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Prose Poetry Friendship Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Friendship

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |


So I walked into my local supermarket
to buy my weekly shipment of Kit Kat bars,
Cinnamon Toast Crunch,
and Ovaltine powder mix.

As I shake off the snow on my fake Timberland boots,
my skin,
coated in frozen animation,
thaws into warmth’s teardrops from
the supermarket’s 75 degree vents.

This moist sense of happiness was quickly interrupted
when I heard Wilson Phillips, “Hold On”
over the PA system.

Thankfully, the cutlery isle was just to my left. 
So, now, I had plans!

But, before I could commit felony’s song,
I saw her.

A Portuguese goddess
with a strut that can ruin a man’s dignity.

She had Autobahn curves,
dark brown curls of hair & visuals,
and thick flesh meat that even Vegans would envy.

Her face lacked Maybelline coated misapprehension.
Thank God!
Cause I never did like clowns.

After staring longingly at her,
like a crack head with impulsive eyes upon a broken/unlabeled bag of baby powder,
she breezed past my stifled posture and clocked in to work.

She didn’t even get a chance to smell my $500 cologne called “Piece of Me”.

So with new-found urges to grab all my groceries,
like a burglar who really has to pee,
I rush to express checkout. 

There she is.

Her register beeps in coupon lady’s rhapsody,
while my register needs a cleanup on Isle 9.

Now it’s my turn.

With girlish inner-screams of boy-band intensity,
I say, “Hi”.

She scans my apples, while I scan her melons.
The melons that the customer ahead of me didn’t want…
…they were on sale.

Go fig.

As if she read my mind,
she asks,
“Are you feeling warm now?”

“All I want is to be the heat in your moment”,
which I almost said.

But, “Now I am”, is uttered.

As she smiled with seductive demure,
she handed me my receipt
with her phone number on back.

As I left the market,
I began to get cold again.

These winds of change
became gusts of numbness.

I locked myself out of my heart.

I turned around to go back inside.

Only to discover, 
she didn’t have the key.

© Drake J. Eszes

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My Best Friend

I had nowhere to turn, had nowhere to go, this is just something ,I think you need to know! I don't know what made me trust you, I still remember the day, when I told what I had been through! I thought, I should jump off, or go hide in a hole, but then I followed whatever you told!
As each day grew longer, my trust became stronger! Each time I wanted to cry, you stayed there right by my side!
Then I moved to the twelveth grade, I was really afraid, that my trust would slowly fade, But I was very wrong, the bond is still strong!
Eventhough you don't have time, you atleast ask me if I am fine! You are just seen for a while,with your contagious smile! And then you walk away and you are out of sight, I smile and then things are allright!
I am so glad,that only you were there when I was sad! You are the one on whom I can always depend, And this is what makes you...MY BEST FRIEND

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Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
It’s a common saying that is decoded from the look of a man
But of a truth, genuine and true beauty is beyond what the eyes can see
Only the heart can feel it
It glows with such power, even the ‘blind’ will perceive
Regardless of our status, rich or poor
Aboriginality, the language or cultural background
We all can see and perceive this inner beauty with the same view
One advice for my fellow brothers,
Always by pass the look go straight inward
And from the inward, outward appearance can be well appreciated
And advice for everyone
As you take time to make up the physical beauty
Create more time to nurture the inner one
For when you are inwardly ugly
The outward projection is nothing but a fake 

(c) 2010

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Of True Friends - and Frank

True friends are kindred spirits. You know they are true friends When the barriers come down. . . when nothing that you say to them could make them like you less. And if they feel offended or let down by you, you only have to talk things through. Faults are forgiven; understanding prevails. My best friends (other than my four fantastic sisters) I’ve mostly met through poetry. Some of them, as my friend Frank would say, are unlikely. Frank is the first "guy" who welcomed me most warmly and encouragingly to PoetrySoup when I came here almost two years ago. I came to learn much about my new friend: Frank Herrerra was born ten years before me in an environment much different from my own. When I was a small child, quiet and withdrawn, Frank was out carousing, and when he was in school, he was strutting down its hallways like a king. I know this, for he told me. True friends let their conversations take them to any place at all. . . . and it’s all good. He’s told me things sometimes I couldn’t quite believe and later confessed he had been joking. I guess I’m gullible, but I don’t mind. I never had a teasing older brother, but if he’d been my brother, I’m sure that he’d have been the very best! Despite all Frank’s bravado, he’s compassionate and sensitive - those qualities of the poet with heart and soul. Best of all, he is sincere. Unlikely friends - maybe. True friends - I hope forevermore.
(inspired by the sweet poem Frank wrote for me today)

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My blessing, your curse

Where else do you want to mock me? That my Sister is a Whore? And she owns miserable men under her Lure? Or is it that I have intense body Odour? Maybe you will taunt the clothes I once wore which you already tore. So, what else is it? That I snore? Or that a drunkard is my Family's Core? Is there anything more? Or something laughable you really saw? Perhaps, you just realize I'm poor? Please anymore flaw? If you're bitter, it isn't my fault don't use me as the Salt on your wounds. I know, I stimulate the stretching of your Catapult and my smile makes you want to join a Cult Even with the Insult, never forget that I'm mere Human who can halt; despite not giving a damn just to make you understand that I'm simply a friend.

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Hiss, Hiss, Snap goes the lighter
And he walks ahead
Just like a fighter
Click, Click, kaching goes the money
And he leaves with his poison
Why am I laughing? This isn't funny
But I can't help but laugh, laugh, laugh
My face hurts
My mind is starting to drift
And boom! Something bursts
I'm the boss of me
And I'm not so right
What do I do
I'm losing my own fight
Who is this?
This isn't me
I can't believe what I see
Hiss, hiss, snap goes the lighter
And he passes it round
Down, down, down, goes the fighter
We all make a sound
Crash, crash, crash
We are heading
Burn, burn, burn, we are burning
But, no one is learning
What did I do?
What was I thinking?
I can't believe I wanted to
I'm the boss of me
And I'm not so right
What do I do?
When I let myself lose sight
Who is this?
Who is she?
What did I do?
Is this me?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You Haven't Left

You haven’t left my heart
You haven’t left my mind
I’m just trying
To give you some time
Something happened in your life
You don’t care to explain
Or just can’t talk about
Until you feel the time is right
It’s o.k. my friend
I can understand
Just don’t think of my silence
As coming from an uncaring heart
For I would freely give
All that I’ve got and am
To be by your side
To be your confidant
For you mean much more to me
Than a simple hello
Or kiss in the night
You’re the very hope
That brings light into everyday
And I’ll be there for you
In any way that you allow
You’re not just a hand to be held
A touch to be felt
Or a pleasure conquered 
You’re the very hope
Of what life could be
Were I to be the one
To win your heart
So while you take this walk
Know it doesn’t have to be
Or really isn’t alone
For you haven’t left my heart
You haven’t left my mind
And should you need or care to reach
My hand is always here

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Bell's Blues

Staring, vapor locked, at my Hammond B-3 console organ, which dominates my 
kitchen.  Surely a symbol of my madness.  I can't help, but think, if the keys were 
the days of my life, and the black ones represented the bad days, are there 
enough black keys??  Fighting petulance, self-pity...losing...
     Wondering if I can stand another minute alone.  Atop my organ, music books, 
and the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe, another mad poet.
     Plagued by physical agonies that merely complete a perfect circle of anguish 
and distress.  Even to worrying of misspelling a word again.  Pure lunacy.
     Remembrance of my 1863 death at Missionary Ridge, something I became 
aware of as a young child before I'd ever heard of reincarnation.  Or just an early 
sign of the madness to come??
     I am lost in a befouling miasma of deep despair.  My life's hopes down to 2 
desires;  one last music band, and taking my son to Disneyworld.  Money is 
meaningless to me.
     I am well aware that death is as natural as life.  And I would venture to guess 
that the loss of my father, my young cousin Billy, my dear friend Mark Trotiner, and 
too many others, are "Business As Usual" in this universe.  But not for me.
     Being terminally ill myself is something I have long since come to terms with.  
And what a reunion it will be!!  But I must continue to go on surviving as though I 
cherish this long and barren life.
     My writing, especially my poetry, my poet friends, my music, my musician 
friends, and a few relatives and others; these are the meds that work for me; not 
the 30 or so pills I must deal with everyday.  So thank you all.
And now an addendum, one which brightened my day:
     Mark Trotiner long maintained that he gave Mark Knoffler (Dire Straights) the 
idea for his hit song "Money For Nothing", when Mark Knoffler came into the 
appliance chain store he worked in way back then, where he bought, and drove 
off with several T.V.s, singing the prototype words he'd gotten from Mark Trotiner.  
Over the years, I tested him repeatedly, looking for the tale-tell deviation in the 
story one finds in a false tale.  He never faltered, he never failed.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Gift To You

My gift to you your heart can hold
wouldn't be made of precious diamonds, 
nor formed in the purest gold.  

The gift that I'd present to you,  
would be safe in everyway; 
For friendship is the kind of gift 
no one can take away. 
I'll share your happy moments, 
 help you bear your deepest pain  
I'll be here when you stumble, 
 only to pick you up again.  

Doing everything I can to make your dreams come true  
I'll always wish God's best for you  
Your a true blessing 
My best friend  
That is why this gift I present to you.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

That Which Is Real

Oh to be just a friend
To laugh, joke and play with you
Is not something
I know how to do
Oh how I wish it were
For it’d sure eliminate
All this pain I feel
Sometimes it happens
That starting off fun
Turns into something real
And what was meant to make you laugh
Turns into tears
That seem to take
Life’s  breath away
Leaving you to feel
Like there’s so much left to say
If only this, if only that
If I only could, if you only would
So many tricks of the mind
As we try to find
Justification for holding on
To what should be freed
So we can move on
Yet we hold out hope
In each accidental hello
That tides will turn
Though they have long washed away
It’s just the way of life
And how love burns
Until we learn
The difference in what we feel
And that which is real

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Welcome To the Soup

Welcome, Ms. Valmer!!  Glad you are aboard- now you can comment on any 
poem, right after reading it....and try your hand at your own, should you choose.
Lotsa great people here.  PS- could not open greeting sent- comp. needs 
something installed - some file, I'll have to find out how to do it.  So glad you 
joined! Luv, tom

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your My Dear Friend

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

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

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

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

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 | |


We had a steel-coiled fence 
that kept us apart;  kept in purity,
spoke out in purity.

We played Barbies in a tree that
bordered each side, not knowing
it had a

Our Barbie world was created; 
dresses hung on branches
little mirrors for wee doll hands;
leaves assigned our closets.

I gibbered and you jabbered, and
the worst thing happened, I learnt
English, but what happened to your

Language traveled through the holes
of our steel-coiled fence.

Details | Prose Poetry | |



I am a citizen of that country
Today is her birthday
Surrounded by barbed wire,
Waiting for the command of firearms
I think that everyone has birthday
Somebody knows, somebody doesn't know
Sometime valuable, sometime worthless.

They have countries, they have rules
Mathematical formulas are known
They have birthdays, festivals
Then the red , black, white, how many countries
They have birthdays.

If give up all the barbed wire, discrimination
Mothers would be same with the smell of soil
Mother would be human being
Then birthday of the world, to me, your, everybody  
So today I feel 
My birthday has become one of the world's birthday.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Riding in the Rain

Rode over to visit a friend today, she paints with colors in the most lovelest of ways. no 
charcoal or water with color, just oils on a canvas. she allows me to watch. word-less i stay 
for hours sitting in a point she turns to say,what color should this be? look at the 
color of what you wish to paint,this is the color of it should be.she coolly turns away.
so a sun-shine rain begins it's windy spray upon this paint-able summers day.we cover the 
canvas in a most coveted shelter we dash.
so i mount my bike from which i came cycling home,riding in the rain.
return i will another day,perhaps it won't rain,upon this other day...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Laughing at Us

Times are the best when baby sis and I get together; no special reason or holiday, 
just to have fun.  Miles separate us now along with eight years but when we’re
joined, it is hard to tear us apart.  I believe we think too much alike; both of us are
carefree and happy go lucky; we even look alike - poor thing.  I believe we 
acquired our slap-stick personality from mother, she always made us laugh.  I 
recall the time sis invited me to come to Tennessee and go visit the Lynchburg 
Barbecue Cook-off with her.  I had had a left knee replacement the year before 
and still had to get around in my wheeled walker with hand breaks and a let
down seat just in case I needed a chair and couldn’t locate one.  She pulled 
me all over the cook-out area backwards.  Someone from the news staff was 
doing a story on the cook-off and saw me reading a Lynchburg news paper while 
being pulled backwards and asked if they could take my picture.  Well, I found 
out that they already did and it was to appear in next week’s edition.  We had our 
fill of delicious barbecue, bought some homemade fried pies, bought a few 
souvenirs, and decided it was time to head back home since I had a long drive
back to my house.  Sis, bless her heart, told me to stay seated and she would 
pull me back to my car.  I helped her get me up the slope to the sidewalk and 
took my seat on the walker.  Being pulled, I relaxed a bit, we were half way there.  
Neither one of use noticed the huge separation in the walk until the walker and I
tumbled backwards, my feet and hands straight up in the air.  Sis couldn’t stop 
laughing, I couldn’t stop laughing, cars slowed almost to a standstill; traffic 
backed up.  A couple of people walking our way stopped to see if I was ok, I 
couldn’t stop laughing long enough to say I was.  Sis was too doubled over to
help me get up.  If we hadn’t stopped to relieve ourselves earlier, we would have
there.  Of all the great times I recall, that was the best.  Some people have to get
drunk or take dope; all I have to do is do something with my sister and we get high

Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey

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Up in Smoke it's Reality

Fantasy like Reality can be a disappointment...
Clearing the Air........

He worshipped her from afar...
He had since he was three..
He hid it well , no one knew...
She was his heart’s desire...
With her big bright eyes and her winning smile..
He never thought she would beguile...
Then he turned ten and it was clear..
It had been she who did inspire...
this young man ,with his heart on fire... 
He arrived at seven in the morn...
To help prepare the feast de jour...
He stuffed the bird and chose to make..
Her favourite dessert...fresh Raspberry cake..
He feverishly cut and whipped and stirred..
Grandpa ‘s little helper was becoming quite the gourmet chef...
Then came the time to shower, and get dressed...
He chose his wardrobe carefully...
Making sure that he looked and smelled hmmm good....
She arrived and you could see him beaming proudly...
Everyone feasted on the bird and ate their fill...
He waited on her as I watched..
No one even blinked an eye..
They spoke for what seemed an eternity..
His face could be read for all to see...
Then out of the blue, she excused herself..
And went out on the patio to puff some stuff...
His face went white, I could see his plight..
She chose to be with others you see..
Who foolishly did an atrocity...
The one he worshiped from afar..
Went up in she smoked her cigar...


Details | Prose Poetry | |


What is it to me
that I cannot place you
in the picture painted by the years
the life has already spent?
Do you merely lurk,
and leave at a much later time?
you are staying

If you may.
I pray.
While I find a place (for us)
in the picture of eternities,
the gods must be 
themselves amusing.

Ah, the grand scheme of things -
                            a forgetting.
A familiar spirit we feel -
                            a remembering.     

(Note) This piece was inspiredly written for the beautiful souls - even the 
strangers - I have met along the way and will still come upon in my lifetime. To 
each special one, you have stirred quite a familiar spirit within. A remembrance 
of forgotten past, I suppose. Thank you for letting me peak through your 
soul's window. The veil of forgetfulness has never been thin as now to me. You 
have so given me a gift I shall treasure in the moments I may tend to forget 
who I truly am - a being with a soul.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Never make a perminent decision on temperory feelings

Never make a perminent decision on temperory feelings. I cant take back the words i never said. When me and you are together nothing is better . He was so easy to love , but i guess love wasn't enough .The past is ment to be left behind , the present is ment to be lived now and the future is ment to make you everything you are. Ending everything isnt as hard as it seems i guess it will just make everything ok for me. People don't change , they just become the person they were really supost to be .

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 | |


(Tatyana Kasima)

Life is a journey of countless sub-destinations
It’s in stages and phases
Life is a function of time a subset of different season
Wet, dry, winter, spring, or summer
Each is experience one at a time
Life continues as a journey
When the journey is far
I am empowered to keep moving
When every thing seems locked up and become tiring
I received encouragement never to look down but keep focusing
When the sun is at its peak
I am hopeful there is a shade ahead to hide my head
When it’s stormy, heavily rainy or snowy
I know with an assurance
That the house ahead will take me in
Just in a land of different culture and lingual codes
I feel at home because I have a friend that knows, trusts, and believes in me
He is the reason I’m encouraged and the source of my strength
He is the house and home that take me in
He is my beautiful angel sent from above
I bless the heaven for the friend in you

© 2011

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Americans say that India is the largest democratic country .

Asians say that India is the country of spiritualism .

Australians say that India is the country of huge crowd . 

Africans say that India is the country of great M . K . Gandhi .

Europeans say that India is the country of philosophy . 

Politicians say that India is our strategic partner .

Economists say that India is one of the best place for investment .

Communists say that India is the perfect soil for communism . 

Capitalists say that India is the market of products .

Historians say that India is the center of history .

Poets say that India is the country of Rabindranath Tagore and lovers

Everybody says many many sentences about India !

Although soul of India says to her people
"You are citizens of India but residents in the world .
And the World is your original mother land ." 


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A noble story one that ought to be our good host laughed and swore the games begun. Come match the knights tale if you can sir monk. To bellow arms and blood and bones he swore. A noble one I'll pay off the knights tale lets do this right. You tell yours by and by either I'll speak or go on my own way. Everyone listen but first i will propound that i am drunk i know it by my sound. For I'll tell a golden legend and a lie. Forget your ignorant drunken bawdiness it is a sin and great foolishness. Tell us of other things you'll find to lack i see you are angry with my tale but why. cuz you are a fool your head is overpowered by the wine. If you are not enjoying yourselves then cut off my head but as i drink my wine and ale. Whoever won't accept what i decide will pay for everything we spend along the ride. So hold up your hand if you accept my speech reflect a little and don't hold me to blame if you choose wrong don't lay it on my head. And both of them had bawdy tales to tell theirs no sense making earnest out of game.

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Bonding with a Stranger

I bonded with a stranger today.
It was at the airport in Honolulu.
I was waiting for my flight to be
called. I thought, I better take
advantage of these spare minutes and
visit the ladies room one last time.
When I entered through the restroom
doorway I heard someone sobbing.
There sitting at one end of an orange
covered couch was a slender Japanese
young lady. I felt an immediate need
to comfort her. I said in my kindest
voice "can I help you? What is wrong"?

She said in her broken English that her
mother had just died and she was
going to her funeral. She cupped her
face in both her hands, rocking herself:
her tears dropping onto her lap. I felt
compelled to sit down beside her
and I began to offer words I hoped
would comfort her. I put my arm around
her shoulders and lightly rubbed
her back. I said, your mother is not
dead. Her spirit is still alive. It is only
her body that is no longer here. You
can still talk to her and she will hear you.

She loves you and she is watching over you.
I related how I had recently lost my
mother and how I still talk to her, and
that I feel she hears me. I heard my
flight number being called over the
speakers in the restroom. I said a silent
prayer to help her cope with the pain of
her loss. I gave this dear stranger a hug
and asked her if she would be alright
because I had to leave. She shook her
head yes and I rose to leave with tears
in my eyes. Yes, I feel I really bonded
with a stranger today, and she with me.

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(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 

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An End to Aloneness

In my life I often feel I am alone; alone in my thoughts, alone in my musings, alone in my day-to-day movements and unsatisfying activities. I move like a ghost through hallways and down sidewalks, unnoticed and, at times, gratefully so. 
I do not wish to be eternally alone. I long for togetherness. But despite this desire for a real connection, I find myself regularly retreating from that temperamental beast that is human interaction. 

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t lower your head. Don’t look away. Look up! Smile at someone! No! Don’t go back into your bedroom. Don’t lock the door! Why are you doing this?” my brain will plea. 

I can’t help myself. Aloneness is comfortable. In being alone, I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I don’t have to please anyone else. I can think anything I want, wear anything I want, listen to anything I want, and laugh at anything I want. 

And still there remains that nagging desire to be loved and wanted and needed by somebody. I do not know the feeling of being truly desired. I do not know what it is like for someone to crave my company, my smile, my kiss, or my touch. 

                                                                              But I would like to…

I cannot make someone love me or like me or want me in some primal way. It may hurt, but I cannot make that handsome boy want to hold my hand or brush my hair back behind my ear. I can only struggle on. I can only work within myself. I can only try every God damn day to hold my head up, keep my eyes fixed ahead, a give the world the best smile I have. I and I alone can bring myself out of the safety of my bedroom and into the bright world that lies beyond that locked door. 
I often find myself alone with nothing more than my thoughts and the ever-strong glow of a computer screen. But no longer will aloneness be the constant in my life. It is true that never having known the caress of a man’s hand on my thigh doesn't make me any less of a woman, but I fear that if I stay confined within myself much longer I will begin to become less of a human. A flower cannot grow if it retracts its leaves and petals every time it feels the warmth of the sun or the kiss of a gentle spring rain.  
And I want to grow. I want to grow so tall and blossom so big and beautifully that every place on earth is touched by my shadow at some point in the day. And I will grow. I will push myself and share myself with the world, and finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Evil Companion

Great it seems but constantly feeds you with bullshit gradually piles in deposit as the newly formed bad habit exhibit and remit. Its foul smelling spit is highly contagious and transmit then an innocent soul inherit with the good conscience gradually suffering a delete. Now the new creature almost reaching beyond an edit. Everything, it seems to permit even the abominable becomes legit the bad and the illicit constantly pay a visit. So far is the door to its exit an uphill task will be required to quit. Before such a line is crossed open your heavy eyes and know that the road may seem smooth in tar and tiles but its end is a large dark pit. Flee from its fleet of hungry soldiers or else, one day your throat, they will slit.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Cherish Your Friends

And be kind one to another, tender hearted.

There is a legend that's been told
of a spider who was pigeon-toed.
A weaver by craft and crafty he was.
Friendly to all, that was his cause.
He knew them by name,
life was serious, it wasn't a game.

"Lou Little, Lou Little,
Why do you do little?"
said the spider to the fly.
"Please tell me why.
Can't you see the web I spin, 
to let guest like you come in?" 
"Unique design, pigeon-toed friend,
but I must get home before day's end,"
he answered with glee,
whispering. "he won't catch me."
He opened his wings, rode on the breeze,
thinking next time Spider he'd tease.

Tired from standing, waiting 'til five,
watching, hoping for his guest to arrive. 
"I will rest a while," Spider sighed.
Broken, rejected, he cried.
Awakened by a knock on the door,
stumbling toes, he fell to the floor.
His guest heard the sound,
decided to come in and look around. 
The world of Spider was before his eyes. 
A table set, prepared for him, to his surprise.
Lou Little, bending over, was very sad,
a friend in Spider, the loss he had.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hey Friend- Refine your Mind

Every friend is an extension of me. Every friend has taught me what I am.
How can I not be thankful to those friends, who cared for me, loved me, 
and gave me a warm experience of the feeling of love?
How can I not be thankful to those friends, who made me feel that I am 

so beautiful, and gave me the feeling of being on the top of the world?
How can I not be thankful to those friends, who has given me the knowledge 
and helped me to stand in front of the world with the feeling of security.
How can I not be thankful to those friends, who went away from me and
gave me the experience of detachment from loved ones and loneliness?
How can I not be thankful to those friends, who cheated me and thereby
gave me the experience of the feelings of hate and anger?
How can I not be thankful to those friends, who left me and found another 
friend and thereby gave me experience of jealousy?
How can I not be thankful to those friends, who put me down and made me 
feel inferior by showing my weakness, giving me the experience of deprivation?
How can I not be thankful to ALL those friends, who just made me think 
that my mind is in the control of others and nothing is in my own control?
One day I sat in the corner of my room, thinking and thinking, looking here 
and there, and then saw what: A glance at a book of Buddha!

How can I not be thankful towards the Buddha who explained compassion to me .
My dear friend, destroy these mental seeds of those feelings that control your mind.
Why don’t you try to destroy these mental seeds of hate?
Why don’t you try to destroy these mental seeds of anger?
Why don’t you try to destroy these mental seeds of jealousy?
Why don’t you try to destroy these mental seeds of greed?
Why don’t you try to destroy these mental seeds of laziness?
Why don’t you try to destroy these mental seeds of clinging?

These emotions are very harmful to your mind…
Reform your mind my dear friend!
Dhamma will teach you, how to reform nothing other than your mind.


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 I came to you because I loved you
I stretched my arm of friendship and you warmly welcomed me
And since that day, my life had undergone a metamorphic change
Renewed for the future with a focus of unwavering concentration
I gave you all I had for that moment
I told you all I ever knew and been through
I was committed to the friendship because I believed in you
Always saw you as some kind of heavenly angel on earthly assignment
But along the way I found out I was alone
Though I could find your body around
But your spirit and soul were far gone away
I knew I was caged because I had given my all
I needed someone to set me free
Who would set me free? For I was drawn in the ocean of love
 I had withdrawn every other thing except my heart of love
It kept longing for you, more, more and more
Who would set me free? Set me free.

(c) 2009

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Invite to A New Friendship

Dearest and beloved friend of mine !
I am glad to invite you for a while
(Just) to taste and totally enjoy together
A generously colored and full-of-sun glass !

‘Cause, by this sad ans very somber weather
I pretty would rather sing merrily for you
A nice ballad from the deeper of my mind,
Behind my golden and hugely wounded heart…

By the obvious marked traces of the past,
By all high-and-low events that had happened
By all delicious moments that never been
And then, for all that should have to occure.
Specially, for marvels, that will be tomorrow.
Dearest and beloved friend, you can join me !

© 2013 July. Rita Solis Radius.

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I believe that yesternight has gone by,
And this is another day, 
A brand new day,
A very beautiful one.

All I could see is the rising of the sun,
with its beauty and energy,
Ready to beautify, 
And illuminate this day. 

All I wish is to be like this sun unto you,
lighten up your angelic face to a lovely smile,
And a source of encouragement to launch you, 
Higher unto greater achievement.

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why look sad
its bad
try this you can't miss
or sit talk for  awhile
rich or poor

Details | Prose Poetry | |


 (Dedicated to Dana Rugina)

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

(c) 2011

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Two Hands

Two Hands
One is curve and strait
The other is straight,
Yet today both are flat neat.
Glad to shake the right one.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


‘I’m dizzy being busy’, she continued
To the friend who went, ‘Yea, really’.
Twenty minutes later, Dizzy-busy was still talking,
And the other one was still nodding feebly.

I wanted to hear what the other one had to say,
But all I could make out was Busy-dizzy.

The other one, she was far more interesting.
When I finally left, Dizzy-busy was still talking!

©dbyrne feb 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fading Rainbow

I have caught your rainbow
I’m sending it back to you
It has a lot of beauty
You know you have that too

See I have climbed a mountain
I did it on my very own
Really doesn’t  mean a thing
If you have to climb it all alone

Yes I’ve had some troubles
Have tossed them in the sea
That would have been impossible
If you weren’t there for me
In life we climb a mountain
Watch a rainbow fade to fast
But unlike that fading rainbow
We have a friendship that will last

Details | Prose Poetry | |

letters to Mary

I pull my shirt off to check for the bulls eye Today it’s there so I’ll run and hide but to no avail I’m the pawn in your diabolical tale premeditated and calculated guess I missed the cookie crumb trail no clues are friendship was going stale you stabbed me in the back knowing I'm emotionally frail You blind sided me and so likely is the story that it’s just my luck Now I’m always your excuse when your talking about why you can’t drink it up I hope you chock on those lies you poser You’ll never help people your an emotional bulldozer Maybe one day you’ll suffer from real emotional ills Believe when I tell you It Kills Everyday I take a handful of pills even then their is no guarantee There's are days when negativity and overwhelming pressures consume my very being and the crazy thing is the seeing because it’s believing witnessing me in a blank stare I’m conscious, but no one’s there Just - My - Stare Inside I’m busy with my clipper ship I’ve floated upon your hurricane and every little happy moment we ever had has crying stinging pellets of mad

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Gator Bait Series 1st Cold Snapped

The wind was blowing when she left the city...

I believe it was twenty below...

Where she was going she already knew...

But... first she had things she had to do...

Get rid of the body that was clear....

There were no options, it had to disappear....

The heater was broken and blowing cold air...

She could feel the ice, building up in her hair..

She had cleaned up the blood as best she could...

As she had hit him hard with that log of wood...

All she had asked him, was to light a fire...

To take off the chill in the house....

Do it yourself if you are cold...he snapped

And while you’re at it get me a cold beer...from the fridge..

It was early morning when she finally arrived at the bridge..

This was his favourite fishing spot...

She pushed his body off the pier...along with his ice cold beer..

And suddenly began to shiver and sneeze.....

Oh well, she said...this too shall pass..

When I get to the Florida Keys..

PS..this is the first in a for part 2.."gator bait..the dream "

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I promise to love and guide you
Respect and cherish you 
To the best of my ability
You faithful friend
In all your good times 
As well as bad 
I promise to hold your hand
When you have fear 
Like the moon 
A guiding light 
I promise to always be honest 
And sincere 
To wake you from your reverie
Pick you up when you fall
I promise to be you your friend until the end...

Details | Prose Poetry | |


`````````````````````````````````````````````````````March 27, 2013
Vicki Acquah

APPRECIATE EACH OTHERS POETRY or story                                                      
DON'T EVER THINK I DON'T.              








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 | |

I will be there for You

I don't know if we will ever met... 
Will our friendship  be there again in my fate...
but remember that i will be always there for you...

Maybe tomorrow you will meet many and may connect to few...
and forget me without an adieu...
but remember that i will always be there for you...

I know i have given you pain...
and for me , that hurt will always remain ...
but remember that i will always be there for you...

Anytime if you feel alone...
and find yourself in the midst of unknown...
I don't know i will be there or not..
But just have a thought...
and  i will always be there for you...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Friend

A Friend
Should always have a friend that always makes 
Her laugh and one who lets her cry.
A friend should always be there to share 
good times and bad.
A friendship shall not diminish just because
A friend moves miles away. 
A true friend will always tell a friend when
The other has hurt feelings.
A true friend will have the courage to say
I’m sorry my friend and that friend will
Always Accept your apology. 
A friendship will always be no matter what 
We’ve been through or what life throws
Our way. As no matter we will
                         Always be a phone call away.

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 we need you by our side
you are our guild
world wide
we will  always love you too
i must say in wveryway

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Tortoise: this thing that looks so much like me
What are you good in?
Do I benefit that you have a hunch-back like me?
Or that you don’t puzzle me each time I have the-
Inclination to climb on top of you
Even if fortuitously I succeed
Won’t I be a tragedy in coming down?
Or is it the goodies you have, that I benefit from? 
Ant-hill: I’m good as a faithful instrument-
Used for protection, but never in charge
And is because of people like you
Now, let me ask you tricky being!
If you are in my shoe, won’t you-
Try to be in charge?
So, I’m good at, what you are good in
And I’m bad at, what you are bad in!

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These hours own shadows, hold words that we will never speak. We cannot see past the next line. This fear of dreaming craves my sleep. And you taste sweet when the anger chases you down.

Silver moons hang down from heaven. We are the last of the unbelievers. We got left here at the rivers edge.

The cold is creeping in, into the corners and I follow you. Alien child, you suck the blood from my wounds. This war will not crush us. I hear you laugh out loud. Or maybe thats just you crawling up my spine... Stitched together, lonely tonight.

Concrete demons hide behind these doors. I feel the moisture of your breath. Morning glory stories unfold into the texture of my eyes. My patchwork romance held together with lies. Just one more hit and we will see again. And we could be fine again.

Reminded of your rose pink lips, perfect kiss. I will never tell your secret.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When Alone

When skies are bluer than ever before
and clouds disappear from sight
I am alive
When thunderstorms flash white
and the rains come
I am alone
When daffodils burst forth from the snow
and crocus peep through
I am alive
When winter cold and trees barren
and leaves lie on frozen floor
I am alone
I want to face life's storms
with friends who hold my hand
and family who clearly states,
"You are not alone"
Then, I will live.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tender Years

Wet snow just for packing they say
Friends all hyped, full of grins, on a cold day
Four buddies daring one another to take aim
The smallest one made the first throw
Dodging and ducking trying not to be hit
Snowballs bombarding each other in play
Four rosy cheek boys all covered in white
Within laughter, a sound of great pain
The smallest one screamed a very loud cry
A snowball hit him squarely in the eye
Tears flowing, freezing on red streaked cheeks
His glasses were broken, a nose bleed had he
A snowball truce ended our wintry play
All three of us walked him home, chattering away

Today we sit together, thinner hair and a bit gray
Watching snowballs flying by our children at play
A memory we share, friends we'll always be

By Connie Gildersleeve
For Gail Angel's contest, "Tender Years"

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My Friend

My Friend I have thought about this a lot there is no reason to pretend but I miss this special one the one I call my friend although she is always there at least she is in my mind I miss our conversations there is no one else I find who can make me laugh as much who can fill my heart with love who challenges my strength and trust she was sent here from above she is still not far away I know she will be there until the end if I need her and reach out to her she will always be my friend Gomer Lepoet... UNSUPPORTED CODE

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As Both human and fox, she knows the pains of life that belong to each.

Her cunning, wit, and charm serve her well. her life has been harrowing 
Outcast from both her kith and kin she is too human for the fox, too fox for the humans.
But she at last found a place where she belonged thanks to the one human who  can still accept her For what she is, both human and fox

Your welcome Kitsune

you have made my life peacefull whilst you are near
and for that i thank you

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you can tell
it will ring a bell
they sell
ask or you well
you have the same blend
love come from within
it not just asmile and agrim
these are real

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To All My Soupmates

Have a wonderful holiday.  Happy Thanksgiving!!!  Remember, the best things at 
the table are your family.   Tom

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Stitches of January.

“Buy me a scarf” she said and curled her toes through snow to demonstrate the color of

“Buy me a scarf and I'll wrap our memories around my neck, you can watch me smile in
storms as I contemplate warmth and look at you beneath the sky.”

I wrote promises on windows with fingers that touched shadows and counted snowflakes
crystals as I destroyed their patterns in a feeble attempt to claim love...

There, in the house that spoke one thousand tears, I thought about the secrets we
whispered when the year turned and purple was fantastic on the other side of frozen lakes
despite the voices that named us something unspeakable.

Rings and silver and I wore one on my toe, polished perfectly, my feet felt summer and I
laughed in lilts of June and breaths of lilac bushes that lined my backyard, but I kept my
closet door shut, winter stitches on shelves so January's voice would never be heard...

I boxed up photographs and letters that quoted songs we had sang together, I covered up
her haircut and placed her eyeliner in an envelope but I knew, beneath the ground where
lilac bushes rooted themselves...

she wore the ring I had placed upon her finger on her fourteenth birthday, on the day
August spoke up and we listened intently, mocking 


and bedposts that wrote her name...

and I sat, cleaning prints off of windows, erasing promises and eluding love, wondering,
if I had learned how to knit, would sidewalks have been so convincing?

I listened to memories and bought myself a scarf, wrapped stitches of January around my
neck and heard her, in laughter, as she whispered through the wind that numbed the fingers
that broke promises...

“Lend me your scarf, and I'll see you, I'll hold your hand when August knocks you down.”

Details | Prose Poetry | |


they  or  round
and very sound
the look get you hook
these or know lies
you have

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Undying LOVE

   I saved the last tear I Cried for  “ YOU “ My MOST ONLY BELOVED
   Enclosed in the Shrine, Created for YOU ; in a Heart , Created BY YOU
   I’ve never felt this way : Since YOU Went HOME : LENORE My WIFE
   I’m Living in the Warm Heart of  “ My DEAREST MOST ONLY BELOVED “
                                  “ BARBARA JEAN GORLICK “

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A true best friend


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

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Lost Love WLM March 29 2011

I feel so hurt
And so much like a jerk
For I have lost my dream
Just let it out and scream
What did I do
Can I ask you
Am I to be alone
All I can do is groan
I ask God will it ever be
Does she really want me
Please Lord let her call
For me to be that is all
I am so stuck in a rut
Do I just give up
Can not hold back the tears
The return of all my fears
I hope to see
That she really needs me
I will never know
For she will have to show
Can you give me my best friend
Or have I lost her again
Tell me did I sin
Should I just give in
I am at my wits end
Knowing not where to begin
I sit here and moan
At me just throw the heavy stone
Please, oh please hit the mark
Then I know it will break my heart
I always feel the use
Finally I remember the abuse
My feelings inside
Will never subside
Why not go ahead and fall
With my life just end it all
Does anyone really care
That would be so rare
For all I feel is lost
And in the end that is the cost

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Tamam tazkirah me azeem tajkirah hai dosk ka,
Mano to sabse ohda or nirala safar hai dost ka.

Dosti me har sakhsee pahlu ka zikra kar lete hai log,
Itemade itna hai ki dil se qadar karte hai dost ka.

Kabhi tabit karke lagta hai zamane me kuchh talaf kiya,
Milne ke baad utna hi fikr maloom hota hai dost ka.

Kisi ke dosti ka tazkirah jab bhi dekhta hu main
Guzastah zamane ka manjar nazar ata hai dost ka.

Tumne to dosti ka har farz kamil ki hai Azhar,
Is hayat-e safar me hamesha mutaffir ho dost ka.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Little Big Man

I was always the little guy, 
Picked on for my size, 
Pushed and prodded in the halls, 
Cowered to nothing by their calls, 

They threw rocks at me every day, 
So I would leave early on my way, 
And wore two coats with hoods, 
Rocks only striking when I stood, 

Sometimes they'd throw boulders, 
And they glanced off my shoulders, 
And then I would come back in pain, 
With yesterdays tear stains, 

Once they crippled me for days, 
Hitting my legs, oh what pains, 
But then my dad took me in, 
And I grew into a young man, 

And two years later I returned, 
And now the tables were turned, 
You see I grew a foot taller, 
And no longer was I smaller, 

I visited those who threw stones, 
And none of them had grown, 
As I did those past two years, 
And I couldn't pay back the tears, 

For I knew their sudden plight, 
They were too small to fight, 
But they soon left my brother alone, 
This was the gift I gained from stone, 

So from bullied to protector I moved, 
And the little ones all approved, 
Of the new big friend they now had, 
And how I stopped those bullying cads.

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The Writers Tail liaT sretirW ehT

The Writers Tail liaT sretirW ehT
by Charles Robert Hice on Wednesday, November 28, 2012 at 12:22pm ·
The Writers Tail
the poor writer can not post a poem anywhere to be recognized himself as a poet unless he writes a longish Devels tail complete with hooks and forks and splitting hoofs and tines in tomes you realize these publishers drink large amounts of alcoholic beverages and seek people to turn down they love to see someone saying homeless poems the frown and then the delete button when will they come to some conclusion that the ether thinking is the faulty mind life is better lived poor and sober how can any one help others to be someone iff they are drunk feet upp on the ottoman ice clinking against the windows and the glasses always half full and half empty ready at any moment to delete all details of any poor peoples emails so you want to post in this magazine afraid knot click delete delete the extra page is missing the long appendage added on is gone they removed all of the appendix index we told you to send an attachment means a file a doc or a document eye tried to attach my soul to my heart but there just is no space is taken up one old woman no pets allowed someday every item that eye write will flash before my eye it will be broadcast on heavens wifi for all the angels there to read each dot and t is crossed there no time lost to read eye will post my items on the heavens wifi for all eternity you stupid people who cant publish me make photostatic copies of my work and glue them to the bottoms of your shoes and stomp them in the dirt you walk back and forth on your thrown rug down on the floor until you cannot see the words and then you toss them into doors threw cracks and howl with glee cause Johnny cannot read me YOU CARACKED MY READING GLASSES BROKE MY TEETH  AND MADE ME GASP FOR BREATH TO BREATHE now little Johnny cannot read. Three shoelaces to make two shoes how many feet does little Johhny use. This tale hath a tail like the INcan Comet of Destruction can you see it in the sky it will be there the day we die. HOT ROCKS FALLING FROM THE SKY the day before the world turned green and died. Here is the cannonical mathmatical equation now. Take the INfinite lights in the sky what they really seem to be and move them to the end of time try to see them falling down. Tumble to the sea my lasting problems will never get ahold of me to hurt me whan they tumble to the sea eye will be set free whan my lasting problems thay tumble to the sea

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Forever is really never

Remnants of the past cast shadows on his points of view an attractive conversation with no literal honesty Pained at the cause those scars that remain Those lies on your breath smelled of raw sewerage Tears showed every crease where rivers flow my heart has melted in the middle of your road now requiring tow. I remind myself that everything ends badly or comes to a close though my hearts without resolve when your forever is really never when what I really needed was this lever to take your weight off my shoulders ~I haven't stopped growing~

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Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Friend
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: April/2000

"No one can be a friend
to you, If you can't be a 
friend to no one."

               Poet Ken Jordan

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Where are you

I search the horizon near and far for your presence but where are you ?
I hear a whisper over my shoulder I look but where are you ?
I'm envisioning you alongside of me in search of happiness but where are you
My love is here for the taking but where are you ?
Just needing and wanting a special love in my life
Where are you ??

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 | |

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

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What happened to all the young men?
And the young women too? Those ones get married.
But where have all the young men gone? 
Have you not heard, have you not seen?
There is a war in the land. 
Which war without the sound of guns, you might ask?
Economic war- the young men are economic warriors, fighting in far off lands; that is what most 
have become. 
I know, but where are our brightest and best? 
Funny question- in wars you lose your best men first.
So, would they ever come back or are they the lost generation?

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Familiarity, A Reminiscing

What is it to me
that I cannot place you
in the picture painted by the years 
the life has already spent?
Are you merely stopping by 
Passing the time (maybe charmed) 
Then, leave later at the frown of sundown
Or at the smile of dawn?
I wonder.

Still, amazed more than bewildered
Finding myself moment for moment
Pondering if
you are staying
 because perhaps

If you may
I pray.
While I find a place (for us)
in the picture of eternities,
the gods must be hiding,
themselves amusing.

Ah, the grand scheme of things- 
            A forgetting.
A familiar spirit we feel-
            A remembering.

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Tater Sack Annie

On a raft in the river tied to a tree, lived in an old woman of whom most folks made fun. She didn't talk much, most thought she was dumb. Kids being curious, and the summer being hot, the cool of the river drew our disobedient lot. We kids soon discovered the crude raft and the tent. We oddly made friends with its strange occupant. Tried as we might to find out her name. All we got was a smile from the toothless old dame. One thing for certain we kids soon found out. Social graces she lacked, but her kindness made up for that fact. Times being tough and money being tight, often we kids confided our plight. She didn't care if we were dirty or poor. She loved her little friends all the more. We didn't mind her fashion was lack. She wore a dress made from and old "tater sack." What troubled us was she didn't have a name. We didn't care from where she came. One day as we sat on the bank, a thought came to mind. We were disgusted with folks being unkind. "Everybody's got a name," said one. "Let's call her 'Tater Sack Annie'", said another, so it was done. Annie smiled at us. She liked her new name. She didn't say much, just smiled again. She motioned for us kids to her camp for lunch. She always fed our whole bunch. Fried taters, catfish and greens. All of us believed she was a woman of means. Several summers went by. One year the fall came. A saturday night, folks out for a lark. Didn't see Annie walking home in the dark. Somebody sent, and a somber Sherriff came, "Anybody her know her name?" He spoke to the group. Two boys stepped forward, both knelt to a stoop. "That's our 'Tater Sack Annie'", they spoke in a low tone. Both their faces ashen and as white as bone. Today in a churchyard no monument gleams. Only a simple stone reads, "Annie a lady of means."

Written by my grandmother Sandra Burch

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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

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here comes 'your' lover he's 'gay'

  is it fun and games, 
or is it insane.
just to keep milking him. 
the way, 
you all do it now.
look at your hands.
warm and slippery.
yellow and dripping 
with sweat.
and ever growing.
you're fevered and glowing. 
all of your faces are red.
rejected by him at the prom.
and him by all of you.
ruffies you put in his milk.
He does not drink, 
what you think 
he should drink 
he is good.
and loved by all. 
by you and by most 
as he should.
and look at him now.
passed out hot icy cold. 
but how can you now.
how can you, 
and your friends.
as one squeezes, 
the brown paper bag.
and when one's coming up
each flight of stairs 
another seems to aways 
come down.
and all of you giggle and *sigh.*
and all of that spilled milk.
milk all that white milk.
looking around it is every where.
it's on your faces, 
and on your hands.
those blouses 
you change and your skirts.
are soaked as well.
deep asleep, like a babe.
and yes you were knowing, 
now as he...comes again.
and you know by now, 
he's in very much pain.
and none of you seem to care.
here comes that lover, 
that none of you knew.
that a hunk like him could be 'gay'.
and you didn't know, that
all the ones that you want
like he....are always gay.
feeding him all of those ruffies, 
like the three of you, 
have done in the past.
like the ones who, 
come to school the next day, 
with out any memory 
of those nights of the past.
While you keep
all of those pictures as proof 
of your kills.
what do all you think of
your hot selves now. 
and even more so vainly now. 
as he lays on your couch, 
held fast in ruffies deep sleep. 
alive in your hands moving now. 

Is It Poetry 


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Blue Daffodils

If I was a blue daffodil 
I would be different
If I was a blue daffodil
I would be fun
If there were blue daffodils
I wouldn’t be different
If there were blue daffodils
I wouldn’t be alone

What if there were blue daffodils?
Would we be together?
Would we be forever?
What if we were all different?
What if I was violet and you were red?
Would you still like me?
Would you still enjoy my company?
I like being different,
Being a blue daffodil…

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My Teachers

They seem to like me. Sure I am paranoid, but really they seem to like me. Frank Okada handed me a shot of scotch and called me an ofay nigger son of a *****. There was no doubt as to his love. His mentor Fred Mitchell wished me to come to Ellsworth Kelly’s estate and be a love object. Fred was a sweetheart. He was the original owner of “The Hester Street Cat”, a black and white tom that ripped the guts from an attacking dog. Mrs. Gillespie didn’t like me and I didn’t care. I sure didn’t like her. Her with her low cut sweaters leaning forward with fat breasts making us memorize “the star spangled banner”. I got a minus  one hundred and seventy three.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

friendship lost

When times are good friendship blossoms
It fragrances all about
The sweet perfume of love
Let’s all about know
That no ill-will can see the light of day

Animosity can however set in quickly
Like a fast blowing wind
The sand castle of friendship can scatter
Far and wide
The shallow foundation
No match for the storms that now rage

This vitriol
Coupled with self-eroding contempt
Often puts paid to reconciliation

How fickle is friendship
How swiftly and cruelly it can be reversed
Turning to hatred
Leaving deep never healing scars
On one’s psyche

A fraternity of equals
The players of this social tangle
Had hoped and wanted to be
Sadly for some it wasn’t meant to be

Like hot water left to cool
The cold of unfriendliness may set in gradually
Or pour down with viciousness so abruptly
The reason can often to the injured party
A mystery be

The building blocks of unity
Are suddenly set alight
The flames of friendship past
Can burn oh so bright

Words spoken that cannot be recanted
Wound with skill
How advantageous is past familiarity
The knife knows where to grievously harm
Maiming with willful intent

How artful is treachery

Rage uncontained
Poisons all
A scene of no holds barred
A spectacle most dismal

The victor is but a fool
To think he has won
For he only fans the flames
That inevitably will consume him

Dirty laundry aired carelessly
Reeks mostly acridly
The recanting of embarrassing moments past
The venting of animosities that smouldered for too long
Is often too much to bear even for
The feuding ex-friends

There is no going back
From this point onwards

Thoughts and memories are ransacked
To find a grain of now apparent Ill-will
The petty of yore
Now comes to the fore

Life can sometimes burden
One unnecessarily
To acknowledge hurt caused
And to seek an end to hostilities
Is a road less travelled
A strong man or woman
You surely must be
To want to salvage what was once held dearly
But now dumped carelessly

What a tragedy is friendship
That once was
And never again will be

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Basic Rules to Live By

When communication fails, resort to loneliness.
When loneliness fails, resort to communication.
When resorting fails, communicate with your
lonely self and meet your only friend.

When you give up someone else's dream, you begin to live.
When you free yourself from your own dreams, you realize that you've
never lived at all.
Then, when you dream, you'd rather be living.

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its speak
and can be neat if its complete
you can win a
a friend
just sit for awhile
with a 

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I'm exposed when it comes to you
The mere presence of you makes me come unglued
My intentions are purposely and soley to get you in the nude
Don't mean to be rude
You sexually and mentally stimulate me with your attitude
confident that i can provide what you need like no other dude
When the time is right to get you in the mood
This love will be warm, gentle and one that will never bruise
When it comes to being
Exposed to you.

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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 | |

Used To Be

I used to be a somewhat normal American. Divorced, three kids, and a job. Looking into others souls. Making evaluations. Notes in charts. Different backgrounds, circumstances, degrees of madness, more true than some realities. All had one thing in common. A need for love. Though searched for high and low. Not found in the liquid, shot into arms, or the spirits contained in a bottle. White puffy powder, not snow. Legs uncrossed, inviting love that doesn't last. Now receiving medication, served up in a cup. Disillusioned. In need of a solid love, like a tree they can climb up in. Well rooted and grounded, stable and secure. Fed by living water, to quench their thirst. To help them back up when they fall, or are pushed.
A locked away society cry, and the government doesn't hear, doesn't see. What will become of all these people, or you, or me. Looking to be broken out, from without, by what is only found within. Playing a game of hide and seek, some times no one wins, yet others are found.

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am shy that no lie
theses feeling won't die
hard to give in
your love i must win
be stronger
your arms or longer
feel free

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yout on my mine 
all the time
you i miss your kiss
i miss all of thie
i need attention too

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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

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Endless Dawn

There is a soft meadow golden
where there now stands oblivion
wild mustangs comb the hard
dry grasses after a long arid winter.

In the distance, wood smoke
from a silent fire that crackles
'neath a hungry touch.

An aubade's warm hand reaches
from the silky horizon to touch love
gently upon her shoulders and roam
the hills, and dusky valleys of the
paradisiac dawn, as it stretches each stone.

...and soothed; by palpable stream;
each bend a lover's nape
endlessly explored by endless wait
to greet the welcome rise again.

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Hice handwritten from the little notebook my new Hispanic friend read this he speaks of delirium and decay and makes it become fantasy this is for him Self Descriptadjective A Library (lieberry) is full of books they cover upp the words is what we use to read the Story Chapters and the Verse the beginning has a middle and the end. From the firs tpoem ever written you will never see the last self descriptadjective is my best one kept for Jesus as eye rest, Rudyard Kiplins stripling lad the Gunga DInn a water boy a better man then eye a Mexican from Mexico or Spain a Jesus man who drinks he smokes he even tokes his self discriptadjective he stones his bone he has his drunk religious bones and yet who am eye to judge this man has fed me solid food while eye can only steal his food not repay my mood is one of acceptance listen and receive this as iff Jesus gives me from this drunk will argue his religion frevor seems misplaced so why obey some from of Law replaced with Grace perhaps the Jewish Sabbath Day falls on our American Wednesday no He smiles it is on Saturday what matter what is the matter iff drunk and full of more then mere religion everyone has a bananna everyone has something that they must have they place it first in mind in heart in soul so black in need of sin and yet please carry food again come back to me my Mexican GUnga Dinn you Jinn from Old Mexico or Spain. My old freind.

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When All

When all is said and done
At the end of the day
Week, month and year
At the end
When the finish is near
Nay, at hand
One thing will hold true
When the last grain of sand
Has left the hour
And the seconds have ticked away
When the last word
Has been spoken
And there’s nothing left to say
One thing will hold true
Through whatever time
Life has left
Till heaven and earth pass away
And eternity rules
Bringing life a brand new day
One thing will hold true
It doesn’t matter where roads lead
Nor how paths may cross
Doesn’t matter if directions are found
Or ways are lost
Doesn’t matter if freedom comes
Or at what cost
One thing will hold true
For when all have fled
And there’s no more to be bled
All battles have been fought
All conquests sought
When all that’s left to do
Is look around to see
Who’s left standing with you
One thing will hold true
Standing there 
I will be 

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Her Garden Of Cats

Beneath the tall strings of grass 
And wild, wild flowers 
Quietly moving about 
Eyes searching on an endless journey 

Just the sound of the wind 
Waving the flowers softly 
Back and forth, to and fro 

Little tiny padded feet 
Move ever so swiftly about 
Still a moment 
A burst of quickness 

Under the tips of the tall, tall grass 
Under the beauty of the wild, wild flowers 
She has grown 
An incredible garden of cats

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Twisted Karma

Fate has led my heart to find
A love that was never destined to last
I wonder if this is the punishment I deserve
For my cruel and heartless past
Karma has twisted my dreams so fast
And threw my love in the trash

A life-altering war rages on
That split our apartment in two 
Some nights I lay against the wall
That separates me from you.
Tormented by this endless pursuit
That rips my heart through and through

An intrinsic insanity leads me on
I imagine you on the other side
Strumming your fingers across the wall
While my child grows inside
Looking up through tear soaked eyes
To where our memories lie
A sense of longing derives
Inside your wicked lies

I’m wallowing in broken dreams
And taunted by the burdens I choose
I once believed this was my ‘happy ever after’
Now I’m waiting for fairy tales to come true
Hoping that I’m done paying dues
And maybe someday you will choose
To stop treating me like you do
We’ll get back to being me and you
Settle down and say ‘I do”

But there you go
Out the door into his arms
You chose his dim-witted presence
Over my witty charm
To0 blind to see the harm
In trading that broken home for ours?

Spare his feelings to obliterate mine
You say you feel obligated to be with him
When you’re not lying in my arms
A broken faith in you snaps from within
This could possibly be the end?
Our bond is a broken glass we can’t mend
No longer my friend

I love you
Who am I to you?

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Real Friend

Standing there, I'm looking at you stupidly. You are going on and on about how you are 
going to take me out of this world, yet the blade moves no where. I should be scared but I 
just have a notion to laugh. You are busy trying to fit in with your so called friends, that you 
forgot that I am the only real friend you have got. You try to be tough just like all the rest 
but when the night is done, its me you call to talk to when things go wrong. Yet here you are 
with a blade at my throat whispering in my ear that you don't really wanna do this and that 
you love me. I laugh and your grip gets tighter. I finally close my eyes and tell you just to go 
what you gotta do. Suddenly you release me, ignoring your friends calling stuff out and beg 
me for forgiveness. Friends are friends to the end. You mess up so that we can pick you back 
up. That's what true friends are for, we are the real friends.

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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.     

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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

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For Sandra,,,,,,,,,,Thank you for being my friend....

How did I manage 
without you my friend
I cannot remember 
what life was like
before we met…..
You’re always there
to give a helping hand
a bit of advice, a hug,

Next to my husband, 
you’re my sole mate
we can talk about 
anything and everything….
We never get bored 
with each others company

Even though we work together
we always speak on the phone
for hours and hours
when we are happy
we need to share it
when we’re sad 
we comfort one another
when someone or 
something angers us
we talk it out , 
until we come up with a solution

Dont ever change my friend...........

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A Holiday Wish to My Super-Soupers

This is to all you lovely folks, who have become such an important part of my life, 
although I'd like to single out a few special folks- Sharon Weimer- everyone's No. 
1 favorite poet and friend, Christy Hardy, John Heck, Ruby Metzger, Farah 
Chamma, Sara Lokken,Catie Lindsey,Laura Mckenzie, Rhoda Galgiani, Patricia 
Adams,Wilfredo Deriquito, Jack Reed,Sue Mason, Sandra Hudson, Carol Brown, 
Karen O'Leary, Vince Suzadail Jr.,Heidie Buys, Elaine George, Teressa Harr-
Pena,Maya Kaabour, Susan Trotiner,Zeina Kasawat,Chaney Short,Michael 
Jordan,Sean Kelly,Peggy Bertrand,Troy Jeremy Nelson,Joseph Spence,Patricia 
Leonitis,Rene Bennet,Erin Conn,Julie Bristow, Josie Whitehead, Brian Strnd, 
Rhea Daniel Dear,Adell Foster, Marycile Beer (what a lovely name!), Patricia 
Contreras, John Loving III, Sandy Schermerhorn,and all the countless others, 
please do not feel slighted if I missed your name...all you Soupers are super.

Happy Holidays!
Your poetry does amaze!
I'll be reading it,
And enjoying it,
Until my final days!

Best regards to people who have become so important in my life, and inspired 
me, amazed me, soothed me, and made me smile.   tom

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Hazel Eyes

Hazel Eyes
September 15, 2011

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

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

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Friendship does not
Hide behind a wall
But reveals himself
By standing tall and upright

To lend an ear
Stretch out  your hand
To show you really care and love 
A strong shoulder to lean on

Words of good advise
Will let hope rise again
To lose a love-one 
Or to be ill

A friend should be there
With words of good cheer and compassion
For a friend who gives from the heart
Does not think to receive

And the difference
Between friend and foe
Is often clouded
By trickery , hate and deceit

When friend come knocking at your door
Now friendship is no more

William Morrissey 6/07/94

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Sunkissed memories,
caressing complection-
and the time stops at first sight.
The sun never forgets-
like memories are faded as dreams
and while you're perched upon the grassy hill,
overlooking that place you called home.
Overlooking every memory you had together,
seeing not all-
but more than you ever experienced.
Fate's arms reached out,
brought us together
and now after time has passed-
after others stomped on my doormat-
after your heart was tested-
we came back to each other-
what's meant to be 

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...a true story

It was one of those chance encounters; the Common Room, mid-morning on a brisk April day. She bounced in with a radiant smile and absent-mindedly scanned the newspapers. I was reading a magazine. At loose ends, we were both looking for something to do, so I suggested an afternoon on the river together. She said 'Sure!' and we gathered the ingredients for a picnic and set off for St Aldates.

The day was simply beautiful... There was a breeze cool enough to pimple her skin, so I offered her my sweater. The Cherwell looked inviting, its surface dancing with ripples, brightly dappled with sunshine. I took her hand and settled her in the punt, grasping the pole to guide us into midstream. There were many others enjoying the early afternoon, some ladies with parasols and long, flowing print dresses, but we took no heed. We wore jeans and sweaters and were enjoying one another's company. We reached a shallow bridge and I ducked, angling the pole so we would clear the span. As we drifted under I grabbed the pole to bring it clear of the water, and horrified, I found it was stuck in the river bed! The punt sailed quietly on without its helmsman, as I was left clinging, and sliding slowly into the river. We broke into uncontrollable laughter; she because of my childishness and lack of restraint, and I because of my embarrassing plight! Finally she secured the punt with the paddle and I retrieved the pole, drying myself as best I could on the bank. We drank wine and ate bread, cheese and grapes, giggling and teasing each other like two children at play.

I saw her to her dorm room, and asked if I might have the pleasure of her company later for dinner. She coyly accepted my invitation... One hour later I picked her up. She looked enchanting... We drove out to Woodstock, home to Blenheim Palace, the ancestral seat of the Churchill family. There we enjoyed a casual meal, laughing again over the misadventures of the afternoon. As the sun was beginning to set I led her outside the restaurant and down the lane to the corner. I told her to keep her eyes closed. When she opened them she saw a vista she would never forget; the palace, high on a hill, a fairy-tale vision, with pastureland sloping down to a lake in the foreground dotted with swans, all bathed in the glow of the setting sun. She stood there, speechless. I squeezed her hand as we gazed into each other's eyes. Not a word was spoken. We were both grateful for the day we had spent together. It was just the two of us. And for a while, only that moment mattered.

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My Brother

You left my brother
Came back a man
Should hear our proud father
Speak of you
How you’ve done him
And momma proud
Sister Jane and Katherine
Down the block
Never seem to have anything
But you to talk about
Oh if you only knew the loving
All the girls around here
Say you’ve missed
It’s a good bet
You’d never have left
But leave you did
Nothing can change that now
In a way it’s good to know
Exactly where you are
We need never again worry
If that old truck of yours broke down
Leaving you to walk home in the rain
It’s a good thing really
Now we can all get some sleep
Granted, not as much as you
But we will in our due time
Just want you to know
These tags of yours
Will never leave my neck
You, will never leave my heart
For no matter why you left
Or how you came back
You still are
And will always be
My brother

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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 | |


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 | |

Karma Twisted

Who am I to you?

I love you
No longer my fried
Our bond is a broken glass we can’t mend
This could possibly be the end
A broken faith in you snaps from within
When you’re not lying in my arms
You say you feel obligated to be there with him
Spare his feelings to obliterate mine

In trading that broken home for ours
Too blind to see the harm
You overlooked my witty charm
Favoring his dim-witted presence
Out the door into his arms
There you go

We can settle down and say ‘I do’
We’ll get back to being me and you
You’ll stop treating me like you do
And someday you will choose
Making me pay my dues
Now I’m waiting for fairy tales to come true
Dreams of ‘Happy Ever After’
I’m taunted by the burdens I choose
And wallowing in broken dreams

Inside your wicked lies
A sense of longing derives
To where our memories lie
Looking up through tear soaked eyes
While my child grows inside
Strumming your fingers across the wall
I imagine you on the other side
And intrinsic insanity leads me on

It rips my heart through and through
Tormented by this endless pursuit
Separating me and you
At night I lay against the wall
Our apartment split in two
By a life-altering war raging on

My love was thrown in the trash
Karma has twisted my dreams so fast
For my cruel and heartless past
I wonder if this is the punishment I deserve
A love that was never destined to last
Fate led my heart here

I love you
Who am I to you?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The broken road to heaven

The broken road to heaven 

The broken road in need of maintenance  
through which we have traveled, mute and solemn 
to our delight
was alight with millions of glow bugs;
evening was another leaf fallen
when I whisper to my friend Richard,
“Is it heaven? Have we arrived at last?” 
he smiled,  “we are yet to reach my home.”
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar 

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 | |


stop  let love be block
now its tmie to shop
for new friend let this in
not about race or face
its change thing for the better
we must all do this

Details | Prose Poetry | |

to The Public

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

To the Public
June 28, 2011

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

OMUBBI -"Thief"

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

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who Needs You Now

You have fought for your country
You have heard the calls of death
And felt the loss of blood
And now, no one hears or cares
About the tears you cry
You fought a fools war
Inspired by heroic deeds
Majestic words of honor and fame
From people who never knew your name
Many were those who fled
And endured behind their protest signs
But you, you fought the war
Lost your limbs and gained insight into reality
It was you who came back less than human
And now you stand alone at night
Lost and forgotten men
Tell me, tell me who needs you now
Where are the people
Who gave you hell
Where are the people
Who cried to bring you home
Who marched for your life
While you marched to your death
Where are the people
Who loved you when it was the thing to do
And fought for your cause
While you wondered what it was
As you watched your buddies fade away
Heroes and medals
Tell me, what does it all mean
Now that you stand alone at night
Lost and forgotten men
And tell me, tell me, who needs you now
Now that our memory fades
Of those who served and the reasons why
All we seem to do
Is stand aside and watch them die
And tell me Brothers
Who needs you now?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Love Song

Love you when you're sleep
Love you when you're awake
Ijust wanna love every breathe you take

Love your beauty
Love your elegance
Ijust want to love you til i'm in a trance

Love youwhen you're serene 
Love you when you;re still
I just wanna love you, It's real

Love your melody 
Long your song
I just want to love you all night long

Love you when you're daring
Love you when you're shy

I just want to love you as the day passes by

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Without The Box

So, there you are
Returned from fighting another mans war
Heard you’re quite the hero
Good for you my friend
Twenty years young
Couldn’t wait
To kick some terrorist ass
And so you did
So very well indeed I hear
Now you’re back
Nothing more to kick
What are you to do with yourself
Lying there as you are
Look at all of us here
To welcome you back
Can you not hear the joy
Can you not see the happiness
Or is it all hidden behind the tears
So here you are returned
In a flawless uniform
Lying there all smug and confident
With a peaceful look
Here you are returned
Fresh off the plane
In a nice tight package
Here you are returned
To never leave again
Good to have you back my friend
Only wish it could have been
Without the box

Details | Prose Poetry | |



A blanket of white covered the ground today,
while the coffin you inhabited, these past years,
- the sarcophagus that hid you from u s -,
lies in a casket of grey, awaiting it's fate,
while you, now as free as the wind, travel on wings
that will carry you passed all the past
that burdened your troubled soul,
your heart, broken so many times,
your spirit crushed by so many,
so many, many times during your brief stay
in this plane, on this little blue planet
that no longer inhibits.
You no longer inhabit.

B. J. "A" 2
December 30th 2010

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 | |


Here for a quiet spell.
Making words that tell.
Moments of gentle glee.
Hoping all is well and free.
Casting songs into words.
Trying not to be absurd.
So again here I am.
Only this new poem to send.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


July 27, 2011

You are as the light which shines from heaven above
As you were sent to me for nothing but love
Our lives will be so grand
And for this we will make our stand
Love and life will abound
As it circles and circles around
The joy and contentment
Will be as we went with it
Our children will be fine
And pass through the ages of time
And grow beyond belief
Sending joy to our hearts full of relief
Life will be full of joy and hope
Upon these beliefs we will cope
Through the ups and the down
Which will always surround
And as the mourning jewel
We will never be a fool
For life will end 
But begin again

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Innocent Friendship

When the days are dark
And the nights are cold
Feeling your intangible presence
Keeps me going

Staring at the mirror
My broken soul
Reunites its pieces
Becoming a whole

Even when you are not near
You support me thoroughly
I feel you care
Our friendship is lovely

We could never be
Since our lives are so different
But I am happy
Knowing we are not committed

Our love is ironic
If that is the word
Trying to describe us
We have no need for

But me--you and I
We see through the glass
Of which no one else notices
They don’t see the other half

I love you for you
You love me for me
But honestly, I ask my self
Then why can’t we be

You must understand to love
You must learn to trust
One without the other
Disaster will be a must

But we don’t have that problem
Our friendship is so easy
Or maybe I only see it…

With or without you
I will make life a joy
But knowing that I have you
I can avoid unnecessary turmoil

I know you don’t want to trust
But I want to love
I know I don’t want to care
But still you remain here

I am so happy that I found you
You brighten my day
Even if it’s not cloudy or rainy
I want you to stay

Copyright October 25 2009, Moniquea Brown

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Paired, With Reservations

Paired, With Reservations

The soft curve of her spirit- 
Her true shape only emergent after countless
Half-glances in the half-light of morning’s edge.
What line is drawn by the knife-edge of the sun’s first rays?
Who is slain in that prime, resplendent arrival?
Regardless it is a shiny death: an incidental manslaughter
Making new cuts and reshaping the structure of our shared constitution: 
Reforming the meaning of our togetherness.
Her form, her movement, creates contrast.
Motion is wonder’s conciliator, unearthing profundities and
Burying banalities under underfoot miles and myriad beads of perspiration;
Forging ahead together through the nascent day.  To what end?
Running lines: some arbitrary and intangible, others geometrically
Pronounced in yellow and white, dotted and solid, faded and new.
Drawing new lines: making demarcations- parameters implicitly set- 
So close yet never intersecting:  paired, with reservations. 

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 | |

Finally a New Hope and Beginning

Finally a New Hope and Beginning
April 8, 2011 

The Finality of My Life
Is Completely a Relief and Free From All Strife
I traveled many a mile
08 to 11 It took a while
At first she was my best friend
I know in my heart it will last till the end
I feel as I should be in a gurney
For it has been such a long journey
Weeding them out
Because of finding  out all about
Some were shy 
I know not why
Most of them always wanted money
Why should I pay to be their honey
But this one just wants Bill
For with him her heart will completely fill
Full of passion and love 
Sent from heaven above
And soon we will be as one entity
Which will last through infinity
She is extremely so fine
My heart knows she is mine
We are completely entwined like a vine
And we both know it will last till the end of time

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Arms In Which To Hide

Always surrounded by people
Yet I always feel so lonely
The lady let escape
From her lips
As the feeling poured
From eyes so beautiful
They always draw a crowd
So many people talking
As she screams out loud
No one can hear
For none will listen
There only for the laughter
And to share her touch
To drink in what they see
Not to look inside
All the fun of the moment
Tends to fade when days grow long
When all you need is a place to hide
But truth reveals no arms to hold
Just boasts with new stories told
So she tries to ignore
How alone she is
Hoping no one sees
What she really feels
Yet in all the photographs to attract
I see in each one exposed
The lonely hurt of a girl
Hoping someone will seek to look
Beyond what a picture shows
To discover what
Her true heart knows
And not seek to boast
But give her arms
In which to hide

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Came To You

In my youth
I came to you
For love and warmth
When I needed words
That were strong and wise
I came to you
Now here I stand
Facing your door one more time
Oh how I need your strength 
To walk on through
There’s the couch
Where you watched TV
The kitchen’s still in place
Where you used to cook
The rocker’s still on the deck
Where you’d just sit and look
The pillow still has your imprint
Where you used to sleep
There’s your clothes all lined up
Waiting for you to give them grace
Look at the pictures lining the hall
With your smiling face
I remember how I came to you
With news of my wife and kids
And how you used to smile
Now I’m walking in this place
That has your feel
But not your smiling face
Oh dear God
How I need your strength
Who will I come to now
Now that you are gone
I don’t know how
But wherever you are
I’ll still come to you
In my time of need
Oh dear God, I’ll never forget
How when I needed strength and wisdom
You were always there
And how I came to you

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 | |

True Friendship

True friends are for life Until the end They're more than special They're your bestest friends. They're the ones you can go to When you're in despair The ones that'll help you Even when you got gum in your hair! They're the ones who'll laugh And go laughing with you all through the night The ones who'll help you Help you with all their might To have a good friend You have to be one So be nice to one another So you can be friends forever And that\'s how to be the best friend you can be.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ole Shoebox

Hmm, a photograph
Two quarters and a dime
A half written note
A set of tags
A few keys and credit cards
Driver’s license and I.D.
Surprising what fits
In an ole shoebox
A few clothes thrown together
Some well pressed
An old pair of sneakers
And well polished shoes
A mind full of memories
A room full of emptiness
No doubt the room
Will be filled again
The box handed over
And the memories lived
I’d just rather not 
Be holding these tags
Through the silenced laughter
Echoes the days we knew
How with hair on fire
How high we flew
Larger than life
Now within my hands
In what I hold
So much more is told
Than a few items in a box
For what lies within
Is a life well lived
Cut much too short
For a greater cause
So surprising it is
What fits in an ole shoebox
I’d just rather not 
Be holding these tags
And damn my friend
I so want you back

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A New Found Old Friend

Don't have as much the time now days
Wondered how you were going
Just a glimpse of your somewhat familiar face
Upon my computer makes me smile.

Thanks to those who invented facebook
To ease our weary wondering souls
Our childhood friendships renewed once again
We finally found that so long lost friend.

As I run the mouse over many friends of friends
I spot a new---old one every now and then
I send that old friend a friend request to find
As precious memories of them flood my mind.

Oh it isn't so much fun to know
I didn't after all
in my past leave you way behind.
My new found old long lost friend.

Linda Terrell

Older people looking for old school friends
on facebook get reunited everyday!
This one is for all of those I have again 
made contacted with that am so glad you 
did not remain in my past!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I miss you......

22nd Sept 2008 -  the day i will never forget .
U parted with me and broke the friendship forever....
U will never know how i felt that day- 
my world ended,nothing else i could say.
it was easy for you to part ways
but how could i ? in my little world you are like sun's rays......
spreading joy n happiness in my lyf,
i alwayz thought how can God make a friend like you ?
full of spirit, fun-loving , caring n true...
who can hold his tears n still make me smile
holding my hands n walk miles 
not knowing the destination nor the place
but with the intention of bringing the smile back on my face 
everytime u called me sweetheart
you are the best friend in the world, i thought,
those pranks n jokes when i was down,
the way u teased me when i frowned;
it was always fun whenever u talked,
those long night chats , how can i forgot?
those silly jokes when i was sad
calling me an alien will make you glad
those bday surprises n proposals midnight...
remember those discussions n silly fight?
life was all fun when you were their
i had a reason 2 live again - for the way you cared 
never in my dreams i thought you willl leave me alone,
still cant forget those last words on phone....
bt now you split , winter has come in my life again,
never will i get back those moments spent with you, 
for the time we spent together was very few;
how i wish those time to return back-
you calling me again - stupid , duffer , bitch n crack
i still dont believe i am no more in ur life again.....
sometimes i think did you play a game ?
but i know you so well with the few time we spent together,
what made you take that decision i know dear.
still my heart wishes for your company,
you know that i luv u honey.....
why cant those sweet moments come again?
why cant we be friends again?
words can never define the feelng i have for you
i can just put it as 'i miss you' 
hey dear i will wait for the time till we meet again
n you say me 'oh dear! i luv you' once again

Details | Prose Poetry | |


you have style
that travel for miles
i love your smile
its on my files
my number you can dail
cause your gods child
you lovely too
its a 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dear Rhoda

Long Island- my old home.  Thanks for the words.  tom bell

Details | Prose Poetry | |


it was  day i'll sayit 
it caugh my eye
as it pass by
look like my age
so i didn't turn the page
i found out  to late
it was a mistake
it wasn't fake
but it was

Details | Prose Poetry | |

when the river turns to ice

when the river turns to ice
her touch lies frozen solid
cold forbidden calculations
how to stay restricted access
hard on thoughts of summer wanderings
invitations buried under sad emotions
slow the inches of a weary crossing
silent in response
a sudden crack that slithers piercing
the sound of fear beneath my feet
silent is the answer
shall I wait or shall I walk so tender
will the split in trust wide open try
still not one reply
to die in vain for smiling
crying over what was once so sweet
running water over babbling beds of rock
enthusiasm of a younger stream
flying now confined
defiant in a stubborn season
residue of rusting propositions
silent is my call

Details | Prose Poetry | |

With Danny At Norms

I met Danny at Norms on the weekends
it's a cheap coffee shop that serves
decent apple pie and good steaks
sometimes there is a long wait for a table
other times we hustle right in

Danny was waiting for me at a table tonight
he waved when I came in, ten minutes late
anyways, there was a lot of traffic but
that's no excuse, I got on the road late
busy playing around on the computer

Danny talked about playing poker
he had a lucky day at the table the other day
and today everything went bad
I wanted to tell him to check his astrology
but I just sat and listened

Danny always orders the porterhouse and then
takes the bone home for his dog Jake

I always get the New York Steak with a Caesar's salad
and a baked potato.

Danny and I are the best of friends
he was a big drinker back in the day
those days are over and now he just
complains about smoking too many cigars

it's always nice to see him.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


In 2008, we hope for world peace and wars to cease.
We will take hold of possibilities and cast away the impossibilities.
Embrace a new future to learn and nurture.
Remember new friends we have made along the way
and keep ever-close old friends to heart.

Let us never forget the losses we suffered 
as individuals or as nations.
Encouraging those whom serve us
protecting our freedom.

Let our words mimic our actions
Let us speak uplifting and 
Inspiring word verses.
Let the thoughts of the poets be
engraved in the inspiration
we set forth let us help
carve new truths for all.

In 2008 a Year of new beginnings.

Have a Happy New Years Soupers and thank you for allowing me to become a part of this
community in 2007.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Uncle Charlie's Friend

I was barely ten years old
When I heard the news
Couldn’t quite comprehend
Why Marshall wasn’t coming home
People said he was the best of them
My Uncle Charlie’s friend
I can remember my Ma and Pop
All their friends crying out loud
The whole town coming out
For a man everybody loved
Sent off to a foreign land
Never coming home again
When Uncle Charlie came home
Used to sit on the porch
He and his drums playing a song
Damning the Viet Cong in Marshall’s name
Used to look at him through the smoke
Watch him shake, the blunt of people’s jokes
Seemed to have an unquenchable thirst
Twenty-two going past a hundred
What it was I never understood
Turned him into a piece of wood
Thirty years gone by
Seem to have a different view
As I look back on things I never knew
I see my Uncle Charlie’s friend in a different light
No longer just a name
As I’ve watched some of my friends go
It’s dawned on me why the whole town turned out
For Uncle Charlie’s friend
The smoke has cleared, the thirst is gone
Only the echos of drums remain
On the porch of a house no longer there
My memory knows him as Marshall
What’s left of the town
Speaks of him as the best of them
Though they haven’t thought of him in years
The way and why he died, they haven’t forgotten
It’s only now I comprehend, the pain and grief
My Pa’s brother and the whole town felt
For my Uncle Charlie’s, my Uncle Charlie’s friend.

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One For Love

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

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

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we hearyour voice
you were our choice
your gone
your sprit lives on
you had a tone
that will gon on and on
your picture on the wall
with a love fist

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Something To See

Wouldn’t it be something to see
To view the perfect love
In every word I write
But diamonds they can’t all be
Wouldn’t it be something to see
To walk through the rain
Hand in hand and not get wet
But sunny days don’t always happen
What if the clouds always opened up
Wherever you walked
And each step you took
Made you forget the last
Wouldn’t it be something to see
If smiles and hugs were always there
And in the world
There was nothing but care
Ah, wouldn’t it be something to see
You and me living every day
Just envisioned our own way
Oh my God, if every word I spoke
Said it just right
We could live so happily
With no more foolish pain
Yes I agree
Wouldn’t it be something to see
To view the perfect love you see
Each time you look in the mirror
But darling, it’s just me
And everybody knows
Perfect, I’ll never be

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Forever Free

In the land
Where brave men die
Stories are told
Where these men lie
Of how they fought
And what they sought
Glory not for themselves
But freedom to die
As they chose
So they did
And gave their all
So those that follow
Might know free will
Brave men in troubled times
Who lived not to count
Rich men’s dimes
Lived lives full
Rather facing death
Than to live as slaves
Men of honor who drank their fill
Feasted on life
Till filled with hope
Riding into battle already won
Free to feel the sun
With the wind in their hair
Free to choose their day to die
Oh to be so free
May we always be
To always remember the legend
Of a man and men
Who so believed in integrity and honor
In the face of challenge and strife
Rode off to face death
To put their lives to the test
For a greater cause
That we might live
Forever free

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Everybody needs help sometimes
But not me she said
I need no one to carry me
I am strong enough to walk or run
Through anything I face
But are you strong enough I asked
To show the courage to reach out
During your times of doubt
Let someone’s hand be placed in yours
To help pull you back to even
When you fall behind
I know that deep within our minds
The only thing weaker
Than asking for ones help
Is admitting we need help at all
But those are just foolish thoughts
Placed by people who have never
Learned what it is to care
There is no weakness
In our need to share
In everybody’s life at times
Our emotions lie bare
All dragged out and spent
It’s only the strong among us
Who reach out to take an offered hand
There to help pull us back up
To make a stronger stand
Oh yes I know so well
You can take care of yourself
But even Superman himself
Needs a helping hand
To remove his kryptonite 
To regain the strength
To do what’s right
So here my friend
Here’s my hand to help
Do you have the strength…

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“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 . . . 

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I hold out my hands
much to my surprise
they are touched
and, I find a new dimension
to explain would be tedious
I hold out my hands

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Soup And Brain Salad

No, Shar, I'd never heard of it, but I will, i looked it up, and it's got a great rating.  
Sounds good!  Thanks!!  My friend John S. is a horror buff of the first ranking.  He 
was even on the peripheral edges of some things.  Was working with Joe Spinell 
when he died (Joe) from a tooth infection complicated with heavy cocaine use.

Freddy, 'Ol boy- for you I'm sure the words would be "I'm just a boy whose 
detentions were good!..... And, when you med Davy Jones, was that at his 
locker?  Do you really like Burdon?  Have his Mickey Most series??  Regards, tom

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

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Sometimes Being Alone

Sometimes being alone
Just isn’t enough
Today I went to see an old friend
Who doesn’t get around much anymore
Been a while since we last spoke
Not like the words that flowed
Were now easily heard
Sometimes the realization
That it’s been a little too long
Comes just a tad too late
Makes catching up harder
Than it needs to be
So you talk and talk
Remember all the old times
Laugh about what seems silly now
Cry about things you didn’t know
Talk about how the kids have grown
Where life took us both
Where we thought we’d go
Talk about your wedding
The days your momma and poppa passed
How the words I wrote
Helped those days get by
Now here I stand in disbelief
Wondering how fast time does fly
It’s kind of you to listen
Silently let me ramble on
But before you go I must say
Though alone we’ve spent the day
As I stand watching
You lowered into the ground
Sometimes being alone
Just isn’t enough

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Here you are again.
Hi, HELLO, friend.
What is the news ?
Short and like a fuse.
Only love to send.
Death, rape, crime and offend.
What again was your name ?
Just call me - "INSANE".
A wayward brother of CAIN.
Tell me more bliss.
My girlfriend gave me a kiss.
What in the world do you miss ?
*A moment of peace and the snake hiss*

2006 from Scribble ?????
search: POEWHIT


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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 

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Just a Note...

I’m looking through the pictures,
Of you and me, amongst everyone else,
On various occasion,
And I wish we have more.

I’m reading through the e-mails,
Through endless words,
Of Hellos and Good Byes,
And I wish we have more.

I’m remembering every second,
When we meet,
When we talk,
When we simply smile to each other,
And I wish we have more.

I wish we have all the times of our lives,
To laugh, to embrace, to call each other names, 
To say something silly,
To be side by side,
I just wish we have more.

Cause when a couple of days are not enough,
And a couple of weekends are mere seconds, 
May I suggest a lifetime?

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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

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L ia Ains cy rinn a elle (Part six)

From my pocket I draw forth my friend

The best of me

I have held her inside this moistened leaf of lily
Since the day I set down booted feet across these desert sands
One lifetime ago I cried a single tear and herein I placed
As it lay dying on the shore of years gone by 
Across the breadth of this leaf
Across the width of this leaf   
To breathe it back
To breathe it back and liven it too
That I might, 
That I would, 
That I have 
Held my friend the best of me in this leaf
Who breathes
Who lives
Who waits
Has waited for me
Though the expanse of blistering sands yawned before me 
All around me for years and . . . twice in life a time lost was I amidst these dunes

I can feel it whispering silently
With its cool tepid breath brushing lightly across my back
My neck with feather light kisses
Creeping over the tips of my short cut hair
Comes the memory I am afraid to see
Still I turn and I look
I do, I do . . . 

I cup my hands before in the shade of me
And I sigh a soft whispering of breath
Across her sleeping body to wake her gently 

So in the dying moonlight 
She wakes
With a fluttering of eyelashes
We meet once more again
The best of me
My friend

And I smile a quiet sort of smile
That echoes the murmur of day
Across her skin glimmering inside the shade

“L’ia Ains cy’rinn a’elle . . .” breathe I

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Hard Reflections

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

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tell a Friend!

My life is goin on,
Its a roller-coaster, ups and downs,
so many things to tel,
cant tel it to the walls around,
they dont reciprocate,
need a soul, need a person,
Feeling happy? Feeling sad?
Tell a friend...

met you as a stranger,
took a walk to know you better,
and never turned back,
look back on the path we led,
there were no footsteps,
oh i remember, we flew, n dint walk,
Feeling happy? feeling sad?
Tell a friend..

chose different paths,
yet our lives intertwined,
i dint ask for this, yet it came,
wouldnt have wished for the happiness,
if i knew the pain,
the end is near,
Feeling happy, Feeling sad,
have always shared,
hope we meet again, oh friend,
cuz they say world is a small place,
To embrace again, i hope....

Details | Prose Poetry | |

What If It Was

So, what if it was
Just you and me
What if we decided 
To take a walk
Just to see
Where it might lead
Would you be as enthusiastic 
To a yes
As you are to a maybe
What if it was
Just you and me
And no one else
Would you really be devoted
Through any kind of rain
Could it be as we imagine
And we work our way
Through our dreams
Would we each be there
To stand beside
When hurt tried
To get deep inside
Would we each be there
To celebrate
When life brought smiles
Too big to contain
When we felt like leaping
Out of our shoes
Would it be 
Into each other’s arms
When our children
Brought news of their own
Would they do so separately
Or as one
And when the end came near
Would we still take
Each other’s hand
So, if it was
Just you and me
To all these questions
What would your answer be

Details | Prose Poetry | |


you where to hold my hand
and look at me, my heart might 
skip. I would look away, say 
“The sky is lovely.” Yet there
are clouds covering the sky,
like I cloud my words meanings, for
in truth, I don’t think anything of the sky,
nor trees, nor flowers when I’m 
with you. Only you. Therefore, I think 
I need you, and like the 
infamous poets before me, I will
attempt to immortalize you in lines,
and woo you with verse. If that should, however, 
fail, I lose you to the wind, and men 
yet to come, and without 
you, I’ll be of the trees Orpheus 
sings to, with somber branches and
lost leaves. I will talk and write of your
eyes, an electric, endless brown.
Of your voice, drifting in 
the air and stopping at nothing
to please. Of your figure and grace,
destroying wills of men like the Sirens song,
yet thicker and more potent,
lingering like cigar smoke in the air. 
Eventually, yes, my mind will move on,
but frozen in time would be my
emotions for you in these lines, 
and if ever you need to feel loved, 
you need only read.

If it where to work though, the
story takes a different path, which is 
one I leave to your imagination. 
An obscurity found in most love 
stories. ‘They lived happily ever after,’  
would, could, be us, where you to
dip your fingers (what gentle, 
beautiful fingers), into the well 
of my palm.

The choice then is yours then,   
my lovely R------, what’ll it be?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lazy Cuddle

Forget life and work today

I am just not in the mood today

Lets just lay in bed

Just you and me

Your head on my heart

Hear my dedicate heart beat

A few long kiss

No need to brush our teeth

A quick shower together

So we can enjoy the lust fruit called sex

Lets take our time no need to make it quick today

Let the sheets keep all our deep secrets today

Some Chinese food around noon

Your body is still in ecstasy and I am too lazy to cook

Lets watch all your DVDs while you cuddle right next to me

Tell me how much you love me and I will tell you how much I cherish you

You give me that innocent and girly smile

You are at peace as I run my hands through your hair

Tell you everything you want to hear

A few more long kisses and a few more rounds in bed

A good night kiss and our day together is over

Today was a lazy cuddle kind of day

Just me and you

Like how its suppose to be

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Flight of Fancy

We were lionhearted
We imagined bullets, pinecones
Swords, sticks
We couldn't be cut
By any sharpened edge
We were invulnerable
Our heels wrapped in Nikes
Climbing hills, Everest
No concern for when
We will talk about-
"When we were young"
Only concern
For our King's men dying
And the fair lady weeping

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 | |

Uncommonly good.

Uncommonly good, 
This taste on my lips that I should,
Devour, delight without hesitate.
A cup of bliss that I hate.

Another round of wine,
A spoonful of something divine,
A kiss,
A scent that I miss.

Bitterly cold,
In every stare that we hold.
What is behind the mask,
A question noone dare to ask.

It is more than silly,
But it's just a thought,
A slight detour I should sought?

Sunrise is peeking,
Time is ticking,
Oh how I wish I could stay,
Hold your hand as we sway.

Cloud is waving,
Moon is hiding,
As we bid farewell,
As I walk on the path I know well.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Poets readers of my verses

From poets readers of my poems, and one fairest creature ,
I know that beauty never dies; the green desire may increase
In the cave with crystal-stalactites shinning sweet and pure…
But as the time is our thief, too much hope, is also a disease.
Blessing and oath descending upon the wood around
We see the yellow skirt so patched with strident colours mad:
The horses' hoofs crushing the grass hit the inner sound ,
Like the drum hit by a monk drummer blockhead;
Late dinner and bad humour fill the large room with shadows:
Called at the most improper time, the other monks get up from bed.
Nevertheless, there with the crew, perhaps somebody knows
That the lack of the old order is like the withered flowers
Near the feet of the Saviour; maybe the world's new face
And only herald to the winter without snow, without towers
In the frozen desert, is to be found in the freedom's necklace:
An ice medallion above the whispering heart of ours…
  Pity the world, or else this poem be : boldness…
  To melt the world's doubt and meet tenderness...

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You are not alone

Take my hand,
I know it’s hard to ask another to care

Take my hand,
I know it’s hard to ask another to share your confusion

Take my hand,
And allow me to be your confessional
Allow me to be your strength when you need it
I know it’s hard
But take my hand
Take my hand
Because it’s right to know there is someone here for you
Because there is no greater pain
No greater sorrow
Than feeling alone, 
Abandoned in a world of confusion
So take my hand

Take my hand
And I shall be there when you need a laugh

Take my hand
And I shall be there when you need a shoulder to cry on

Take my hand
And I shall be there when you just need to feel me close by

Take my hand
And I will show you how to believe again in trust
And you will never be alone again

Take my hand
I know its hard to try
To ask another to share in your pain
How unfair it seems to ask another to care
I know because I have been there too
So take my hand
Take my hand
Because this is a good thing
A beautiful thing our friendship
Because I need you as much as you need me
So take my hand

Take my hand
And I will only be a breath away

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Please Note

Please email all challenge response to, as well as 
posting,  thanks

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mi  name bill
if you wll
what your name
or is ths just game
this is not a complain
as my yes blink

Details | Prose Poetry | |

On a Scale Of One to Ten

Do decimels count?  Exponentials?
Remember this crazy dude, I'll surely only get crazier as I age.
And I'm doing that fast.
Got some catchin' up to do.
The soap opera around me grows ever more bizarre.
And worrisome.
And I don't mean me. 
I spent the night over a cousin's house.
Didn't realize the mistake till too late.
It's hard to be pleasant company when you feel withered and adrift.
Read a complete book last night, then two children's books.
Well, at least I read the pictures.
My doctor told me don't buy any green bananas.
Cardiologist not so subtle, but I got a sense of humor.
I love to spar mentally with those who take me for as dumb as I act.
Usually they don't even know it.
I'm likely the only person in the world with a giant console organ in the middle of 
his tiny kitchen....barely open the refrigerator... whose 7 watt bulb is brighter than 
me often.  
Rosie worried, knew not what happened to me. 
My troubles pale next to hers.  I don't know how she deals with it all.
Vicodins, aspirins, voodoo spells all as useless as M&M's to a diabetic.
Pain relief or sleep?  I chose pain relief, then realized if I was asleep, I would't be 
aware of pain.  Now I know a few things I never had to ponder.  
Someday all will be sunny again...or not, I haven't a clue.  Enjoy your turkey 
sandwiches.  tom

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put faith in me
i am the key
to your sucess
you'll not regret
feel free

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tom's Super Quiz Poet's Contest

Okay folks, here we go: Super Quiz Contest; Part One:  First one to accumulate 
25 points total for all parts, wins....
1) Make a 6 line poem incorporating the following 6 words, or phrases" (I will 
provide one bonus word to provide you a bit of choice) . Use  verse libre', rhyme, 
or burlesque, but I'd suggest burlesque, as that form has more value here.- the 
words are "waffle", "roller skate", "Latex semi-gloss paint" "bench press" "coal 
bin" and "police siren" ; 10 points max value.  Humorous poems for above 
(burlesque) can accumulate up to 10 bonus points.  Remember, the poem 
should make some sort of explainable convoluted sense, at least in the crazy 
tom way.
2)Part two; Answer correctly the following riddle/quiz; "I sound like a part of you, 
and I'd never speak of you a'foul...but sometimes I stretch out- and make others 

One clue will be posted each day, starting on the second day- up to 5 clues max.; 
but each day the values decline by 1 point...Contest entries accepted up till 
midnite of Sunday night, Oct 14.  Winner, if any, will be announced following day, 
if prize has not been won already...
May the best man, or woman, win...Based on past results, I'd say watch out for 
Shar-she usually wins these, although this one is tougher than most.  So best 
luck to all.  Winner will be granted a custom poem by me based on any one word 
you choose- name, thing, etc.  I may ask up to 1 1 word clue,if I need, one brief 
question of clarification...
The judge's word is final...(yes, mine!!, being married 2 times, that'll be a new 
And everyone is welcome to comment on other entries, so long as appropriate 
respect and clean language is abided to.
Good Luck!!!!
                                                 tom bell

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to night
under the moonlight
come run have some fun
dance to soul
but gold
the music you choose it
bring a friend to share
our place is near
to hump

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it was on a sunday afternoon
in the milldle of june
we  played soulfull tunes
at will
we at spare rids
drink soda and beer alot
it was so hot
we need those pops
stay there until after dark

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Walking in the Wind for she

Under the sighing sky I stood within the swaying grass
With the rain pelting me like tears of heaven fallen just for us, we the two
And where were you when open these arms did I to the sky and rains drinking of my life
Lost a little bit down by the shore of the teaming river dancing across the turtle
So to it is that I turn from the rains feeding my soul to you and I whisper across . . .

“At times your anger is masked, 
A perception made to last a moment in time of thought, 
You divide, 
And issue your emotions like that of a pedal in the wind, 
No direction consistent 
It flows in the breeze swaying, 
Hopelessly looking for a soft place to land . . .
And when finally a comfort zone appears 
You place your moment of emotion down 
With caution 
Allowing your self to be free, 
If only for a moment the protective barriers come down and. . . 
Trust appears in the haze . . .”

So my breath falls silent and is lost within the rains streaming down my face
Like the sounds of your bare feet tamping, tamping through the tall grass
That licks your legs and sighs across your dress of downy hide
Beaded in color shied away and wept with tears cascading from the forlorn skies
Awash am I 
Now in the past moment barely past this way before when last did I stumble . . .
Across your voice singing like the lute of day breaking across the river’s silent dance

Once more all over again I hear your voice calling out to me . . .

“I do 
It surfaces from a place 
A place I cannot intentionally visit 
For at random the raw emotions take on life and suddenly 
The emotions without names 
They pump in my veins like that of the thundering sky lit by lightening bolts 
Threatening to make they're appearance known, 
Then with an unexpected BANG my pen demands 
To be in action grasping capturing this moment in time 
That will appear and be gone, 
A sigh of relief 
As I struggle with speediness to write,
Barely catching each emotion that has taken life 
But only for a flash of time, 
I pause 
Frustrated as the glory has gone 
The moment now faded 
I hang my head disappointed 
For when will they surface again, 
I need to feel 
I can't explain my thoughts 
My thoughts 
My thoughts have scattered into a wistful breeze 
Still silent, 
Unmolested silence 
With only the distant cries of . . .
Nature singing it's melodious . . . lullaby

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Sizing Up the Enemy

Before commiting to battle,
A wise warrior reviews the odds,
Determines the likelyhood of success,
And judges accordingly...

In my younger, gang years,
I at times deviated from this basic logic...
Such as the time I and fellow member,
Barry Bernstein (knicknamed "Noodles the Shiv")
Not for his propensity to sit Shiva,,
But for his propensity to be the first
To introduce his gravity-knife,
Into the melee, taking it to a whole new level,
Generally one the opposition declined to accept,

Well, we had been taken by two new "blind" dates
to a movie on Long Island, and afterwards to a nearbly pizzeria,

Our typical garb in those days was leather jackets,
With cut off denim jacket adorned with chains and iron crosses,
A sort of motorcycless Hells Angel's Wanna-Be,

Well we were bothering no one,
But a nearby table with 7 or 8 "greasers",
Were taking great joy at insulting my long hair,
Referencing me to some sort of Indian,
With some "impolite" remarks about Barry's nose...

We listened to this for a while,
Until one remark set me off,
Wisdom, odds, all went out the window,
I removed my garrison belt,
(We, the "Gors", required everyone to
carry switchblades or gravity knives,
with gattison belt buckles sharpened
to razor status)
I wrapped the belt around my hand,
And slowly walked over to their table,
Brain dead, perhaps, but a good
Premonition of a Clint Eastwood movie,

"You got something to say?"
I spat out threateningly.
They sat in shock, silent,
"You wanna take me on?"
Another moment of hard looks, by me.
And they shuffled out, mumbling.

I went back to my pizza...
suddenly aware of my insanity...
This there town,
not mine...
The nearest Gors were 25 miles away.
There were no cell phones then.

Slowly, a crowd was gathering outside,
They had reinforcements they didn't even need,
I saw pipes, chains, baseball bats,
Trash cans, they were only short
a Battleship...
We were dead!

At last, one of the girl's mothers pulled up
in her stationwagon, to take us home,
I suggested to Barry we walk slowly to the car,
As though we were prepared to fight.
We got into the station wagon just as
Garbage cans, lids, and other projectiles
flew our way...
The mother said, "Gee, I wonder what's
wrong with those kids?"
I was never so happy to see a brain-dead
parent before.
It was the "Great Gors Escape"
And this tale is unadorned.

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To those of you who showed concern, thanks, but it was merely an attempt at 
humor; how some would be glad to shut me up....thanks again, tom

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Souper-Men/Souper Woman-Convention Idea

I think we should ask the Soup people about this convention-where to have- how 
much each would need to contribute.  This could be a big promotional coup for 
the Soup people-even if they charge us , say $20 per head to attend- and more 
for site...etc...And perhaps I can get my old band together for entertainment- I'd 
even do some of my stand-up and comedy gratis.  and maybe 
vote for a couple of categories of poetry- romantic, humourous-sad-life-loss- 
and "Grand Master Poet"  Please advise me of your thoughts!  Thank you, and 
God bless you all!!        tom bell

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its that time
you see signs
see a smile
theyer gods child
so much it brings
and flower and other things

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Soup Convention?

Anyone interested in getting together at a "Soup Convention"- hopefully with Soup 
executives, for a night of fun and reverie?????

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long time no see
what will it be
you have the key
some up and see me
let wine and dine

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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!

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To Someone Who's More Than A Friend

Why all the time you always acting like you isn't hurt
And really inside you feel like dirt
When you told me to call you, when I get older
I thought about everything 
I ever said and wrote about you
That seemed cool with me cause we ain't getting no younger
Still always in my heart you are my friend I'll  always hang on to you no matter 
what we go through
You my friend is tight
But I know  me and you know
In life everything isn't right
We both have unique minds
And for you boy I'll always have time
I remember when you said
"Get money, forget girls "
My homie always keep your head up
And do what you do 
I remember at one point of time I wanted you so bad
Everything that day went so wrong
And I found myself so sad 
Call me when you get a little older those where the last words we said on the 

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Comment to Willy-fred

thanks, dude- yes 100% right-- did you ever get totally shattered by someone you 
love??  Remember how the music in the background took on a whole 'nother 
significance??  A totally new, far more aware, state of being-yet, of course, not 
necessarily a better one....thanks for the comment- send me your email address, 
so we don't have to converse this way.  Mine   Regards, 

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My Day To Spend

If I had one day it would be a day with you.
We would sit and chat in a garden under
the skies so blue.

Just you and me that’s where we would be.
Enjoying moments in the surroundings of
the gardens beauty.

My day would be frivolous unraveled and
bare to share all my thoughts and feelings.
We would soak in the sun and commune
in this beautiful garden.

Spending my day with you would be
just what I would do.

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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.

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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.

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New Love

This Is Being Written For A Person In Whom I Hope In The Near Future Will Become My 
Companion, My Confidant, My Lover And My Best Friend. Your Voice Is Oh So Soft and Tenderly 
Sweet.You're Words So Full Of Convictions and that's What Makes You Totally Complete; I 
know  You Harbor A love Deep Within You Which Is so Pure, Abundant and True And this I've 
Come To Realize From The Very First Moment That Ive Ever Spoken To You ! This Chemistry 
That's Shared Between Us Two Is a Feeling That Surpasses My Wildest Imgagination and I 
Know That Deep Down In My Heart and Soul That In The Near Future I'll Find Myself Falling 
Helplessly In Love With You. Theres Nothing In The Whole Wide World That I Wouldnt do For 
You. For I'd Climb The Highest Mountain, And Sail The Deep Blue Sea Or Until The Stars Fall 
From the Heavens Or The Mountains Crumble To the Sea, That's How Long I will Love Thee!!!

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texas steak
nothing higher
miss me mire
i was wire
to wire
on fire
my nigher
didnt die her
so i try her
get me i her
lie to her
just know for sure
i love you

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Thoughts, Comments

From a sleepy mind, unable to sleep...
These words I do feel deep...
The Soup has become my
number one family
One I spend my time with great joy,
I hope I don't too often annoy...
But that's what ya get,
When ya read a dumb goy...

Seriously (or as close as I can get)- to Christy- I am so glad you love the Shivaree 
song- it was on the ending soundtrack to Kill Bill II.  I first heard of it on a great 
NYC college radio station, WFUV, from Fordham University...I was driving when I 
first heard it, and nearly crashed!  I was awestruck, and haunted...I ordered the 
CD from Amazon (you can get anything there!)...and have heard it many times.  I 
have not been able to "get into" most of the other songs, because if you put a 
Picasso next to the Mona Lisa, you can't really judge.  I have trouble lately getting 
a continuous clean video (on You Tube, same as you)- and hope there is a video 
available from Amazon, but haven't checked it out yet.  
To my precious Shar, you are so sweet, and easily the most popular poet on the 
soup (well deserved)- I often get so wrapped up in writing, I have to train myself 
to read more- And I've been trying...ever amazed by the talent I read, there is not 
enough time in the day...and the reading is so pleasureable, it ought to be taxed!
(oops, none of us want that, it was a pun..."Monty Python"...the parrot sketch),
what a joy to have this great library to enjoy for years to come...And Christy, why'd 
ya' send the racoon here?- He just left and I had to join "The Racoon Club" to get 
him to go...Ya'll great, and I still got an hour or three left in me...

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To All Soupmates

In an effort to get our beloved Ruby Metzger back- I suggest each of you send a 
card or note addressed to her, care of me, and I will send the whole batch to her- 
who knows, maybe another "Miracle On thirty-forth Street"?

Mail to ; Tom Bell 95 New Hackenck Rd., Wappinger Falls, N.Y. Cell Block 24
I will mail them all to her on the last day of Feb.  Remember, her birthday is 2/14.
Tell all your other Soup buddies, please!!  Thank you, tom.

PS- Zip is 12590-1730

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sex and the city

sex and the city
my jennifer tilly
get jill lee
done with me?
total tree
and find me

done been a worm
seen a burn
now its thurshe's turn

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Valentine's Day Birthday

My sweet Ruby's birthday,
Naturally on Valentine's day,
In her honor, the NY city of Beacon
Will close their schools!
Ain't that a kick?
Though, sadly, 
She seems to be "missing in action" lately,
Many wonder why,
She is so loved on this site,
Many of us cry....
So come back home,
To the five and dime,
We'll even through in some 
Jimmy Dean sausages!!!

Or, as Kenny Roger's first song went,
"Ruby, don't take your poems to town!"

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daunty little kim matthers
somebody said that
whats the ball on the floor doing out?
wheres the kids?