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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 | |

Lucila

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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 twelfth grade, I was really afraid, that my trust would slowly fade, But I was very wrong, the bond is still strong!
Even Though you don't have time, you at least 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 alright!
I am so glad,that 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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BEAUTY IN THE EYES OF THE BEHOLDER

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Burned

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 | |

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.
    Continued.....


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Things fall apart

i wake up every morning
 questioning my entire existence
 they say i must be persistent 
 but i ask myself is god really present or absent
 you folks say to make it i have to be obedient

Things fall apart
 friends became enemies
 gravity seems to be my worst enemy
 all my plans seems to be rearranged
 things i wanted to establish and accomplish
 have perished and vanish
 they say the world is round 
 and yet i think is a square
 so many hurts we get from 
 corners here and there

Things fall apart
 the sky is covered with a dark cloud
i try to speak but my voice is not loud
i tried to blend in the crowd
 but i always standout
 all my brothers are school dropouts
 my sister works as a checkout girl
 they said heavens gate was built to keep me out
 moments like this i ask God's whereabouts

Things fall apart 
 Just as we say things are getting better
 sweeter and tastier, they turn sour and bitter
 the sky just fall in the middle of a storm
 the trees are unfruitful
 the rivers are dry
 our crops in the field are devoured before harvest time

my eyes are all red and swollen
 from the tears that shed
 my mothers knees are red from 
 kneeling down and praying for a miracle
 her knuckles are frozen from knocking on heavens door
 her voice is all cranky from shouting
 hoping god can hear her

Things fall apart
 mom lost her job
 daddy got retrenched at his
 grandma has a disease that has no cure
 soon she will departure
 to the heavens above
 relatives have turned into strangers
 rags and shreds cover my body
 my little sister singing
is my rhapsody of reality
 as we stand firm together in unity.


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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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.

Amen 
09122012

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

MOTHER TONGUE

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
zone.

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
French?

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


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 | |

Birthday

Birthday 

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.

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

DRUNK AND IGNORANT

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.


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 gaze.at 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 way...to 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 | |

Happy Christmas Poetsoupers

                                                                           Join
                                                                          hands
                                                                        and pray,
                                                                       let there be 
                                                                   light where there 
                                                                is gloom, let there be 
                                                             love where  hatred stalks. 
                                                         Realise hope  when despair 
                                                      overtakes our day, walk in honesty 
                                                   and truth, carry the shadows of kindness 
                                                 and humility throughout your life. Be gentle 
                                             of heart to family and loved ones, be tolerant of 
                                           faith and thoughts of fellow man. Be akin with others
                                         less fortunate than ourselves, be humble in the eyes of
                                        your God. Hold the memories of those passed, distant or
                                     on duty dearly, on this birthday of all birthday's pray for the 
                                    infant child of all nations. Peace and your God be with you all.
                                                                            xxx 
                                                                           Love
                                                                          Peace
                                                                           Hope
                                                                           Faith
                                                  Happy Christmas and a brilliant New Year
                                                                          Daniel                                         
                                                                              xx 












                                    





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 | |

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 smoke...as she smoked her cigar...


 


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 | |

Familiarity

What is it about 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?
Or, 
maybe
you are staying
because 
    you 
        are 
           meant
                to 
                   stay.

Then,
stay.
If you may.
I pray.
While I find a place (for us)
in the picture of eternities,
the gods must be 
hiding, 
conspiring;
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 | |

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
together…

Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Poet Soupers 2011

Let your dawns be ever warm, your
sunsets sink in peace. Let beauty fill 
your day, let the tears be tears of
laughter. Let the child's smile fill
your heart, may the arms of your 
loved ones be forever open.
Accept forgiveness and be the
forgiving, bear the heavy burden
of humility with grace. Live in the
thought that friendships free, and
that there is room in the soul for all.
Accept sorrow and sadness as part
of life, take the hand of kindness to
assist you, offered without conditions.
Search the rainbows for your wishes,
pursue those never ending dreams,
reach for those horizons so eagerly
sought. 
And as the year eleven approaches
let us pray that man can control his 
differences, that hope and faith will
win the day. That we can co exist 
has man and planet with mutual
respect, let your pen write in
volumes and be the conscience of
the world.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

About INDIA

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 ." 

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

FRIEND IN YOU

(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


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 | |

I HAVE YOU

(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