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Prose Poetry Health Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Health

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Pink Vulnerability


I continue to feel
the searing pain. 
ever constant.
so keen.
Not the kind
    that heals fast,
      open wound that closes.
But, the kind that stays vulnerably
       with the passing years.
Three decades 
        and still counting.

Woe to this pain!
With laden anguish, 
The heart's bemoaning.
Thinking it was born
     without a name.
Only to find then
     at a much later time;
giving in.
Oblivious now.
Unashamed
    that my bosom groans,
        complains.



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Still Around

I had cancer a while back 
and  at last year's  Thanksgiving I threw a football and I 
could barely send it a couple of feet
After a tasty Thanksgiving feast 
this year I picked up a mini football
and played catch for about 45 minutes
And man, did that feel good!


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 | |

Healing Touch

There is a certain healing touch
     in ocean waves, the powerful progression of unending undulations, white caps           crashing with determination, dancing with destiny.

There is a certain healing touch
     as the salty strike of ocean air sends serenity and touches all my senses.

There is a certain healing touch
     when the cooling spray from of sea water washes with its’ wetness and soothes           my heated soul.

There is a certain healing touch
     in the silencing and slowing of footsteps as they try to run in sand.

There is a certain healing touch
     in being moved by innocence of children and the sandcastles they command.

Sitting near the surf, I watch the roll of ocean waves, soak up the strike of salty air, am washed by cooling waters, listen for the sound of footsteps in the sand, and am moved by the innocence of children in their play.

{em>PS contest: "Impress me with a small poem"   Nature  © Sue k Green

I feel healing from all five fingers of their touch.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Suicidal Voodoo

Chase the voodoo to sleep. sleepless freaks i see in the silver screens blocking the vision of me. there's no choice but to eliminate hate inundating the mind. please mute the voices haunting the airwaves making me blind. the big bad budding burden flashing red lights at every intersection. stealing away the insight i try to gain by using time for reflection.

It's a mess the way i test myself with deranged prophecies and bleak scenarios. replaying horror flicks in my head. blasting screams in stereo. all too often the worm hole shoots me to a mid evil castle of torturous devices. impaled in dreams that seem to be broadcasting punishment for succumbing to the world's entice and vices. but other times i fall victim to a good old fashioned "day-mare". people notice the self conversations and can't help but laugh and stare. I must say it's becoming difficult to blame them. if i can't learn to shake this voodoo, it's true my future's looking grim.

What do I do? they're gonna end up arresting me! Toss my ass in a padded room and throw away the key! and get this...as i worry about getting sent away, the paranoia increases inside my head. i reach for medication increasing odds of ending up prematurely dead. I may be crazy, but don't take me for an idiot fool. and don't haze me about where my faith is, cus' this could just as soon be you. and i've learned enough to know that each and every one of us will die. and you may take me as insane, but me not taking my own life's got nothing to do with having a fear to fry. 

This is exactly why i choose to write as my mind fills up with crazy thoughts and throws fits. it's a therapy for me to try and work out all the kinks that make me sink, instead of cowardly throwin' in the towel n' calling it quits.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

It's Great To Be Alive!

Tamera liked to run in the cold, on a whim she stopped by Woolworth and bought a package 
of hot tamale candies to eat after her run.  She loved having a reward for everything.  
Wearing her golden sweatpants Tamera decided to run laps, which she loved to do on the 
track alone late at night as the moon tipped his head and winked at her. She started this 
shortly after her divorce.   It was cathartic for her to watch her warm breath rise in the cold 
air.  Running in the winter made her feel alive to be so cold, to run and beat the elements. 
She loved the feel of the wind in her hair as she ran.

She didn’t notice the man that joined her, until he passed her.  She hadn’t seen him before.  
He had a Florida Gators jersey, orange sweat pants and a blue ski hat on. She liked his 
strides, they seemed fluid.  She had only been running a few years herself.  It was a hobby 
that she enjoyed.  Having company on the track felt good, normally she had the track all to 
herself.  She usually left after running three miles.  Tonight she felt like running more laps 
than usual.  She kept running.  Her new friend kept running too. Tamera was always 
competitive. Who knew maybe she could outrun him.

She found her rhythm and felt the adrenaline rush of the endorphins finally kick in. That's 
what she like about jogging, the endorphines. It felt freaking out of this world!  
Her heart was beating fast, her breathing was steady.  Her strides were growing wider and 
longer.  It felt so good to Tamera to be alive and one with the track.  She almost felt like 
she was flying over the Grand Canyon.

She kept running and running, until she could hardly feel her legs.  They felt numb, she heard 
the crowd as they cheered for her.  She saw every handsome man that she had ever known 
standing on the sidelines naked as they were cheering for her.  She smiled at them as she 
passed them by like a blur, for she was so fast.  She imagined her ex-husband lying on the 
ground rolling around in sheer pain as she ran all over him to win the race.  She saw herself 
jumping over the highest hurdles with the grace of an agile deer.  She was in her runner’s 
paradise. 

After a while, she noticed she had the track all to herself once again and her handsome 
gentleman, Mr. Moon had also moved along.  When she checked her mileage counter, Tamera 
had run eleven miles.  It was a great run, the best she had ever had. It was a great night to 
be alive!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Listening Closer to Myself

I give to you...
And you gave to me...
A rash, a fever, headache and the Flu...
I told you not to go without a coat...
And now you’ve got a very bad sore throat...
With fever and pain in all your muscles...
Coughing and sniffles, with draining from nostrils...
Tissues scattered all over the floor...
Bottles and pills from the drugstore...
Chicken soup is what I recommend...
But a sandwich also you did command...
And how about some chips and a nice cold brew...
For days I made you a priority...
Your every whim took seniority...
And then it happened, I started to sweat...
Became lethargic, and better yet...
You were over your bout with the Flu...
As I plopped my body onto the bed...
You stated you were going out to get something to eat...
So I could get some well deserved sleep...
As you closed the door, I heard you say...
Call me when you get better, OK ?
And that’s what brings me here today...
Perhaps I should listen closer to what I say...
" You should take better care of yourself ! “


 




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sweet River Man

Let's wait for the sunset one summer's day
down by the river where I always liked to play
we can kick off our shoes and bury our feet in the sand
come on please be my sweet river man
We can call the wild geese up with a little dab of feed
or jump in the water a little too deep
in that old Red River we can laugh and sing
take me by the hand, make that leap

Write our names in a heart in the sand
you can be my sweet river man
and I'll be your sweet lady river friend
we can hold on for life and scare the catfish twice
anything’s possible that time of day
my white sundress is a little bit dirty
from that red water that always stays so murky

I wouldn't want to be any other place
than down by the river where I always liked to play
and when the moon comes out tonight
and the stars shine bright
your sweet river lady
is going to sing to her sweet river man under the moonlight

watch those stars shooting in the dark as you hold me tight
until we see the sun start to rise
yeah down on the river where I always liked to play
nothing’s changed much since I was just a babe
but now I share with my sweet river man, my favorite place to play


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Morpheus

   I feel as though I am lingering in the shadows of life, and whatever it is that plagues me. A mystery, unfounded within the confines of this body and mind now possess my every thought. I hold my hands towards the shadows wondering if it could be death's hand grasping for mine, waiting to take me through another life. A life beyond my comprehension. 
        I see stars, not of night, but of confusion and the grasp of reality as it sets upon me like sun at dusk. I am flushed the same shade of crimson beneath the surface of this pale-mooned skin. My appearance as gloomy as a spring morning, yet the morning clears more frequently than me.
      I feel my heart, not beating on a normal path, but pounding, as if it's trying to escape without me. It speaks to me in a faint whisper by daybreak, yet I have no answers.
    My hands are held above me in desperation and despair alike, as I feed myself several little pieces of bottled hope. I sigh within my frown, not knowing if it's a new beginning or quick end, but I edge on, lurking in the shadows, still feeling ill.
            


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Slow Down the Clock

When we get old with arthritis in our bones we make thoughtful decisions about the use of our time. We can amuse our grandchildren while our children inhabit their jobs. We can volunteer to help others like a wolf that knows how to hunt. We can do something creative with our hours and work toward an outcome that warms people’s hearts.

We have options about what to do with our days. We can sit alone in our homes like the last drop of water left on a rock, or we can behave like practiced magicians who can slow down the clock with the snap of two fingers and live like an elder who is not afraid of the dark and be more inclined help our family and friends as they voyage down the highway of time. 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

What Next

The height of science and the width of commerce in my dwelling place they merge with the ambassadors of understanding giving me their pledge. Capturing the seat of the wise and sitting over it, covering its edge as I wear the garment of knowledge. So what's next? My hands are filled with gold My pockets, heavy with silver these make me the Diamond myths and the greatest team player to financial strength. I've been owned and followed and my shadow, replaced with good health as I'm possessed and romanced by wealth. So what's next? Occurrences and happenings, I'm the doer Planting the seed of what's to happen next, like a sower with all authorities and rulership placed lower is the extent of my unbelievable power. so what's next? Acquiring all possible knowledge accumulating unbelievable possessions and becoming the greatest principality the world has ever known without positively touching a life and making a soul smile is going through a clothing store naked and coming out naked with everything in the world just strings. So what's next? DEATH! Leaving behind all the attachments as they drop in command of hades vanity upon vanity; all is vanity.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Though Long and dreadful, the darkness has now become Light

Her clothes soaks in a sea of sweat, her skin wet, brown and muddy, as though floating in a Lake with debris. Notorious in her screams and dangerous in her gaze Making her the worst villain of the neighborhood been greatly antagonistic to Manhood as agony and frustration befell her, comparative to experiencing a difficult means of Livelihood. Medication may be an immediate remedy but will not stop her hatred towards the brotherhood. In difficulty, she curses and swears, her sexuality, been the target and victim. Increase severity of her present situation, makes her casualty to moral decadence and deterring her ability to be sane. Her thinking faculty, substituted with rage, and naughty questions flooding her mind like the spring as she wondered why Humanity is propagated through such pain The Balloon of Life gone so flaccid, her pains, like the infiltrating effect of an Acid. Just one last push to proceed, knowing fully well, she will succeed and finally, the glorious result of a seed. She has been in a Barren Land so dry, the feeling of darkness, she is ready to fry the transition to light, she gives a try which becomes accomplished with a Newborn's cry.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE SYSTEM

The constant ache throbs through my being,
Pain dragging me down into despair and depression.
Knowing there is a solution but being made to wait.
Impatience at a system that doesn't care that your in pain.

While waiting could cause more problems as it grows inside.
A cyst, non malignant, but getting bigger and causing havoc.
Head aches that knock the strongest to there knees, desperate.
Exhaustion mentally from trying to go on normally, fight the pain.

The pressure on the body is unbelievable, hard to stand or to sit.
Not an emergency, considered elective surgery, but I am suffering.
Hard to digest food, hard to go to work, and hard to sleep.
Frustration builds with each day as it gets worse and still waiting.

Over four years before properly diagnosed, not imagination, real.
Eight months from diagnosed to see specialist, and then for cure?
A simple surgery to remove the problem, not important enough.
What if it bursts? What if they say not going to fix? Am afraid.

A medical system spiraling down, to many abused the system.
Now those who need help sit in desperation and frustration.
Trying to live as if all is well, going on with daily jobs and routines.
It is not okay, and gets harder with each passing day, am so tired.

DOREEN CYR
 




Details | Prose Poetry | |

This Tree Was

I kept listening to beliefs:

“This is the way things are.”
“This is the way things have to be in order to…”
“You know, if you do this, you will receive that…”
“That’s just the way it is. That’s just the way I am.”
“What I really want for you is….”
“You’ll be happier if you would just….”
“If he really loved you, he would…”
“Well, if you really love him, you would feel…”
“If you do this for me, then you will get this…”
“If you don’t do this, then I will talk about it until you do.”

I not only listened, I became them.
My choices were based on the list of phrases.
I had to “do the right thing.” Or….
Or I would die?

Well I am dying today.
Not dying like my body has fallen and is breathless.
Dying like full of breath, full of grief.
Dying like; “I hate dying because I keep thinking it’s permanent and that I will always feeeeeeeeel.”
Dying like; “I think I am becoming weightless with all of this heavy gunk junk falling off of me.”

Kerplunk kerplunk

The pu-u-u-u-u-u-u-lling like picking a stubborn apple.
And the plops of rot thudding the surrounding ground.
My expanded branches open out and up
Free of knowledge that once grew on me
That looked soooo pretty
But sour and fused with poison 
this tree was…


Details | Prose Poetry | |

What Wakes Me Up

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Suicidal thoughts

The milieu of 
Social injustice combined 
With deep seated spiritual poverty 
Where suicidal thoughts incubate!

The secular world run by the god’s of 
Politicians 
The media
Stars of stage and
Sports,
Modeling the art of instant gratification 
A mere mortal may only dream about.

Facts of ill health
Loneliness
Unemployment
Homelessness 
Fear of death and 
Failure to recognize that Man indeed
Immortal, splitting the human mind.

The milieu of 
Social injustice combined 
With deep seated spiritual poverty 
Where suicidal thoughts incubate! 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CORN BREAD

its nice with rices
don't think twices
to eat with collardm green
and green beans
its in my head
CORN BREAD


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Untitled 30

I portray the mother of dust:
the rattle in our empty nest,
echoing, echoing like the bray
that escapes the moon at noon,
the shrieks from soft white rooms.
These unhatched eggs cry,
crawling to my windows,
peeping in, trying to frost
each dirty sheet of glass
with their shallow dirty breaths.
Is there humanity in this reflection?
I am a factory assembling
cadavers: cold glassy eyed dolls
all wearing the same vacant faces:
blurred, blurred, and terrible.
Their little fingers stain the walls
like the pages of blank novels.
I try to hold them. They go.
They let me go, for now.
I don't fear the darkness anymore,
but it is their tongues of silence
that leave me unhinged.
Remembering is to ache
like a shadow. Mother
mothering dirt, a stranger to health.
My cramping hands pray and
hope my past can eat itself.


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.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Salted wound

Put off that cigarette, please,
Your health and mine are at risk.
Cause that white smoke to cease
The earth needs not the heat,
Or do you want to sink beloved Greece?
You endanger humanity’s haven and meat
Each time you light that match.
Soon many will have no food to eat
When the incubated icy lands hatch.
Oceans pregnant with storms draw nearer to labour
As your kind rise to pipe, batch by batch.
Hold my hands as a friend and neighbour,
Let my companionship bring you warmth
And lift you high with its ethereal flavour.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Une Douleur Exquise

I have never seen such a face, not in my most perfect of dreams
To look upon you would be the purest of masochistic pleasures…

I beg of you, be the death of me!

Destroy me!

 

Self-aware, I cannot understand what is behind our paths intertwined
What a cruel mistake fate has made, to bring you into my existence…

Yet, here I am!

Here you are!

 

If it were only your face, had the artist only perfected your portrait
If you were nothing more than a vision, still you’d…

shine in the darkest of nights!
Silence the loudest of sounds!

 

Your mind, your words, every action creates a chaotic stillness inside me
I fear I could lose myself in your flawless existence…

I can only taint it!

I am only poison!

 

I have now seen such a face, often in my most perfect of dreams
I have looked upon you, felt the purest of masochistic pleasures…

You have been the death of me!

Destroyed me!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lithium, Lithium

My torment contains their solution,
I never wanted your pollution.
Why must I force myself to decompose?
You're nothing but a thorn without the Rose.
How can they tell me, this is existence?
Why must you fight, my every resistance?
Don't you understand? I'm in love with my despair!
It is my reason for enduring, it is my light, it is my air.
I fear I cannot fight this war much longer.
Every day you grow strong and stronger.
Why is no one helping, can't anybody see?
Slowly, but surely, you're destroying me.
However, surrender, I never will.
This is one soldier you'll have to kill,
A life with you I refuse to share,
My only love, is my darling despair.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Untitled 22

The heat soaked day drags on: each daisy sweltering
every buttercup melting into the dry ground,
a golden oozing of petals. I watch them through the window knowing
that I could not be ready, this I that’s still unknown
plucked before the first blossom. The hum of the sun
repeats like an assembly line, robotic, in essence,
clawing its way into the conscience
and residing in the mind like a panther. I, too, 
am reclaimed by the ground.
It seems to pulse, reaching and breathing me in
dragging my limbs into its dark depths.
I let it go on from the white bed, sterile- so I’m told.
Even the sky dulls me with its aqua face staring vacant and shallow,
its vague features too-sea-blue for me. The seed that’s cracked inside disintegrates,
the doctors say, “it is no threat”. 
But I feel the leaking egg rise in the heat
trying to engorge itself like a cat eating its tail.
I want to grasp a handful of the straw-grass
covering the ground like a yellow wound, to watch it
infect the air and bleed into the wind. 
My hand reaches for the stomach,
cupping the heat that steams from my skin, unstretched- as far as I can tell.
I know when it happens, I knew when it fell, 
feeling the red spots, all the blotches of myself
costume my insides like a cracked cauldron, the unhatching complete.
A sea of suicides, as the dark lump rises to the throat.
If water is life, I gargle and spit its corpse from my mouth
like a cactus. I imagine the tumour deflowering,
its thorns still jagged like teeth or as black as a squatting toad.
Before the window, out of captivity, the flowers’ faces all resemble death, 
each seed trembling with my pulse, afraid to look into the eyes
of the lifeless that forsakes being. Dead trees with ringless bones,
boughs bent into unnatural contortions
like deformed ballerinas performing offensive dances
I watch with blindness. I rise and leave withered shell remains, 
the parasite shrivelled and discarded like old skin. 
In the window view, the snow rises once more as the sun turns to bone
whilst the wind passes through me. I am a mine, full of black on black
atrocities, that has dead birthed the unknown.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lady Vice

That smell, there ain' quite nothin' like it.
Not an aroma on gods green earth so intoxicating,
it has taken me on a roller-coaster ride;
through love,
through hate,
heaven and hell,
past and present.
Toxic to every ounce of my being-
yet life without it does not exist, could not exist
-it infuses within me, setting the wheels of my mind
in motion.
It only takes a moment for all I know;
about right,
about wrong,
to dissolve into pure impulse.
There is faux euphoria inside us all.
The memories wash over me,
wave after wave they hit.
I am broken,
drowning amidst the stormy seas of nostalgia,
down the bottom of a bottle.
With every mouthful I sink deeper,
I'm being suffocated by the love of my life tonight,
and,
I'm loving every breathless second.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Apart From Me







Somber silly little Setter, English; painting trapped himself in the side yard whimpering, howling away wildly. 


Sunscreen-on, moseying on over, in His tenderness He offers a helping hand. Hot Summers cool vapors the blessings found  here, there to and fro leaning midst the still lulling; gentle calling of the Rains. 


Yes the Grace of God, in His joy humming, arriving just in time, and so is Patience the greater venture I suppose the eminent virtue. 


His Love always; Honest, Open... Willing already beholden... . Far beyond the wreck I make for myself and others... chains stretched bounded securing me yes, my freedom in kind stripped away from me given in the effort this provisional very prominence preceding me when in denial of these facts.     







Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Damage Will Always Be There

The Damage Will Always Be There


I cried,I bleed,And now my heart longer beats the same way it did before I meet you.My heart feel broken,i feel like a rag doll played with over and over again only to be thrown away.I miss your love but now your gone and my hearts ache the most it has ever.There are time's I wonder if  I have been lying to myself,I must be because my heart should fee lighter it should feel like a free winged bird but it not.The damage the cuts the sores they shall be with my from happy time to sad time because you put them there.You who I looked up to you never promised I know but it aches from every thought of you.How come how come I must be alone in this world? It sound selfish but I only want you back to be here beside me and tell me you love me and I'm doing a great job with everything.Why does it hurt to think of you?why does it pain me to want to be lose to anyone?why does everyone leave me behind when I need them the most?why am I so closed up with a stone wall full of hate surrounding my heart?I know it shouldn't be there but do you? In time the cut will heal and the sores shall vanish.But what about the feelings and the damage inflicted upon them will never leave.Yes it sounds so cliche yes you've heard it all before.But really and this is know this is said this is everything I know.The damage is there no matter how much it seems to have healed.

For my grandmother who i lost now 5 years ago Granny i miss you i wish you would have fought for us a little longer then you did.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Pa







Had a dream about my Pa tonight, We all went out with them to Lake Loral Nancy His wife cooking up a good ol' Chicken Pot Stew slow-cooked set way up high atop the hickory us loading up the Bayliner for our afternoon fishing trip. We reminisced, Canoe in toe as we used to do just in case, yes just as we did back then; you-know if either would wished to float to one or more sides with the Canoe tied to the railings of the boat, or more or less to widen the chance at a greater spot to cast a gander upon our luck... . My Father by adoption; having-stated many times early on in-all of our teenier all together, God being-in-charge of all good-Blessings and if-you will--luck... we'll always catch some albeit one Yes I began to see through this statement he mentioned often God is always presenting always providing this-His Honest Hope, for us both--as I believe like my Pa, for any one yes everyone who is patient remains-open... ! Our woes, and Peace abiding... uncertainty grievances questions yes laughter were our main recollections as we dropped our first lines as we cast them... . I tell you I truly did love Him, still love Him, will always I figure... yes I know Some folk are so defined never wish to grow any further their Character divorced by Cancer, Nary did my Father allow it. On the day he passed He told Nancy, "I love my life. My Family Children. Love all those close to me.... but I'm tiered just plain wore out." the Lord took Him that night, the next day forthcoming I was told and O how I cried — But then realized as I saw he lived the greater life - He worked on this purpose until the day he died, and so for all he work for this final reprieve — it was for all of the ones he loved, because I feel for all whom he loved, he'd prayed for all to do the same... Yes a suffering in kind the same I'm seeing now - All-of-it I'm-finding; because he taught me the greater of his Faith nary a day apart from Him, and me... his youngest Son two Others older Sons if you will, yes I feel his family and friends still have this eminent belief to boast; Yes, in-the Company--Comfort... of Jesus' Peace... !


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Mist Of The Hollow

The mist in the hollow quietly floated with a eery look of a ghostly apparition. The rising 
of the golden sun will turn the tide and frighten the apparition away until night and early 
morn when it comes out to romp, stomp, oomp, and play.  As the truck comes across the 
gravel road stirring up dust from the lack of rain adding a layer and frosting on the 
cake of the mist that floats absorbing all that dust or at least it seems. Now the dust 
floats away on air currents and is then breathed into all of nature's lungs to irritate them..


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Impact of Radiation

my knowledge on the
impact  of radiation 
is quite limited

but I do wonder
if radiation would be
in a brand new car

that was produced in
Japan after the earthquake
and the tsunami

if the water has
radiation, would the paint
on the car be safe?

do we realize that
dangerous radiation
impacts the whole world?

do we realize air,
water and nature will not
be safe for mankind?


sadly, inventions
without preparations for
disasters proceed

and mankind welcome
each with great expectations
to increase comfort

until the next time
a tradgedy occurs, and
many lives are lost


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WATCH THE LIGHTS

 THO YOU WALK 
AND TALK
and feel free
well you see
don't cross the street
againts the  car who beep
DON'T HINK TWICE
WATCH THE LIGHTS



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Depression Challenges

You came to me without warning 
Took up occupancy without permission 
Your purpose hidden from the host 
In a dark cloud of anger and confusion

But you did not come alone 
You brought along a companion 
Pessimistic fear was his name 
Wreaking panic and consternation
 


 The question asked over and over 
How long did you plan to stay 
We could not see the answers offered 
With a mind that had gone astray
 

You were very active in your work 
Every day you plucked the beam of joy 
And left an impostor in its place 
What was I to do but cry
 

While you were at your mindless task 
You caused the host a lot of pain 
Damaged work and social contacts 
And his relations twice again
 

Your host had cultivated well the ground 
When day and night were merged in one
Working at unremitting pace
If you could see the damage done
 

From that time is twenty years or more Y
ou have come and you have gone 
I do not wish to have you back 
I once again am one
 

From now on I guard the door
By reflecting well on lessons learned Painful, fearful, costly payment 
Joy and freedom is well earned


Details | Prose Poetry | |

and 'Ladies'

 
  and 'Ladies' young and old
do you even know
when i go into the grocery store
and how they come all around me
and i
not even paying attention
as they watch me squeeze this and
squeeze that
and they being all that you are
some what more and some few less
and they
take my hand and place it there
and in my hand they squeeze it
they squeeze it harder than they should
but i'm not paying attention 
and as i'm thinking about squeezing
that which needs to be squeezed
in my mind i am squeezing it more
and watching some become flushed
there faces grow dark and pink
so many
and so many my head spins around 
looking down as i feel
all of that juice run free
through my hands
and all of my critical thinking
has left me it's gone. 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

What The Hell { Strong Language} Prose Poetry

Hey! You little c___ sucker Get the hell out of there
 Wish you were born dead Go get me a tree branch
Going to whip the s______out of you better yet come and
Get at my feet and start picking the dead skin off them
And when your done start picking 1000 grey hairs off my head
So you want to upset your mother huh I got something for you a________
Stand up you little f and give me 1000 squats
 Then you can get locked up in basement for a few days
And if you ask to come out you can stay down there longer
I see you like to tease your brothers about their haircuts
Mom get the shaver and shave the girls hairs too that will teach em
And show them little b_____ whats going to happen if they runaway too
Was not pleasant to see my sister tied to own bed with head shaven to scalp
So we have a little pee ant in the family huh I'll teach ya a good lesson
Going to make you wear your wet pants to school so kids can laugh at you
I tell you folks does any child deserve this from a sicko From growing up in a 
abuse home I always wonder when will the pain ever stop But with God standing 
by my side I knew I still had a chance to survive I was only 5 when this happened 
to me but the abuse scared only the outter edges and not what beauty was to 
unfolded by God and given to me like a rose unfurling petals on a new day



     Tribute To
 Abused Children



Remember words hurt
So think before you speak !


Details | Prose Poetry | |

GET OUT

stop lay aound
go downtown
see what s around
this won't to mention
to release the attention
no doudt
you need too
GET OUT


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Whole Bowl of Soup- the whole story

Soup tv, soup dot.com, soup everywhere.  Nice spoon, no bowl.  Talking weird 
cause somethings are weird.  Suddenly printer works...little else on me does... 
there is no clue to my problem...well at least I got free tv for a day...only in 
America- $4 for phone, $5 for TV, or get combo deal for $9!!  It gets way weirder, 
and it'll take some time to relate.  Wow.  bye, later, tom


Details | Prose Poetry | |

'Hope' floats..Up from 'Your'..past...

  Perhaps it's not what I write... 
That you read... 
But a simple interpretation... 
of that, which you read.. 
Hope floats every boat at sea.... 
Up from Your..past...
Faith laid me down...inside.. 
Your sleepy head...so dream on..and.. 
If you are a male who does not like females.. 
or a female who does not like males... 
Then come back in a few years... 
Until you do...and you will.. 
Unless you have been damaged... 
by some one others fears.. 
If you have issues of power and control.. 
pass them by...
Once you have control it soon dies... 
If you do not believe in the constitution of the..
United States...pass them all 'bye'...as well.. 
If you burn..there...and yet are in denial.. 
pass them by... 
If you make noises in your sleep.. 
that are not that of snoring... 
You may need to pass them by..
For true words that fill you up..... 
Some may only make it worse... 
If you are afraid..but need too... 
If you need too...but are afraid to... 
I would only ask you...why... 
Other than that...
when two people come together...
it really does help when it..works both ways..... 

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Layer Of Warmth

As the golden sun adds a layer of warmth to the earth and all the creatures sing 
praise___bees hum buzzz, buzzz as they search for food where pickins' are few..Birds
chirp their different calls from chirrup, chirrup to Jim-my, Jim-my...Across the creek, the 
roosters' crows are getting weak about crowed out now that they have awaken the sun..
There is a stillness this morn_peace..It seems to be a lazy kind of morn__As if all the 
creatures know that God said rest on this day..If I miss rest and renewal it starts to tell 
on me body, soul, emotion, and spirit___Constantly aware that I need my time alone with 
God..


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Guided Speech

As the sun rises radiating its golden beams clearing the mist of morn__So I arise to 
meet the day's responsibilities_I believe that He has come with healing in His 
Wings_Pain is going away and relief is being restored___Draw me close let me be filled 
with Your Power...Guide my speech...Guide my thoughts as they are penned...Help my 
words be Love and Light being sprinkled with just the right amount of salt...Help my 
speech be healing and restorative connected to You and You alone...Thanks for the day 
to live for You once more..Amen


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CRY ON ME

if you feel  too
you can  do
am one of a few
and this is no lie
you can feel free
TO
CRY ON ME


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TOOTH ACHE

it make s your head turn
your eyes burn
it can't eat can't sleep
you do walk the beat
 its kept you awake
a
TOOTH ACHE


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WATER AND RUNNER

its a must
to have this stuff
in the dark or the park
some run for fun
they work up a sweat
this they must get
a drink in the tank
all part of the wink
and be gunner
WATER AND RUNNER


Details | Prose Poetry | |

DOWN HOME FOOD

 I MISS THE COOKING
ALSO LOOKING
AT GRAND MAMA BAKE
HER CAKE
IS FINGER LICKING
MAN ITS KICKING
AND REAL COOL
TO HAVE
DOWN HOME FOOD


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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Stitches

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LOVE AND FEAR

both make you
and me too
do dumd thing
its what love brings
fear as appeal
brings pain
make you run to the sun
both are alway near
LOVE AND FEAR


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Recipe for a Full Life

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Repeat this daily until the Lord's return)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An Open Letter to all my Poetry Soup Pals

This community should only control Congress, the sh_t would stop flyin, the 
politicos stop lyin'.....You guys are great...
To Wilfredo Derequito; thanks, buddy, you're right, I am too old- but I'm still one 
dam_ good rockin' musician!!  Besides, have you seen a recent picture of Mick 
Jagger?  I seen mummies that looked younger. And, I sympathize (along with the 
devil)...how you got to that 19th Nervous Breakdown....I mean, all those years of 
un-Derequito'd love, gotta take it's toll...ha,ha.  Best regards, buddy,....tom

and to Shar...you are so sweet a person, but I gotta admit I got back 100 times 
the love and satisfaction from my Dad...he even taught me to love music of the 
30's and 40's, and he often jammed with my band (harmonica- he was the best!!)
He was not only my father, but my best friend, my bar-buddy, my assistant cook,
and my confidant....( I am an excellent cook...)...he brought me more joy than I can 
relate....I was the lucky one.... which made losing him (a year long struggle that 
greatly tested my ability to "hang-in there")

and to Chrisy...hi sweetie, so glad to hear from you...God Bless

Later, dudes and dudettes......tom


Details | Prose Poetry | |

HIV & AIDS

HIV and AIDS…
A world epidemic filled with pain through pleasure that allowed you to open your 
legs and let him put it in…
You were wet, dripping with sweat, it didn't matter what he had at the time 
because your mind was to busy thinking about the pleasure it would soon seek 
not peaking into the future which now links you to this incurable disease called 
HIV…
You loved him enough to let him thrust in and out of you, to let him burst inside of 
you, defiling your body attacking your tissue. 
Now you wish that one moment in the past a decision you made that will forever 
would not have been made. 
You wish that kiss that lead to that touch that lead to your bodies hormones 
sudden rush had not occurred
 And it’s absurd to think if your thinking as hard as your thinking now that maybe 
WOW… 
you could have prevented this whole thing from transpiring 
and bombarding your life with the strife you must now endure. 
Since there is no cure. 
But it’s to late. 
You can’t undue fate
 yo you messed up with just one mistake. 
And you can’t act like it didn't happen because it has
And for the rest of your life you’ve got to live with that…