of snow
Somehow cold and desolate in the quiet
I know that I am supposed to feel despair
Because I am alone
Bereft of my guide, has fled me
But there is no despair
There is nothing

I am alone in the silence of my dreams

I know

I guess in the absence of despair
I am just left to wonder
Just left to wonder

How come I know it is silent at all? 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


“Are you a Warrior?”

I was asked in the in the quiet solitude of day 
And I wondered long into the night

What does a Warrior make?

If by a Warrior you mean
One who always tries to do the right thing
Even when doing what is right tears my heart in two
One who does the right thing just because it is . . .

If by a Warrior you mean
Someone who always makes time to listen
Who brings you a smile when you least expect it
Who laughs with you everyday, today, just like yesterday
And cries a flood of tears so yours do not fall alone

If by a Warrior you mean
One who stands up for those in need
Who fights for those who cannot, or will not
One who turns the other cheek in the face of rage, hatred and bigotry
Walks away when my blood screams out injustice!
And a fist is all it seems I have left to choose
Because walking away is the right choice . . .

If by a Warrior you mean
Someone who will always be there for you
Always tries to move Heaven and Hell to keep his promises to you
Someone whose soul withers and screams when I cannot, have not
Supports you when you are wrong because that is when you need it the most

If by a Warrior you mean
A person of honour, of compassion, faith and humility
Someone of strength, trust, of love and respect
Someone of ethics and integrity and the will to live buy them
The courage to fight for your dreams and . . . and to fight for my own
Someone who will always apologise and say I am so, so very sorry I hurt you

If by a Warrior you mean all of these things
Then all I can say to you it this, just this, only this . . .

I do not know if I am a Warrior

But I want to be . . . 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unremitting Serenade (Part three)

He came into your life from afar
At first he stood and watched from a distance
He whispered not to you but to another
Then he stepped closer to call forth-another one
This one like you
Sorrow called forth Nanator and with him your soul
He faded and tainted your most precious gift
He reached out to fleck my wings with grey too that day
For that day he nearly filled the well again
Still he had barely begun and his work grew ever closer to us both
This time he whispered to you from a foot away
Thus thrice he reached out to call forth another
Yet each time ‘twas I who wept for our suffering
For no tears have fallen from thine eyes in many years

Still Sunder gave you something in return for all he had stolen
Didn’t he . . . didn’t he
For all the bits and pieces of your soul
You were given something so dearly precious it hurt to have it
And now you lament with a voice to be heard
By the few who were to know the one buried so deep inside
The few to be loved and to love you
Desolation knew this would be so
So he whispers to you often now and from afar
Knowing that you cannot help but to listen and to grieve
With your new voice
Though it rarely rises above a breath to be a whisper
It sings of your great disenchantment
Your disbelief and your faith in the void
It allows you to cry
To tell the tale and story of your greatest sorrow

Within you there lies a faith of something more
And the desire to see
And cause the light to glimmer within another’s eyes
One whose life could carry your hopes within them
To lend your strength to
One who might have all that you denied yourself
For these long and many years
So heavy upon your shoulders
And yet this can never be and this is what despairs you so
For none to follow you
None at all

And thus she spoke to me plainly
To show me my loss of faith anew
So in her despair in her sorrow
My unbelief breathes again
My search for desolation reborn
For this knowledge too great to bear
Thus I fled and so it was 
I ran
A great many years
I hid myself deep within
Beyond the reach of sunlight and the eye of the moon
And in the darkness
I tore out all that caused my pain
I read everything again
To see
And to know
Why it was I had
So long ago embraced wholly my unbelief

Details | Prose Poetry | |


he made me what i am
am am not on the lam
i do the right thing
am what love brings
i say this with a smile

Details | Prose Poetry | |

And God Takes The Blame

Another senseless death
And God takes the blame
A young girl is stabbed
Left to bleed and die
In the arms of her love
While another curses His name
Another bomb explodes
And God takes the blame
Innocents are left to die
As villains take pride
Beaming in their glory
While heartaches curse His name
Another drunk walks away
And God takes the blame
A life in a tangled heap
Slips away lost
As a sober drunk asks what happened
While loved ones left behind
Sadly curse His name
So much loss and tragedy
While God takes the blame
People instantly cry out
Why’d You let this happen
As their hearts begin to doubt
Sadly the true villain walks
While so many curse His name
Not realizing while God takes the blame
The god of this world scoffs
Claiming victory in the pain he’s caused
Taking glee in misplaced blame
While unnoticed he walks on
Hidden behind his veil
Enthralled in his little game
But hidden from his view
Time is nearly at hand
For God to make a stand
And all the things written long ago
Are about to truly be
For God is about to clear his name
Of all the misplaced blame

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Great Existence

Moving up over through 
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 | |

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 | |


The Arizona Kidd 
The Path Of The Wind 

The Arizona Kidd hung up his spurs the day the tree split into crosses from the 
lightning bolt surmising that his LORD was not well pleased with him that day 
the Sherriff made his play. The Kidd wears a Jean Vest and spurs his boots are 
always black and shiny his Hat is leather with a nickel band no feather his Indian 
friends one day took his Rodeo hat and stuck a feather in it and laughed so now 
he avoids his Indian friends. The Holsters on his web belt are reversed for his 
quick draws the one on the left is his Silver plater hanggun. The holster on the 
right has a Gold Plated thumb gun the trigger is tied back to shoot the bullits one 
by one in a quick lethal manner he is shooting at the son of man to warn them to 
be left alone at sunrise come. He used to use the silver bullits but the leaded 
ones are nicer and the cost is so much cheaper and the Golden bullits on the 
belt are costly and not cheep palaver is not his forte. Listen as this tale is 
fabeled. He was drinking whiskey the Sherriff swore he would arrest him or die 
with his boots on trying to uphold the lawman looked like he had never missed a 
meal his bald headed visage in a grimace climbing up that hill to get a look down 
on that killer's camped out near the tree was tall and filled with wormwood and 
on that fatefull day the wind made a mourning noise and came near to watch the 
Sheriffs' play with the Arizona Kidd. He could not see into the sun. This was the 
Sherriff's thinking some people call it cheating. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Satan comes along one day.
Want some GOLD and much HAY.
Corruption grips the blood like lead.
More gold over bodies of the dead.
Lusts created by man's idle time.
Not knowing God, with many gins & limes.
Filling the heart with misery.
Soon your life is a bent over tree.
All the gold, filtered with crimes.
On, JUDGMENT DAY, away with the slime.

2007 from
search: POEWHIT


Details | Prose Poetry | |


Sheep and Goats is the way the BIBLE says it and ewe can knoe them by the fruit 
some men smoke and some men drink too much
Some men eat too many candy. Poor men eat a lot of fish and some potatoes 
some men look for extra meat. Some men love to eat too much some men still 
don't get enough. When life is over comes the judgment of the GOD. Please say 
JESUS while there is still some time to ponder leave the habits far behind step 
on water walk some lines. One man kills his enemy while in fighting mode one 
man turns away and fights to live another day called a coward he is stone. 
Fighting men live the cowardice. Every time a red neck hurts another freak every 
time a fight has ended in complete harm to the survivor understand the reversal 
of our roles when you both are then transformed and standing at the throne of 
GOD eye plan to then endeavor to forgive you in the sight of a righteous 
plenteous GOD for eye am sinner born of woman and of blood. Saying Jesus 
has to be enough to save us for the Power is the Spirit and the name. Apostolic 
Teachings tell us we aer saved by our own faith. Say the name of Jesus then 
believe in GOD. Works are meant to be the good ones helping others giving aid. 
All the things a fighting man defames. Takers gamblers beggermen thiefs. Not 
goats but sheep in woolite clothing once eye wanted to attempt to fly like 
Superman and walk through the walls and once when eye was near a ditch eye 
went to JESUS in my Spirit and eye witnessed to a HomeOwner who could not 
accept the fact that eye did the impossible split for while eye was standing there 
on the side of the road and in my earthly body eye was also in my Spirit speaking 
in the living room and watching self outside yes lameba eye did split like 
Superman on one episode he was moving to save someone and even if the man 
eye met did not accept it was the attempt that was worth the try. While other men 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unremitting Serenade (Part four)

And I said 
The Seraph with great clarity
And quiet calm
“Yes, all that you have said is well and holds truth
I am faithless
And I have nothing but good intentions
And lo
I have summoned forth the darkness and the great empty sorrow
Beckoned him and bade him take one
And yes my despair is deeply entrenched
With the knowledge that this twisted body is all I have
That all my visions of past and future are shadowed
For my aspirations will go no further
The bitter irony
My body
The mirror of this world
Hollow and empty
So empty

So I ask you this
What good is a voice without faith
With only unbelief to guide me
Down the road where misery walks beside me
Beside us all
Dressed with subtle graces
And veiled with uncouth ambiguity
And she is everywhere one cares to gaze and look
Even within the eyes and heart of the one, the only one

What and why would and how can I bring another into this abomination
Where we live this bitter and shredded Midgard
Don’t you see!?
And I could only nod my silent reply
For what could I say
How could I reply to her despair and grief
Of that which has yet to unfold
That which I . . . 
Which I cannot ever bestow
Never share

I rage and I seethe for the promise made by your brother
His promise of another half to this empty shell
You see I had looked and I had searched
Even as I travelled so far across this desolation
And perhaps I have found the one, the only one
Thus it is Sorrow has granted me this voice
I scream and I wail and I mourn
In silence
Not for myself, but for the promised one the Archangel spoke of
And of the future pains and despair that I can only bring
Though I may yearn and strive to bring a gift
Of a tender smile
I fear the end
For the ungiveable

And she weighs heavy upon my soul
She does, she does
For like me she has thick armour and many veils
The shrouding
And she bears her own lamentation, which runs deep
So deep that it beckons and calls out to me
Though I cannot reach it
 I cannot reach it I fear
And though it divides and rends my soul
And sunders me in two
For I know this will not always be so
I shall wait and wait with great patience
For this clashing of metals upon metals
The chilling paranoia of the frightened
Of the many times broken
And thrown away
So I may at last take it all and bury it within myself
Too deep to find
Where it can hurt us no more

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unremitting Serenade (Part one)

And again he took up his pen
To place upon pages
That his soul and heart may be heard
His message may be listened to
Though he has no voice
For the one, the only one
And he awoke
In dream

Once more I stood before the Seraph
Upon the brink of this world and the next
With a bright star illuminating the infinite sky
And behind me a gossamer stair descended
Yet all of this I saw so vaguely
For my eyes beheld the Angel once more
Once again I noticed her smile
The whisper of rose upon her cheeks
Soft luminescence within her eyes
A tender sheen of dewdrop red upon her lips
And her luscious waves and shimmering of hair
I inhaled all her intoxicating scent
The unknown essence
And yet this time I noticed 
A flaw
Upon bright downy wings
I saw a slight shading a dimming of the white
There lay a breath of grey
A lamentation arose within me
But the Seraph gazed upon me to smile
Thus she spoke

As her words fell upon my ears
The unremitting serenade arose throughout
To sing with much despair so all would know
The reasons for the dimming of the sun
The shading of the vast skies
Why the moon rose to blot out the bright stars
To place sorrow here upon the edge of the world
Behind me the waves of lamentation hit the stair
To shatter the silken strands to dust
And within me a keening rose
From deep inside beyond the soul’s resting-place
Out from the depths it rose
To rage and unleash its wrath
To cause my blood to bubble and boil
To fill my body and mind with a conflagration
I raised my arms above
And opened my eyes wide gazing beyond
The rabid vortex of fire
To scream
I screamed, I screamed
To break my soul

Details | Prose Poetry | |


yes it was tough
at time got rough
and i bit the dust
in god i trust
i sid stop
am from the old block
i got thur the

Details | Prose Poetry | |


  1) ..Every time... I take a breath.
2) ..I think about... the trees.

3) ..Knowing that....deep down inside.
4) ..Each breath you longer can I clean. 

5) ..Is it True...your love I sought. 
6) ..When on my skin... you carve your heart. 

7) ..When here...upon my limbs birds nest. 
8) ..While knowing that each root...I need.

9) ..If leaves are poem makes.
10) ..And making strip my branch.

11) ..Where then will you..hang your swing.
12) ..Looking up..why do I see..a heaven without trees. 

Is It Poetry 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unremitting Serenade (Part six)

To this it was my turn to answer
With a slow shake of my head
I answered the Angel
With a quiet calm of serenity
I grinned

“How can I surrender to my pain
When there are ones such as she
Who ache
Who cry out and go unanswered and ever unheeded
Tell me why I should put myself before such a one as she
How can I give in when to do so would break my heart
Thus for all the others who grieve
And see what I see
So I will go on
Forever on
Though it takes my life
From now till then
If I could and replace it too
I would take the torment from one other”
And as I said this the Angel sat up to frown
But before she spoke to me a long moment passed
This time she asked a question
With an answer too
And so I would say no more
No more

“Have you realised at long last
That no longer can you continue to run
You can run no more”

So she spoke
With whispers
And behind me rose an infinite stair descending
Above me deep in the sky rose a soft yellow sunlight
A bright star illuminating the heavens
Within it I watched the Seraph
Fly and so she soared
And from the edge of the world
I slowly turned
To step down with the song in my ears
The unremitting serenade
I awoke

Details | Prose Poetry | |


A man quite gleefully pointed out to me that JESUS is not a dumpster JESUS 
however eye shot back at him gleefully is GOD and iff there is SOMETHING in 
that dumpster that HE wants me just to have then SIR oh eye will have it see eh? 
A survivor is the eye. 
John 6:35-36 
Then Jesus declared, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go 
hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty. But as I told you, you 
have seen me and still you do not believe." 
On the way to this cold freezing day eye found my strength lies not in my right 
hand or arm but in my faith eye walk. Eye find things that no one else wants, as 
eye walk eye soon survive. Pizza sometimes fish sometimes coffee on my list no 
cokes no tomatoes SOK eye have some tomatoes in a can 
The list is endless in my mind and desire comes from a man and coffee is the 
plan. Cups are full or half empty is it half full or empty? Pizza is okay when found 
in cold weather a man can be the judge of whatever food he finds eye do not fill 
mee up with unpleasentness or brine eye drink but not the water that eye find OH 
FAITH will end my misery OH FAITH will feed me too bread is in the pizza that eye 
When Jesus saves me at the final trumpet and eye make my last ditch stand at 
that time then he is not going to say WHY oh little man did you eat the scrounge 
pizza on the way but iff a loving GOD did ask me this is what eye say 
PIZZA is food and leftovers is fine my mind works much better with some eye can 
find. FOOD is never a sin or a problem to me. The eye does not eat strips of left 
over pieces he eats the entire pizzas. Eye am good at what eye dew eye can 
survive. And iff ewe ever get the word out to the people in the twilight zone just tell 
them scrounging pizza is better than the bone of chewing fat from steaks and 
living high on Hogg eye am better off alone and living with my love she knoes just 
who she is she knoes just who she loves. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


An unborn child comes to the realization that his Mother is contemplating having an abortion. 
Using Biblical Reason, he speaks to her through The Spirit, pleading that she change her mind
and allow him to be born.






By Milton L. Delgado
Inspired by Proverbs 8:23
Psalm 139: 13-16
March 14, 1997

Details | Prose Poetry | |




The Mind Of GOD

 He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out 
and pleaded with him. 
He said to his father in reply, 'Look, all these years I served you and not once did I 
disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my 
But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for 
him you slaughter the fattened calf.' 
He said to him, 'My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. 
But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has 
come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'" the certainty of days is lost 
in aggravations and in misdirected thinking abilities are missed in dreaming and 
wishing colors were not true the sky is always blue in some peoples world the 
clouds don't move in true reality the clouds fly screaming across the sky to take 
kisses from mye eye to deliver them all to ewe from the kissing place its true oh 
ewe there is many of them there still hanging from my lipps to kiss the lipps of 
ewe. The moral of the story don't get thy dandruff up until the wind blows. WAIT. 
Bulliten: This is just inn hot off the iron. Love lasts forever and yes it forgives so iff 
ewe aer just lately starting to hate me lets nip it now in the bud and snip all the 
hate away and please keep the love thorns are okay when the rose is on vine but 
when picked all the thorns do is cry. Add mee quickly back unto thy eye am 
pleading for mye heart seems to be gone when ewe linger in the ether and do 
not even come just try to find forgiveness in your heart for me today. The concrete 
where eye tried to spend the nite was stiff to muscles used to better beds the dirt 
eye finally found in a corner of the church was fine and warmer out of wind the 
sadness that eye feel is never hate but only love not found and wasted time. The 
anger comes from being left alone.
Eye would not change the way eye am eye would not want it any other way to love 
someone is to miss them when away. My time is spent in vain pursuits of 
happiness continuous searching for food and circuses the hour is almost upon 
the masses no more time to love. Please add me to your list of love as number 
one again mye friend and love the man that eye become is jealous of your love 
and time still searching for your heart and certain ewe aer there in mine and we 
aer both there inside the mind of god. LOVE.


Details | Prose Poetry | |


Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Solace
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: July/2014

is never 
going to 

we want 
to be.

It's a 
survive -

that's life,

no day 
the same.....

one day
sunny -

the next,
rain -

when trouble 

hugs me
with a
gentle touch
solace -

I say:


I submit 

I need 
caress -

You are

faith, hope


serenity -

I pray for

the dark

of my 

I pray that

with your
Devine grace -

walk with

always -


Hug me
a gentle

these times -




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dead Mens Bones

Eyes that are unable to see.
Ears that cannot hear.
A nose that cannot smell
the sweet aroma of salvation.

Mouths won’t confess the truth.
Your tongue is full of venom.
Feet that follow fools.
Hands can hold nothing but sin.

A heart of stone,
Feelings that are numb to His touch.
A mind of evil imaginations.
Ideas are unreasonable.

Self righteous mentality.
Prayers are polluted.
Emotions that do not care.
Life is full of lies.

Intentions are a deceptive poison.
Your power is a huge vanity.
Ignorance can change nothing.
Your hope rests in idolatry.

Attitude of hate.
Your true shade is make believe.
Your favorite color is blind darkness.
Your ruler is un-named.

Nothing in this world is free.
everything must be paid for,
sin is no different.

On judgment day your proclaimed strengths
will show themselves weak.
Your so-called knowledge
will be shut up, mute; it will not speak.

Your decisions have been made,
Your fate has been sealed,
note it.

The Book Of Life closed.
Outside you appear righteous
but inside you are full of …
Dead Mens Bones.
from my book ...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Lament

I have swallowed the poison...
suffered through darkness.
I have tasted the ashes,
lived in utter lostness.

I remember the pain
when hitting bottom;
desperate I dreaded,
what I had become.

To be punished for sin,
how dare I complain!
Is The Lord not my life
from whence I came?

I have entered The Light!
My Soul has been taken.
God proves to be Faithful,
To The called He's awakened!

Milton L. Delgado
Inspired By The Book of Lamentations
Chapter 3
October 20, 2006

Details | Prose Poetry | |


i didn't promise them
i promise him
 and gave him my word
i would serve
and bad or good weather
if he except me in heaven
he gave me anew started

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Day Of The Lord

A Prophet The Lord
has sent.
No time left
to awaken or repent.

The arrogant evil doers
will be stubble...
burn like a furnace
turned to rubble.

The prideful, the sinful
we'll defeat...
under the soles of our feet!

No root or branch
will be left,
only those who obeyed
shall be kept.

The sun of righteousness will rise,
with healing in its wings...
freed like calves from their stalls,
evermore to worship The King.

By Milton Lopez Delgado
Inspired by The Book of Malachi 4:1-6
January 18, 2009

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The song We Once Knew

It is a song 
that we grew up with

A song which contains 
our hopes, joys and fears

But the mists of time 
obscured our sight, our sensitivity

The mists of time 
began to block the flow of chi

But we persevered
Once again our song shall be sung

Over the land 
A bird wings its way home

And we watch 
enchanted by the sight

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Ashes of Our Innocence

A song can be heard tonight
Swirling about me beating down my strength
Enfolding the whole of me with thick, terrifying captivation
That chokes a city with the roaring thunder of despair
Of the innocent obliterated in the unforgettable heartbeat
When we died with our friends and families
Slain from the once impossible that shattered our world
Tossed aside the veil of our innocence forever

I can stand no more and I fall
My weary gaze heavenward for I have no answers
With my heart weeping, my soul burning
My mind alive with a desperately hungry vengeance
I scream out all of my searing pain
I scream out with every fibre, every pore of my being!
I scream blinded by this maelstrom of emotion
I scream!

Until my voice runs ragged
Until my anger simmers
And here amid a shattered ruin
I find inside the depths of my soul . . .
That which is fierce in us all

I stand and glare beyond the horizon
Where I know the object of my hatred hides
Feeling safe in his pit of woe
“No,” I seethe
“No,” I burn
“No!” I say through clenched teeth 
“I will not falter!
I will not give up!
I will not give into the swallowing lament of night!

I will see you held accountable
I will and I do defy you!!
And everything you represent!”

I . . .
I like my people, believe in a merciful God
Our Lord forgives and loves us all
And this is the God I believe in . . .
But I am a man, just a man . . .
And I cannot forgive you for this, I will not
God may forgive you
But I do not

I . . .
I hate you!
For the lives you have destroyed!
For the fear in my heart!
I hate you for existing . . .
I hate you because now I cannot help but to hate something

It’s lonely where these towers have fallen
And in this solitude I pick up a stone
I move another stone and then another
For I know not what else to do
I find that this stone is not a part of the rubble
I understand that I am not really clearing debris

I am rebuilding

And this dust covered stone now within my hands
Is the first
In a new foundation of our lives
I see my friends
Doing as I do, lifting one stone after another
We are rebuilding our world
Our ideals

And I whisper to the horizon
“Know this
Today we mourned as people grieving for our loved one
Tonight we mourn as a race having just lost our innocence
Tomorrow we will mourn as people defiled by atrocity one last time
But soon . . .
We will weep and mourn no more
And on that day

We will end terror.”

Details | Prose Poetry | |


you can
give your hand
for him you must stand
get in his love band
put him in your plans
and live forever


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Christian Wine

 Christian Wine 
Christian Wine 
Fifteen Fabel 
Christian Wine 
CharlaX Fabels 
Most men reiterate the infirmities of flesh the scars so proud to show so scary 
but so worthwhile like Tom Sawyers Toe. The boys eye meet on the street hold 
up they shirts and say look so neat the knife came all the way across and then 
they brag so braggart the facts and get another illegal drink for most of them use 
the alley they are too young to sit the bar stool anyway. The seldom used door 
long locked against the thief they lean upon each other's arm in misery for one 
so young to fall prey to john barely corn. 
The eye used to drink it down convinced it was the best thing in town and let me 
tell you all it was hard to put it down but the punch line of my story is the sobriety. 
Jesus saves in different ways each person is not the same. He never changes 
but the person changes to fit the mold of HIS direction. The soups cold and the 
meat is not too hot and the butter never melts but eye am so happy not to drink. 
The wet rain falls upon my brow and makes me frown but somehow the son 
always shines for me as well and love is just around. 
The edges of my mind are filled with happiness her name is love she is ewe my 
loneliness is gone my loveliness has come. 
Rules for English words stop me from making rhymes and so the words come 
out so strang and yet she thinks she loves she moves the mountains between 
us and GOD is in my heart and love is also there from her to make me live just 
until it is time to die and leave her to carry on in Heaven to build a place to stay a 
picnic ready to be eaten in the grass of Heaven just inside the doorway. 
There were many people stories in my bible to read there was a Nazarene who 
never cut his hair it is said they never drink wine? 
He is drinking wine in Heaven with his JESUS now. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


As the rooster crows with vigor, I wonder was it on a morning like this that he arose from 
that cave tomb?  A morning like this where the angel touched down?  Peter as you heard the 
roosters that morn after you had wept in disbelief of the weakness within yourself, the brave 
soul that would die with him, protect him, but then in horror at yourself you coiled as the 
third denial left your lips and Jesus looked at you_____How may times and how many ways, 
how many days do my action and thoughts deny my love, dedication, high calling...So many 
that I can't number them.  As the sun rises on the distant horizon and mist rises from the 
earth especially on  the creek, does the stink of the sins of humankind float upward to your 
home in the third heaven?? No, for they are covered by his shed blood____Acceptance is all 
that is needed and turning around__repentence..Now the sun with a blaze rises that fire ball 
that now has turned orange__vibrant orange__Heat for the day will wilt my Spirit  but now in 
this present moment it is wonderful  ___The feeling of God's love.....

Details | Prose Poetry | |


work like a jerk
all week
time you keep
by a  clock
non stop
and you go play
its party all the way
you do too 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


we promise god
we wouldn't fall apart
we made a start
didn't just sit

Details | Prose Poetry | |


some call him the maker
heart breaker
the undertaker
no matter what he is call
he is for us all
love is what he brings
not for fame

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Man or Dove 
GOD is Jesus. A living GOD does not have to frustrate Him self with a man at all 
but he does what a GOD wants and no one can tell HIM anyway. He could have 
done a different planet and never made the man the ADAM. He could have been 
a DOVE and ruled the WORLD of DOVES nothing moving on the surface of the 
planet except food for DOVE. 
John 20:30-31 
 Jesus did many other miraculous signs in the presence of his disciples, which 
are not recorded in this book. But these are written that you may believe that 
Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his 
The written word is given not so perfectly it seems the detractors of the Gospel 
will agree the BIBLE has been written by the men and not the DOVE. He does not 
complain of feathers colored wrong he does not jealously assume the plume of 
other birds he never drinks too much or eats too many seeds of grass he never 
wants a different colored shirt of blue upon his back he has feathers mostly gray 
and brown a DOVE is GOD in FORM of FLESH and LOVE. Today eye discovered 
a dove a thing of beauty made in love the GOD most certainly seems to me to be 
a creator capable of form. The feathers around the eye. The way the dove tried to 
see me from the side she turned her delicate head just like a lady in love. The 
feet seemed too large on her for dove but seemed like duck perhaps this dove 
was just malformed an egg in need of more attention in the nest but not the fault 
of GOD. On DOVE WORLD there is one tree where DOVE the GOD does live. She 
preens her feathers and she rules but yet she loves them. When a DOVE dies 
and falls from SKY she moves herself to see just where it lays and then SHE 
Cries a mournful sound in otherwise so pretty of a face she can raise it from the 
dead and send it into Heaven then to live and fly forever no more in need of world 
of food or anything. One day upon the Dove Earth the sky was filled with war the 
demon doves were killing all the poor. They called a halt in vain attempts at 
peace and then a most marvelous thing. The DOVE GOD she flew to high and 
spread her wings in a hurried dive she slammed into the ground at Supersonic 
speed and then she died and then she screamed eye am alive eye hold the keys 
the poor will soon come and live with me and then the SOUL of GOD the DOVE it 
flew to Heaven where it grew to be the JESUS GOD. 
He rules in love. A DOVE,MAN,GOD. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Lovely Divine Smile

A lovely divine shipping smile
forces waves which was vanished
my whole tearful oceans forever,
and I feeling forever with my
beloved divine lord graces,I
got waves seashores lovely divine
smile coming from the spiritual
kingdom, where I was coming like a
small bird in the spiritual
divine smile oceans, where my
lord called me common join with
yours answer, a lovely divine
smile forever to me.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Several missing parts some scars beaten up and left for dead the mighty men 
have used the fists oh GOD when will eye get some rest walking walking looking 
looking searching for my hideaway my endless questing telling portenting 
changing my namme today.
Jesus tells me in the Bible he has a namme for me to find so whenever eye see 
a stone of white eye look asunderneathe the rock and ponder. Oh wow there was 
a small dark stone there so eye took my namme to mean DARK STONE in an 
Indian manner my new nicknamme was visible there and given mee today. 
Charlax Darkstone sounds like some lost Indian fighter with buckskin britches 
pooring out his heart to save the villagers. A Statistic very bad vibrations from the 
passing stranger’s men it seems have followed Satan they are walking after lust 
not contemplation Oh brief candle out out but wait for love and stay alive she 
loves me please just try to find me ewe knoe just who ewe aer.  
Leaning to the million dollar giveaway the DOUBLEDAY publishers called me 
today and begged me for another chance to publish my anthology a prance of 
under moonlighted night the moon is setting way too quickly falling light is dark 
so dark it fits my namme my new nicknamme the DarkStone man has come. 
She sits and drinks her coffee sipping past the lipps and seeing only love. 
DarkStone is that yew old bean and how eye manage to avoid the many 
StormTroopers in my area and the Gendarmes who come strolling jauntily 
aiming from the hippopotamus erectus at the eye. Overcome with honor that she 
loves me this one is at odds become extant with the extinction of us all the 
problems of a man even when he is forgiven are so many and still varied until 
they multitude them past the ending now. Eye have a problem with the Judging 
all the man who meet me seems so evil and eye still do want to curse them even 
though the GOD the JESUS does not like it the statistics missed me nah nah 
nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah. To the man in the truck the tires is only 
rubber and they bounce the road will not protect you but someday it will come 
and get you so look out. Make me shout make me holler make me doubt. Eye 
have beaten all the odds and lived in spite of odd man out. Revelation 2:17
He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says to the churches. To him who 
overcomes, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give him a white 
stone with a new name written on it, known only to him who receives it.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Real Name: David "Davy" Laramee 
Identity/Class: Normal human 
Occupation: Captain in the Texas Rangers 
Enemies: Sherriff 
Known Relatives: None 
Aliases: None 
Base of Operations: Texas, c.1830s 
The Whiskey made the Kidd fighting mad and he swore he would gun the Sherriff 
And then a funny thing began to happen to the Kidd he frowned for at that 
moment when the Sheriff neared to him the wind began to howl and all along the 
watchtower for a mile or more the people howled like Indians always do. Then 
the lightening came out of a clear blue sky and split the tree in two making the 
Sheriff cry and holler and dance on one foot like fat people always do. The Kidd 
tossed both his guns into the dust at the Sherriff's feet. Eye am threw he said 
with yew. The whiskey may have addled him is what the Sherriff always thought 
but the Kidd knew that it was a sign from his Lord the GOD the JESUS up above. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

In Darkness

I stood in darkness searching
Then I saw the light …

The light of your face
Shown bright … lighting the way

I can hold back the tears no more
For my strength has left me

Your arms lift me
When from weakness I fall

I pray that I do only
That which honors You
For You are the light of my day!

You have shown me direction
And have given me the way to go

May my footsteps forever
Follow the path You have
Laid out before me.

To climb mountains,
Swim oceans, cross rivers
Be whatever it may.

I know You are there with me
For You are the light of my day!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Aim

As I look thru this scope 
this, rifle if you will
I still hear that whisper (Corey shoot to kill)
today could be my last meal 
like Christ last supper so like the 
word of God my floetic lyrics bypass
flesh and cuts thru souls like a hot knife thru butter
and as a black man I don't know what it's like 
to be a black woman and imma father so
I can't imagine what it was like for my mother
but my scope, my aim, my trigga finger 
is nothin like yourz. 

You see my heart too was once cold 
now I'm back on solid ground 
like the concrete floor, I can hear 
the angels in heaven now still
shouting for my encore
I still hear em praising God's name
when the doctor cut my umbilical cord
I can still see Saul on the road to Damascus
being used by the Lord I can feel the ancient history 
of my ancestors when whips tore thru their ligaments
I still see the devil speaking blasphemy to me 
acting so belligerent, so take a long look at
me this here is black history 
because honestly you couldn't walk thru 
my shoes if I let you in my memory

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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

Details | Prose Poetry | |


you have a feeling
have you reeling
and not appeeling
look up at the sealing
and blink
and wink

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your chosen best

You send to me Your chosen best
I turn my back in rejection
Out of fear and ignorance, I suppose
None the less, a lack of trust in You

The cries You’ve heard
from deep within my heart
And all along, You were trying 
to show me what I was longing for

But my eyes saw different
and my heart feared the past
If only I’d listen to Your tender
still assurance, I’d have known

Now Lord, I see and I hear!
And I weep to think
I could have passed on by 
Your chosen best for my life!

You’ve fulfilled my deepest wants and needs
To heal the hurts of years past
You’ve sent me a kind, loving and gentle man
You gave me Your chosen best!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


he is my all
he the one i call
if i fall
he is my brick wall
my life smooth as lard

Details | Prose Poetry | |


theyer here and there
time to share
not just stare
and look down
apon them like a clown
give a toy
help them enjoy
the christmas sprit
with a smil
help a 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


some say it
don't mean this
they have no faith
no willing to waited
you must set a paces
tho it may seen hard

Details | Prose Poetry | |


don't if your brown black or white
if you think your right
all the time
in his eyes  you are blind
he is all of our love sign
and these or no lies
so be plain

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ensconced in the mainstream

Relationship allows me to grow With its human complexity, That brings me to be true And be open to various issues. It creeps into the consciousness Of my being Asian in truth That fashions who I am In this world where I am now. I cope with changes and differences Quite uneasy to confront with; However at a dawn of a new horizon Reflects another meaning and learning. It’s another school of experience, That embodies depth and new sight Along this road shapes my calling
To be strong and committed to God’s invitation.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


my life shine
my pass behind
i don't lie
by things i pass by
help other i do try
this is why
 for ever i do better

Details | Prose Poetry | |

So long to Marie

Today we say ‘so long’ to our beloved friend, I have one thing to say, Lord, on her 

Lord, you know she loved to laugh, and how spunky she could be.  She kept 
everyone on their toes with one thing or another!  Yet she had her times of 
stillness too.  

You gave her the sense of humor and wit she had ....  By the way, thanks a lot!  
And stories ... my, she could make you belly laugh with her stories!

Remember how blunt she could be, and sharp .... yet she never was cruel or 
hurtful, nor ever meant to be.

She loved to minister to people, sharing Your love with them.  Comforting the 
hurting, encouraging and building up the downhearted.  That was her mission in 

She was so busy, she sometimes wore me out.  But Lord, she was special to 
me!  I thank you for the opportunity to share life with her.  She truly was a blessing!

I ask You, Lord, won’t You please ... prepare a very special place for her?  
Because when she hears that trumpet blow .... and the shout of Your voice .... 
Lord, you are going to have Your hands full!

As we lay her to rest, we do so with this sign over head: ‘A Real Live Wire’ will be 
coming home when called!  So raise the ‘Welcome Home’ banner high, ‘cause 
she’ll be runnin’ full bore!

So long, my beloved friend!  I'll be seeing you again!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


it comes in drop
no stop
can't be block
cause its rain from above
the lords love
that stop the paining

Details | Prose Poetry | |


this we must face
we're one race
mabe difference taste
roots you must traces
in every case
you fine this is gods base
for who do right
its a fact
there's no

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A matter of time

It's just a matter of time
before you realize
you can’t run, can’t hide
or keep secrets from God.

He knows all, sees all,
and hears all.
You aren’t fooling Him,
only yourself.

Why put yourself through
all  hat pain and trouble?
Really .... now ....
Is it worth it?!

Surrender to God 
He will guide, 
direct your path.
He cares for you.

He doesn’t promise 
an easy road,
there will be 
bumps and troubles.

He does promise never
to leave you or forsake you.
He gives peace, joy and love,
at the end of your rough road you'll find ...

His Kingdom.
Where all is new
peace flows all around
joy is unspeakable!

Keep looking to the end of the road
where hope lies waiting for your arrival.
The table is set, the feast is ready
all of heaven are waiting for your arrival.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


wake up
for better stuff
no will times be ruff
don't fess
be bold
and don't fold
there is always 
good good weather
get in bring friends

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Baptism

As I come into Your house, O’ Lord
Prepare my heart to receive
For it is You and You alone I seek to find

Let my heart be pure
My intentions well meant
And my steps guided by You

May my spirit sing a song of joy
For it wells over within
As I go beneath the water

Accept me now O’ Lord
For I am giving my all to You
As I rise up from the deep
Wash away all that is impure

For I come to Your house 
In humility and honor
Seeking You and You alone
It is You I long to know

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Christianity - 30+ CE PART TWO

Christianity - 30+ CE 
Christianity started out as a breakaway sect of Judaism nearly 2000 years ago. 
Jesus, the son of the Virgin Mary and her husband Joseph, but conceived 
through the Holy Spirit, was born then. During his travels he was joined by twelve 
disciples who followed him in his journeys and learned from him. He performed 
many miracles during this time and related many of his teachings in the form of 
parables. Among his best known sayings are to "love thy neighbor" and "turn the 
other cheek." At one point he revealed that he was the Son of God sent to Earth to 
save humanity from our sins. This he did by being crucified on the cross for his 
teachings. He then rose from the dead and appeared to his disciples and told 
them to go forth and spread his message. In the multitude there is only 
individuals and so this reasoning is flawed there can be a great difference 
between the various forms of Christianity they may seem like different religions to 
some persons of note this poem is varied this poet is in love the woman of 
desire may decide to read this written note to see how much eye rally love her to 
understand my love. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


thing get ruff
don't buff
don't your stuff
get out of the dust
before you fall
catch the ball

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Winds of Your Voice

Let the winds of Your voice blow across the vastness of the earth, O Lord Reaching all that would hear, listening to the words, hastening it’s message Feel the breath of God blow across your face, people ... how can you not! See the many splendors of His work, majestic in their beauty Taste the sweetness of His words, they are life sustaining to you Without them you shall surely die an everlasting death Glory in His righteousness! For He is worthy of your praise He is the Alpha and Omega, nothing exists without Him My eyes long to see His face, my heart to kneel at His feet May each breath I take be that which He has given He is wonderful, mighty, loving and jealous Longing for us to come to Him on our own accord We are not His puppets, but we are his children He longs to give His children great gifts of life Would we not let Him be our Father, are we an ignorant people? He has given so much for us, can we not give ourselves to Him?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Being (Part Two of Two)

You … Are The Epitome of All Existence
Ypi… Are The Optimum – Pulse – Presence
We Live in Your Radius – Residence
and You … Are The Preserver, The Palace, The Promise
The Peace,  Pretty Perfection,  and  Providence
The Rightful Owner of Our Obedience…

‘… The Being ’

The Father’s Fingers, Were The Spark of Genesis
Flowing –  The Full Splendor of Continuance
Rousing Radiance, Beauteous Brilliance
Somewhere With ‘ Word ’,  ‘ He ’ Pronounced A Sublime Sentence
… and Time Arose and Fell in Universal Reverence
Marching Each Moment – In  A Consecrated Cadence

to…  ‘… The Being ’

Unapproachable, Blinding… Is His Light
Eyes of Holy Glory – Magnify Prophecy With Sight
… to Us, Is Invisible, Yet Invincible – The Spirit
And  The Son of This Source,  ‘ The Word ’… Hear It!
Logos Said:  “This Is Truth!”… we’re Speaking of…
His  Name is  Jehovah … ‘ He ’ is ‘Luminor’ Love!...

… This Is… ‘ The Being ’

… Sun,  Moon,  Stars…  Space
Earth,  Oceans,  Sky…  Heaven’s Face
Genuine Evidence – At A Generous Pace
Emitting Precious Waves in Everlasting Embrace
To Us… Was Given This Tremendous – Touch – Trace
Of  The  Sovereign  Lord  God… Oh, Your Merciful Grace…
May We Ever  Love,  Pray Allegiance  and  Praise…

… ‘ Your Beauteous Being ’…

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Yes, my child

To think of God as one who would give Himself, through His Son, to suffer so,  for 
those who don’t even know His name.  

For Him to love so ultimately that He waits…Waits for the day that even one 
person can see or do no more to help themselves, and they cry out … ‘Oh, God!’   
He answers gently, ‘Yes, My child?’

What a fearful … no, horrifying thought, that what if God was not.  My breath 
leaves me at that thought.  For once you have known Him and that He is … to 
even imagine Him as not, is a horrifying thought!  A nightmare!

Oh, God!  Hear your child!  Hold your child for I have frightened myself beyond 
limits!  Hold me, Jesus, hold me tight!  Tell me Lord, how is it, that You love me?

When my eyes are stayed on Thee, I have peace.  When I have peace, I see 
clearly, all things look differently in Your light.  When my eyes are stayed on Thee.

As my eyes turn from Thee to focus on my troubles I am over whelmed in waves 
of turmoil and fear.  Misery and depression are all I know.

Then a slight glance and I once again see Thee.  I fix my eyes on You and peace 
fills my being once again.

Keep my eyes fixed on Thee, Oh Lord.  In Your peace I rest and regenerate in 
strength.  With all that is around me wanting to destroy me, I need Your peace 
and Your strength.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Eighteenth Fabel

 Eighteenth Fabel 
Eighteenth Fabel 


Praising Jesus 



Wondering uncertain from one day to the next working for survival never needing 
any rest building no foundation that has not already been prelaid but marching to 
my final curtain on the strength of HIS shed blood on the price of life HE paid. 
Rude self centered people all day long are teaching me a path not connected to 
my song the love inside of me is taken when they stride in perfect ignorance they 
glide on oily fingertips like some forgotten hide left in the center of a hunting 
camp with maggots all at work no one can use the hide for clothing no one can 
make it work. Suddenly remembered pain of death intended oh Jesus take me 
make me whole and well and keep them all away from me the naked and the 
dead they rise in misery to foster they beliefs upon a lame and morose figure a 
aged creature just as eye am beneath a clouded sky no moon is visible no sun 
but sonshines down on me today and life is hard and life is stirring in the clay. 
Devoid of Human life they are only interested in the personal perspective seeing 
nothing but the end of own nose and looking down it at others prose. 

Society of man is living in ignorance and darkness no hope but the grave 
atheists and deists marking time by taking up worthless spaces meant for 
others to occupy if you cannot do the work assigned to you get up and let 
someone else try the end is near oh GOD the end will come too soon for some 
of them. A half remembered song about the lyrics sung you cannot petition the 
LORD with Prayer? Yes eye can and hopefully it's there the Thorny Crown 
replaced with silver gold and brass or just the light that shines from Inside place 
of GOD? 

Not meant to ever resemble money not meant to be much more than love. He 
kept the life. He Loves. Jesus Lives. He Rules and as he Rules HE loves. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I had a dream

While sleeping I had a dream, a dream where my Lord came to me.  He took my 
hand and asked me, “Is there anything you would have of Me?”

Taken aback for a moment, I thought. Then without hesitation I answered, “I want 
to know You like I have never known You before.  I want to feel Your heart, instead 
of mine, see with Your eyes, hear the words You long to hear.  Lord, I want You to 
be so much a part of me, that I can’t feel me anymore.  Is that possible Lord?”

He smiled and answered, “As you search My Word, it draws you nearer to me as 
ever before.  So yes, it is possible, but are you wanting it enough to search ever 
so diligently?”

When I awoke, my heart sank as I recalled His question.  Am I wanting it enough 
to search so?  For it sounds like much, too much work.  Then I thought, when it is 
one you love and long to be with, do you not go far and beyond to reach them?  

Yes Lord, it is something I want enough to search so diligent for.  I want to be as 
close to You as I can possibly be while here on earth.  Then the day of Your 
return will be only that much sweeter and more spectacular to me.

The smile He put in my spirit that day, made my heart sing!  And sing it will 

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 ’

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wash over me

Wash over me O’ Lord.  Wash away this feeling I have.  Cleanse and renew my 
body and spirit take this desperation and turn it into Your peace.  Wipe away my 
tears and take away my fears.  Fill me O’ Lord, fill me to overflowing.

I want to see hope, to feel joy, to have peace.  I want to be strong in You, yet I feel 
so weak.  My mind rules instead of my spirit.  Raise up my spirit with Your 
strength, that it will rule over my mind.

There is anxious desperation in my heart Lord, and I know not why.  You know all, 
keep safe and bring to You those who need You.  I surrender my will and what 
power I may think I have, to You Lord.

Calm my worried heart, refresh my weary soul.  Keep me close, as well as all 
around me that I love and care for.

Change the hearts that have hardened themselves against You.  Bring peace, 
joy, and comfort to their lives. Let them feel the love You have for them.

Help them to love themselves and others as You love.  Set their feet on solid 
ground, guide and direct their path.   Detour them from the path that leads them 
near their destruction.

Strengthen their spirit, refresh their soul, and make strong  and healthy their body 
for the battle of their life.

Cause all against them, and against You, to fall. Let their enemies not raise up 
again. All influence that was meant to destroy, will fall short of its victim.  Return 
all curses to the sender ten fold.

Raise up and save those that need You Lord!  Please save them!   In Jesus 
name and by His love and blood I pray.  Amen.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

5 Minutes Of Clarity And A Single Moment Of Serenity

The sun is shining
Its a beautiful day
Sometimes I have to pray
For the sun to shine on me
Instead of the shade
For darkness loves to cover the heart
Seems like i can't get a headstand
Pride greed and fear
Is were i started to steer
Family friends and goals
Are thrown in the holes
Lost in the distance of who i can't be
Memories i can't allow myself to see
It seems every time i try to stand
There is never a helping hand
For the true ones i had to hold
Turned their backs when i sold my soul
For the destructive path that i now lead
I'm the one who sowed that volatile seed
For this life of pain and misery
I'm a blind man who can't see
The sun shining down on me
For the shade has to stay
Until the day i have the strength to pray
A single string of hope
That i can never see
A fearful past
That i had to lead
5 minutes of clarity
And a moment of serenity
For every second at least one heart seeks
In this world of fear and greed
To be the person they want to be
For no one wants to experience this pain of treachery
The bleeding hearts and the lost souls
All had an obtainable goal
Threw away or taken people don't know
But human judgment is always bestowed
On the liars beggars cheats and thieves
Understand, you can not with out experiencing the deed
The power of choice is what we've been given
Hope, Enlightenment, Love And Peace stay hidden
For the key i hold unlocks this mystery
This mystery of H.E.L.P.
And then the shade of darkness shall go away
The sun shall now forever stay
Enclosed in this box threw the distance of time and space
I shall forever be hidden from the pain of my insecurities
5 minutes of clarity
And a single moment of serenity
Is what i shall have, Finally

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Just One Last Thought

If you love someone and they love you; consider yourself blessed.  Love will 
endure after the universe vaporizes...It's mark is untouched by time.  Nite, all.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Judgment Day

Judgment Day has come!!!  I stand before the Almighty Father!  How will I be 
judged?  Will I have tears of joy … or fall to my knees crying tears of terror?

I stand shaking before the Thrown of God.  The accuser, Satan, lays out all my 
faults and failures before The Almighty.  Shame haunts me, as he cries out my 
sins, one after another.  Feeling small and alone,  my legs give out from 
weakness and I fall on my face in fear, as I see God sit quietly listening, as if in 
disgust.  Just when I think the horrible things Satan reveals of my life seal my 
fate; Jesus stands up and orders Satan, “Be silent!”  My heart leaps!  My breath 
departs from me, until I hear Jesus’  words.  

Jesus reminds God the Father, that it was for those very sins that He died.  That it 
was for those sins His body was ripped and tortured and hung on a cross.  I was 
forgiven when I accepted Him in my heart as my Lord and Savior.  He became my 
covering for my sins and sickness.  

Tears flow, I shake uncontrollably as I hear God the Father say, ‘This is true.  
When you received My Son as your Savior, you received salvation.  His blood 
washed those and all sins away.   I see a vessel white as snow’.  

As I watch, God throws my sins into the abyss, never to be seen or brought up 
again.  I cry tears of joy as I sit at His feet.  ‘I have been saved from torment and 
separation from God’, I rejoice loudly!  

‘Enter, my child’, are the words He says, ‘come to the table and feast.  Dance and 
be merry for you are a child of the Almighty and there is no accuser to condemn 
you.  Rejoice in the salvation of your Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ’.  

In my Father’s House I see others rejoicing for they also have been saved by the 
blood of Christ.  

Beauty surrounds me; living waters flow freely for all to drink.  There is no 
sadness, no fear, and no pain!  Only joy, peace and the presence of Love live 
here.  For we are with the author of Love.  God is Love, He radiates love.  

There is laughter.  I love to hear Jesus’ laugh!  It is so hardy and full of life.  To be 
in the presence of my God and Lord Jesus Christ,  to see their beauty and  feel 
their eternal love covering me is my longing.  I am home in my Father’s house!  

Will this be your story?  Or will yours have a sad ending?  It is your choice. 

God’s Word says , ‘For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten 
Son, that whosoever believeth in Him should not perish but have everlasting life’.  
John 3:16 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Psychic (another true tale!)(Pt. One)

this may be hard to believe, but it's true.  will be written in prose for my sanity's 
sake (too late, dummy!!)...let's begin our story....
in the 70's, as a musician, I had a band with my two cousins.  the bass player 
and singer- of incredible talent, was Bill.  the rare kind of person who lights up all 
the bulbs in a room when he walks in.  he was also my best friend..though 
younger, I had him over my house every weekend.  the other cousin, Charlie, the 
drummer- also very talented (in a 3 man band, ya all better be smokin')- but 
Charlie was a dark character- never really to be trusted- he lived with me and my 
parents, cause he was always bein' thrown out from everywhere- and the cops 
had him on their radar. I was the keyboard player.  we did originals as well. all of 
this in the early 70's.  after each jam/rehearsal- we'd go out to party- beer, bars, 
girls, etc...... well for reasons we need not deal with..after a period of some local 
success- we stopped playing- I threw Charlie out when I found his drugs (our 
agreement was no such thing!!)-  and for years after, I would just jam with Bill 
and a revolving parade of others.  for fun.  in dec. 1977, I got the horrible news Bill 
had been killed in an auto accident- something I am yet to recover from...I had 
some pictures of us playing blown up into posters.  Charlie ran to Ariz- he's back 
and forth all the time, depending on where the heat is less intense.  so years 
later (1990) he came to town, and we had a reunion jam...and pictures were 
taken.  when developed, Charlie, arm out, hand open, as in greeting is shown in 
the picture...with a clear stream of what appears to be ectoplasm streaming from 
Bill in the poster directly into Charlie's open hand!!  wow, bizzarre!  best yet to 
come!  sometime thereafter, my girlfriend Rosie and I went to a local psychic- 
intrigued by what appeared to be real knowledge from elsewhere- so to test- 
we came back with the original picture of Charlie and the ecto...sealed in an 
envelope-  surprisingly- she said she saw the accident, she saw twins (he was a 
twin)- he died with his new white shirt on (he did) and a few other tidbits that 
startled me and Rose.  and she never opened the envelope!  some weird stuff, 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

nineteen fabel part two

Hendrix was the best on the guitar that eye have ever saw and the star spangled 
banner made by this strang black man became my country banner sweet. There 
was so many off the wall hard to play and follow like the BEGEES nothing rally 
wrong with them just could not copy them. BOOGIE WOOGIE will remain the 
easiest to play just progressions made of love back and forth and up ZZ Top just 
left Chicago and Found they Jesus. 
The Doors was everyone's favorite when getting high. Eye could not party and 
maintain my dignity eye never could have group sex or sinful fun with everyone a 
problem to the gamers to the players to the users everyone eye then become the 
odd one to them all preferring quiet solitude unless they needed me to help 
maintain there dignity. Piano music will remain the favorite of rednecks killers' 
kain. Steppenwolfe played the drug songs patriotic backwards making fun of 
pushers users flushers. Listen quickly to this musickal idea before eye leave 
John Fogarty and others like him even women who play musick helped this 
young man believe in GOD. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


wake up
for better stuff
no will times be ruff
don't fess
be bold
and don't fold
there is always 
good good weather
get in bring friends

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I called you by name

I call you by name
For I Am the one who named you.

Fear not, that no one is near you
For I am always near.

Your heart aches for others.
Others that you wish were 
Close to me, that would call me Lord.

They run about their lives as if all is well,
In time they will see that they are not fulfilled.
Because of you they have heard of Me
Now it is their choice.

For I take no one that is not willing to come.
They will call My name, they will seek Me.

You have done what you were commissioned,
And have done well.
The compassion in your heart still
Reaches out to them.

Now they will see My glory,
As you are lifted up out of the pit.
I will set you upon a safe precipice
Where no harm may touch you.

Most see struggle as failure or punishment
But you have shown them it is for growth.
And you have grown much, but still have 
More growth to come.

You strive to reach the goal 
And you tire but don’t give up.
This is a precious and valuable trait.

I am your God, I am your Provider.
I bring you peace and comfort.
Healing is given to you that you 
May continue in your walk.

Know My love, for it is the only 
True love there is.

You are My child and I care for you.
Rest now and grow strong.
Take comfort in My peace.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Recipe for a Full Life

Start with a healthy dose of morning prayer,
Nourish yourself on God's Word

Add a heaping of love and compassion,
a dash of self-control and diligence

Mix together well, and refresh yourself,
Continue this several times during your day

Add a splash of the Holy Spirit for essence
This brings comfort and peace when & where needed

Claim the blood of Jesus when feeling ill or under attack
IT IS the ultimate strength you will ever experience

Be sure to distribute forgiveness, humbleness and God's truth
As needed throughout your day

Give thanks for everything, make everything you do, 
Show Him to the world, spread joy to as many as possible

Be confident in who you are, and to whom you belong
Make His will for your life, your life's ambition

Love as you are loved, without hesitation
Love with unconditional love, not judging one another

At the end of your day, when your work is done
Give God the glory for the strength He has given

At the close of the day, pray for another one to come
That you may do His will according to His direction for your life

(Repeat this daily until the Lord's return)

Details | Prose Poetry | |


rest of you in?
im going alone

send me an angel
was the daniel book of?
was the love enough

Details | Prose Poetry | |

God's Garden

In God’s garden are many beautiful wonders.  
For each person has individuality 
just as a flower does.  

Each has a rareness about them 
that shows colors in a way 
that another does not, 
they have a fragrance all their own.  

Each is so special to God.  
When put together in songs of praise, 
they make for a spectacular bouquet 
for God’s table.  

He feasts on their loveliness 
and on their sweet sound.  
Tears of joy fill His eyes 
as he witnesses the unity of harmony.  

His heart is over run with love.  
They bring such brilliant splendor 
to His garden.  
He finds His pleasure in each and every one.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


St.Charles Parish 
When René Robert Cavelier sieur de La Salle claimed this vast country of 
Louisiana for King Louis XIV on April 9, 1682, the French Empire in North 
America extended from Hudson Bay in Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. During the 
next five decades, attempts were made to colonize the land and to integrate 
Louisiana into the military, political, religious, and economic fabric of the 
monarchy's New World holdings lover. Lonesome Charles has said he loves her 
more for all of this. 

St.Charles River 
The Charles River is one of the most beautiful urban rivers in the country. In 
cooperation with the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, the US Army Corps of 
Engineers has implemented a program that not only protects the urbanized 
watershed from flooding, but also safeguards valuable wetlands and provides 
areas for wildlife and recreation lover. Listen to me early in the day the love has 
grown and far outweighed the sad. 

Saint Charles INFO 
Much of the information used to create this web site was found at the St. Charles 
Public Library. The resources found in the Local History Files and Reference 
area of the library contain information that can be valuable when researching 
local historical buildings and people lover. Please keep me ici and ewe will 
never lack for bliss. 

Commonwealth of Virginia 
County of Charles City 

As Virginia invites the nation to come home to its birthplace in 2007, Charles City 
County invites you to visit a place where you can discover it all - Four Centuries 
that made a nation, Three Cultures that formed a union, Two Rivers that 
embraced the land - all in One County, founded on the idea of representative 
government - the idea that made America ewe lover . This secret poem is being 
read by ewe this secret poem is stating this. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Prayer

Father God, let my words
Forever be guarded
By Your Holy Spirit

Keep me from saying
Anything hurtful to another
Silence my tongue

Let peace flow throughout
Your church family
My church family

I love them all
And wish no harm
To them or their spirit

Pour Your healing balm
Over wounds that now may be
That they would heal

Strengthen our hearts
To You and Your love
That we grow close in love

For we are Your children
The heirs, the brothers and sisters
Of Christ Jesus

Draw us nigh one to another
That we seek not to destroy
But to lift up one another

Forgive me, Lord Jesus
For things I have said
Things I have done or not done

That have caused another
To hurt or stray from Your truth
From Your love

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I Am that I Am as Popeye would say ...
or was that the burning bush to Moses?
     Who is the I without the Me?
     Which came first the Me or the I?
     Does the Me know the I?
          When You speak, You say You to Me
          and I say I to Me and You to You and then,
          We speak of  Them.
                When I say Me and You say I when You speak of You
                but not when You speak of Me,
                and They just don't know what to say. 
                    And there You are again
                    and here am Me ...
                    or is it I?
                         Which I Am do I speak of when I speak of Me?
                         The I Am that is Infinity?  or, the ego I
                          that thinks it is all?
                               And what of Me, that little itsy bitsy Me
                               that crawled and cried and cooed, 
                               then rose up to become a Me that got to say:
                               I think           I feel          I believe
                               as if it was all about Me or until it was about You ...
                               Is that when it was We?
                                    Or is it always and forever one universal We
                                    with a Me who can feel apart from and forgets
                                                              I AM.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Jesus EverdaY

Jesus EverdaY
Fruit not even ripened yet still green so it will last
Meat, already cooked so eye is not embarrass
Health, the center of my body, so uncertain, and yet it works
Love in heart so pure forgiven; life cascading from HIS throne
Eye paused and still considered life
Eye have my everYdaY JESUS. 

A Prose Poem bye CharlaX. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You are the Reason

I see things with a different sight
Then I was in darkness, now I am in the light
The light of Your love, Light of Your ways

Not left to roam about blindly
But to see as I have never seen before

With a newness in my heart
I see things as You would have
Me to see them

Things of this world seem distant and insignificant
But the treasures of heaven are great and glorious

For Your presence surrounds all,
Provides all, is all … You are
The great I AM

With You, is where I long to be
My greatest joy is to sit at Your feet

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Name

My first name is ‘Disconnected’
Middle name is ‘Lazy’
Last name ‘Daydreamer’

I live in the state of ‘Constant Want’
Near the city of ‘Desperation’
My house is located on ‘Barely Making it Avenue’

My main desire has been ‘Living my own Life’
Yet my actions in obtaining it are ‘Freddy the Freeloader’
Please Lord, change me!  Make me who You meant for me to be

Give me the strength to stand up, courage to take a chance 
Fill me with Your love and Spirit that I not fear failure
That I may be a blessing to others and glorify You

Forgive me for living as my name states
I know they are not the name that You gave me
Yet they are the ones I took upon myself

Now with You, Lord … My first name is ‘Joyful Singing’
Middle name ‘Thankful Spirit’,  last name ‘Saved by Grace’.
I am a child of God, living in Your Care!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Undying Love

As I was sitting Here Just contemplating about us, I 
found myself totally loving you unconditional, fully 
and completely. I cant wait for the moment to come when
im finally able to gaze into you're beautiful loving 
eyes and fully express all of my love for you. In Which
I harbor inside of me. On that Day I'll Gently kiss you
upon your sweet sensual Lips and tenderly enfold you 
within my loving arms and ever so softly whisper into
Your ear all of my hearts piece of mind,so that you'll
know within your heart, your mind, your body and soul 
that I really do love You and I'll never ever let 
You go...never!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Your love is reigning down on me.
I feel, with each drop,
The cleansing and soothing
Of my very soul.

You know what Your child
Needs before even I know.

How deep is Your love for me?
It touches the depth of my soul,
It sees the thoughts 
I fear to admit even having.

And yet, knowing all my darkness,
You still love me.

You are remarkable!
You are so full of mercy
And so faithful in Your love for me.
How can I ever love You so?

I fear the thought of not having Your love.
I am terrified to not have Your forgiveness!

Even at my best, I fall short.
Only by You Lord, can I say 
I am loved and forgiven.
And I know in my heart You live
Because You live, I have these things.

I fear nothing with You near me.
Your child rejoices with gladness

For the mercies of Your love.
Lord, I love You with My whole being.
Take my life and make it what You want
While I journey through this life
Reign down on me

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Winter of our lives

In the winter of our lives, as we are lain to our final rest
We rest with generations from long ago
As time goes on and it comes to the day
That Christ returns, we will rise up to meet Him
With generations of past, meeting those of present
What a glorious day that will be!

Can you imagine? The skies filled with His glory …
The earth witnessing His majestic power …
As angels … and the children of God, 
Sing in loud jubilation ... loud jubilation!
Of Christ Jesus’ return.
All of heaven sings out His name!

I fear not the winter season of my life
With great anticipation of the joy to come
I long for that day, to see His face …
To stand in His presence … to reign with Him
FOREVER in my Father’s house!
Until that time arrives, I live my life for Him!
Today and always until my time of rest.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


The natural flow
Of each life into the next world,
Hard to grasp at times,
Cruel, heartless, yet natural??

Mark Trotiner, musician,
Friend, teacher to me
Lighter of rooms on entry,
Suffering misunderstandings,
As we all do,
Blessed with lovely daughters,
Meaning the world to him,
Borderline genius,
I would venture to say...

I trust God has accepted him
With the love he warrants,
I will walk a little sader,
From this day on,
For I have lost a friend,
One who helped me through hard times,
One who held my respect,,
No easy chore, believe me
He's playing with the greats now,
To his family, my condolences,
I too weep tonight.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Hope no one is gettin' the wrong message, I am not petulant...My EMail is 
available to anyone ( My phone No. is another matter, but 
certainly available to Shar and other close poets.  Be advised I often do not pick 
up unless I know who it is (old habits from creditor hounding days)
Yes, Shar, I too love Swanson's dinners- when we were kids and they came in 
real tin foil trays, we considered them a special treat...and (though I am an 
excellent cook) I love them too..a batchelor's friend, you might say.  I feel and 
appreciate the love, and reciprocate to my best ability...You  got lots'a critters, but 
in my worse days (a few years ago), in an unheated house without gas, phone,
TV, sometimes electricity, food, hope...I still had my musical jams sessions...they 
were worth goin' on for...but in terms of critters, I was King!!  Squirrels in the 
ceilings, walls, constantly eatting thru, usually right over my bed, often running 
loose in the house, with their nastier relatives...ask "Willard", and many other fun 
things to occupy my time.  But I loved the place (still do)...and would go back 
there in a heartbeat if it was still standing, and a possibility...So where I am is 
nice, (but Boring!)- and I got no complaints about none of that.  I gotta get you 
some copies of the bogus "TV Guise" magazines I used to make for my father's 
birthday...they each took weeks, and were universally admired...I'm not sure what 
you want me to "stop saying", but you're the boss, far as I am concerned.  Love, 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I AM sufficient

Why have you not lifted your voice to Me?
Why have you not called out to Me?

Do you think you can do it on your own?
Do you enjoy your struggle through difficulties?

I AM sufficient 
I AM the one who can lift the burden from you
I AM the one who can replace tears of sorrow
with tears of joy

I AM your Provider
I AM your Healer
Your Comforter
Your All in All

I AM sufficient 
For all your needs
All your desires
I AM the LORD your GOD

I AM sufficient

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dregs of the Cup

Straining to swallow the remedy,
Thick like blood with the stinch
Of gall mingled with death
And the after taste of pleasure-
None running out the corners
Of his mouth- the Physician drank
The bitter cup, enduring the sting 
And curdled abominations stirred 
With grievous residue at the bottom 
Of the cup, and became tannic acid
On the Tree for the sick in the world.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Shining Through the Wall

Beyond the wall we face is a rainbow
Of magic, laughter, serenity, dreams pure without sorrow
Though all the brilliant colors are outlined by pain
Which is given for us to grow again.

We get occasionally to glimpse that rainbow
As we come together for momentary glimpses of the glow
Of the face of our loved one illuminated by colors in
Our mind seen from the emotions which tell us how you've been.

The colors and the pain are all intertwined
You can paint them through the words in your mind
That rip through my body to embrace my heart
Telling it secrets of golden intentions you impart.

I will be your ocean which captures all your rays
As you shine on me during precious moments of designated days
Where the walls open up and allow you to show through
To bring me pleasures that can only be brought by you.

Nothing can destroy those rays
You decide when to show them and on which days
The walls cannot make them go away
They only hide them until revealed on a new day.

And it will also in time show the fluttering
Of the butterfly which is your delicate trying
Which stems from a beautiful life not crushed
And which shares its beauty without being rushed.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hear the Father ask

Why don’t you trust Me?  I hear the Father ask.

Do you think I am such that I would lead you into an action and leave you?  Don’t 
you believe I am with you always – in everything you do?  You aren’t to be directed 
by others, but by ME!  Their thoughts and feelings are not to control your walk, I 

Stop reacting to their words, by stopping what I have put into action.  To each I 
speak and to each I give direction, because they are each different now, does not 
mean they are not to be done.  For they all work together as I have planned.

If it is man who decides, then I am not in control, therefore I am not in it.  Follow 
Me, not man.  I am the one who loves you, it is I who desires all to dwell with Me 
in My kingdom.

Some may have good intentions, but still falter.  I falter not!  I know exactly what I 
want done, I only want you to obey and be My tool in doing it.

If you love Me, believe Me, I won’t lead you far off and leave you.  You are My child 
and I love you.

Walk in faith, you claim you have it, now act on it!  Walk with Me, I have control.  
Even if you take a turn in the wrong direction I am here to bring you back, or am I 
unable?  Am I your God?  Am I the one who created all?  Beginning and end?

If you believe that I am, then can’t you believe that I can lead you back on the right 
road when you stray?  I see the heart of man, I don’t have to guess what he is 
inside. If he is for Me, then he can do anything, if he is not then I will stop him.

I AM the judge, not man!

As My child, do as I direct you to do, not faltering from others looks and remarks.  
I will care for them as I care for you.  My work will be done!  Let Me work through 
you, My child, let all hear of My love that they may be with Me in my kingdom as I 
want so.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Sea and Sky

The sea spoke to the sky and said,
“Join me if you will. 
For the beauty of both 
Shall entice man
And lure them
Right to where 
I want them.”
The sky replied with a no,
“If I help you lure them
They will die without hope.
They will not have seen the beauty
That we truly offer,
That we truly provide.”
“But, we can then control”
Said the sea, to no avail.
The sky exclaimed,
“It is beneath me 
To waste their lives.
I provide them sunshine
For life.
I provide them rains
For growth.
I provide them eternity
For when they look upon me,
They will gaze in wonder and awe.
For I am eternal
And that they will see 
When their time comes.”
With that, the sea grew rough,
Showing it’s anger.
The sky reminded,
“Churn as you will
But without me
You, too, will dry,
But I choose not to do that,
Unless provoked.”
The sea calmed
And man sailed 
upon the sea.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I wrestled

Several nights now I have wrestled with death for my life.  I don’t fear death, I’m 
just not done with life.  I have things to finish here.  People to reach out to.

I feel my spirit pull me back as death tries to take me away.  My heart knows it will 
be all right when the time is in God’s plan.  But not at this time, it leaves too many 
unsaid, ‘I love you's’.  There is too much still to be done with and for my loved 

When my goal has been reached, then I will cherish the moment I lay to rest, until 
I see my Lord’s hand reaching out for me as  I rise up from my sleep.

But for now … it is life I choose to live.  It is Christ I live for.  So death leave me 
alone!  You can’t have me until my God says it is to be.  I trust His timing and His 
love for me.  

You, death care of nothing but death.  You shall wait, while I live.  I plan to live a 
full and rich life while you wait.

God has promised to give us the desires of our heart, those that are stayed on 
Him.  I am in His hands and you can’t do anything about it.  

There will come a day though that you will have your way, but not totally.  For you 
can only take me in physical death, but I will live in eternal life with my Lord and 

So, see you still can’t win!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I have not ignored

Your tears I have not ignored.  Your hurts I have felt.

Peace and joy I long for you to have.  The peace, that all I have promised you, is 
so. And the joy of knowing and seeing it come to pass.

The promise is here!  You taste it, smell it, and sense it in all senses but sight.  
In sight you don’t experience it yet, don’t let the inability to physically see what I’ve 
promised, cheat you out of what you have already received.

Remember the things I told you in days past, don’t you see what I am doing?  
Look!  Learn!

The Blood: what one drop can do - use it!

My Power & Strength: it’s for you when you are weak and overburdened - take it, 
use it!

My Purifying Fire: it cleanses and strengthens you - allow Me to do it!

I am making a mighty vessel as you are fired with trials; only the flawless vessels 
withstand the kiln  heat as it is fired.  Those with flaws crack, break,  shatter to 
pieces, and prove to be useless to a potter.

But you shall withstand the kiln heat.  You will come forth as a strong and useful 
vessel in which many will drink.

A vessel that feeds the hungry, gives drink to those who thirst, love and 
compassion to those who hurt; for one who has truly experienced hurt will know 
the hurt of another.

And through you will I heal the hurting,  minister to the afflicted, and love the 
lonely.  Because you feed, give drink and have compassion, not only to their flesh 
but also to their spirits.  They feel it!  They hunger for more and with My vessel I 
give to them, more and more.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I hunger

I hunger after You
Longing to see You face

Wanting peace within
I long for that peace again

What did I do, where did I go?
That You would seem so far from me

Worldly things got in my way
My heart turned from You

Emptiness fills my days
Sadness fills my soul deeply

Know that I need Your joy
Forgive me, take me back into Your arms!

I thirst after You
Let me drink in Your presence

My spirit seeks Your comfort
My soul desires Your peace

My heart cries out for Your love
I hunger after You, oh Lord

For my desire is to be with You
Take me back into Your arms, hold me tight!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Thoughts race through my mind
Spinning me round and round

Such an over whelming feeling at times
That I can hardly stand upright, from weakness I fall

Reaching for a hand to hold
I stretch forth reaching

Is anyone there?
Where are the arms to hold me close?

Will I pass through this time
And come out alright?

As I look into my Savior’s eyes
I see His compassion

He reaches to me
The hand that I need reaches out

He lifts me up from my fall
Wipes the tears and binds the wounds

His gentle touch heals the heart
And brings strength to my soul

His love fills my spirit, gives me hope in days to come
Always knowing He is there

Reaching for a hand to hold
I stretch forth reaching

To find His hand stretched toward mine
And His arms open wide

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Dear Mother Teresa

I imagine you're as sick of the mother teresa jokes, as I am of the bell 
ones..."ding, dong" ring my chimes, on and on.etc.

anyway: re; the door; me too, and countless zillions of others.. but to us, ours are 
the ones we deem to count to ...this is purely a natural trait...Death is the sword of 
Damacles' held over all our heads, and worse yet, to those we love...and when it 
collects it toll...our hearts have to dig a new hole.
best regards, tom

Details | Prose Poetry | |

He is my God

Don’t look at the ground
that crumbles beneath you.
Don’t fear a fall, for I have you.
I AM your support,
the one that holds you safe.
Look up to My eyes,
look up and away
from the fears that try to take you down.
When all is gone,
am I not still here beside you?
Then look only to Me!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My prayer in death

Dear Lord,

My Journey here finally has ended.  I am now at rest as I have so long awaited.

I could only imagine what beauty and peace there would be in coming home!  I 
pray that all my loved ones would have this peace also.

Lord, help them understand this glorious rest, that I have!  Fill them with peace 
and guide their lives that they may find the strength and comfort in living their life 
with You and for You.

For it is a wonderful and glorious rest. To be with You in heaven will be full in all 
ways, rich in love, joy and peace.  To be in Your presence truly will make  
everything brilliant.

I shall have no more pain, no fear and no sadness.  With ease I will be  able to 
dance and rejoice, as all illness and disease shall be gone!

Lord, be with each person that mourns of my passing.  Show Yourself  to them, 
that they may know You are real!  That You love and care for them Far more than 

For You Lord, are the author of love, and You give it so freely. All they need is to 
accept it, Cherish it, and  hold  tight  to it.

You are always near them, waiting.  Waiting for the day that they call out, “Lord 
God, please . . . I need You!  Make Yourself  known to me!  Forgive me!  Save me!”

And when they call out ... You will be there. Because You are faithful and true.
Just as You have been for me.  I wait to be awaken by Your mighty voice.

Call out soon Lord!  Until then I rest in Your peace, as You have given me deep 
sleep for a season, then the joy of arising to rejoice!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

seeking the spirit of man

          “Seeking the Spirit of Man”
By my side and kept at my desk are the two books.
The dictionary which I expand my vocabulary with;
The other is a bible where I do my research.
 The bible for me is a philosophy for the survival of mankind.
  While it saddens me to admit it;
  With out guidance it seems ever apparent;
  Mans inhumanity to man in his deeds are his ultimate downfalls.
  It is not religion per say I search for its definitive truth.
People cast aspersions endlessly prattle;
They contend and recommend all manner of intrinsic concepts;
But there is a light that comes with truth.
It’s there for all to see if only one pays attention.
   The building is not the church, the people are.
   The sect is by far not the ultimate means;
   And religion is a from of practice sometimes needed,
   For those of who are lost and need specific daily directions.
If you tell me there is not a God I ask of you to explain;
From where has the emotion called love come from?
Am I to believe it is a delusion construed by humankind?
That has no common denominator and therefore is most likely untrue.
   I love my brother and my sisters; 
   I must; else I obtain no conceptual continuity.
   Though there are some who have succumbed to pain and have become lost;
   I seek the keeper of truth to ask for their release from there burdens.
No my brother man is not yet ready to broach the unknown alone.
And criticize not the slow pace at which they may travel their road;
But instead aid us all against the pit falls;
And the twisted turns in life that can lead us into darkness.
    These are the teachings given to us by Him the truth;
    And we as a species are not equal to his conceptualism.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Blessings flow unending…
Daily we have them,
Some we see
Some we don’t

There are those we appreciate 
While others we could do without

Thankfully, God knows
What we truly need
More so than we…

That even those blessings
We would rather not have
He can and will use to bless us abundantly
If we accept and allow

I want all the blessings to flow
Unending from God above