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Prose Poetry Inspirational Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Inspirational

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Why must I Cry

   I come to the garden along, while the dew is still fresh
on the meadows. Early in the morning do the bird's sing
praises of roses and peddles.  I cry, because there is no
refuge finally from the pain.  
    Yet long ago, a child was born, to become king, and yes
there is hope, just for believing in his name. Where is this King!
when I'm hurting and alone? He's just a prayer away, don't give
up, for he's Alpha and Omega, which means, just be strong!.
So they sent me to a place, to turn my life around. I cry, be-
cause, I am somebody no longer am I bound.
     Now I know that Jesus is my refuge and no more drugs is
there for I. Thank you Lord, for the method, that's "Why Must
I Cry".


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Forever Love

FOREVER LOVE

 Margie........my one and only........Margie

 love's music echoes timeless
 spring fed      it flows forever

 Pop would get up early, make Mom's hand-mixed
 favorite black and green tea, and when ready,
 he walked down the hallway tinkling her teacup
 with a spoon, gently waking her.

 When he came home each day
 he'd whistle the tune......
 "Margie......how I love you ......"
 alerting her that he was near.

 On occasion, his mood would be jubilant
 upon arriving home,
 whistling......
 "Sweet.....Georgia.....Brown!"
 just like his favorite basketball team,
 The 'Harlem Globetrotters'

 Mom was Dad's whole world,
 I could hear his expectant excitement
 in the tone of his remarkable whistling
 whenever I pushed him down the hallway
 in his wheelchair, knowing his one and only
 lifelong love would soon be in sight.

 He couldn't mix and brew her favorite tea
 anymore, or wake her with her tinkling teacup,

 but until the end, he could still whistle!

 .....and man! 

                       could he whistle!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

It Is A Sin

It is a sin for Gregory to be a miser even to himself accumulating infinite fortune with a half-bedroom to show for it It is a sin for miss Zane to gain special gratitude from her male mates. Coming late every night with a different driver, parading her flashy dividends as she becomes a model for fashion updates It is a sin for Sarah, not taking care of herself with her body becoming rounder but still feeds more than an entire Orphanage. Initially, a very attractive young lady but now looks like an Old sorcerer. It is a sin for Baker to be a clergy and at the same time a gambler lavishing in style and losing without remorse Hell will let loose if his sponsor is the Church's finance. Regardless of his anointing, he's still not beyond the people's wrath. It is a sin for Dawson to drive through many open legs as he jumps from skirt to skirt and acquainting himself with all forms of underwear, playing the bad guy who never gets caught. It is a sin to stay idle and observe them wrongly drawing conclusions from every action without minding their motives or reasons analyzing closely even while sitting from afar giving no consideration to the human Nature which exists in imperfection and faint stains. It is a sin castigating the weaknesses of others while overlooking mine thereby condemning the crimes I do not commit which does not make me better either. As much as they do not know where I faulter Judging them makes me worst than a sinner.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Fallen Prince has Risen - Michael

Burning so bright
With new found life
Released from his ball and chain
Out of the dark
And into the light
Flying… on wings of freedom again.

As he writes his life
His soul ignites
In flames of wisdom and sight
Brilliantly claiming 
His God given right
As his truth kills the evil ‘Black Knight’.




Details | Prose Poetry | |

GONE Anna Lo PH

? ...GONE... ?

I never knew until that moment how bad it could hurt
To lose someone you never really had,
Days can be tough and at times cruel
To much for one to bear alone..

I was hoping that you would say
If I feel that I can't hold on any longer,
You'll take my hand and we'll go through it until together.
When the time comes, that if I can't stand on my own again
And I won't need you anymore, I will let go.
I will let go, if that would make you happy..

If you're lonely and your heart feels empty, 
Just tell me and I will step inside.
But if One Day, you'll be needing that space for someone else
Don't worry and gladly I will give in my space..

Like in a painful, sad love story
It's amazing how easily to fall inlove with someone,
Who simply smiles, talks or stare at you
The only hard thing to do is to make that person fall for you.
They say that time heals all wounds, but all it's done so far
is give me more time to think about how much I miss You..

Okay, so maybe time heals most wounds, right?
Then why does it feel like it?
The wound is getting bigger and bigger every second.
Maybe Love is just a beautiful dream, and then we wake up..

Just as they always say when somebody leaves
When love is lost, do not bow your head in sadness,
Instead keep your head up high and gaze for the stars.
For that is where broken hearts have been sent to heal..

What is the opposite of Two?..
...A lonely me, A lonely You...

They say relationships are like glass 
That sometimes it's better to leave them broken
Than risk hurting oneself in trying to put it back together.

Lost in my heart, lost in my mind, I'm lost in your eyes
Entire days, weeks, months, ...a blur...
Flickers of light in the darkness 
Only to be enveloped in shadow once more.
And yet within the shadows of pain
Might be the faint flicker of love once fel,t
And that could make all the darkness worthwhile
Because a single "I Love You"
Is worth more than a thousand goodbyes..

I'm tired my Beloved.. 
of chafing my heart against the want of you,
Of squeezing into little inkdrops and writing it.
Ask me why I keep on loving you
When it's clear that you don't feel the same way for me.
The problem is that as much as I can't force you to love me
I can't force myself to stop loving you..

So I tell myself sometimes..
'Count the gardens by the flowers, never by the leaves that fall.
Count your life with smiles and not with tears that roll." ..

Though sometimes, these tears say all there is to say
And the scars don't ever fade away,
I am thankful that for a moment
I once met You, I once felt you look my way.
I once felt You within me, in my heart and mind
I once was happy and alive with You
I once Loved you and still Loving You... xoxo

P.S ..KYHYCYILY.. always.. ? ? ?

(re-edited letter)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fly Like A dove

                       

~Forgive His Betrayal~

           Wanting to run away to belong to my lover
                     forgive his betrayal by singing him a song
                          together run home where we belong as love
                               is in the air to caress our bodies then fly away 
                                      as one dove to land on an island without delay. 
                                                                                   

                                                                                  Therese Bacha
                                                                                      24/4/2013


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WAKE UP by Anna Lo P

"Wake up, wake up" my sleepyhead Turk
"Wake up, wake up" my dear sleeping beau
each time I do this, I am so happy
because finally I can see 
your sweet smiles, intended just for me.

Yes, your smile, smiles that make me smile
though it really wasn't there for me to see
because you're so far away, lands & seas
I just close my eyes so I can see it 
with all my heart, I believe it.

"Wake up, wake up" so i say, again & again
and that your consciousness can be regain
staying you awake I always intend to do
so you can hear me say "ILOVEYOU" so true..

..xoxo my dear "YASAMAK"


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ghosts of South Dakota part 4

	Of course on this night we are supposed to be asleep so Santa 
could come, but we hadn't been home from Midnight Mass very long, and the 
invigorating cold was not conducive to sleep.  Even the hot chocolate did not do 
much to help sedate the excitement.
	We were hoping for sleds that year.  The snow was perfect for 
sledding especially like we did it.  We tied out sleds on behind the car or pick up 
and were pulled through the hills.  We got our sleds.  My dad and my uncle made 
them for us.
	No television and only in the late years were we allowed to use the 
radio.  Batteries were to expensive for frivolous use.  We spent many hours 
playing cards or games.
	I took time out and went to high school and college and got my 
teaching certificate.
	My aunt taught there only one year after the Federal Government 
turned the schools over to the local government.
	The last time I was back there the out buildings had been moved and 
Indian families were living in them.  The school was dirty and unkept.
	Now the school is gone.  The ancestors who once walked these 
dusty plains are gone.  The Indians who were there when I was a child are gone.
	They are Ghosts.  Ghosts whose faces can be seen in the clouds.  
Ghosts  who still chop wood on those sub zero nights.  And the drums we heard 
in the middle of the nights are still beating.  They beat as strongly as the heart 
beats in a healthy body.  The laughter of the children still echoes under the 
bridge.
	The life blood of a culture, of a nation grows thin.  The Battle of 
Wounded Knee was the last battle to be fought  between the white man and the 
Indian on the northern plains.  It's cries still echo across the land.
	My foot prints in the creek did not last any longer than those they left 
in the dust.  But in my memories, this mile and a half by three quarter mile haven 
still lives.  And will live forever as a piece of unrecorded history.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

FOR THE SONS OF MEN

Segun my child! My son!
Soon, the cock will crow at dawn
And the east will showcase the sun
Soon, you will leave my home, 
To found your own
With words of wisdom, you won’t be alone.
Like a mini-skirt, advice is too short
But it covers the body’s vital lot.

Hear me.
Your brother is not your friend,
He is another you, but independent
So your love for one another, allow no dent
For the sons of men…
Every journey far destination brings
Nature presents a transport means
The snow has the snow dogs
The desert has the camels
The long distant road has the horse

Even technology came to aid us
For the road, we have the cars
For the seas and ocean, the ship
For the rail, the train
The sky has the airplane
All, to lead us through our destiny lane

That is it with man’s life and the battle in it
For whatever fate comes to us, so be it
As the future hungers like a wild beast
Likewise on it, your eyes be firmly fixed
Take a deep breath my child, and learn this
Every master was once an apprentice
Be it the prophets or the dentists

Fate is most times very unfair
Be not defeated by the things you saw
For life is more like war
And all is fair in love and war.
But whatever life’s battle you face
Nature will surely with remedy surface.

When you fall or fail
Don’t ceaselessly wail
Inhale…count to ten, and then exhale
Turn stumbling block to stepping stone,
So the builders reject, will be chief cornerstone

Two Demi-gods are on man’s destiny entrance
Their names, Consistency and Perseverance
Segun, to them, you must bow
No matter what, no matter how
On their feet, bring your head down

I know my son, I know,
That adventure is the blood of the youths
But by rushing the moment, the petals are bruised
So, calmly assimilate my child, calm study
For so, Apostle Paul admonished Timothy
Never be the first to hate
But to forgive, be the first and be in haste

My son, all humans can’t love you
If they all do, then they want to kill you
Likewise, all humans can’t hate you
If they all do, then they want the best for you
What people suffer to get, yet you so easily get
That you must never despise
For it is your miracle in disguise

For the sons of men,
Me, myself and I comes first
Don’t follow that context
If you find the opportunity to rule
My son, take the alternative to lead
For where rulers doom, leaders bloom

When fortune knocks on your door,
Be quick to offer him a sit
Use your wisdom and condor
To keep him and give him no exit


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 | |

'I'VE HAD ENOUGH!!!

I've had enough
Yes enough of your childish games
I've had enough
Of your lies.and disappointments
I've had enough
Of headaches,and worries
I've had enough 
Of your disrespect
I've had enough
Of heartaches,and pains
I've had enough
Of wondering if and when you're coming home
I've had enough
Of planning a future that has no hope
I've had enough
Of waking up and finding myself alone
I've had enough
Of wishing you'll change for the better
I've had enough
Of talking,and you're not listening
I've had enough
Of dreaming this dream all alone
I've had enough
Of being the only one trying to make things work
I've had enough
Of treating you like a prince,king,or queen
then in return you treat me like I'm nothing
I've had enough
Of you're not taking me seriously
I've had enough
And I'm sick,and tied of all the drama
I've had enough
Of you falsely accusing me
I've had enough
And I can make it by myself
I'VE HAD ENOUGH 
I'VE HAD ENOUGH!!!"


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 | |

Act One (The Scholar of life- Opening Speech)

The love of life is a very beautiful and splendid thing. Regretfully, it’s something many
fail to ever recognize. One day, I stopped to contemplate the beauty of compassion and
forgiveness. This is where the true beauty of life is found. When we stop to recognize
that personal feelings are less important than the feelings we are able to create in
others, then we have started to embrace the true beauty of life. To our lives poetry is a
beautiful gift from God. It enables us to step out of our external surroundings and into a
beautiful place, which of course, is the place known as our soul. From its depths we start
to realize the true power that is found in words. Words have the ability to create
feelings in others. Words can open eyes to see the beauty that has not yet been seen.
Words can take us on journeys to places unknown. Open our minds to philosophical
views,which had previously never been contemplated. Thus, leading us into a world, which
has never been seen through our eyes. 
      We are poets, children of God, creators of feelings, and scholars of life. It is
only from the bottom of the well that we learn to truly embrace and understand the warmth
and brightness of the sun. It is only from the top of the mountain that we are able to
understand the darkness that lie in the back of the cave. Until our soul has been emptied
we never fully appreciate what it means for it to be full. Words are no less than the
knife we can use to slice open the cake of life. Thus, enabling us to share pieces of 
ourselves. What truly matters in this life is the fact that we are able to share and give
a little piece of ourselves. True success can only be measured in our ability to share our
experiences in life. Thus, enabling
others to feel and experience the depths of our knowledge. This is our gift and we should
understand the depth of its responsibility. We should all vow to enhance our gift to the
best of our abilities. We all have so much to learn and such little time with which to
learn it. 
        At the end of the play, as the stage dims and the curtains fall, I leave the
theater. Outside, alone at the corner I realize; sometimes I feel like a blind man
standing at a crossroad in the fog. Shuddering at the thought, I tighten my coat and walk
quietly down the dimly lit street of remorse.


I have no idea if this is correct but I did enjoy myself.
For Constance's contest. ps. I have reset these lines
many times but they keep moving when I save the
poem. I guess its a poem anyhow. If it happens 
again I apologize.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mirror - Mirror On My wall

   This image of me, now so many years later
each year looking, I’ve found some imperfections
Mirror-mirror, why should I ask - my time won't last,
peering into you, gray now, not young only faultiness,

    Years passing, why my image in my mirror
   should have creaked by, each year looking
will my image fade in front of my Looking glass 
I did Love being strong, young, only gray I see

So now seeing time as if it stood still each time,
touching this image onto my glass of memories past
wrongs, rights, scars, life time stories untold all mine
My life has found it's way full circle to gray, at last

         Things I see now in my looking glass,
are all part past, present, future, why I’m handsome
 graceful, I see each year in me, as if with class
so I will leave my mark, "love"  too touch someone


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Son Asked

                               
                                  ~A Son Asked~

How can i give when i have nothing?
Because nobody has nothing you have 
everything but did not know 
you had everything.

How will i know if i am in love? 
Everything you do is richer and 
fuller when love is there only when 
you fall in love when you desire with 
passion when you miss the flame in 
her eyes when you envy the ground 
she walks on when you leave her and 
regret doing so when your dream is
all about her wanting her to be next to 
you now this moment this second that 
is called a dream come true! Love.

Is living a dream?
Only when you wake up in the morning 
full of love stay in love the whole day 
no matter what look at the twilight 
smelling the perfume from your balcony 
having a reason to get dressed to go out 
full of happiness energy plan an aim 
with a goal & success this is when you 
start living it becomes a dream come
true.

Is forgiving a dream?
Only when you regret if anybody was hurt 
if you stop judging & being resentful and 
you can sleep at night with no remorse it 
becomes a beautiful dream come true.

Is being human a dream? 
Only when you will feel other peoples pain
when you will open your heart and even 
shed a tear that is being human it becomes 
a dream come. 

Is sharing a dream?
Only when you start sharing even a piece
of bread give unconditionally listen to the
voice & respond feel the beating of a heart
be everywhere it becomes a dream.

Is friendship a dream?
Only when you become friends for
life it becomes a dream come true.

Is being compassionate a dream? 
Only when you love life when you
feel you can climb on top of the 
mountain and envy the beyond
& feel compassionate it becomes
a dream.

Is being intelligent a dream?
Only when you use your brain towards 
the right directions right decisions
be patient tolerant accept change
when needed proud of who you are
persistent succeed over the years it 
will become a dream come true.

Is having a mother a dream?
I can only think about this reply:
Since birth until the end a mother
is the shadow of each child its an 
everlasting love this is a dream 
come true.

How will you know if you are a writer:
Only when you never stop writing.
                                                                         Therese Bacha
Contest for PD  About inspirational poems.               6/3/2013

                                                                  Win as Honorable Mention.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Everyone will get Respect when They Leave Their Ego Behind

Everyone will get Respect when They Leave Their Ego Behind
 
Life consists of ups and downs and if we learn from it we can be proud of ourselves because it indicates that we have developed our brains.
And if we are not rich or from noble descent we will have to earn it with our brains and hands, because treasure box will probably be empty and the complement will be there when we are hardworking.
To achieve and fill it up, we will have to endeavour so much things and that is not a wrong attitude, because we will proudly fulfilled it to get success in order to be a valuable person in society.
For some people it is not easy to maintain the same personality when they already be in the success zone.
It get beyond their imagination and they change own identity with a sense of greater value to others.
But everyone is equal in life, never think that we are more than others and we should show self-esteem with similar respect to all.
The saying “Just act normal, that’s already crazy enough” is the best to take for comparison.
If we change our identity, because of our deserves success and therefore think that we have become more than others, we will lose our own dignity.
An imaginative personality is so short-sighted thinking, because how we can behave ourselves when we go back to the square one?
Be sensible and wise, treat everyone the way we want to be treated and respect not to condemn anyone for their actions or origin.
Having an Ego is an incorrect assessment of ourselves, but let others to judge and find out that we know everyone have to eat and go to the toilet.
We all also need to sleep and our problems can be solved all if we interact socially with each other and believe that we are equal.
Our identity to show the world is to give respect and received without an ego.
 
I wish you a healthy life.
Kindly Regards,
Author Jan Jansen
http://poems.easybranches.com/


Details | Prose Poetry | |

What is commitment?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

COUNTING DIMES

Counting dimes in the coffee shop
dangling earrings peeling orange
rinds, stuffing her mouth sitting on
her behind.

She had guts in her soul enough
to face the sun and what she had
done.  Her tattoo came to life.
Loosening her hair, she kicked the
garbage can.  Shaking bells on her 
toes, she traveled the land.  Sand
neath her sandals.

Face up to the moon stirring in the 
brine, it was her season to shine.
Who else did she know who had 
become undone.  She pines, she
whines.  The geese flew southward.  

No one else gets to walk into 
someone's life and then promptly
walk out!

Counting dimes, the church bells pealed;
golden braids she made with her hands,
strand by strand.  Hand in hand, in prime
time;  shook off her golden rings letting
them stew in the brine.

Ominous signs told her it was her season
to shine.  Rolling to the sea, rolling to the
sea.  That's what she could be.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Snow

in a moment of contented thought - the snow floats down to meet me -
like a small child emerging from a deep nights sleep - i stretch out my hand and 
receive a tender kiss - that chills my fingertips and warms my heart -
my hair becomes like frosting on a birthday cake - as tiny, perfect promises of 
laughter begin to cover my being -

too delighted with the wintry gift to shake it away - i invite it to stay and play a 
while - and as memories of a past childhood come into view - i am infused with new 
life and sweet energy - and there is a new found meaning to my day...

as long as the snow floats down to meet me - I will make time - for snow


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fishing

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Day the Doctor Told Me

On the day
When the doctor told me 
My whole heart crushed 
Melting like snow in summertime
Leaving me to wonder 
Was this moment 
My realty 
A fantasy 
Cause even though I don’t go to church 
Every Sunday 
I knew God wouldn’t plague me 
With a curse such as this 
I was too young to die 
Carry an illness which could 
Define me 
Would I make it 
Is there a cure 
Cause the way he was telling me 
My diagnosis and deterioration 
I wasn’t so sure 
So instead of making this a life sentence 
My death penalty 
I chose to live another day 
Not allowing this moment to end my dignity
I knew my life wasn’t destined to end this way 

The day the doctor told me 
I was a victim to Cancer
I gave the message to God 
Allowing him to solve the problem
Provide the answer
Only he could to clear my vision 
Cause at this time
Everything was a blur
I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop 
I knew he wasn’t done with me yet
I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel 
Take a seat, swivel away
Let my coffin bow down a whole 6 feet

The day the doctor told me 
Not only did I take heed to what he said
I believed in what wasn’t note
Understanding I had a chance 
It wouldn’t be circumstances
Used to close the book to my story 
But the reason to live and be loved 
To achieve all I ever dreamed of 

The day the doctor told me 
I had Cancer 
I simply replied, “No, I do not” 
I have life 
A life not complete, nor finished 
And after 7 years of living 
I am wiser, smarter, healthier and determined 
Not to let this Cancer make me a victim 
But claim my place in David’s army
Nothing will happen to he who believes
And guess what
I’m a Survivor, I’m Here, and until My God is ready
I am not going anywhere!!!!!


 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Patience

PATIENCE

We hear that patience is a virtue 
Is this true, or simply virtual reality 
When leaders are teaching our youth; 
do as I say, not as I do 
Regression to a version of the American 
truth

Impatience is becoming intolerance 
But to be patient is viewed as ignorance 
In a blind world conforming to violence 
Very few see need for benevolence

Many view crime as way of life 
Government fuels fires, causing strife 
Committing true crime with their lack of 
pride 
Our country torn by those who lied

Promoting bigotry and distaste for the 
unknown
 But these days color and homosexuality 
are lactose free 
Intolerant of equality, it’s a problem, 
clearly 
Love is love, embrace the hate 
Hold it tightly until it sees the light

Peace pushed just beyond our reach 
We realize that “hope and change” was 
just a speech 
Wars raging through the land we call 
home 
In God we trust, not this powerful regime

Speak out now with virtuous impatience 
Change is change no matter how small 
the feat
Restore hope with unfaltering acceptance 
and grace 
Serve what you stand for, no time left to 
waste


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Be Still

And the westerly wind,
Will blow a sea of waving grass
And the sea's fine mist 
Will breathe drops like dew
And the sinking suns
Will cloak the sky's horizon
And the moons of Autumn
Will beckon the golden fertililty of the harvest
And the violet tinged edge of night
Will cry for the white bursting of the stars
And the carved thrust of the mountain range
Will challenge the forever yielding blue
And the hovering tunes of the dawn's awakening
Will mimic the lullaby of my dreams
Rise


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Out On The Porch Sunday April 10 2011

The cool dampness of the morn wraps its blanket around me inviting me come 
sit enjoy..The gap in the hedge row calls my name; come into the mist be 
shrouded and walk into the unknown as the rooster crows constantly stirring the 
air with their vocals..The sun with its yellow light of illumination ever getting 
brighter and warmer draws creatures of the sky to fly and sing praises..There is 
beauty all around on this spring morn. .Silly Mocking Bird said Whip-Poor-Will 
and for a second he had me totally confused was I getting up or going to 
sleep..


Details | Prose Poetry | |

It's time to astound you

with nary a sound
I walk up behind you
and kneel on the ground
a smile on my face
a glint in my eyes
as my arms wrap around you
with a pleasant surprise
gentle persuasions
wet lips in a race
hot breathe on your back
I've quickened your pace
and now
my fingers are darting all over the place
temperature's rising
hearts palpitating
cosmic vibration
skin scintillating
I know you can feel me
I'm glad that I found you
breathe deeply my love
'cause it's time to astound you


Details | Prose Poetry | |

You Race Though My Veins

you race though my veins
like a manic fire truck
my eyes smodering from the engine
of your torrid passion
fire hoses squirting out my skin
let me in sweet darlin'
fling the ladder from your pounding heart
climb into my vacant mind
strip me naked and fling me
into your bubbling inferno
your liquid lava seething
every sweet cell breathing me in
as I slowly rise,
and dive into your
silky undulations 
microscopic penetrations
wrap yourself around me
and catapult me deep 
into your long forgotten sleep
let me in sweet darlin'
envelop me completely
my senses scintillating
corpuscles palpitating
drown me with your magic potion
breathe me like a dragon
soak me with your moist emotion
and lift my heart
high
into the tranquil eye 
of your whirling swirling hurricane
please
let me in sweet darlin'


http://lovestruehome.com/


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Liquid azure sky

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Rain-bow Nation

Hey!
are 
you 
a 
Zulu? 
Am 
a 
Bushman...no 
you 
are 
a 
Bantu,a 
Bantu 
or 
Hottentots? 
Maybe 
an 
Afrikaner.                          
I 
came 
from 
the 
Cape 
Colony...not 
from 
Soweto 
where"balck 
animals"are 
Dwelling, 
pathetic 
Creatures 
formed 
by 
the 
Hands 
of 
Hades.
Beast 
of 
burden 
for 
the 
Afrikaner.
Bound 
with 
fetters 
and 
Chains,it 
ploughs 
the 
Field,cultivates 
and 
plants 
The 
seed 
of 
sedition..alas!
These 
beasts 
un-
wind 
their 
yokes;to 
be 
human.
Can 
a 
leopard 
change 
its 
Spots?
Yes 
these 
animals
Prophesied.
Lo!
what 
do 
I 
now 
see?
No 
Beast 
of 
burden 
to 
till 
our 
Land 
rather 
they 
dwell 
Among 
us.
Alas! 
their 
prophecy 
lives!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sunshine

You walk upon that desolate course
Ever aware of the brooding clouds above
Yet unable to see the great vistas which await
Is this life, ever threatened by storms?
Take a moment, look around with open eyes
For in the distance is a line of shimmering gold
Somewhere dawn breaks with glorious warmth
So plot your course thither
You have but to walk into the sunshine.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CHANGED MY Underwear,------- and My Name

I
change my name 
like 
underwear...
fairly often, I suppose

I 
change my clothes 
like 
area codes
and Imma' damn gypsy, ya' see

I 
keep it fresh ta' death
nada
speck of blood
or 
ketchup on my attire

I 
got more rhymes 
than I got grey hairs
and 
that's an effing lot
because i got my share

I 
digg a 
hot-fire piece of passionate verse
those are 
indeed 
rare to find

YET...
if  only poets would 
unleash the fury 
instead of 
holding back
what's really 
on their mind...

I must say...
the library, 
the internet, 
the etc. etc...
would be a less stinky place...
AND, maybe 
I'd keep my name, and sever ties with 
underwear's elastic,
and just go 
APE-Spit Spastic!~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ANGEL WITH AN UMBRELLA

Encumbered with the walker
blankets for the wet bench,
sheets of water splashing the cement.
I ventured to my smoking spot
face hidden inside my hooded coat.

I light my fire stick,

letting drops of water 
reverberate on my hood.

My angel came walking by
called my name;

gave me her umbrella and kept on walking.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Touch The Heart

                                                       To Touch The Heart

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Drowning in your sacred love

your glistening crimson lips
beckon me
tantalize
so, 
I waltz into your seething passion
a sexy serenade into your luminescent mouth
liquid ecstasy
whirling 
swirling 
upon your undulating velvet tongue
frolicking in your frothy lotion
swallowed by your rainbow kiss 
drunk
lost forever in your sweet emotion
drowning in your sacred love	


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ELocution

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

IF

If I dream my time is precious 
how will I feel when I wake up? 
I will be blessed that I was born 
on the seventh day 
of nineteen thirty seven, 
blushing cheeks, green eyes, 
black hair. 

If I dream my time is precious 
how will I feel when I wake up? 
I will provide medicine to my soul, 
cure my unbearable pains, 
never cry in the darkness 
control my uncontrollable tears, 
end my endless loneliness, 
forget all my sadness. 

If I dream my time is precious 
how will I feel when I wake up? 
I will treasure my freedom, 
eliminate any emotional conflicts, 
ignite my power to feel my pounding 
rhythms, crave to be loved by a lover. 

If I dream my time is precious 
how will I feel when I wake up? 
I will light up my flame with passion, 
look gracefully beautiful, 
to perceive a dance floor 
brighter than the moonlight, 
dance to the humming surrounding 
my shadow, together, we are exceptional. 

If I don't dream, how will I feel 
when I wake up? 
I will not weep, I will honor my expectations, 
the morrow is another day. 
I will nurture my awakening calmly, 
to feel a blissful sensation today, 
get lost in the depth of my emotions 
to perceive a future painted, 
with rainbow colors. 

My soul will survive with a diligent power, 
guide my spirit to envisage reality, 
not to abandon the precious age. 
I will amaze my passion to feel the urge 
to glide, through the abyss, tour 
an everlasting passage of peace. 

Therese Bacha 
23 November 2013


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Perfect Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Main Matrix

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Trolling for Love

I'm floatin in a boat,
in the middle of the sea,
and I've got my trusty fishing rod with me.
I'm trolling for love, 
sweet, soft and demure,
so I cast our my line, 
and my heart is the lure.
come on precious mermaid, 
come hither sweet girl,
hop into my boat, 
and lets give it a whirl,
with our wing tips igniting, 
and our eyes brightly glowing,
deep passion pulsating, 
sweet liquid love flowing.

http://lovestruehome.com/


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Forgetfulness

Lost...
I am dormant on the ground
 In a dark alley not to be found.
A board opposite me writ in red, 
Lifeless I am, please no tip,
money I have, but my soul
deserted me, thats why I am here.
 
Useless...
When a passer by stared at me heartless,
how lucky you are old lady, the courage 
you have, to just sit daily on that floor,
With blankness in your eyes, deafness 
in your ears, motionless you are,
mindless so far, faceless, even tearless, 
not one tear to shed over your soulless 
to cure it's pain.

Old lady...
Your emptiness and soundless will leave
 you homeless.
Why today you specifically want to remain 
dreamless.
Your nakedness is seen, your spirit turned 
against you dissolved into the running 
stream.

Shameless...
Tell me please, look at me?
Why are you here not there?
Why do you stare, its not fair?
Answer me, how long have you
Made this space your home? 
Aren't you the one living
In that elderly home?.

Forgetfulness...
Everybody is searching for you 
they need to find you harmless.
What shall I tell them?
 Your going away never 
to comeback and stay?

Dizziness...
Say it, she just shook her head.
Please sing a song while walking back
 to where you belong.
I am the passer by remain strong  
hold my hand, your lover wants 
you back, he still is sustained
on his hospital bed.
He loves you, begs you to comeback
to see you one more time, before
wishing you a goodbye.

She remained homeless,
as nothing will ever
 feel the same.

Therese Bacha
7 August 2013


Details | Prose Poetry | |

RISING WITH THE GLORY OF THE SUN

Rising with the glory of the sun,
But never to go down with it,
I'll fly higher and higher,
Side by side with eagles among the clouds,
I'll tarry until the day is done,
I'll soar waiting patiently to reign,
With the moon among the stars all through the night,
And eager to rise and shine with the sun again.

(c) 2010


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WOMAN

Day by day we pray to stay alive, ladies, the face of this world is slowly changing, no longer do we need to hold our heads in disgrace, and it’s about time we take our place. No longer let us be connived, nor let us forget the silent cries in trees that our sista’s souls are still hangin’, see the true in others denies rather waistin’ yourself complaining. Nor keep us from strength to stand by man, strength to leave if struck by hand, no more bruises upon our face for we also help to make this race. No more scars upon our souls for only marked with beauty moles and let our stories be fortold for we are women who behold, a key to inspiration and moral pride, coming out of our hide, Gods rules are to which one should only apply, but most chose pain to keep inside, left alone and died. Your elimination of God’s creation, we are but faith to this nation. Men of ignorance we are sick of belligerence, cuz we prove intelligence, cuz where there’s no woman there is no man strong and on this land we belong as distinct and separate persons walk along. Before your ignorance get the respect that you so vainly seek, practice what you claim til' all things you do or speak shall in reality be the same, nor let us be so eased to blame and give us our well earned past due fame, all musical and sorrowful stories contained. My people, make me proud to know your name and I’ll return the favour by doing the same.
For all men whom think us fast, remember the good ones always finish last, we women are still raped future and past so personally you can kiss my ... In us your babies wombs all your life fluids we consume, to mothers growing up too soon, to those mommas babies and daddy’s maybes.....REMEMBER, when your round to actin' shady, we are the ladies of this land, women with pride we stand, I am a WOMAN and for equal respect, I would do it again!!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Bird in Flight

Sitting there late last night! 
I took everything in with my deepest breath about me.
I could quiver feeling the warmth sinking slowly in, 
I was covered over distances which I could now see.
I had left myself. 
I was gone again.
I was above and beyond the clouds,  
Soaring deeply with every one of my though,
Higher and higher I rose, 
Reaching loftiness’ I have never once felt. 
I was a bird in flight! 
Stunning with privilege I had brought.
Feeling myself from deep within!
Standing there that night, 
The radiance beamed all around me so I took this in.
And lo and behold, there I went again.
I could feel myself while locked deep with my thoughts.
I was absorbed inside by everything surrounding me.
I felt the depth that my eyes could never ever once see.
Loosing all truth of myself, every sensation my soul had caught.
Further and further I rose, reaching capacities I had never felt.
I’m a feather in the air, 
Gathering sensations inside of myself.
I lay there that night, mind, body, and soul with me.
I was calm with the breeze, 
Inside of myself,
Feeling myself!
And once again I was a bird in flight soaring so high and much too free.
I was locked sound with my deepest thoughts.
More and more I rose and impact for impact I felt.
Feathers of a bird in flight and one of me I have surely got.
Ever since that night, many, many things have come to me.
One by one, gathered by the sensations carried all over me.
Touching inside of myself, again, again, and again!
Higher and higher I climb to reach the very tipsy top.
Gathering it all, I am more of me when more of me can be felt.
I am the breeze in the air touching the many feathers these birds have brought.
Many feathers just from sitting here, but each the soar of the wind has surely caught.
I’m a bird in flight gathering all that is real or not and all that is captured in of my-self.
I am surely the feather that fell from the very top, 
Because I am now what then I surely was not!
I am simply that feather in the air falling loose and free inside of myself.

®Registered: 1997 Ann Rich


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Grandad's Missing

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost into a deep black hole

I was trapped
and bemused
feeling sad
and confused
a subatomic particle
lost into a deep black hole
and suddenly
you stuck in your magic telescope
and I opened up
like a flower
I shot out like a periscope
a mystical kaleidoscope
like a solar flare 
without a care
my heart exploded into a supernova
and then, 
I woke up in your constellation
a phantasmagorical revelation
so ecstatic
and divine
orgasmic 
and sublime
I'm staying here forever, 
until the end of time.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who Is The Poet

Who Is The Poet

Poet is a different personality in the universe,
Whose voices come from soul
Not lip, throat, heart, brain....

Truly voice of the Almighty
And every voice is universal truth
Poet is not a part of any country, political parties and ism
Poet creates different universe and true-ism

And true leader, guide of the people in the universe.

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Eagle wing


A little girl
In a small city
Walks to school
Without eating a meal

She sings her situation
In a quiet place
Sleeping on the floor
No money for text books

Poor parents she had
Lives in a small mud house
Families avoid them
Friends walk away

She eats mockery
In her school
Only one uniform
A burst pair of shoes

Eagle passing by
Hears her sorrowful song
Put her on his wings
And give her a place above 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Poetry is the answer

What impels us so late at night 
to rise up and turn on the light 
to sit down and begin to write 
a poem if the feeling is right? 

For some the answer is simple enough. 
but others must crack a nut that is tough. 
It’s more than rhyme it's that and bigger stuff. 
A finished poem, a diamond no longer rough. 

There is much to be said of many things, 
of wording it right and the joy it brings, 
a quality tone just right when it sings, 
when it ends it's as true as it begins. 

What impels us so late at night 
to rise up and turn on the light 
to sit down and begin to write 
a poem if the feeling is right? 

An un-crafted word, just like a fetter. 
Un practiced in words, we are the debtor.
And for proof, view any written letter. 
Poems fill a need to say it better. 

thanks for the recomendations Reason A. Poteet 
edited by Monty Newman on 11/25/2010


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The sunrise of your sacred love

the sunrise of your sacred love,
paints the hollow desert in my mind,
scattered grains of windblown thoughts,  
frozen remnants from another time,
your liquid brush scrape shards of pain,
from deep within my dark terrain,
and like a scarlet phoenix I rise again,
I climb your thighs,
and stroke your breasts,
I kiss your luscious, tender lips,
drink your luminescent eyes,
and dive right in,
such a surprise.
I didn't realize, 
that your love would be like this,
you've raised me from a dark abyss,
and placed me deep within your heart,
I'm warm, content and gently smiling,
lost forever,
in your love beguiling.

(from the chapter "Divinity of Woman" in Love's True Home, now available online in
hardcover, paperback, and as an e-book)
http://srigawntufahr.com/


Details | Prose Poetry | |

YOUR AZURE EYES

When I tumbled into your azure eyes
I didn't realize 
that I would land so deep
like a liquid tumbleweed
I swam into your beating heart
crimson tidal wave
tsunami in your chest
circling nipples on your breasts
purple kisses, 
swollen lips
lightning from your fingertips
drowning deep within you
is the only way to go
when my mind stops breathing
your sweet love starts to flow
I drink you now
imbibe your essence
I am your skin
bright effervescence
in your presence I behold
all the secrets left untold
saturated with your passion
drenched by you
pure satisfaction


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

OUR CONSCIENCE

Love is not deceiving, but our thoughts where are minds and our hearts take us to conceive in what we want to see. We are in constant conciliation with our beliefs and in compromising with every temptation we are bound to be with. Our conscience has blinded us of our wisdom and put us into a delusional fact we pretend to live in which we call paradise.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Escape

I close my eyes and put the moon asleep.

I see lands and scopes of being mixed
from long ago rolled into tomorrow.

Circus clowns and lost classrooms,
moving caravans of little people;
creatures not knowing the way and 
I have quite far to go.

Don't leave me here this way.  Close
the cover, hide the ground neath your 
feet.  Tracks hidden from all.  Dig and
dig cover it all up into deserts where
dusty sands can play, hide and sink
in any way you don't need to close
your eyes.  Keep your mouth shut.

Close the cover we'll go to the sea
hide behind octopus, one leg for you,
seven for me.  We'll be fine leaving
it all behind.

It's been tried before.  Double buckled.
you blended with the sandbed.  Close
it properly this time.  There's no one
here who'll care to climb downward
or upward.

We're on our own this time.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

INFINITY

Fear of infinity sits with me
today, eternity flies, looms,
hovers stretches the heart
must make room for the 
dark

space I am to embark.
Though I let my eyes search
for God within;
let my eyes mingle with
the Cosmic wind.

Afraid of what will be
stormy slaps.  It is not
really your place to
see such grace.

The thorny drift burnished 
by that crush around the
trees, now I'm afraid God,
now I'm glad you are with me.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Unconditional Dog

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thread of Hope

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That white thread...
Of hope.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Looking Forward

~Yesterday Today Tomorrow~

            Where were you yesterday?
                              Welcoming.
                       Where are you today?
                                       Warmhearted.
                               Where will you be tomorrow?
                                                   Waiting.     
   

                         Where you crying yesterday?
                                             Missing. 
                                     Are you still crying today?
                                                   Momentarily.
                                          Who will you become tomorrow?
                                                                 Meditating.                                                            
                                      
    
                                     Were you in love yesterday?
                                                       Charmingly.
                                                 Are you in love today?   
                                                                Continuously.
                                                        Will you remain in love tomorrow?
                                                                             Constantly.
                                                      
                                                                                         Therese Bacha
                                                                                           26/4/2013


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BloodOfjesus

BloodOfJesus
Not the wine sacrament of the church not the grape juice that we use not the chalice cupp
not the rememberance not the ritual not the religion not the commandments of men. The
BloodOfJesus is the real blood that he shed on the Cross of Calvary the post of Jesus. ON
the Romans Internet it was www.JesusSaves.Com.Blood the Pointless Pilot smurffed the
action then went behind the bathroom tossed up all his cookies lost his function. The
COnstant searching of the Knights of the Rounded gave me pause seek becomes find King
Arthurs COmputor did not have the same wireless button on mine. Smile you are on CharlaX
Camera candid the price of life is death the death of GOD. GOing to a function and
remembering his sacrifce will never save you but the realization given to you from the
Holy Spirit to once and for all convince you that it is this Jesus Crucified in Jeruselum
His Holy City and cast out to SHED his blood on the tTtree of Golgotha the Hill of the
Skull it was a place of Death is where this new eternal life comes from. Drinking wine in
small amounts and breaking cracker crumbs will not save you but the shedding of the blood
of JESUS when he did this was over Two Thousands Year ago this Christmas. Not the formal
necktied meetings but the Beaten Dying Lord hangging dripping Blood the blood of Jesus.
What he said was WHEN WHEN WHEN you are DOING THIS (meant breaking bread at the meetings
and drinking the wine as the sacrificial remembrances) HE then said Remember ME ???
Meaning Jesus. www.shedbloodoncross.com on the older model Snail mail COmputors you wlll
not be able to see this. You now need INtel. This may seem humorus to you even fruitless
or breadless at least it is wineless but it may seem like sacrilegious but many people use
this internet the web is huge and they also need to be saved by the shed BloodOfJesus.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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
							                                 finally
								                                   finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Man on a Hill

Far in the distance a man stands on top of a large green hill, hair blowing back,
His head is in his chest, his chin resting on his ribs, he stares at the ground,
The wind is unyielding carrying flecks of rain like sand in a hard desert storm,
This man is searching and lifts his head, his eyes open, they are slits of blue.

Who is this man who gazes towards horizons, across the four corners of the land,
He has stood many days in the same spot, the only movement, is his head seeking,
But he waits, a silhouette in the evening, a shadow in the morning, a man by day,
What quest requires so much patience, so much trust and belief, it must be faith.

After a few days, I get used to the man on the hill, in all weathers except heat,
Violent storms, bolts of zig-zag lightening, burn the nearby grass but not the man,
Heavy blizzards of snow, blowing side ways, creating white hills, on high mounds,
Hail and torrential rain fills the air and rips through the high lands across fields.

Who is this man upon the high hill who does not move for any of natures torments,
What can be so important that he stands both day and night unmoving, unflinching,
To stare at nature hard in the face like a challenge knowing he will never win or leave,
His search is for hope, honesty and purity, it's so hard to find small seams of gold.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your crazy passion

you inhale me
and 
saturate me
with your crazy passion
and
as you exhale me
I shoot out like a flaming comet
from the constellations
swirling in your eyes
exploding like a meteor shower
high into the sky
and then 
you drink me in
and cast me deep 
into your torrid rapids
my glistening wings
flutter
slowly melting
shimmering silver rivulets
liquid feathers 
dripping
into the glorious ocean
of holy splendour 
forever free
lost inside your ecstasy
in the center 
of effervescent love
your precious golden heart


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Christ Child

In eternity past, the Father asks the Son to go down.
Having equal Love for humans the "Yes" comes fast.
When Creation leads to time, the world waits for 4 BC
Marking the start of the end of Satan's long rule at last.

Did Satan laugh at the poor setting for Jesus' birth here?
A cry in a cave for animals pierces the night, changing all.
Shepherds worship; later wise kings give precious gifts.
Mary and Joseph marvel, yet Herod's rage soon gives a call.

A call to leave quickly to Egypt where they'll live as refugees.
Sparing the Christ child a merciless death of those under three.
When Herod finally dies, Jesus' parents head back to Israel.
Still not fully safe from mad rule, Nazareth is their destiny.

Here the child will grow to be a man, following His parents rule.
Surprising the Pharisees with His wisdom at 12, at 30 riling them.
Preaching with authority, healing the incurable, loving the humble.
Women weep repenting at his feet; one's healed by touching his hem.

Zacchaeus risks going into a tree and finds Jesus' salvation so free.
Nicodemus comes at night to ask and ends amazed he's met God's Son
The Woman at the Well gets far more vital water than the usual kind.
And many healed can't but tell others of the miracle God has done.

The babe in the manger now stills the storm and his disciples believe
Even seeing the dead arise, like Lazarus in the tomb for four days.
Foretelling a greater rising coming but not before immense suffering.
The sword Mary was told would pierce her heart is soon on its way.

For most religious leaders cannot tolerate Jesus' lack of respect for them.
Calling them whitewashed tombs and pointing pride out to Pharisees.
Not endearing Himself with the establishment, but following God's way.
Knowing soon He'd be betrayed, arrested, tried and tortured brutally.

Still, he calmly feeds them body bread and blood wine in a final feast.
Tells them the Spirit comes, and prays they'd be one like Father and Son.
Heads to the Garden, prays to His Father for another way if possible.
Your will be done ends and the soldiers come and with Judas kiss it's done.

The most pure, innocent Man who's ever lived is now in hostile hands.
A trial by dark without witness or any rights – and off to Pontius Pilate.
Then Herod then back to Pilate whose wife dreamed Jesus was innocent.
But the people's cries to crucify win over – Jesus caught in intrigue's net.

The child of Bethlehem now hung on a Cross between two criminals.
The Light of the World by darkness and our sins is being slowly slain.
Feeling forsaken by God, but then "Into Your hands I commit my spirit."
Reunited and soon to show the world that this Child was no ordinary one.

Risen as Jesus predicted, for how can death conquer everlasting, perfect life?
From childhood to adult not one sin, not once yielding to Satan's temptations.
Proving we can have life eternal if we confess and believe in Jesus as our Savior.
Calling His followers in risen form to await the Spirit and share Christ to the nations


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BEAUTIFUL THINGS

Some things are lost along the line
Some things, beautiful and fine
Driving down the lone road to the stream in my hamlet
It’s like yesterday; like catching birds from their nest
I giggled as I drove by
Mothers breast feeding babies and singing lullaby
Naked boys rolling condemned tires, and
Ripped virgins with little cloths coverings, as attires

I giggled as I drove by. It’s just like yesterday
I remember Jerome and others as we gathered to play
There was the moonlight rendezvous
Where we all gathered, boys, and girls, all of us
There was the tales by the moonlight,
Ancestral heritages, sacrifices and the Lion’s might
The Lion’s might, yet he falls beneath the crafty tortoise
I still can hear the choruses; I hear my youthful voice
I loved folklore songs. Wars songs for strong sons

Let me try seeing if I can still sing one more;
Yes! I still can sing “Omalingwo”
Omalingwo, Omalingwo tee …… Omalingwo
Omalingwo, Omalingwo nwam…… Omalingwo
Omalingwo, Omalingwo dia …… Omalingwo
Nne nei di na Otutu-aja-o………..Omalingwo
Elikwue ma yu atuna ngwo ji ……Omalingwo
Ngwo, ngwo onye oma………….Omalingwo

My God, I feel new!
I can still sing it! Oh God I knew!
Omalingwo! Story of the child of a deprived mother
Jealous king’s wives over ready for murder
Murder and deprivation if that will give them a son
To sit on the king’s throne and shine forth like the sun
Story of good over evil. Omalingwo!
A deprived mother’s son.

I giggled as I drove along,
Remembering my tiny breasts, when they formed
And more fortunate girls laughing me to scorn
I remember these things till sadness beclouded me
I am fully grown now; nostalgia overshadow me
My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities
We can’t assemble again, just like broken pot in pieces
Oh! The Eve’s tempting apple of white collar jobs

I heard Jerome lived and then died in Jos
Killed by religious rioters with missions unjust.
I heard Nwasombia is a head dresser is Lagos
At 52 and still searching? Celibacy is obvious
I heard Nosike is in aviation, head of pilots
Even Chima is now in parliament in Cyprus
Chima, who spoke big English like “opprobrious”

My age mates, plus me, all gone to the cities
No more gatherings, just like broken pot in pieces
Still driving along the lone road to the hamlet stream
Still thinking of beautiful things
The beautiful hamlet serene things.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Obervation of a drama queen

I met this girl
some time ago
she is somewhat 
of a drama queen...

Isn't it strange
these girls who complain
of others and drama
often fuel the fire themselves?

I told her
if you are tired
of gossip and drama
quit being the actor...

Some ladies
create the situation
merely because
it is based on jealousy...

Perhaps if these girls
bring nothing but drama
and vanity to the table
let them dine by themselves...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Short Time On The Porch

As the crickets sing flooding, saturating my being__enveloped I am in sound and moist 
air..In the sky ballet figure dances dressed in very tight white leotard bounding across 
the stage, leaping into mid-air with a whole troop dressed in pink pastel costumes on 
back of the stage..The music crescendos swellinng to the final jump then the sun's tip 
comes up over the horizon..Life moves on and the day's work begins..Grateful I am for the 
few minutes on the porch..


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Rose-The Thorn

A seed sprouted at the foot of the Cross, and was 
watered by the Blood of Jesus.  
Thorns had fallen from the brow of Christ and attached
themselves to the branches.
The petals opened to look upon the Son of Grace. 
A red rose the color of His blood stained face.

The thorns had sharpened to a point to prick the feet
of Jesus, but, didn't prevail. Jesus had the nail.
A rose was born near a thorn, just like you and me.
Both will live eternally.
The rose will always bloom, 
the thorn forever doomed.

The rose is a flower that one associates with love.
The beautiful delicate petals wrap around each
other as if to protect themselves from the thorns on 
the branches.The rose have a meaning of their own. 
On special occasions, to say," I love you so much,"
you will see the rose. They are the finishing touch.

Each petal sends out a fragrance that draws you near. 
Thorns are just the opposite. 
Flesh that gets in a thorn's path, feels thorn's wrath.
The rose,  the thorn, so close, yet the petal is
protected, like our soul, a boundary has been set
from the one who paid our debt.

In the spiritual realm there is also the Rose and the thorn.
The Rose of Sharon, Jesus Christ, the living God, who
speaks, "I love you," to all the world.
The thorn, the destroyer, has hatred unfurled. 
The Rose will always be the universal  flower of love. 
Jesus Christ is Love, sent from above.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wake Up, BK

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Longest Yards

 “Length of experience for cause is a worth immeasurable in strength
And to heed the given words of the harshly learned is a trust taken to overcome our longest yard!”


Details | Prose Poetry | |

HIM of Praise

 HIM of Praise 
HIM of Praise 
 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
1one70four4 
 life; broken 
used unwashed homeless tired sad hurt questing for an answer, yes it is HIM 
who loves me JESUS. The answer to every question. ABOVE every other namme 
the HIM who seems so far away and yet eye find the love is still in evidence the 
richness in the finding.  Love is given never taken the takers and the shakers 
come to HIM and get dumbfounded, the poor questors will still receive 
communion.  Live is a mobius stripped not the start of the cradle to the grave 
sinfilled natural disaster somewhere in my timeline lies uninterrupted salvation. 
HIM who loved me also called me to tell his people of HIS namme. HIM who 
loves ewe also needs ewe to call on HIM in fear and trembling YES and then to 
drop the fear of days gone bye and love HIM for YES HE loves. HIM who writes the 
names in BOOK of LIFE loves all of us the namme of JESUS the namme the 
namme is JESUS. HE who brings us life also brings us days then HE adds them 
to our lives. JESUS. HIM of Praise. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ignorance

I knocked the gate of hell 
No one answered 
I knocked again and no one answered 
I thought it was a mistake 
But suddenly I discovered 
I was knocking from inside. 
                                               Soumit Dey 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BRING THE ALARM

Time Check..clock's not working
Weather Status.. the wind's blowing
Self Check..been a lethargic
Mind Status..still in nostalgic.

Everything doesn't seem right
Still holding, what maybe right
Must not fight, it isn't a bout
Ring the bell, to say Timeout.

Funny thing, I don't get it
Now it's just a sadness to beat
What seems to be joy then
Can't barely move on, until when.

Time Check..clock's not working
Weather Status.. the wind's blowing
Self Check..been a lethargic
Mind Status..still in nostalgic.

Tic-Tac-Tic-Tac, set the alarm
So I can go back to where I'm from
Tic-Tac-Tic-Tac, bring the alarm back
With you holding it, then I know you're BACK!!

...WAKE UP!!!...





 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Slowly fear, and sweet

Dear God,

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sliced Her Like A Knife Slice

The Story: 

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

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

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

The Memories: 

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

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

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

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

The Story: 

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Lady Speaks: 

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Golden Sun Of Spring

As spring's golden sun rises awakening the fog.  Its light reveals fog's gray clinging tenacles all about. A Dove coos softly singing in spaces opened up when the roosters quieten their chorus..The tree's dark silhouettes stand still for no breeze rustles the air this morn. Those Blackbirds are back their voices fill the Oaks with lively music.  Then they go down upon the good earth to feed upon the rich food available.  I don't even see anything there but they seem to find plenty everyday.  It seems they are here to stay this year.  They usually come for awhile then leave until about the same time the next year. I wonder if they are going to pair off and stay around.  Only God knows if they will stay or leave.  He has provided for the troup to have sufficient food everyday.  All they have to do is come and feed.  We His creation only have to come into His Presence each day for a short time, open our hearts and minds to hear His Voice.  He is there waiting won't you come and feed upon His Word(The Bible) and then wait to hear His Voice for it is pleasant to the ears..  


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who Shall You Believe

An Elderly.

Introduction tells you,
Who shall you believe?  
Listen sometimes to your senses
your sadness or your joy.
If you are downhearted you cannot 
perceive any happiness or joy you will
 feel stepped on. 

Temptation tells you,
Who shall you believe? Even if you open 
up a pathway, can you reinforce your legs 
to take a stride without your cane? 
Can you become independent mount
Up the stairs? 
Can you open your Door pay homage 
to your unfurnished Home? unable
to set up due to your age?
Or will you act as in a theater playing 
the characterization of a tough actor 
capable of running after its shadow?

Happiness shares,
Who shall you believe? 
Your happiness tells you rotect your image 
as if its still young.
Fly with your spirit like a butterfly,
venture through the clear skies.
Intercept your freedom 
as long as its lasts.

Rejuvenate your thoughts to reserve 
a seat in your positive will power 
where you are your own master.

Weaknesses orders,
Who shall you believe? 
when you slept young and woke up old.
Why tolerate that body transformation,
why presume you are still young when 
definitely you are old.

Strength begs me,
Who shall you believe? 
Why are you shivering before waking up? 
Because you woke up old, you know it means
 You are a looser.
Gather your strength to face your reality,
deny wanting the impossible to happen?
Seek, look, understand, seek, look, feel the truth,
if not, your fate today will wither.

Sorrowful prays,
Who shall you believe? 
Your sadness orders you
Remain downhearted as you cannot perceive
 Happiness.
Your friendly thoughts indicates you to look far
And open the entrance, where the philosophers
Meeting is taking place, enter and impose 
your knowledge, dictate your long lived 
teaching, allow yourself listen to the echo
 Clapping at the end of your speech.
 
Courage is the truth,this is who you 
should believe the you of the now.
This is accepting all of the above,
when I will come out from that
Door proud of my cane.
Nothing is impossible when I remain 
hungry to want to live.
No matter how old or young, I am.

Therese Bacha
17 November 2013


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ALONE NO MORE by Anna Lo P

..A lonely soul walking down the lonely road, 
with own shadow to tag along
thinking no one will walk with you
never let anyone, a chance to be with you.

I'm on the same road like you
looking for someone, and life too
empty heart, empty life,empty soul
feeling like everything is out of control.

We came across each other, unexpected
not noticing what we just might needed
both our lonely soul looking for life
also love and happiness in each stride.

We took the chance to be together
to travel that road we still wonder
at the back of our mind, we both question
"are you the one?", still a bone of contention. 

I reach for your hand to hold and grip
and said wholeheartedly in a leap
"I'll be your shadow & be your light 
no more empty Life, together, just hold on tight!

...xoxo 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ALL I DO

Dream dream dream

My life full of dreams

All I do is to dream

And each day I walk in the reality of my dreams

(C) 2011


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sacred Mother Earth- Colors Of Nature

Oh Great Woman of all Nature
  Mother of our Divinely blessed, sacred Earth
Your beauty has kissed my lips
  with the splendor of your clear, sapphire skies
 

The golden, moon bathed Sands
  that are gently caressed
 by your crystal blue clear flowing rivers
Your gentle rain that ascends from the Heavens above
  to delicately soothe and blend
with tears that flow from the broken hearted
 

Your moist, emerald green hills 
 filled with enchanting, lovely flowers 
of every elegant shade and hue
I have beheld the splendid beauty…
 of your green weeping willow's gracious bows and limbs
of iridescent greens and golds
that whisper gently in your swaying, languid winds
 

I have witnessed golden eagles fly so gracious and free
  in your pictorial, periwinkle blue skies
I've feasted my eyes on the sublime splendor
  of your enchanting, golden harvest moon
as its elegant beauty paints a rose, gold, splendid image 
  so deep within my mind
 

All your violet-blue endless horizons
  Your smoky, gray mountains so grand
in the rose blue cool light of dawn
  Your chattering bird songs in skies of azure blue
The fragrant scent of amber gold pinecones
   in the sparkle of the crystal clear early morning dew
 

I pay Ode’ to you Great Mother Nature
  for every golden ray of sun that warmed my skin
that hangs brilliant and dazzling...
   in your glorious skies of cerulean blue


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Butterflies

When ever I see the butterflies flying
I am reminded of your smiling face,
As I see them taking wing into the sky
I feel emotions which are never displaced

For deep in my heart also live the butterflies
As they come to life within my heart each day
While I count the many sweet memories of you
Which in my thoughts and dreams now stay

The sheer brilliance of their many vibrant colors
Produce a vivid rainbow deep within my mind
Which fills my heart with such an unwavering joy
Allowing me to enjoy them for endless times

And the butterflies will be my dearest treasure
Leaving me never again quite feeling the same
For the peace they bring can never be measured
As on their wings are gently imprinted your name.


Wendell A. Brown, 
2011


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THREE IN ONE

Father God,
The Omnescient One,
The Alpha and The Omega.
Almighty, Powerful, Unfathomable Love.
The Head of The Holy Trinity.

Jesus, The Son,
Love Incarnate.
Son of God, Son of Man,
Savior and Friend.
The Lamb of God is He.

Holy Spirit,
The Light and the Essence,
Of God The Father, Himself.
Convictor, Teacher,
Seeker of Souls,
Sent to comfort you and me.

Father, Son and Holy Spirit,
There's three in one, you see,
And we are created in His image,
So again there's one in three.

Body, Soul and Spirit too,
Again there's three in one.
He said,"We'll make him in Our own image,
And to teach him I'll send My Son."


"I AM THE 'A' AND THE 'Z' , THE BEGINNING AND THE END OF ALL THINGS, SAYS GOD, WHO IS THE LORD. THE ALL POWERFUL ONE WHO IS AND WAS AND IS COMING AGAIN."
                                                                                                  Rev. 1:6

"ONE DAY AFTER THE CROWDS HAD BEEN BEEN BAPTIZED JESUS, HIMSELF WAS BAPTIZED AND AS HE WAS PRAYING THE HEAVENS OPENED AND THE HOLY SPIRIT IN THE FORM OF A DOVE SETTLED UPON HIM AND A VOICE FROM HEAVEN SAID,'YOU ARE MY BELOVED  SON IN WHOM I AM WELL PLEASED."
                                                      Luke 4:21-23


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Live in The Moment

Live in the moment and enjoy life
It is all you have for now
The past is gone it is yesterday 
Don't dwell on it. Move on and be present 
Just don't forget the lessons you've learned from it 
Take it along as you go to help you grow and live better as you face today 
Stop worrying about the future 
Tomorrow is not certain 
Do not be distracted from living fully in the moment
Be where you are 
What is not here is not yours 
Just live and breath and feel life 
Be aware, be alive, be happy 
See life unfolds with a sense of wonder 
Feel everything and be moved 
Listen to the stirrings in your heart
Taste life in all its flavors
Smell it and let the scent of life awaken your soul 
Touch a life and make a difference and bring meaning to living
This is your moment
Don't waste it 
This may not come again 
Live, Love and Laugh
Your life is a gift 
Be a blessing and radiate joy and peace 
To everything and everyone that you meet. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sunny Days


The Son burst upon my days
taking away the mist and haze
of times less bright.

Now my spirits climb
with anticipation of all tomorrows.
Empty spaces now fill 
as my heart stands still.

Lungs aftaid to breathe
in this illumination.
My heart does feed.

Words no longer on deaf ears fall.
The Son makes translucent my wall.
As day ends and night begins
a velvet warmth now sets in
and tomorrow holds the promise
of sun filled days.


I wrote this poem in 2003





Details | Prose Poetry | |

Everything Has Weight

A feather may not break any bones while on it's downward spiral,
but it will nonetheless find a resting place
Though you may think Styrofoam isn't much of anything
if a whole house made out of it you still couldn't lift it
You may easily slice through the air thinking it's just the absence of everything else
and yet there's several megatons of the stuff in our atmosphere alone
Everything has weight
Even light will bend it's straight and narrow path
when unfortunate enough to come across a black hole

So how in the world can you still believe
that you are weightless?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Poem For You

Everytime I bring forth your image
From deep within the well of my mind
My heart begins shedding joyous tears
For your beautiful love that's mine

I can never escape feeling all the emotions
For they seem to overwhelm me each day
But just like the very first time I embraced you
The raging passion of my love will always stay

I was blessed the day you embraced me
That first moment you became my friend
And ever since your spirit held me close
My life changed as I was truly born again

You have never forsaken me a single day
Of the spiritual things which in life I need
And I love those very special moments
When your living word we together read

While I lift up my song of sweet love to you
Your daily showers of heaven's  joy begins
I humbly thank you for giving your life's blood
A perfect Easter sacrifice to forgive all our sins.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Secret Ladee Of The Night

I remember so well  
   dancing  that last, wild dance
A journey across the essence of time 
 
   Once  upon  a midnight clear  
I danced  beneath the waning moon 
   wanting to drink 
the sweet wine of  forgetfulness
   The sometimes, bitter fruit 
left a taste of regret 
   upon my tongue.
 
Now, in my older years 
   I’ll reclaim that woman child 
I’ll believe in faeries and flying saucers 
   and wash my face in fresh, fallen rain 
I’ll wear bright, wild, plume feathered hats
 
I’ll  have  a  secret name
   that no one knows but me
Then I’ll  laugh at  those 
   whose  judgements‘ and absurdities' 
so riled my fury
 
I'll pray for the sweet nature of other spirits 
   to take up their beat within my heart
I’ll be… 
           The Secret Ladee Of The Night
                                                                     
                                                                ~ *~*~
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Juliet's Plea

~“Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her,
But Romeo may not."
- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 3.3

Juliet's Plea

Dost thou deem, heav'n only rises with the corpse
upon the last sweet breathe of virgin light
as face dost pale to pearl and roses leave my lips tonight
Romeo, my living eyes knew naught your purpose.

In sooth, I thought thee dead on that black night
and so, no other earthly joy could stay my heart
but heav'ns had we all, before this sorry plight
pray pardon love, I would nay have thee depart.

Abide, abide my love, my Romeo, alas...
by your leave, I hold St. Peter’s gate op’ for thee
And verily, I wait for time is naught in death 
and thee, my love, my Lord, are all to me. 

*Their love and their deaths were a scandel.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rich Man Poor Man

Human tastes vary and so are the desperate cravings to capture the best in human ambition,
A more desperate thirst for fame, riches and for power can be a low, vulgar bitter taste,
I admire the spirit of the man who sees richer recompense as a sign of alleviated misery,
And I see goodness in smiles and enlightened hearts of happy people that enjoy their life,
Men who enjoy what's free in life, the softness a beauty of a June night and warm breezes,
The calm clear loveliness of a dark sky where moon beams shine and an evening star glows,
Acknowledging wonder as the smallest sounds of the night, owl's hooting, crickets singing,
Enjoying the night time smell where different breezes unlock, the sweetest secret essences,
It could be the leafy aroma of the trees or the scents of many wild lovely forest flowers,

 
A man who knows the price of a wives 'I love you' when he comes home from his daily work,
A man who knows the value of money and would rather his name valued in poor mans prayers,
There are two choices in this world, greed or contentment but they do not go hand in hand,
So we see these choices as two garments spread out for your selection, which do you choose,
One is tattered slops of your own righteousness for ambition, to waste life chasing money,
Or be happy and live in a world that you can enjoy and afford, no one banging on your door,
Choosing between the two seem to be very simple and even a child would tell which one it is,
The fact is most grown men would choose the road to ambition and riches and all its burdens,
To these men a brilliant morning sunshine means nothing, a morning mist on a lake is wasted.

To rush through life chasing gold, not hearing curlews in far off moors, is the poor man,
The rich see joy on a beautiful day listening to quails piping from green corn in twilight,
To feel a flush of happiness along margins of a beach, waves break in flame at your feet,
To hear strokes of an oar, somewhere in the dim obscure and list, wild cries of the tern,
A plover that never sleeps soundly, sweeps past and plunges onward, until gone from sight,
The man who understands real treasures in life, remembers happy times, into his last days,
Greedy men remember too late when old and grey, reflecting through an ocean of wet tears,
These musing men spring forward forgetting poetry of the ocean and a new mornings sunrise,
Then let them go from beauty, the understanding of beauty is wasted, the poor man is rich.  


Details | Prose Poetry | |

In Ten Years

there are too many indiscriminate yesterdays
in my memory
too many I'll do it tomorrows in my
vocabulary
i could blame my daddy for his absence
or I could fault my mama for her negligence
i could put it on uncle incestuous
who caused me to become promiscuous
but I'm a grown woman with plans
to be confident and advance
to inspire people not to become
hopeless mothers
or irresponsible fathers
I'll start today
not in ten years or tomorrow
but today


Details | Prose Poetry | |

lead my hand o' dear life

lead my hand o' dear life

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

o' dear thought
of comfort

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

an artwork of joy

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

opn08022012/0106

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

>> ntema's unique poetry (nup) 
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/lead-my-hand-o-dear-life/


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Why

We look up and cry, "Why me?"
Sometimes we get an answer
and sometimes we get silence,
but always... we are heard.
Our time is not His time,
our needs are His classroom,
our lives are His to mold;
our job is to live trusting that
He is there... always there 
answering us in His time and His way.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I AM A WOMAN

I walk
I talk
I possess an image
That image
I am the woman

The woman who is 
In absolute possession
Of the courage
As brave as a warriors staff
The woman who knows her rights 
And fights for it
I am the woman
With the “man”

I feel 
I heal
I possess a heart
That heart
I am the woman

The woman with 
An inner child
With an overflowing joy
With no worries bigger
The woman whose gleeing spirit
Brings hope to all
I am the woman
With the “womb”

I make
I create
I possess an art
That art
I am the woman

The woman herself
Stringing together
All pieces of earth
And soothing the broken
The woman whose arms
Wraps those she loves
I am the woman
That woman…

©Naa Takia, All Rights Reserved 2012


Details | Prose Poetry | |

All is well

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Power and Form

Power and Form

Are the two elements of a human life
Our words are sweet and sometimes sour 
However it’s a deadly trace throughout the human race
We say yes too often to satisfy our so-called rational minds
 
Is the life of a poet/poetess more fulfilling than a farmer?
Are we the expression of nature? 
Or  victims of a regimental affiliations 
We are as you know impossible and unpredictable
Because we all are crazy species

Power and form 
There is no more secret society
The secret of man is publicize under watchful eyes
The world looks into our families’ photos
Looking for the perfect quota, 
As each and everyone one of us partake in online revelry
Like an disciplinary cavalry

However, within our soul lies the truth.
I lost one year, one birthday
I rebirth and lost my power and position
Atlas!  I am in the lower realms
 Now I am in heaven


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Complexities of Life

Why is it that we do that which we don’t want to do
And we don’t do that which we want to?
This is the question that troubled the Apostle Paul 
A man of God, who still struggled with those inner tendencies.
It’s a question that troubles me, too,
The good that we should do, seems so hard to do
The evil, so easy…because it is in our nature to err
I find it mind boggling that the very fibers of my being
Seem to be drawn to the forbidden…
Is it because it is sweeter? Easier? More fulfilling? Simply…human nature drawing me?

Ah, but there is a transcendent joy 
From doing what is unnatural to us:
To love the unlovable
To uplift the fallen
To be faithful to the faithless
To return blessings for curses
To forgive instead of get even
To love instead of to lust

Are we justified in doing what comes naturally because after all…we were born this way?
We are just following our natural inclinations?
Then, I ask…what makes us different from the animals that follow their basic instincts?
Is there a difference? At times there doesn't seem to be. Delayed gratification seems unheard of. We want to relish this moment...there here and now...whatever the cost. We put our morality on a shelf and give in to the basic instincts to posses...to be possessed...to satisfy. Is there a difference?

Yes, there is…for we have been given the power to reason and to choose the high road.
It isn’t by accident….we were created with that power. We need to put it to good use, and we will have divine help to do that, if we so choose. It isn’t easy….but then again, sacrifice never was. It has a price. Ask Jesus….it cost Him his life.

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Prose Poetry | |

AGRICULTURAL LOVE

I have discovered the importance of communication manure,

In the garden of life where the seeds of love and friendship are sown.

I have discovered that the healing of a broken heart,

Is in its openness to the wind of love that abide arounds.

I have discovered that the storm last only for a while,

But the peace that comes afterward abide within and ever.


(c) 2007


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THERE IS BUT ONE CHURCH

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Will Never Fail

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

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

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

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

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

Wendell A. Brown,
February 7, 2013,


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Holy Passion

ALERT: A carpenter's son is loose in the Temple
Birds flutter, animals hustle, merchants scream.
The zeal for Jesus' Father's house consumes Him
As the place for foreigners to pray had become a zoo.
 
ALERT: A prophet is setting up for a Baal battle.
Baal's priests even cut themselves yet no fire.
After taunting, Elijah fills his altar with water.
Calling on God, fire consumes and people bow.
 
ALERT: An old man is building a huge boat ship.
Without a cloud in the sky and only son's to help.
When finished the animals come on call to board.
Rain starts, doors close – 8 saved by holy passion.
 
ALERT: Jesus is telling a tax collector he'll join him for dinner.
Heedless of the Pharisees despising and the crowd's surprise.
Zacchaeus totally changes – offering to multiply stolen money.
A single sinner saved multiplies even more this holy passion.
 
ALERT: Peter plus are preaching in the Temple again.
After being imprisoned for just that, now rearrested.
Whipped by the authorities, the disciples rejoice -
For they've been counted worthy to suffer with Christ.

ALERT: Daniel's praying openly even after it's become illegal.
The royal advisers gleefully have the king throw him to the lions.
Strangely they don't seem hungry till after Daniel is pulled out.
So the king openly praises Daniel's God for this amazing miracle.
 
DOUBLE ALERT: Jesus is talking to a Samaritan woman!!!!
Breaking cultural barriers to share the message of salvation
To her who has been married 5 times and is living with the 6th.
She believes he's the Messiah and brings the town to Christ!
 
ALERT: Paul's going back into the same town that stoned him.
He's preaching again after shipwreck, jail, beatings, and such.
Persecution seems to encourage Paul that he's doing the right.
Passionately following the Savior who turned Him 180 degrees.
 
ALERT: Bible translators burned at the stake for God's Word.
Missionaries avoid death and disease long enough to share life.
Stirring Holy Passion in receptive people who repeat the cycle.
Changing cultures in bondage into those sharing Jesus' love.
 
ALERT: What passion has the Lord put on your heart? Mine?
Can we pray to see His will find its way in our everyday lives
So the lost shall see, hear, find Christ and grow to share Him?
Eternity is forever, this life is not. Fill us Lord with holy passion.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

AM STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU

AM STILL IN LOVE WITH YOU

It wasn’t easy to fall in love with you,
though your looks were always new.
You won my heart with time
but oh! then I had no money, no dine.
with nothing to offer you but my heart and soul,
you decided to go away in search for gold
leaving me in melancholy and jeopardy.
I cried for my loss; I mourned for my tragedy.
you overlooked my errors when I had affluence
but now you underlook me in every sense
you yearned for my love before
now you snoop me unlike before,
you disgraced me amidst my friends
and you broke our engagement, caring less;
You called me “sweetheart” before
while now you call me merely “Michael”
everything you do to make me hate you
doesn’t hurt me and I curse myself for it because
am still in love with you.

My father disowned me because of your sake
and I nearly drowned in a lake
you showed no care when i broke a leg
and you left me while sick in bed
you called my mum a whore
and in my absence you stole from my meagrer store
I can’t put your deeds in words for it is long;
for after all that you did to me
am really confused and i curse myself for it
for…for… for.. am still in love with you


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Do I Know You From Somewhere

Hello, excuse me, but
Do I know you from somewhere?
You look so familiar to me
Please forgive me, I didn't mean to stare.
But I saw you just the other day
As you were passing me by
Your smile jumped out at me
I so desperately wanted to say hi.

But I was too captivated
To utter a single word
They just got all tied up inside
As my emotions were stirred.
Round and round inside me
As I looked for the words to say
Hello, how are you,
Are you going my way?

Can I take a moment of your time
To get to know you better
Perhaps I can give you my number
Or write you a letter.
I feel like I know you
From another place and time
As if we were together
And our souls intertwined.

Just imagine for a moment
Would you please?
Think of us together as one
Sharing the warmth of a summer breeze
Taking a walk through the park
Or maybe along the beach
Watching the sunset fade into the waters
Putting the moon just within our reach.

Well I guess my dream is over
Oh how I wish it were true
For you to feel for me
As I feel for you.

Think about it.........


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Over The Dead Body

Grim, hollow, pointless
Walk limping through its lostness
For a name he is clueless
For a past he is dreamless

His insight is only some bored routinity
Which is stuck in the airport of dead society
Killing time like it never be killed
Living a live like it never be lived

An ambush to the stadium of shelter
Was a breakthrough for the unexpected trigger
One brain consumed by the hand of a ripper
Its cerebellum emit clear memories about the lover

An outstanding memories 
Led the soulless to its side of humanities
Longing of past, stages of life
Belated hunger stop to strive

A girl with her sweet adventure
A dead body whose lost in his picture
Rely on their fate to each other
But blind in the shimmer of their clutter

Through the memory which righteously read as a diary
Through the features which bring him to the life ready
Through the whisper
Through the struggle

He entitled for the second chance
He deserved for the right romance
The new life is just waiting 
To the next chapter of the beginning

Author's Note:
Inspired by the book of "Warm Bodies"- Isaac Marion.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THAT I MIGHT MAKE A DIFFERENCE

Awaken me, Lord.
Open my ears that I may hear the voices,
Of those wo cry out for help.
Let me not be deaf to their pleas,
Lest they perish, because I would not hear.

Awaken me, Lord,
That I might make a difference.
Open my eyes that I may see those who suffer.
Let me not be blind to their needs,
Lest they perish because I would not see.

Awaken me, Lord.
Clear my mind that I may undersrtand the plight,
Of those who cannot help themselves.
Let me not be ignorant in my comfort,
Lest they perish because I was thoughtless.

Awaken me, Lord.
Open my heart that I may truly feel,
For all who suffer and have need.
Let me not be cold and unfeeling,
Lest they perish because I would not care.

Awaken me, Lord.
Loose my hands that I may reach out,
To those for whom You have suffered and died.
Let me not be lazy, or fearful of what others might think,
Lest they perish because I would not reach out.

Amen


Once when I was out walking I heard a dog screaming in agony begging to be let inside out of the cold. I just laughed to myself saying to myself that the dog was acting like she was dying out there. I paid her no mind sense the dog wasn't mine.
Later when I passed by again all was quiet. I figured the owner had let her in.
The owner wasn't home.
They went to school and to work forgetting the dog was still outside.
She Froze To Death And I Could Have Helped Her If Only I Had Cared Enough To JUST GO CHECK IT OUT BUT I FEARED WHAT THE OWNERS WOULD THINK OF ME STICKING MY NOSE IN WHERE IT DIDN'T BELONG.
Just because it's an animal that doesn't mean they don't matter or "don't feel pain like we do". Pain is pain and it HURTS. They feel it like we do they just can't tell us because they can't speak our language but they speak in every other way if we will just listen.
That dog died in agony because I didn't listen and her owners FORGOT ABOUT HER.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dark Night

Dark night of my soul
Where fear and pain reside,
As rulers on their throne,
What courage cannot muster
To fight this battle within
And overcome its hold.
I seek to find resolve
To enter and seek a way to find
A way to remove its hold
In the dark night of my soul
And morning joy I seek
When it’s time does peak.
Dark nigh its lessons bring
If I seek to find them, 
While morning waits to come.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fable 666

Fable 666 

SALVATION 

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Leah's Angel

The stale and dusty, lead filled air
Began to stir in widening breaths.
Pinpoints of light, ionic particles charged with power,
Picked up momentum, as reality stretched.

Excitedly, they began to spin in quickening orbits
Leaving sparkling tactile meteor showers.
Then flashed a brilliant light, so pure and white, 
It tossed me, crumbled, to the quaking floor,
For seemingly raw and unconscious hours.

Dazed, and disorientated, I feared the worst.
Was Death about to open Its ever-ending door?
But, around me grew a radiant hum, louder still it rumbled,
Until at last I braved to slit my eyes
To see, if only for a moment, what marvelous
Spectral filled the space, causing my life to tumble,
Twixt heaven and earth, twixt heart and soul.

There, mighty, glorious, beautiful
Beyond words or understanding
Suspended in the ether between heaven and earth
Was an Angel of Light, illumined by immense beauty and power.
Hand outstretched, She beckoned me, to rise and closer come.

I dared not breathe or blink my eyes, lest She disappear from sight.
But more than sight, or sound, or touch
Her proof was in the mighty waves;
Waves of Energy, radiating frequencies so high, they lifted me to 
Resonance; enough to see Her shape, Her robe of light,
Her all knowing piercing eyes.

Then She spoke to me in pictures, revealing in simpicity the very foundations 
of the earth, the moon and stars, and far flung universes.
She shared the truth of Power and Light, comforting me with the mere slight
Movement of her illumined, translucent hand.
She dismissed the dense lie of my earthbound body, and commanded forth
My own radiant, pulsing Body of Light, too beautiful to comprehend.

Then a voice so powerful, so filled with Love and Grace, 
Neither male nor female, without form or face,
Spoke to me from all directions and all dimensions of space.
As if to confirm my personal divinity, It said, “You are immortal, eternal, and 
Nothing can truly hurt you.  Remember always Who You are.”

At once, I feared yet dared to see. 
I felt release, expansive joy sublime;  
For there was I, a matching Light, 
An entity of Divine Peace and Love;
My spirit one with Her grace and poise,
One with all creatures; as below so above.

Her mission now complete, 
Her image slowly faded into everyday surroundings,
Yet Her Presence lingered still; the energy of the space She filled
Still crackled with power and beauty; the very thought of Her still thrilled. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reflections

Mirrored images of ourselves
In the water, in others,
In the window glass
Of the building as we walk by
Captured just for a moment
Until we stop and stare
And look deep into our eyes.
Our souls temporarily in stasis
To allow a glimpse, a glance
Or perhaps a good long look
Of what is and remembering what was
As if we were an open book.
A look back into time
Of the ways we were
The good, the bad, the indifferent
All the changes we went through
Basking in the glory of how
We managed to get through it all
As the day comes anew.
A smile peers from our lips
When we think back in time
Of that special someone
That made and impact
In our daily life, the one who
Kept us glued together making sure
Everyone and thing stayed in tact.
A teardrop surfaces
Glides down our cheek
As memories of loved ones lost
Refill our minds, visit our dreams
To ease our pains, give us the strength
To move on no matter what the cost.
So as we slowly come back into focus
All the memories reclaim their rightful place
Back in time for future detection
The stasis releases us back to the present
And allows us to fully understand
The true meaning of reflection.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Autum's Farewell

Autumn’s Farewell

A chill wind rustles through tree branches
Shaking the last of the dying, shriveled leaves,
Softly floating to the ground,
Contributing to the symphony of 
Autumn’s farewell when walked upon..
Squirrels dart about foraging for fallen nuts. 

Summer’s bright afternoon sun
Gives way to Autumn’s brooding light         
Fading earlier each day in anticipation
Of season’s end and of the chill and 
Darkness ahead, with the last leaf
Falling helplessly and inexorably
To the ground.

Spring and Summer’s delight
Fade into memory… as if a fairy tale…
To conjure up when in the midst 
Of the clutch of Winter’s icy spell,
 Watching our hopes and dreams  
 Lying crumpled and faded 
 Under Winters first snowfall.

Oh beautiful Autumn, I feel your pain
Your once glorious mantle of gold…
Your majestic leaves a virtual 
Kaleidoscope of breathtaking hues,
Banished from our sight forever.
But like our youth…the memory
Will live in our hearts forever!
 
Copyright©2011 Beatrice Boyle
(All rights reserved)

For Carol Brown's contest - Leaves, Leaves, Leaves.

 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

HUMBLE

You were born into this world for me
And for all who live that would believe
You appeared among all your creation
So from our sin you might set us free

Never have you ever charged a penny
For the living words which you would speak
Even though you appeared in the flesh like us
You never coveted wealth or sinful greed

Your hands reached out to all you met
As many hearts in this world you sought to lead
You never tried to profit from the poor and widows
But freely much in their hearts you would leave

You never chose to have much materially
Though everything In this world is yours
But humbly you came and lived among us
Enriching us with the grace you kept in store

Many always claim in you they believe
But from others they seek to take away
They want to be another’s lord and master
Leaving many destroyed spirits along the way

I only want to be Christ like in my dealings
For in my life there will never be another way
I want them to see what its like to live humbly
With your true spirit teaching them every day

Remember me my LORD, each day as I rise
While by your sweet spirit I am truly led
Permit me to always be humble like you
And never please forsake me my daily bread.

For my time is very fleet in this world’s life
And before by your grace I am called away
I want to help share your light into this world
So many might find life humbly following your way.

Wendell A. Brown,
June, 2012,


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Together We Stand

In this romantic canvas of love
we are standing side by side
gazing into the skyline of heaven

So softly reminiscing over the 
beautiful memories we have 
cultivated over the years

Our eyes are connected with nature's
inspirational trees of life
admiring the leaves of gentleness,
kindness and the roots of true belief

Together we stand; as the abstract of 
God's sunlight beam immensely upon
our radiant and silky caramel color skin

So, gracefully articulating the portrait
of elegance


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Guts To Forgive

Someone someday came to me
That someone somedy charged a fee;
That fee was realyy irreplacable	
And the loss was really intolerable.

That day i decided something very smart
Whatever it is ,but never melt your heart;
just let everything go far apart
and beleive no dart can break your heart.

Oh! 'that' someone someday came again to me
This time wont pay you any of the fee;
Now don't be sorry,it means nothing to me
Stop being burdened ;you better feel free.

Was that the right decision to take?
Was it correct not forgiving someone for a mistake?;
No; was the answer for being so rude
But everyting can't change according to your mood.

One day yself made a major mistake
Was expecting everyone to forgive and wake;
Now for myself I can't be so fake
when I myself never forgave any mistake.

How can we be so selfish sometimes
Its funny why we never hate ourselves even for the crimes;
Why then we feel so hurt if its someone other
Why our heart is not like a mother.

This time 'I' met that someone someday
Hugged him and forgave that someone that day;
We departed away with satisfied smiles
Alas! I walked with free feel for miles.

From that day I learned something really new;
One needs the guts to forgive even a few.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Distant Warrior

I get this wondrous chill as night falls
in mountains or desert sand
and I find myself dreaming about
home, my fondest memory
from this far away land.

I miss the special lady who 
stole my heart, my thoughts
and all there is of me;
and I deeply cherish 
our final moments together.

I think about the children 
I left behind, how I miss them 
and pray they’re  fine -
and it’s hard Lord,
it’s so very hard.

It’s times like this that I wonder
why I volunteered and I
get this knot in my stomach -
then I cringe and find myself 
trying to hold back tears.

Soon the battle will begin
when I’ll hear my own heartbeat
through the creepy sounds 
amidst treacherous mountain sides or
drifting sands and whirling winds.

It’s  time spent in worry,
fear, and some regret
as I encounter my fate
in the war so near
and I must admit, I’m scared.

This stench of war, 
the sight of it all,
it’s that awful image
of how I imagined hell
after Lucifer’s fall.

I wonder to myself,
“Does it have to be
that generations of people 
can’t seem to agree 
to the simple concept of peace?”

Soldiers don’t start wars
but they surely fight them,
making all manner of sacrifice
and I doubt that even once
did a soldier ever like them.”

Then I think of  “Old Glory”
and I’m filled with pride.
It’s a warm patriotic feeling
which overcomes me
from deep down inside.

I’m confused, scared
and battle weary.
I worry about those I love
as I cling to my faith  
and pray to God above.

I’m a distant warrior,
an American fighting man;
not an aspiring hero,
but just a simple soldier 
trying to do the best that I can.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TIME

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.
TIME !!TIME!!TICK TACK!

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.
TIME !!TIME!!TICK TACK!


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.
TIME !!TIME!!TICK TACK!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Light

The darkness that soaks you,

Dedicated to your way,

It’s all you are gifted merely.

Be your own light.

Be the firefly.

What choice else remains?

What choice?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Education is Power

Who is in charge of our children's education?
What happens when parents don't do their job?
When children have no sense of reading, writing,
till they hit that school room head on?

Who is responsible to initiate, ingratiate, the word,
so language is understood from infancy and
not suddenly at five years old when
communication receives the attention it deserves?

Parents stand up and take notice
schools do not provide the only source
You are your child's first teacher
You are the one who gives him voice.

From you he will learn expression
From you he will learn who he is
From you he will learn his roots
Give him your love and attention.

Provide an environment filled with books
A place where reading takes precedence
Instill in him a joy for learning
With gentle hand and loving looks.

Model the love of learning
read on your own or with
till without even knowing
he'll develop a yearning
to know, to explore, to evaluate
all there is and more.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CHAMPION OF OUR TIME

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

(c) 2011


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Confetti of Flesh

 
Would I rather go too slow,

Damp breath feeding the soil, 

worms to grow, an

old mans toil.

 

For me the answer is clear;

Though not today and I hope not here – 

To explode with love and feelings gold – 

Not too young and not too old

Wise enough to see my growth

But not old enough to have outgrown 

My sprit, 

Fun,

this place called home

That’s how to die

 

A confetti of flesh ruptures the Sky.

Feeding the air, water and earth.

Why you ask do I care how I die –

My love, that is the whole reason -

We’re here

to ask why.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Blessing

I rise each day with a song in my heart
And so rich is its blossoming melody
For I know my heart has heard his call
Yes His dear precious call of life to me

I sleep so peacefully throughout the night
Dreaming lovingly of His grace which stays
I know  he always listens to my prayers 
For I daily feel His answers coming my way

I know I will never be left to strive alone
For his spirit has made my heart its home
And as I reach out to him with praise words
He eases the aches and pain within my bones

For His love is a very true healing medicine
Whose touch will evenly flow deep within
And with each tender blessing I receive daily
I know more embraces will come my way again

...because of His deep love for me. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A MESSAGE OF LOVE FROM WHITNEY

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Moments to Reflect Forgotten Valentine

 Moments to Reflect 2/5/2013
                                              The forgotten Valentine
The Lord is my shepherd and the keeper of my hope and dreams. I hold Him close to my heart so that we are never far apart. The love of my life and in this I take delight. His light will always be seen in me in all things that I do. The way I walk even when I talk. For it is not what inside of you that defiles you, it’s what comes out. 
My trust in the Lord is sight unseen and it is my faith that keeps me clean. My problems may be many but there is no need to worry; because my belief is just too strong. Can’t you see that in Jesus, you will not go wrong? Your love is so pure and clean it gives life new meaning; Rose are red, reminds me of the blood you did shed and violets are blue there no truer love than you. There a song in my soul that sends my spirit high and I will praise Jesus until the day that I die; in doing this I know that I will be by His side. Keep in mind of what Jesus divine nature is not all mine and it not hard to find. It’s the gift that the Father has given to all of mankind.
Now I tell you about a Child that was born in glory, salvation was the pearl that was bought into this world and this is His story. To the poor and the despaired He gave hope and healing, with His power reveling. Love and praise the people did give. All that He wanted was for us to stop sinning. To you I give a thousand roses and a million kisses for you are a truly my blessing. The dead He did raise, and life He gave. Those that were in power never did they honor; but instead they fear the One who was foretold as the prophecy before their eyes was unfolded. Crime they cry and this was the lie that sentences our savior on earth to die. A thousands tears is not enough I fear; so in my heart I will hold you dear.
From the Heaven to the earth He came to teach us a way, from the earth to the cross, a debt He paid, from the cross to the graves, from the grave to the sky He ascended home to His throne. There He sits waiting for those that he paid that prices so that we might have life and have it more abundantly. Having faith and trust in the Christ you will find an everlasting life free from suffering in a paradise. You will always be my Valentine love.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Challenge

By Stanley Collymore

Ride the storm of challenge
And reap the whirlwind
Of success,
For the essence 
Of character building
Is knowing how to define
What’s best.

© Stanley V. Collymore
12 July 2001.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Preacheth

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Welcome on board

i have built
a ship of eternity
to cross the oceans of mystery
which sails through
the storms of tragedy
even through the wind
and the tide
with god on our side
it a golden age
and we need to open a new page
everyone is welcome on board
a simple life everyone can afford
for the pen is 
mightier than the sword
a higher institution
far better than a nation
built on illusion
a house of salvation
and a valley of redemption
whatever the matter
descending between good and evil
will only make us prosper
for in the island of eternity
is the hidden treasure
so listen and listen well
the body will fair you well
but the spirit is forever


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ABOVE THE CLOUD

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

(c) 2011


Details | Prose Poetry | |

EggPoemIIToo

Eye came unhurriedly into the Ronstadt center walking unhurriedly for it is a Sunday 
Schedule on the Bus Sun Tran couple this with Easter and a holiday to boot upon the land of 
this renewed AmeriCa, may GOD in Jesus help mee eye forgive her; When to mye surprise 
delight a happy Easter eye surprised the EGG just laying there forlorn and forgotten from the 
Basket on a ledge where bus patrons sit and Gather dust just waiting for the buss there it 
was boiled and purple colored Easter Egg with White left interspaced and looking closely eye 
discovered some spattered mottley colors there none of them a primary some EGG childe 
artiste had created this created creation just for eye to find so eye peeled it carefully of shell 
but some color still remained on EGG transporting me back home to MOTHER and to Yard 
again while eating EGG a man now eye took half of it away with just one bite while eyeing 
yellow yolk inside a smile then one more bite egg was gone a swallow a lifetime 
remembered happy childhood was revisited all in one short moment of an Easter Sunday 
Suntran Bus day. On this mye Easter Sunday. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Poet

I have gazed long at the turbulent
  while piled high cloud masses
I have watched the millions of stars at night
  the damp fog has come and surrounded me
and the land is silent
  the fresh rain has laved my face
while the wind blew warmly.

I receive no message from these for humankind
  but hear only their message to me;
for they awaken the wonder that is in me
  in addition, the yeaning that is the depth of my soul.

They do not tell me to scatter my words
  through the world like seeds
rather, they say, Behold! be of us 
  and wing out beyond the world forever
and in my soul the deep yearning pleads for the
  fulfillment of its' aching desire
to go with the sun, moon and the stars
  and seek with them the answer to eternity.

But still the clouds, ebon faced, mass against
  the fiery red rays of the setting sun
the stars, far distant, in space, still glitter
  brightly in the patterns
the fog, white by day, grey by night
  moves yet noiselessly on, giving intimacy
to near things, and strangeness to
  those looming on the edge of vision
the rain falls yet too, cleansing and releasing
  the perfume of the wet earth.

So I write
  letting the words of my unrest
go freely where they would
  for each word is deflection
from the longing within me
  of all the voices I must heed and may not.

However, I cannot write in the dark
  I cannot write as I stand on the hill gazing
yet the yearning is there most of all
  therefore! I say aloud, convincingly
"It is only lovely"
  to wander on through the night and day
and the years. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CharlaXTitle8

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Contrast

Pharisee went into the Temple to pray
Sure of his goodness and love for God
He prayed confidently about his deeds
Fasting, tithing, praying, He did faithfully
 
This man was glad when the sinner came
Into the Temple with eyes downcast.
For it gave a perfect contrast to himself.
So he thanked God he wasn't like this sinner.
 
Sinner was bowed so very low before God.
"God have mercy on me a sinner." he whispered.
No list of good uttered, as he could see none.
Jesus said Sinner not Pharisee was justified.
 
Simon the Pharisee invited Jesus over to eat.
Simon didn't have servants wash Jesus feet
He didn't kiss Jesus or draw near for fear,
Fear of what others Pharisees would think.
 
In came a sinful woman with unkempt hair.
She wept at Jesus feet without looking up.
Carefully she wiped these feet with her hair.
Simon was now sure Jesus was no prophet
 
A prophet could surely tell she was a sinner.
How could he let her touch him that way?
Reading Simon's thoughts Jesus taught.
Using this contrast in real life as a lesson.
 
He asked Simon if there were two debts
One greater, one lesser and both forgiven.
Who would feel greater love and gratitude?
Simon replied, "The one whose debt was greater"
 
"Correct" said the One who would pay all debts.
Those who know their debt to God is great.
Are filled with greater love toward the Savior.
Simon showed he had little need for the Christ.
 
But to the woman. Jesus said, "You sins are forgiven."
"Go and sin no more." She stood free and esteemed
Precious are those who come humbly to the Lord
He will forgive and welcome them to His Family forever.
 
Humility. Pride. Contrast. Mixed in all of us.
People who come to God feeling worthless, Christ lifts up.
People striding in proudly, Jesus humbles to allow entry.
For the Lord's Kingdom's door is incredibly low.
So low that we enter only through true confession
From the heart to Jesus as Savior who humbled Himself
Coming down from glory to earth's mess to make a Way.
By humbling Himself on a Cross – Universe's God tortured.
 
Jesus contrast makes ours seem small – so why wait?
May we take the humble road to Life, risen Christ made.
Joining God's family of forgiven, freed, joyful sinners.
New life's contrast with old will grow as we follow Him.
 
By a thankful sinner now saint by Jesus' grace


Details | Prose Poetry | |

PUFF PUFF OF THE BAD STUFF

PUFF PUFF OF ALL THE BAD STUFF YET PEOPLE CAN'T GET ENOUGH IT'S WHITE AND THIN   YET THIS IS WHA'TS IN YOUNG AND OLD THE THOUGHTS ARE THE SAME WITH THIS IM IN THE GANG COMITTING SUICIDE WITH EVERY PACK THEY BUY THIS SMOKE SELLS MORE THAN FOOD HOW RUDE PUFF PUFF CHANGES THE ATTITUDE PUFF PUFF WONT LET YOU LEAVE WITHOUT GIVING SOMETHING YOU DIDN'T KNOW YOU WOULD RECIEVE PUFF PUFF SAY'S DONT LEAVE,CANCER,INFUZEMA THESE ARE GIFTS FOR THOSE WHO STAY THEY SAY BUY A PACK IT WILL MAKE YOUR DAY, SO STAY AWAY OKAY


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Of White and Gold

Of White and Gold Heady day........Soft....... buzzingly warm. Cool, yet gentle breezes, kiss the rippling, verdant leaves of ancient Oaks and Elms.......perpetual guardians, surrounding the swaying field of gold. Waist-high and waving, the ripened Barley likens itself to the restless, endless, lover-like motion of the distant ocean waves. The blanketing heat of summer, envelops the fields of gold. Ethereal........Wraith-like..........she steps forth from the shade of guardian-oaks and strolls, with slender arms outstretched...................... Hands touching, brushing, caressing the adoring whiskered heads of Barley, as she steps across the swaying field of gold. Her aspect shimmers, in the hot noon sun. Her full-length gown of cotton-white, blazes and clings lovingly to her nymph-like shape. She almost glides upon the field of gold. Raven hair, tight in confused long curls, bounces to the rhythm of her steps, framing the beauty of her elfin features. She floats, as upon air, across the field of gold. Her winsome smile, is in answer to the feathered songs of tribute, twittering forth from tiny bursting, hearts of joy. The songs pour down from winged admirers with adoring eyes that swoop and dive above the field of gold. ‘Watch me!!........look at me!!’ they cry. Elfin eyes, that glow with life, swift to smile or blaze with fire, gaze out across the swaying mass of whiskered glory, that clings to her slender legs and hips, reluctant to let her pass without touching her, as she glides across the field of gold. With looks to melt the hardest heart. With care enough and much to spare, this maiden, crosses many thoughts of those who know her.....................and yet........................... ...........The hungry, Green-eyed Wolf, can only stare in awe from his nearby brackenly lair. He dare not stir, for fear to spoil the progress, of the glorious maid, as she steps across the field of gold. Even at darkest-hour, he fears to tread the realm of ‘She‘. He knows he is not worthy to touch the world where she has trod. He fears that he will be soul-burned by consuming fires, stored, waiting, vengeful and hidden among the wondrous field of gold. This glorious ‘She‘..........................This twirling maid, is known to many and loved by all. Twirl-on sweet maid..................across the swaying, waving and adoring field of gold...........Fear not the Wolf...........Secretly, his heart is also yours. Brushy


Details | Prose Poetry | |

When Will I Recollect My Memory

Struggling.
When will I intervene 
to stop my tears 
 from flowing endlessly.

When will I take action to
invade my happiness 
 hiding in my closet.

Walk.
When will I hypnotize
 my spirit and soul
 not to abandon me, 
nor elope with 
my liberty.

Action.
When will I embark
 lift up
my compassion 
imagination 
and forgiveness
to fascinate
my existence. 

Smile.
When will I stabilize 
my elderly
 emotions to stop
living in the past, 
 if not, my future 
will never be lived.

Expectations,
When will I get ready
to walk a path full of roses,
ask them advice
 how to find peace
in my within.

Ready To Act.
When will I become strong
 befriend my emotions, kindness ,
 and sensitiveness, 
plus all my loyalties.

Wake up.
When will I feel the urge
find a place in time 
to withdraw,
  dream 
how to replenish myself
otherwise 
my mind will remain 
 ailing
to survive.

Venture.
When will I nourish 
my desire 
not to surrender 
to the ugliness 
aggressiveness hatred 
living around us.

Echoing.
I should intercept 
hypnotize my melancholic 
delusional thoughts,
But involve my dreams
wake up,
project a beautiful
ambience,
remind me to 
dream again.

Therese Bacha
13 August 2013


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Fourth Fable

 The Fourth Fable 
The Fourth Fable 
 
A Jesus Cowboy Song 
 
Eye am a strong man iff strength is not physical alone, 
but charachter and hope, love become my armour 
 my arm as gates once opened close now new ones open at a glance in poverty 
of riches poor people there in Heaven sing to Jesus as they wave branches from 
the richness of the trees beside the waters running in the trenches freely given 
overflowing when a little lamb just wants a drink of water another drink the water 
bubbles up so no one has to lift her she can reach the water carefully she drinks 
and then she sings…' 
'my holster is empty my life is complete my love is in Heaven 
eye have plenty to eat and to drink ' 
life is not meant to be a shoot em up rodeo 
life is not meant to be a shoot um up movie 
my life is in Heaven my holster is empty 
eye have LOVE' 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

You love Me

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Resting

“Resting”

It is as if the world stood still
A moment froze in time
No sound of water rippling through a stream
For peace possess my mind
I lay alone, my time to rest
A cloud beneath my head
My thoughts my dreams
Of pleasant things
My life is at its best
It is as if the world stood still
Of a time only I could know
As I have laid in a bed of peace
Like sand upon the shore
Escape the scorns of worldly test
My eyes are gently closed
As the scent of roses fills the air
My worries are no more………I rest


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Art Of Living

Life is too short to be lived and only one we get. 
So cheer up always and don't live it with your eyes wet. 
Try to scatter the pearls of smile all around you. 
As pains are short-lived,for dark times as dew. 

Make yourself detach from every negative thought. 
Forget every moment when you were sad or fought. 
Real pleasure of life is experienced only by smiling face. 
As smile comes when you prove yourself & win life's race. 

Inspite of being best,you should learn to be good first. 
'What can i learn from him?' this should be your thirst. 
Never hate others for the things they have not. 
But love them for the qualities that they have got. 

Failures never come to desperate or make you weep. 
They come to teach us how to stand before we leap. 
What we lost is not as important as what we are going to gain. 
Work hard without losing hope as your efforts never go in vain. 

Tension,tears,sadness these all kill your precious time. 
Prefer sweetnesss of happiness & coolness to the sour lime. 
So always be happy and try to be the reason for someone to please. 
Now relax your mind & atlast click your smile by saying 'cheese'..  


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Behind the curtains

Behind the curtains,
Behind it all,
looking at it from the higher throne,
the throne of a higher purpose,
the throne consisting a universal spectrum.,

Architectural designs screeching through the data of the universe,
one eating the other like a game of pacman,
artificialness spreading its disease towards the human creation,
preventing it from extracting its inner release!.,

Universal beings we are,
infinite our spiritual growth indeed is,
infinite life is,
life at the moment is just not is,
its just the pure artificialness.,

The artificialness which is preventing us from becoming complete and destroying the privilege of we obtaining our higher purpose in life,
the higher purpose that we would be the universal beings we had to be and that's truly be connected to god and its creation the universe as one divine formulation.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

BENIM TEK ASKIM by Anna Lo P

BENIM TEK ASKIM by Anna Lo P

 "Verloren in meiner Einzelhaft
 vor dem Alleinsein in dieser Schlacht
 Wartens und Hoffens, dass jemand kommen und mich retten
 und diese Einsamkeit werden nie driften mich zurück in die Tiefsee.

 Wahre Liebe Ich habe in einer Lebenszeit gewartet
 hat direkt vor mir kommen unerwartet
 aber meine Ängste und Zweifel von Ihrem kommenden
 hatte mich zu erreichen, um Sie immer noch bei Unsicherheiten behaftet.

 Nun, da Sie in meiner Reichweite sind
 Mein Leben war noch nie so komplett
 Nur du und ich sind alle da ist
 Nichts anderes, nur du und ich.

 Verunsichert Ihrer Liebe für mich
 Manchmal frage ich mich, was Sie wirklich das Gefühl,
 vielleicht war es nur mir, wer wollte das kommende
 weil du nie gesagt, was Sie wirklich suchen.

 Und dieser Moment fürchte ich ist bereits gekommen
 Wieder allein zu sein, zurück, wo ich schon weg
 Du da bist, und hier bin ich
 noch fragen, ob wir jemals wieder dasselbe sein.

Eines Tages, ich weiß, dass sich unsere Wege wieder kreuzen
 die Verbindungen hatten wir können restauriert und ausbessert werden
 Schicksal und Bestimmung bringt uns wieder näher
 Du und ich zusammen, bis für immer.. "

 ... Eger seni ne kadar çok sevdigimi bir Bilsen ...
 ... Seni seviyorum ... xoxo


Details | Prose Poetry | |

DANCEING IN THE RAIN

for me to prance
its romance
its my thing
and not a pain
i love 
DANCEING IN THE RAIN


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost Time

Cold commercial relics of industrial production;
As if production could harness the complex origin of pre-classic contemporaries.
Master’s of earthly arts and masonry,
Their blood and fears culminating in celestial creations of historic proportions;
Over vastly constricting landscapes.

I send phalanges of lost connection,
Deep past the ordinary boundaries of normal paths.
The sandy soil nourishes my calloused souls.
At night it soothes and refreshes the canyons between cracked and missing digits.

Frogs echo through the expansive night sky.
Resonating between the stars, and returning in an extremely complex yet simple pattern, 
their message is sent.
Louder with each chirp and bellow, subtle patterns illuminate the differences in each response.

The spring has come.  
Time to refresh the foot’s connection with continual movement.
Let your bellow dig deep to the soil of space’s horizons,
And return rooted in the rhythm of earth’s timing.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Flight to My Voice

My voice, long muffled by evil hand;
With one intent – 
Erase my voice,
My power,
My dream.

The hand of evil my voice does cover;
Prohibiting its discover;
And nausea rises up in me;
Longing to purge 
the pain stuffed down for, oh, so many years,
And, oh, so many tears;
Like regurgitating bile within. 

Though nausea rises up in me, 
wanting to be purged,
My voice awaits to be set free;
And flight given to all that is within me.
What wondrous things ahead do lie,
with this voice to be released?
What will it say?
What will it dream?

My Savior, My Father, set me free
To give my voice a place;
 Rise up within me without disgrace;
There is impact to be made!
Impact to set the captives free;
But first to start with me.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

When In Thought

When in thought I sulk- Narrowed down to a single fault Like my heart is a prize, and my thoughts are the vault; just as soon, as I almost spit them out- I halt. It's days like these, I wish only for a calming breeze- So that I may breathe; Properly grieve, But really its only a tease- For open sorrow just isn't me.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Already Won

Silently I wait on you,
silently I pray.
Silently I wait on you,
to help me start the day.

Hopefully I wait on you,
to give the direction I need.
Hopefully I wait on you Lord,
to guide me and also lead.

Quietly I wait on you,
in all my silent prayers.
Quietly I wait on you,
for I know you will soon be near.

Expectantly I wait on you,
with the assurance you will come.
Expectantly I wait on You,
knowing the battle is already won.


Wendell A. Brown
Copyright 2010,
All Rights Reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

KYA YAHI KAFI NAHIN

KOI BHEE SHAY 
YAHAN KAAYAM NAHI,
SADA KE LIYE,
HAWA NE 
USKI ROSHNI BHEE
BUJHA HEE DEE HAI.
PAR,
WO EK CHIRAG HAI-
KYA YAHI KAFI NAHI HAI.


NOTHING 
EXISTS HERE
FOR EVER
THE WIND HAS DESTROYED
THE LAMP AND THE LIGHT
BUT 
IT IS A LAMP
IS IT NOT ENOUGH



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Swing the Bat Now

Swing the bat now! Against all life mishaps 
Back taxes, bad weather and on line conflicts 
Who is watching the footage? 
Who’s keeping tags on all the poet and poetess? 

The underground Poets /Poetess words flow freely 
Creating images in the mind with ease; 
Is that artful or delightful or what! 

The mere thought of you swinging that hard bat; 
Aiming at the world: Hard balls 
We are the new revolution 
the blogger, writers, poet and poetess 
Swing low aim high. No time to hide 
lets write!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Beautiful Flower

A Beautiful Flower

If one could be a beautiful flower
How would they spend their day
Would they blossom in the adulation
That many others may send its way

Would its spirit nourish the hearts
Of those who are blessed to see
The color of it's very lovely soul
And its wonderful  endearing vibrancy

Or would it shun the light that comes
From the brilliance of a new Sun
Shying away from its special gift
To make a day better for someone

For though it may seem its true beauty
Quickly vanishes over a very short time
I find true value in its enchanting embrace
I'll forever admire in my heart and mind.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Changing Directions

	I was driving on Confused Avenue, only to find a T section at the end of the Avenue, I had to turn left, turn right, or simply just turn around.
	I sat in my car, to read the street signs.  The street sign to the left was Hell Street, the sign to the right was Heaven Highway.
	Quite naturally, I turned right onto Heaven Highway.  I drove 10 miles only to find Heaven Highway was blocked, so I had no choice but to turn around.
	Instead of turning back on Confused Avenue, I decided to drive down Hell Street because I was curious about what I would find.  I drove 5 miles and didn’t like what I saw.  I tried to turn around, but, I realized I was trapped, so I continue driving on Hell Street, oh and to my surprise.
	As I drove, I past intersections titled Judgmental Court, Temptation Avenue, Backsliding Lane, Gossip Corner and Devil’s Plain.  I said to myself, these are the same streets I’ve traveled on before, no need to stop, I need to drive on. 
	I continue driving on Hell Street looking for a way to turn around, lo and behold, I saw a bright light shining in the middle of the road.
	I drove as close as I could to the bright light, I stopped the car and got out for a closer look.  I walked into the light and was greeted by a man who was kind and wise.
	I was so scared, but he assured me I would be fine.  He said I saw you driving on Heaven Highway….child, you can’t get to heaven driving that way.
	He said, In order to get to heaven you need to know about  Judgmental Court, Temptation Avenue, Backsliding Lane, Gossip Corner and Devil’s Plain.  
	I told the man I once lived on some of those streets, so I wanted to see where Heaven Highway would take me.  It was blocked, so I couldn’t drive through.
	He said Heaven Highway was blocked for a reason. You forgot to repent and ask the Father, through His Son Jesus, for forgiveness.
	I closed my eyes, feel to my knees and I started to pray, when I finished praying, I  opened my eyes, the man, and, the bright light had disappeared.
	I got back in my car and turned it around, that’s when I realized I had been driving on Heaven Highway the entire time.
	The Highway to Heaven is not a straight forward drive, there are so many detours along the way, that force many to turn their life around.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

We Expand

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Beginning Of Each New Day

I always long to see your tender smile
At the beginning of each new day
Because when I see your lovely smile
A sweet happiness will always stay

You lift my heart up inside each day
Making my mind to ride a natural high
Causing me to often daydream of you
Knowing you will never say goodbye

And you have really made my life awesome
All the time spent alone each day with you
For the moments just seem to last forever
Because our hearts always want it to

You easily became the  best part of my life
A special gift which in my heart will  stay
So that I might embrace your precious smile
With my love at the beginning of each new day.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mid-Night

MID NIGHT
©by Alfreda Williamson, January 1, 2004

Mid night;
the middle;
the center;
halfway through.

the night,
and the day.

Isn’t it funny?
The new day begins at mid night,
	the middle of the night,
	in the midst of the night.

The new day begins at dark,
	in the dark.	
A new day, begins . . .
	in darkness,

A new beginning starts
	in  darkness,
	when we cannot see it,
	when we might not imagine it,
Cloaked in the darkness.

The light of day,	
begins,
 . . . in the dark of night.

The dawn of tomorrow’s day,
	starts,
in the mid night.
of,
	the darkness,
of yesterday’s day.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Be Still

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Creation, Curse and Promise

Since eternity past God the Father Son & Holy Spirit dwelled in unity and sweet fellowship.
Then Three-In-One decided to make a marvelous universe with an earth for life to dwell.
Creating an amazing array of creatures was the easy part – the risk was on the last made.
For unlike other creatures, man & woman were made in God's likeness with a Spirit.

That Spirit communicated with God, and harmony reigned as earth was well cared for.
Freedom to do was great – limited by but one tree that the humans were not to ear from.
At that tree, Satan disguised himself as an innocent snake and asked the woman questions.
Did God really say don't eat from this tree?  Well, that's to keep you from becoming like Him.

Look its fruit is beautiful and one bite and you'll know what God does and be Jehovah's equal.
Eve was confused, for this didn't sound like what Adam said God told her, but wouldn't it be grand.
If God is so good, why would he keep this secret from us of being able to be like Him – is He jealous?
The firm, juicy fruit was indeed delicious, and she quickly called Adam to taste, which soon he did.

A small act? Every war, family problem, anger, hatred, lie, killing, stealing, rape, abuse came herefrom.
The beauty of God's creation was now marred with sin that affected every part with death and decay.
God graciously gave Adam & Eve animal skins for no longer would they live in Eden's perfect climate.
From now on there would be sweat for the food they ate and exceedingly great pain during childbirth.
Even their firstborn would murder their second, starting the cycle of revenge and killing that's ongoing.

Yet God also made a promise that one would come who would crush Satan's head while being bruised.
"In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God" clues us in to who.
For God's Son Himself would come to teach, heal and offer His life on a Cross to destroy our death curse.
Our sins He would bear and in rising He's seal the promise of eternal life, so great we Jesus' love for us.

For Jesus the cost was unbelievably high, and for us the reward is incredibly great – if we but accept.
Accept that I am a sinner, I've done wrong and need God's forgiveness to live with His perfection.
Accept that Jesus can do what I cannot – change my heart, make my Spirit alive to forever live with God.
This being GOD, the promise of heaven and new earth is sure, though pain lies in between.  Choose now.

For GOD and all creation cry out – this is what life is meant for – to know and love One's Maker.
As humans we live eternally with or apart from God, and His great desire is that we choose with.
But just as an earthly Father cannot force true love, nor does our Heavenly Father – He waits.
Though He made all and knows beginning from end, he waits and yearns that we receive His love.

Then love and be loved by Jesus in life's harshness & delight, sharing that love with other lost children
To work in harmony with the One who made us, makes life new again as our spirit is filled with new life.
There can be dry days when we don't feel His presence, and others so full that we want to shout for joy.
The fact is Our Father GOD, our Savior Jesus, the Holy Spirit, are always with us and never will leave us. Amen.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Potbound

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


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~ In the Innocence Sublime ~

We lay fallen as velvet roses divinity-promenading in our wake. Innocence sublime weeping still-puddles... blessing-our-first-kiss. Beauty eminent one heart securing all we share-tongues-entwined hopes defined joined together-soaring-free-as-one... a kin to love, swept-away-by-it-we-were... . I believe the heart of grace adamant, generous-tender and-aware honest and faithful- awaiting-patiently... moves freely, because it knows, the-pureness of love always inspires the-opportunity, and so enchantment-gazed upon innocence and desire knew-itself, when-first God showed Adam Eve... ! Now-here today as time has-kept-us in-its ardent-march-I-say I believe-it was-the same with-him back then... . Because simple-smiles day-dreams and quiet eye-beams alone... for me-too-with-you just wouldn't have been-enough, and-when-I-think-of-you, I thank-God for the blessing of our-time, because my heart enchanted, elated, complete... from-here on-out will I forever- know-and be-grateful to-have-loved the-beautiful-angel, that is you. As-so-enticed by the light in your-eyes, the hopeful-manner the-playfulness of your-lips, I tell-you-intrigued, to entwine-them-together, (with mine)... ! I figured I'd have a day to share, and a lifetime, from-then-on, (to touch)... . (if only just), I-could-chance to-embrace them... ((once)). Author notes The hyphens are all used in conjunction-with one-another for recording-purposes for the- disabled... . My Mac computer I can here and as it interprets the differing punctuations it gives the work in there differing usages a clearer and more realistic soft higher and lower Ebb and Flo when it is heard... ! The work can as well be reformatted into proper engine form for those whom may not be disabled... ! Entered into this contest as such and mainly for these reasoning's... ! Thank you for allowing and for considering my entry. I am entirely honored to be a small part... ! Written for my Jenny... . ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqTLlHkfSC4


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The war that can be won

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Broken Wings

Broken Wings


Like a rock falling faster and faster
the force of gravity
reaches out it's arme
and only a second later
someopne lies upon the ground
skin ripped open bones broken
all the was
is now only shattered pieces
that must some how
be picked up
 and put back together
when broken wings mend
change
must
follow
tears dry up and vision becomes clear
feet once again
find themselves
planted on solid ground
and taking flight
no longer seems
just a childs fantasy
step by step
forward motion is made
and fear leaves
finding no place in the heart
when broken wings mend
one must consider flying again
the hand of determination
can be used 
to brush off
the dust of stagnation
The waters of patients
can be used
to wash away
the dirt and grime
of desires
to
give up
give in
and quit
when broken wings mend
we can begin to understand
what it is
to become and old man
or and old woman
and still be striving for perfection
having fallen from the skies
that we call life
many times
we can begin to compreheand
what is ment
having heard the wise say
when broken wings mend
one
must
consider
flying
again

written by
The Poet Michele Dalton


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CHARACTER MAN

We are all creation
Running through our veins, dust!
We are all moulds
Shaped and patterned into beings
Of different moral fibre
Our lives are but a personality played
The character man in our life’s tale
Drama, intrigue, tragedy
The roles we choose to play

We are all creation
Dust runs in our veins
The character men in our life’s script
Our lives’ none but a screenplay
We write our play
We act our play
And live our play
We remain the only make-up
That matters in 
Our dramatic piece of life!

©Naa Takia, All Rights Reserved 2012.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Heaven and Hell

Life has no guarantees 
Death is no different 
Heaven is not up 
Hell is not down 
They are both achievable on Earth. 
Verily, an evil man can live a heavenly life 
As a good man can live in hell 
Paradise is a state of mind. 
Where everything falls into place 
And there is peace and tranquility 
Do not waste your love on a deity 
Made up by men of the past 
Give your heart to a human 
Pour your soul into theirs 
Become one 
Face your future's together 
Do not speed your way through this wonderful gift 
Rushing towards the promise of 
Redemption 
And paradise 
For nothing is guaranteed in life 
And death is no different


Details | Prose Poetry | |

You

Choosing.
So simple a word
But can affect 
Everyone

Light.
Brings forth hope
A radiant beacon
Flames

You
I choose you
You brought me light
Life

You


Details | Prose Poetry | |

116onesix

 116onesix 
116onesix 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
TESTED 
 
 There is a personal testimony and everyone's focus is on the group and on the 
self and not on JESUS where it was supposed to be the reason eye won't go to 
fellowship with rich working Christians meeting at a SUNDAY SUPPER to drive to 
a pizza place where everyone pays something for the food even if they share it the 
cost is still beyond the pocketbook of yew. The added price of fellowship with 
world is loss of spirit functions eye am not suggesting we have meetings in the 
desert with the hedgehogs but there could be a meeting place for all the 
Christians like the fish doors of the early days of meetings they were in and out 
so furtive searching alleyways for soldiers avoiding arrests and fighting and 
bringing lots of food in the bags of fishes and the loaves of breads in pockets of 
the tunaes fishes smile eye could just not resist this in almost every Church 
there is a Kitchen and in some of them is love the people make the soup for the 
homeless and the court appointed prisoners and even important people come. 
Hang a fish upon the door of every kitchen in the nation make a place with tables 
where the poor can come in love do not forget the love the soup is  nice but even 
slabs of raw meat are not enough with hate. 
Eye could not write a word on yesterday the things that eye had wanted to write 
left on the flight of lost ideas and night came again without a thought and then the 
day came back this fable was born and eye decided to try religion again. The 
focus of a lot of people is the congregation the error being life is not a middle 
class house with people making money in a paper plate of life some people 
need a cup of soup just to survive please open up your love first open up your 
hearts then open all them kitchen cupboards up. There is another thing that eye 
must say to all the bible thumpers not yet in the grave what does it matter what 
the date and day of this my own salvation come the day of JESUS was 33 AD the 
date that GOD was saving me. 


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Matutinal Features

Another dark warm day with an heavy atmosphere/Humid
Not into dark days and my washing machine is noisily killing me, 
Coffee the life hike up
The always nice counter persons/English, Spanish, Portuguese/I always try to focus on something/A newspaper/Then seeking for my needs/ as a conversationalist I like to see what's going on and the exchange of views, ideas and information/ Today the chitchat was
Immigration/Vibes from educated people/Sincere desire for the other welfare and wellbeing I think

O Variety! 
O Benignant Good-Hearted Goddess!  
O Bless, Boost Bless Boost!
Togetherness/Support/Encourage 

My Bus
My matutinal route/Beautiful faces/ African-American women/All beautiful shinning souls/After a certain age they look epic to me/ There's a mystic that I cannot explain/Even risking an overstatement my perception is clear/Larger-than-life women/Eyes nose mouth chin,Faces of charisma.
The physiognomy in different moods and perspectives the art of judging facial features is one of my hobbies/Indicators expressing person's temper, character
Returning/Same Bus/Mix of cultures/5 most spoken languages in the planet were certainly represented/Creole that I try to understand but due to the mixing of semantics and dialects the understanding is disperse/Arab phrases/Compliments/Outside someone with a lost insight a disoriented soul shouting, crying out something/Preoccupied I made a quick prayer/ The connection with deity always brings Peace/Mother and daughter getting out pampering and nurturing each other and my sense of wellbeing/ ANOTHER STOP/There is always someone yelling on the phone in a larger bus stop/Commuters generally respond with hungry and startled faces/Some look comprehensive and complacent/I reaffirm my decision not to go mobile/It's about human behaviour/ An obvious addiction/ I lost several friends because of mobile intolerance/It's something imbibed in our culture to an extreme like coffee, tea, sugar, alcohol /With a liability/To alienate communication beyond the bounds of what is acceptable/A compulsive addictive behaviour that is killing conversation, the rules of etiquette and killing/BROAD AND MARKET/People greeting one another with genuine satisfaction on the rush to get inside, entrepreneurs and employees in business suits/THE IRONBOUND/Where a great part of the gastronomic world tastes are represented, construction in each corner "Lets Move Forward"/ People jogging in the park/destination/John Paul II Plaza


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inside My Soul

If you could see inside my soul
Peep inside my heart
You would know how much youare missed when we sre apart

If you could scan inside my hesd and my thoughts wre made public to see
You would know how much i cherish how dear you mean to me
Just how you comfort me and the way you hold me near
How our love is solid and it eases our fears

The glow in your beaytiful eyes, your smile,your gentle touch
Are many reasons i love you so much
Knowing we can talk to each other about any and everything
Together we will get through whatever life may bring

I could search the world over
This i know is true to me
Iwould never find another love like the love i've found in you

With each sunrise and sunset we never know what's in store
ther's certainly one thing i know for sure
each and everyday i love you more and more

So if you could scan inside my head
If thoughts were public to see
You would know how blessed i feel to have you here next to me.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A PRAYER OF GRATITUDE

Oh Lord, God of Israel,
Thou art also my God.
Thou hast created the heavens and the earth,
And all things therein.
There is nothing in Heaven or above or below,
That can compare with Thee.
Thou hast been my companion, when I had no companion.
Thou hast been my protector, when I was beset by my enemies.
Thou hast given me sustenance, when I was in need.
Thou hast healed all my ills and sufferings,
Forgiven me my transgressions,
And called me, Friend.
Thou hast paid the price that bought me out of slavery,
And certain death, and called me Thy Child.
Truly, Thou art the need that all hearts cry out for.
I love Thee, but most important, Thou hast loved me,
Beyond all measure, when no one loved me.
Keep me, My Lord, forever unto Thyself,
And make me pleasing in Thine eyes.
Amen




"JESUS TOLD THIS STORY:
A MAN LOANED MONEY TO TWO PEOPLE, $5,000.00 TO ONE MAN AND $500.00 TO THE OTHER, BUT NEITHER COULD PAY HIM BACK SO HE KINDLY FORGAVE THEM BOTH, LETTING THEM KEEP THE MONEY. wHICH DO YOU SUPPOSE LOVED HIM THE MOST? 
I SUPPOSE THE ONE THAT OWED HIM THE MOST', ANSWERED SIMON.
CORRECT SAID JESUS."
                                  Luke 7:41-43

I know I owe Him lots, how about you.


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Beacon

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.


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LOST AND FOUND

My world was empty,
And no real joy filled my life.
Lonliness,Depression and Fear were my constant companions.
I sought reliief from my lonliness in dreams and books,
For they were my only friends.

Then, You found me.
You quietly called to me.
You patiently waited for me to finally hear Your voice.
Your gentleness slowly calmed my fears,
And assuaged my emptiness.

Now my world is no longer empty;
For You have filled it with Your love.
Joy fills my soul,
And I no longer seek escape in dreams or fantasy,
For Your love is real.

I hungered, and You fed my spirit.
I thirsted, and You filled my soul.
I feared, and You comforted me.
I was so alone, and You called me Your Own.
I was lost, and now I am found.

I love You.



At times people everywhere will take advantage of you, whether at work, at home or wherever, that happens sometimes. Maybe more often to some than to others. The thing is, PEOPLE will fail you, let you down, disappoint you, That's LIFE.
God won't fail you. God won't let you down. God won't disappoint you. THAT'S GOD, He's there. You just have to look for Him and trust Him.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reality

perfection, who would have thought him perfect?
without his words, i know no other truth
reality,
the mother of my existence, you gave birth to twins
euphoria and agony,
oh agony!
reality,
i ask for only a moment to bury myself inside
his soul, his mind, I want to be with it, of it
i need to breathe him, fill my lungs with love,
with life,
why can't I?
REALITY!
oh to cast you back to the depths of hell, demon!
to come into a life, just to taunt...
there is no hatred so pure, as the one i hold for you
for you today,
reality,
you have taken away my heart,
that was your wicked plan all along
was it not?
well,
reality,
without him,  I have nothing left to lose,
no sanity left to keep me afloat
so,
reality,
today you have been defeated
i have always held the key
it's almost tragic, oh
reality,
do you realize you cannot exist
without me?
so say your prayers,
as this war comes to a bloody end
we were both martyrs for the same cause-
reality.


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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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 | |

Audacity

My elementary school was a box full of broken crayons. 
You know, the kind that no one likes to use because they fit inside your hands like a hug that lasts three seconds too long. 
Me and my classmates wore 
hand-me-down smiles. 
They were too big for our faces. We figured that eventually we would somehow grow into the sound of our own laughter, put on our happiness like gloves and wear our skin as if our bodies were made by Louie Vuitton, just hoping to be more than tattered pages ripped from the torso of coloring books.
More than the aftermath of two runaway trains headed to the same direction. Our parents drove their affection without insurance, and we are just head on collisions with no coverage. We got shattered windshields for eyes, and tongues made out of safely glass held together by super glue. It’s no wonder we spoke broken English. 
With an entire orchestra drowning inside our throats, veins like guitar strings, our voices cracked like the self esteem of single mothers who carried us in their wombs like Molotov cocktails, and prayed that we would somehow find a way to mature into land mines
exploding underneath the feet that have trampled them for too long. These women, they dream in a language only fully understood by the tiles of an abortion clinic on a busy afternoon.
They raised us on top of broken promises made by men with grape jelly in their spines who were too busy jamming to their own 
two-cent mix tape that they chose over their priceless women.
We didn’t come with a screwdriver. There is no picture on our box to show you what we should look like when this all is over.
We were just put into this world with a note that read 
“Some assembly required.”
We were built inside of a neighborhood that looked as though it was slowly loosing a fist fight to cancer and kemotherapy claimed all of it’s dreams.
You see at a young age I was told that no matter how much furniture you move with a Honda Civic, it’ll never be a pick up truck 
but have you ever wanted to be more than what you were made for?
Was there ever moment in your life when all you wanted was to be more than the wounded options that circumstance has nailed to your shoulders? 
People question why we even have the audacity to breathe. That’s why when we walk it looks as though we are apologizing for our lungs.
But we ate not sorry for living this loudly.
It’s the only way we know how.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Concrete Block

Square off
Center
Bogus
I am a concrete block.


Kitty-cornered
Straight down the middle
Weathered but useable
Concrete block with a cross


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Speak

Speak for me oh sun
You break the night
With your illuminating rays.
Let my mind shine
To paint the landscapes
For all to see.

Whisper oh wind
Make the leaves talk
The branches sway.
Blow past to carry away chaff 
Wind that comes from my lips
Blow to bring warmth to hearts.

Fall oh rainfall
Make the rivers run
Make life continue its course.
Blessed waters
May you fall upon minds
Let them grow.


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Opression

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

-May god have mercy on your souls.


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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!


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The Martyr and the Warrior

A journey together,
Storms to weather;
Companions unlikely joined
Despite their task
     on this path which many ask,
“Why the battle?”
“Why the pain?”
“Does not God care?”

Martyr whispers gently,
“Surrender to Love’s grander plan.”
Warrior shouts the battle cry,
“Persevere, victory’s at hand!”

Martyr teaches mercy, grace and love
     to tame the tyrant within.
Warrior teaches perseverance, courage and strength;
     the tyrant to overcome.

Companions unlikely joined
For this journey long
Companions to aide
Along this path long laid.
Healing the prize
Despite surprise.
Lessons to be learned;
Trust to be earned,
     to heed the other’s voice 
     and make the wiser choice.
This battle within needs each
For which to teach;
As guides along the way.

Martyr entreats Warrior,
“Surrender to Love’s call,
For grace and mercy extended to all.”
Warrior enjoins Martyr,
“Be strong, be courageous,
Honesty within
To conquer every sin!”

Warrior needs Martyr 
to tame the tyrant within.
Martyr needs Warrior
To defeat the tyrant;
For victory to win!

The journey for this tyrant within,
Beckons Love’s call;
Grace and mercy to all.
Healing within and without;
Love’s nature calls out;
Surrender control;
Be courageous! Be strong
     to right each wrong;
Start within.


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Surrender

Surrender;
Dark path to release
     fear’s control
     and seek peace.

Journey long;
Enduring wrong;
No retaliation sought
In this battle to be fought
     within myself.

Flesh cries out,
Longing to shout,
“My heart breaks,
     it aches.
This task I cannot bear!
Life’s not fair!”

Surrender;
Dark path without control
To release fear’s hold.
No weapons to embrace;
But Love to seek 
And healing in this place
     where fear resides
     and terror takes its refuge.


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YOUR SPECAIL TO ME

you most then that
your my bat
for me you fight
and just right
you ar my life
you alway have the key
YOUR SPECAIL TO ME


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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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ghosts of South Dakota part 3

                     There were seven Indian Government schools.  All built alike.  The 
one I'm writing about is Spring Creek.  He Dog, Soldier Creek and White River, 
Grass Mountain, Two Kettle, and Black Pipe were the other schools.  The 
Headquarters for these schools was at Rosebud, South Dakota. 
	On some summer evenings we were able to talk our mothers into 
hiking to the lookout tower.  We followed the ankle deep sandy trail road to the 
cliff north of the school.,  A canyon lay at the foot of the tower but we climbed the 
bluff.  I don't know why we didn't explore the canyon unless it seemed dark and 
sinister.  The footing was better once we reached the summit.  The closer we got 
to the tower the taller it grew and standing at the foot of the steps looking up was 
easier than getting to the top and looking down.  My mother didn't usually make it 
to the top because she didn't like heights.  But she didn't mind being left behind 
this time.  We never could get into the building at the top because it was locked, 
but we could climb the steps to the very last one.  Even my little sister managed 
to elude mom and followed us to the top. 
	From the bluff we could look down on the garden.  My aunt grew a 
huge garden and canned the produce for the hot meals served the school 
children.  We kids didn't work in the garden very often, but we looked for the arrow 
heads and fossils.  Which, I suspect the adults probably considered the best 
place for us.
	At the end of the road, living in shack, was Old Lady Grease.  I have a 
vague recollection of seeing her.  Tiny, frail, wrinkled and gray headed is all I can 
remember.
	In spring and fall we were in school in Kansas.
	It's Christmas now.  Cold and usually snowy.  We were in a winter 
wonder land.
	I'm standing at the fire escape window.  The ghostly pale full moon is 
illuminating the naked arms of the trees as they shiver in the wind, swaying to 
and fro as if dancers in a ballet.  I listen to the winter sounds. The frigid air 
enhances their sharpness.  The ax's thud echoes up the canyon as one of the 
Indians across the river chops another supply of wood.  One of his peers beats 
on the drum.  It is one-thirty a. m.  but the thin walls of the tents do not keep the 
cold out.  Day or night this chore must be attended to for survival.


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 | |

Rubrics Cube Delight


Befor I make any decision's
On how to play this game
  I take the time and ask
           For Jesus'
Because He really
Know's how to play
        The game
      ------ 
     Because of He
Fore He entertain's wisom
   This gift is his fame
     And something else
    He is the keeper
             -Of- 
     Thy Holy name
      ------
Now I know that I can
Play the cube in this game
           Of life
I can make my His own
         Decision's
Maybe even land me a wife
      ------
I can play it more than twice
    With time permitting
I can play for the rest of my life
             And to think
I will never have to think twice
This is my eternal, everlasting
             Vice for life

                 GF


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Deepening

Take deep breaths and inhale love reborn.
Times ago in a place a meadowlark could not sing.
Recreate the romance and mend up all that was torn.
Within a unbreakable fortress a Queen reunites with her King.
Those dreams of falling towers are left far behind.
A refreshed phase of adoration carried on a crane type wing.
Though shaken but not broken are the toughened coils that bind.
The air bubbles of lives connected in a slow motion breeze.
Creatures from the deep emerge, an enamored heart restored.
In the eye intimacy with dangled fibers aimed to please.
A real life tale of the sorceress and the lord.
Dynamic forces beating odds and hailing pride.
The souls of them truly are willed to remain.
On a stallion of passion through enticing nights they ride.
Celebrate, celebrate a union made by amore' and pain.


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 | |

Another Miserable Love Letter

Dear Victory Girl from the bay or [dock]

I knew you'd be beautiful

for the sake of the decline...let hedonism take its toll...
Just so I Can Forget

How do you smile like that?

I'm bleeding gallons thinking of your face.

My most sincere pains,shames,claims,and thought about pet names, lie with you

signed-

Unused,and abused


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Sword is My Soul

Powerful in many ways. What can it be to the modern ronin? What if it has more to it than a physical appearance? The mind of the ronin is always changing according to the scholar. What if the scholar is the ronin? I am both. My road has been long even in my short time here. It is still a road that I have traveled and no one has traveled the way that I have. My oceans are the Pacific and Atlantic. I must travel differently in order to be what I want. In the sunlight in the distance the water is at peace but for how long. The water is calmly moving over my feet back & forth. A sound of the water and wind calmly breezing over my body as I sit in the sand. The massage of the small waves on my feet calmly cleans my sword. What is the story of my blade? A piece of steel that has served everyone at the expense of itself. A tool for protection for the benefit of others. A part of this samurai whom has never been able to protect himself from his own thoughts of sadness.  A sad soul to himself but a protector to everyone else and bringer of peace and love to them. A samurai who protects the weak & dying. A samurai who protects the innocent. A warrior of light in the times of dark but inside himself he is in the dark. Darkness is like the water slowly coming after them. Back & forth the warrior drifts until the sound awakens him & he realizes that in order to go forward that one must look back on the past. When they look back they can see what they have overcame. What is my sword if it is not a tool for the benefit of others? What if the sword will come upon another in a draw? The sword is a reflection of my soul. It is sad but it is also overjoyed with honor. This honor was to be a knight and not a tyrant. A knight who always protects others at the possible cost of their life; but has failed to protect himself. All emotions they have felt but one that has always been in a toss. The love for themselves’ has not been honored; but the love for others it has.  Someday the warrior in the light will cross blades with another person. The duel will be a draw and both of them will be dazed by the skill of another. When they pull off their masks to give each other a bow they will see the reflection of themselves in the other samurai. They will be the completed Yin Yang. At long last the samurai will be together. Their journey of sadness has brought them together. At peace they will be until the final days. The two have become one.


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Soft Glowing Embers

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Words - The heart of imagination

Words are symbols
To express the mundane,
It's the heart of imagination
Gives the slant that creates

The heart of imagination
ls alchemy, where
Insatiable desire 
For bringing salvation to the world
Leaving the mundane behind:
Single pointed concentration  
Altering the DNA
To inspire the new:
The new never seen before
The new never heard before
The new never known before

Imagination is co-creation
With the living 
God
Who burns His Light
Into the word,
The living word
Imitates Divine creation:
To bring salvation to the world:
By revealing the new 
By extending the living Word 
By unveiling the truth

Words are symbols
To express the mundane,
It's the heart of imagination
Gives the slant that creates


Competition by Brian Johnston
24/10/14


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Our Tool Belt

Let us use our diverse tools 
to build hope in their hearts. 
Like opulent homes 
developed with care, 
We must take the time to 
create a strong foundation 
in young lives bursting with 
potential. For even though their 
bellies may groan from 
hunger or their eyes may be 
tired of seeing a mother’s 
addiction taking its terrible 
toll, we’ll never know how 
much a mentor’s friendly 
hand will give strength to 
a young person to proudly 
stand and push through 
time and circumstances 
that could have defeated them. 
Let us use our tools to 
deconstruct walls that 
divide them from us; 
Walls that prevent persons 
On either side of these divisions 
from earnest self-actualization. 
Though tenable by all five senses 
these barriers inevitably pose a 
moral threat to common 
possibility wherein a neighbor’s 
outcome is the ultimate reward 
of what we are all striving for. 
And whether this is simply 
an ideal on earth or not, 
let us nevertheless see this vision 
where each of our tools are used 
for creating and building in unison 
a house of brotherhood. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lines, rewrite

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Exposed

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.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love's Call to Surrender

Love’s call to surrender within;
Heed Love’s voice to win
     healing in the end
     will not offend.
My blind eyes caution,
Sensing danger often;
Alerting vigilance to what lurks behind in darkness.
But Love’s call offers hardened hearts to soften 
     and set the captives free
     from what my blind eyes see.

My heart cries out
     with fear and doubt,
“Will Love save from poison darts
     aimed at this heart?”
“Will Love save? 
Remove barriers within
     to let Love in?”
The journey begins,
With faith as mustard seed,
When Love’s call I heed.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fish

Fish

Parts of the stream became fish
and some of these fish returned to water
there are thoughts older than the universe
and some of these threads stretch forth forever
for these are the thoughts that reign down
from the seven spirits of God
many threads are traps, mazes, and prisons
the beasts do not choose their thoughts
they simply run the programs that they inherit
forced to accept and/or where given
while seekers posses the liberty to choose their input
and we all build and tune our channels
according to the perceptions that suite our ideas of reality
or focus on goals that feed some kind of hunger
planted or imagined and aching inside
and we all wonder why we are here
some kind of file for groups of thoughts
to be played out under the sun
until we are done and out of sight
and slipping down into the archives
as the universe keeps expanding
making the small even smaller
insignificant except for the sins
that put us under
as death marches on
the illusion that the physical is real
while dreams spur the spiritual
beings that live forever
may yours always find a good host
with memories intact
and blessed by the creator
while riding the threads of life
that find grace in the mighty kings eyes
that you might be called a child of God
just like Jesus the Christ
and for what will you live and die
glorify the innocent father of life
that you might win the eternal fight
for children shall fill the expanse
and there is a great purpose to fill
the duty of the angels to bring them light
those who live must learn to love and bring out
their hosts that die 
this challenge must begin at home
so build your faith as a rock
and a mountain high






Details | Prose Poetry | |

Truth

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wise Hearts

Wise hearts travel from days long gone;
Trials endured
No respite in sight,
To hope hold tight.
Seek wisdom,
When winter comes,
Causing flesh its chance to be redeemed
Though dark night seemed
Unending;
Unrelenting.

Spring at last arrives,
Transforming hope survives,
Despite its wain
Throughout the rain;
New dawn brings life
For wise hearts enduring.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dream Come True

Dream Come True
WLM
January 12, 2011


I will not be blue
For my dream has come true
She has come to me
We will just let it be
I have waited so long
And my love has grown so strong
To have and to hold
For to always be bold
To let her know
How my love will show
To make it right
And look into the bright light
I want her to stay
For she will have it her way
She is so smart
I will sing like a lark
For she is mine 
In this day and this time
Our love will grow
To others it will show
Her and I surely long
For together we belong
And to her I yearn
Not a hint of concern
We will always be
As one entity




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ghosts of South Dakota Intro

                                                                                                        
	In 1957 I took my teaching certificate back to the land of my mother.  
She was raised on a cattle ranch in the north central area of Nebraska.  The 
famous Sand Hills.  It was there I found my cowboy and we ranched for fourteen 
years on the eastern edge of the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota.  The 
teacher in this story is my mother's sister and our experiences at the Indian 
Government School of Spring Creek during my early years.
	In the year 2002 Cowboy and I moved to a very special town, Harper, 
Kansas.  This town is just a few miles down the road from the memories of my 
Kansas childhood. How lucky to be able to have all of these memories and with 
the help of God maybe another dozen or so years down the road I'll have another 
set of memories to pass on to another generation.   

                                                       GHOSTS

	Yesterday I was sitting at my computer working  when I looked out of 
my magic window 
and noticed the swing set.  The wind was fiercely blowing up a gale and the 
swings were rocking to and fro.  That didn't bother me, but when I saw the glider 
was in motion, I didn't even have to close my eyes to picture the children playing 
on it.  They weren't my grandchildren.  They weren't my children.  They weren't any 
children I could recognize, but I felt blessed.  I didn't care who they were, they 
were happy.
	And then I thought back.  Back to the reservation.  I could hear the 
laughter of the Indian children, but whenever we came into view they would run to 
hide behind their mothers or grandmothers and peek around at us.  Some of the 
older ones, seven, eight, nine or ten year olds would line up in front of the shack 
or tent to stare at us.
	I can still see them dressed in faded, wrinkled, soiled clothing.  
Disgards from who knows where that ended up at the mission.  Their large 
round brown eyes staring from behind the greasy scraggly black hair. Some with 
their dirty fingers stuffed in their mouths. The little ones clinging desperately to 
the skirt as they peered around at us,  always had snout trailing from their nose, 
and their feet were either bare or encased in shoes three sizes to large for them.
	I don't know if it was a tradition of some kind but it seems, in my 
memory, there were never any men.  Only women and children came forth.  I 
have my ideas where the men were but I shall not go into that here.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

FRIENDS GET TOGETHER

we're of  many faith
we' don't debate
or complate
went its that time
we don't drow the line
no matter what the weather
its 
FRIENDS GET TOGETHER


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Humility

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

From My Heart

Sit down for a moment with me dearest
Listening closely to what my lips say
You have never heard these words before
Dropping freely from my mouth today

Often you have heard me lovingly speak
Of your beauty which I daily praise
Yet I do not see you only with my eyes
I see you deeply where love truly stays

A tranquil place where it nourishes actively
The genuine longings which each day start
A place in life where no other will enter
For only you have true ownership of my heart

So realize that it is not the only way 
When I see your loveliness with my eyes
For there will always be a more tender way
When I embrace you from my heart inside.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sweet Surrender

Love leads the way to freedom
Through peaceful surrender,
     so tender.
Sweet surrender release my hold
      to seek your gold.

Crumbling defenses are bold;
Desperately clinging,
Despite agony’s stinging.
Fear cements each brick
      in this fire
      despite earnest desire
      to seek Love’s sweet surrender.

Fear clings tight
Chocking my will
      in this fight
Holding firm to control
Despite its toll.

Love whispers its promises;
Surrender the door,
Empowered by trust
Not to end in dust.
Love’s sweet surrender will not disgrace.

Sweet surrender
Release my hold
To seek your gold- 
     a life of peace.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

MAKING POETRY OUT OF ANYTHING

After I have continuously fed the moon with my 
spoon of inspirational feelings

Soon I noticed; it never grew fat,
but stayed toon, like an animated raccoon 

so I had to enhance the moon, to a glowing 
moonlight, and adopt its moonlight,
into my pool of wholly gratification

My little backpack held a slim lunch of ideology, a 
monochrome vision, colored inspiration, a digital 
faith, ink book, jotting desire, cloudy hopes, and a 
wholesome feel of willingness of everything I 
needed for the day 

Eagerly following the irresistible sea feels of Saint. 
Writer the poet 

I began,
trekking in hopes,
working in ropes, 
and writing in copes,  
along the sky-high trail of motivational spine of 
fortunate path.

The tussle and bustle of my bushy and busy 
unsuitable ideology, fell away,
and I felt a sliver solitude as the only person on 
this long awaiting vision, winding around my 
moonlight

All of a sudden, 
my light and vision, reviles,
that in the mist of nothing, no air nor fairness,
wonderful poetry can still be made golden.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Love I've Waited For

Bless me with your
presence, with the 
tenderness of your
love...

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

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

Bless me with the
peaceful bliss which
causes my heart to
sing...

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Far Beyond

                                                           Far Beyond

                                       Far beyond the stars and morning dew,
                                       Their are things know man will ever do,
                                       Even as the morning does settle,
                                       There is that invisable tone of battle.

                                       A battle that makes love see God,
                                       And those many whimicials that seems odd.
                                       That oddness that makes love feel,
                                       That most important part that heals.

                                       For if love had a soul to hide,
                                       It would surely make sadness my pride.
                                       That pride far beyond sadness that seems stalled
                                       For sometimes sadness makes a man fall.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

On A Chain

On a chain around my neck, the cross I seldom wear.
Not made of wood or bloodstained from Jesus bloody hair.
It doesn't show the holes from nails that pierced His hands,
nor the scrapes from being dragged on that dusty land.
I cannot hear the sound of Jesus when He cried for me and you,
"Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do..." 
I took the shiny cross off, it doesn't suit my taste.
Put on the whole armour of God, Eph:6:11-18, in it's place.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Glory

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

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

COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE BOSS

what i say goes
everyone knows
thats thats way its at
so don't get loss
AM
THE BOSS


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ghosts of South Dakota part 2

 The surrounding grounds were prairie grasses and brush.  Trees were 
scattered along the west boundary while the eastern area was furnished with a 
heavier growth of various kinds of trees.  Willows and buffalo berry bushes lined 
the bank.  If you were so inclined this would make a perfect spot for a picnic.  
This was beyond the school grounds, grasses were tall here. 
	I mentioned the fire escape.  Boy, how we loved these appendages.  
They were situated on each end of the school. Access was from windows four 
feet off the floor in the bedrooms.  We would pull a large wicker lounge chair up 
to the window and scramble over the chair using the high back as our final step 
as we boost ourselves head first through the window.  There usually was a 
screen but it was never hooked.
	 My aunt, uncle and their three children were the only residents of this 
school for nine years.  I can't remember for sure , but the first five or six years they 
did not have electricity.  Water, but no electricity.  The last two or three years they 
had a generator.  I just loved it.  I remember how proud I was when I had gotten 
old enough to carry the kerosene lamp myself.
	The lower portion of the school had a ten foot wide hall extending the 
entire length of the school with double wide doors at both ends.  On the east of 
the school it was four steps up, in the front door, a four foot long area then up two 
steps up to the main hall.  On the right were two large class rooms.  On the left 
was the kitchen, a bathroom with showers, utility closet then the stairway up to 
the apartments and another bathroom, with showers.  An entry way leading to the 
outside where the front yard was.  The commissary, a sewing room and a 
garage large enough to house a school bus. The west end of the  hall ended 
with  four steps leading to the outside doors.
	West of the school was the building called the CANNERY, it also was 
the meeting place for the tribal members and contained three or four weaving 
looms.  A double garage with a gas pump and two large tanks for gas lay off to 
the north of the cannery.  A dense growth of trees separated the school from the 
barn.  It was a well kept large barn.  Well used I should add also.  At least by us 
kids.  Other out buildings were two quonset hut buildings and pens, a chicken 
house and a couple of sheds for the hog pen,  Which I must add was another of 
our favorite sports, riding the hogs.  All of the buildings were painted white.  It 
really was a sight to see.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sun Souling

Forgiveness pays
Anger
Brings poverty
To the rich heart society
Prayers console
A pagan life
So empty

Darkness rules
Bitter people
They wither
Like olden stool
Love has no school
But we teach hatred
Like lost lambs

Passion drives
Sometimes to death
If wisdom is ill health
No light
Wrong flights

Bulbs lighten the proud
Only but at night
Who to trust, a plight
Egos chase heartbeats
In inspired rage
Dungeon fights
An ensue
Of kindled mights
That bite

Look at the sun
Be its son
Shine to bless
Don’t be just a man


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Queen of my Heart part 2

I remembered how she would each Thursday or Sunday bake sweet pudding ...
And except for Christmases (which shall never more with her be shared)
Then the aroma of sorell, her cakes, and her gungo-peas-rice slow cooking
Filled the house ...  those puddings were the sweetest story of love. 
They were her second job, and sometimes her shaggy windows had curtains
New, because she never was too lazy to figure her survival fresh, and to prove
That poverty does not deny us virtue, nor needs cry under strain of burdens
That love brings to our door. Yes poverty was her choice, but as queen
She lived ... now that's a gift, a gift from God, a tribute (recognized) from us.

Let me explain mother's royalty in two anecdotes, each an indelible scene.
How when I was five she walked the long Lacovia miles through sun and dust
From Montego Bay to Knoxwood to retrieve her child, hug me to her breast
And took me from my father's and grandmother's house, and from their trust,
While she was penniless; and taught me ambition in nothingness; taking no rest
To feed me expensive baby food until I was thirteen, spoiled me, so that I
Should not have missed what my father could afford with ease. It cost all. Then
There is the fact of me reading and writing for her till I 
For college left her, in which time she got baptized. I returned and saw a pen
In her hand, she writing, and reading her Bible by herself; amazed
I asked "how?" She said, son when you climb the pole of knowledge
Remember those on the ground, do not judge people by rank or college
Greatness is wrapped in simple clothes sometimes. Give all their due praise,
And know I gave you the privilege to read for me, so you would always read
But the skills in my childhood house was instilled, a teacher's love did recedes."
She, clever as Anancy, and what simple strategies! Let her sleep now, great
Women wear simple clothes, Esther Veronica Jackson, I celebrate
Your life, your warrior spirit, your uncommon faith, sleep mother dear
I shall not forget you till the trumpet blows, and God dries my tear.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

STAND UP FIGHT

when life get tough
can be rough
don't run don't hide
tho the worlds wide
tho you feel up tight
STAND UP FIGHT


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Game

Rap is quick, witty and fun.

Poetry is smooth, rhythmic and heartfelt.

Rap and poetry had a love child.

A daughter, named Spoken Word.

She grew to maintain the better characteristics of her parents;

From Rap, she took freestyle, freedom, and grass roots movement.

From Poetry, she took imagery, theme, and voice.

Together, all three, as common forms of expression,

spread to every rapper, poet and storyteller in the world.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Value Of Your Love

There is not enough time
In this day I fear to tell
Of my hearts most secret
Feelings

Yet I shall try before the
Darkness arrives and the
Last moments of this day
It will be stealing

For as I look upwardly 
Upon the sea of stars
Floating above my head
I dream of how it might be 

If I was lost in the deep
Darkness of night alone
And the glow of your smile
I could no longer see

I think of the rain falling
Nourishing the deep parts of
My soul as I taste of its 
Refreshing kiss

And I wonder what it might
Be truly like in my life
If I could no longer feel
Your hearts embracing bliss

Realizing there will never be
Enough moments in my day to 
Let you know how much your 
Love means to me

For truly it would take a 
Lifetime and more to view
The genuine love many will
Never embrace and see.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Positivity

Its always the bad that makes you realize the importance of good.
Its the wrong that you commit, teaches you what’s right.
Its the not so important which makes you feel the importance of others.
Loneliness is the best moment when you got nothing to lose and only to gain.
The best can only exist when you know what worst is.
People come and go, miss the good times you spent with them and be happy.
Don't ask for anything from god, thank him for what he has given you.
Don't call anything a mistake, call it an experience.
Don't regret anything, but learn from what happened.
People who criticize you the most, love you the most.
Don't hate anyone, hatred only proves that you care. Indifference is the worst you can do to a person.
Always look for the good in anyone or anything around you.
Smile if anyone makes fun of you, they do it because they love you. 
Try and understand why a particular person is behaving in a particular way, everyone has reasons.
There are more important issues in life than worrying about who Ted's wife would be in HIMYM.
But that shouldn't worry you, everything falls into place ultimately.
Don't try to design your life, let it design you.
Don't worry about which college you will go to, worry about the internal you have to submit tomorrow.
Believe in god, he is there to help you out when no one is there.
Try explaining to people how you feel rather than rebelling, it will take time, but they will understand.
When your loved one says that they will never talk to you again, don't take them seriously, you are too precious for them that they'll leave you.
Its only when you are hurt, makes you realize the power of healing.
Always keep exploring things, this universe is full of surprises, you might not know when you will discover something interesting.
Be happy. Keep smiling. If you are reading this. It means that you already have someone to take care of you..... (ME)!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Regaining My Gift

You took my gift

to feed your habit

If only in solitude

 I wish it was given
.
Addiction too strong

your blinded by it's wrong.

So I stay hollow, gift less

and palms full of empty.

Heavy is your load

you carry your purchase

a transaction you stole to make

From... my pockets, my purse, my mind

no peace

Your sticky fingers constantly rob me.

I am left nothing

Questions cloud the room

in it I hide

Up and down this roller coaster

"please let me off this ride".

Dark, gloomy, sad

walls of bricks

Inside are no treats

Inside only tricks

I close my eyes

I began to pray

Grown up I am free

to right the wrong of previous day.

Addictions stop

here my gifts over flow

now the habit, bad habit

BLOWS AWAY.....from STARVATION!!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ghosts of South Dakota part 1

   	The location of the Spring Creek School was on a flat, nestled 
between the cliff on the north and the Little White River on the south.  The river 
flowed in from the northwest, circled to the south of the school about a quarter 
mile and wended it's way east departing to the northeast.  Though I never saw it 
in my day I imagine this was once a flood plain.  Yes, at one time this could 
easily have been the scene of flash floods.  The waters tumbling and sloshing 
their way across this insignificant piece of ground in a hurry to reach the exit.  
Time had slowed the waters and erosion had taken it's tole, leaving the west and 
south in twenty to thirty foot sharp sandy cliffs.  The ground sloped to the east 
leaving a two foot drop off.  A sandy graded road approached the large heavy duty 
bridge, crossed and continued on as a trail road.
	It's summer and the Little White River gently rolls from bend to bend.  
We are running back and forth across the bridge stopping now and then to lean 
over the rail and watch the Indian children splashing in the only deep spot.  It was 
first comers got the choice spot.  Big deal! Chest deep to a ten year old.
           We run off the bridge south.  The graded road crosses a big culvert 
allowing a small spring access to the river where it fans out at the point of entry.  
We run through the crystal liquid turning it into chocolate and leaving dents in the 
once smooth sand.  This is a child's paradise.  Sand so pure, soft and powdery 
warmed by the sun.  The deeper we dig the cooler the sand becomes as it is 
joined by the moisture below.
	Our mothers put limits on our water sports.  First: we had to wait an 
hour after the meal to get in the water.  Second: polio was a concern in our day 
and we didn't get to play as often as we thought we should.  Third: we were not 
allowed to swim unless our mothers were with us.  With the gardening, house 
keeping and canning, we were lucky if we got to swim two or three times a week.  
I guess that is why we spent most of our time on horseback.
	On the ridge north of the school stood a lookout tower.  In the long 
evenings we would be found always outside, either sitting on the steps, running 
up and down the fire escapes or in the front yard.  This was the only real green 
grass in the area.  It was fenced to keep cattle or horses from trampling it into the 
mirrored image of its surroundings.  This enclosure measured fifty by a hundred 
feet and was kept watered.  A large tree provided the only shade


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YESTERDAY AND TOMORROW

I am not related to tomorrows,
Severed from them
I am  related  to my yesterdays
The suffered realites
Do not trust the future.
Passing through the endless period of grimness, 
I have owned them. Absence of miseries
Is not the culmination of the anguish.
Painful past, More known, more intimate is acceptable 
I am afraid of the future, 
The unknown tomorrow.













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~ (~) ~ ""Hold On!"" ~ (~) ~ (Part #2 of 4) ~ (~) ~

Because just like frilly and free curiously whimsical the recently enlightened-yet-quietly- struggling-humble butterfly, resilient-grasshopper... daintily-grazing-dragonfly's locusts hung precariously low dangling-in small but honest-groups-spread-out-all-over-on-the-side and- cellar-door back-yard and front-porch-door... . Swaying gratefully on-the-ever-defiantly- flopping-innocently-broken-screens-that-again I tell-you... I thought, I had fixed... and-as- well-still-gripping whatever-kind-it-may be today the-birchbark-cherry-helicopter-seed, or- walnut-tree, awakening ever timely, still halfway wrapped-up-tight-in-their-warm-cocoons arriving now-from their-moments of-ponder... are told-too to have their-growing fancy... . The opportunity... virtuously... and ever-novelly, sweetly proposed, like-the-simple-and-ever- ominous-cry's of a whining filly, two dueling-fiddles three-squealing-unwary pigs... . Twelve gently-cackling-geese flying-over head fresh-little tiny-cooing-just-barely-naked-as-I- can mercifully-hear-now — and can tell, with-my-wife and scruffy-five-month-old-shepherd, and-steaming-cup-of-coffee in-hand — quite-hungry-and-wanted, black-crow-hatchlings-three chirping-blue birds-wailing-away-pecking-at-each-other all about-them... . Our-gracious fourteen chuckling chickens proudly parading their beauty off along to-us in full-view of their own-children's greater-innocence . My fiery haired fussy cousin small-fumbling baby girl tender angel newborn the precious eager sweetie suckling kneading away on my joyous... ever-willing and-new, three-times- over glorious-Mother-Aunties brilliant-supple-and-full... steadily-swelling-enflamed-dark-pink- nipple a mess-of basil-and-butter eggs-seven-sizzling-young and-healthy-catfish cooking-on- the-spit over the-open... and-lazily smoking-fire... . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p7TrU4_-JTY&feature=related


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A Phobia For Adrenaline

We're together in this, the fault is ours withhold the explanation we'll share the blame. "Not in this life! my take is already on the billboard" Now is the time to stick together holding each other, sharing one umbrella until this trying moment is over. "No way! I'm definitely leaving the squad". On the first sight of danger and an unpleasant situation of horror. 'Forgive me! but I'm stepping backwards" Persistence pays refined is the product coming through thick and thin be a risk taker and have guts. "Please, I don't need the award". Now is the time let's seize the moment a fool is the person who kicks opportunities away. "You go ahead, I'll do that afterwards" It's all about sacrifices subject yourself to undue limitations for the benefit of your next generation. "hell No! I'm definitely going overboard" The battle may seem bigger but you're more than capable examine the challenge, but focus on your strength. "Thank you! But I'm dropping my sword" Be unique, be different don't follow the crowd be a trail blazer and a pace setter. "So that I stand odd?" On the road to glory and a monster appears despite the capability to overcome he deviates from going goalwards. His achievements make neighbours bored his fury towards strain makes him seem awkward and his strong will becoming flatter than an Apple Keyboard What a being! His excellency, Mr. Coward.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Backsliding - A Love Story

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Morning Joy Comes Near

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

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

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


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 | |

Her Eyes So Blue

I look into her eyes
Which seem full of surprise?
The sparkle and the shine
That makes me sublime
To me it is love at first sight
Like looking into the brightest light
My heart is a glow
On my face it must show
Of the love that I have had
In my heart I want her so bad
I know it will be
Always just her and me
Together we will live
We will always learn to give
And people will know
For on our faces the love will show
My love will surely stay
Praise God I will never let get away
So she will not scurry
I must catch her in a hurry
Forever she will be mine
For now and the rest of all time
We will be so content
As God has meant


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Will you be ready?

When theres a knock on the door
will you be ready?
For all the things 
That's outside the
world you live in?

When the telephone rings
will you be ready?
For everything which is being told
At the end of the line?

When they wake you up
will you be ready?
For the stuff tat happens in reality
And not the for the dreams you hope for?

When they open your eyes
will you be ready?
To see things as they are truly are,
Rather than what you've heard?

When you enter the dark tunnel
will you be ready?
To find light at the end of the tunnel?

Be ready...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Nature's Sweet Brown Child

I am the ginger brown of the Egyptian,
The blackness of the Sudan.
I am the beauty to which the birds sing,
I have the supremeness of the mighty lion.

I am the Orchid that adorns the  Nile,
And the brightness of shimmering stars.
I am the nomad who travels the Sahara,
I am known throughout the lands afar.

I am akin to the American Indian, Asians,
Africans and Europeans the same.
And yet here I am lost inside my country,
Where no one recognizes my name.

My skin is so pure, a pecan brown,
Blessed with beauty by God aplenty.
And some try to call me only black,
And say I am not akin to any.

Yet I am the golden brown of the desert
And I have the sweetness of the Nile
I am the beauty of Africa’s jungles and flowers
For I was born natures sweet brown child


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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


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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 | |

Shadow

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 | |

inside My Soul

If you could see inside my soul
Peep inside my heart
You would know how much youare missed when we are apart

If you could scan inside my hesd and my thoughts wre made public to see
You would know how much i cherish how dear you mean to me
Just how you comfort me and the way you hold me near
How our love is solid and it eases our fears

The glow in your beaytiful eyes, your smile,your gentle touch
Are many reasons i love you so much
Knowing we can talk to each other about any and everything
Together we will get through whatever life may bring

I could search the world over
This i know is true to me
Iwould never find another love like the love i've found in you

With each sunrise and sunset we never know what's in store
ther's certainly one thing i know for sure
each and everyday i love you more and more

So if you could scan inside my head
If thoughts were public to see
You would know how blessed i feel to have you here next to me.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Poverty

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



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

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


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untitled

Ten years after the bombing of our land
Still the heart feels so broken
Tears still fall as loud and
painful as the day it happened
so long ago
We must never forget what
happened on September the Eleventh
The world will never be free
of bullies cowards and underminders
The fight for freedom never ends
it is a constant struggle my friend
We must never give up the fight
for independence everywhere sir


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Unless Jesus Is In Christmas...

Why all the hustle and bustle
and dashing through the snow?
Why bother writing greeting cards
or kiss under a mistletoe?

Why chop down a pine tree
and dress it with tinsel and lights?
What is the purpose of gift giving,
or days that are merry and bright?

Unless we keep Jesus in Christmas,
it isn't Christmas at all.
Unless we celebrate The Virgin Birth,
nothing has meaning or worth!

Christmas isn't the Holly and Ivy,
little toy trains or Santa Kissing Mommy.
Christmas isn't packages tied with string,
a red nosed reindeer,
or listening to sleigh bells ring.

Christmas isn't baking pies, turkey, and ham,
or lying awake till midnight,
to see a jolly ol' man.

Unless we keep Jesus in Christmas,
it isn't Christmas at all.
Unless we celebrate The Virgin Birth, 
nothing has meaning or worth?

No nothing has meaning worth!


Milton L. Delgado
December 26, 2006


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~ (~) ~ Mercy Lord Mercy ~ (~) ~

~ (~) Man was-busted-getting stoned sorry-Lord-is-all I can-say, if- there could be-more I would only cry-mercy. (~) ~ ~ (~) For-everyone-myself and-anyone along-the way... is what-he said. Jezebel loved the gypsy wind-grappling-grasshopper sweet pools running along by-the stream sunbeams elucidated in her eyes, well you know though it a good fight sometimes you lose-one this one was hers, died of brain cancer today... ... .. (~) ~ ~ (~) God bless her... . mercy Lord mercy... . (~) ~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kl-VCHzS1So&feature=related


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Wise Journey Long II

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

AM WITH YOU

am at your side
world wide
what you say
i'll be day by day
there too
AM WITH YOU


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 | |

Because she still clung to his promises

The girl was legend

All empty eyes & purple painted smiles. Every sweet white inch of her. And everyone knew 
her name

She danced in satin skirts that only moved when she took them off. She was everything 
delicate, everything demure. She was beautiful even when she wasnt

She watched the world with terror filled saucer eyes & the world looked right back with eyes 
that were unmistakably green

It was clear glass, they envied her & she wondered why

She knew they hung up her picture, plastered her to walls&books&frames that made her 
their prisoner. They stared at her when they were alone & forged a kind of intimacy she 
could thrive on

But it was temporary & in the morning she was left to sing her own self to sleep since no one 
cared enough to do it for her

The people that loved her, that glimpsed the real her when she uncovered it, all those people 
left her at the end & she saw what they'd done

They'd led her down the wrong track but they peppered it with glitter & held her just right so 
she was blind to every bit of it

She was the diamond dying in the night, she was the candied rose melting in the morning 
dew. They lured her with promises of love & took her innocence before she even knew it was 
there

She hated them but started to love them almost obsessively. The love hate became another 
prison & she thought she was free because she always got nine seconds of pleasure before 
the sun rose

Back bars catered to her kind & she walked in just to stand there & let their hands go places 
she'd never gone herself. It felt like the past & she convinced herself it was right

One night she walked in, skirt past the legal limit & eyes bright like they used to be. It was a 
shock-making moment, she hadnt looked so sweet in oh so many years & they were afraid 
to touch her

She'd been their girl forever, passed around & used like an old movie that cant be rewound. 
They knew every mark on her body, every scar where they signed her, a kind of "I was 
here" of the human body. They couldnt recognize her. It was the first time she walked out 
alone. Faintly she hoped to be pressed against a wall & killed but it didnt happen

She kept turning around haunted by phantom-feels & ghost-touches. Her body just wanted to 
suffer. It was instinct & who was she to fight it?

Every step was agony. She walked so carefully as though she was afraid of falling in a river 
of her own dark thoughts

But it was hopeless, darkness followed her wherever she went


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


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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


MyFreeCopyright.com Registered & Protected


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Finally a New Hope and Beginning

Finally a New Hope and Beginning
WLM
Wildncrazy555
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


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Somettimes

Sometimes you need 
To hear something 
Something you know 
Something you’ve missed
Sometimes you don’t 
Want to give some

As day you want 
To know
The sun is in your way
As day comes and goes 
You live for one thing
Come and keep coming back

Sometimes you need 
To see someone
Looking at you 
As you are 
Sometimes you have to
Close your eyes 
And let the days 
Drift you away. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Antiquity Of Love

They sit together after supper, two forks, two plates -dishes cleared, put away. She, with her tiny spectacles perched a little crooked on her face -  he, with his favorite pipe. Her withered hands lay peacefully in her lap…he reaches out, gently touching them - not speaking any words. 

No words needed between the two of them-having been together for so many years. Memorable words, touching phrases spoken ore’ the years spent together as one. One heart - one mind. Not always a life of sunshine and roses, but devotions never ceased between these two old lovers, these two best friends. 

They held on to one another through each new day, each new tomorrow - catching one another’s loving gaze, uttering a graceful word now and then. Wrinkled faces beautifully bestow them now - yet to him…she’s just as lovely as the day they wed -his lovely bride - his cherished, sweet wife of many years. A smile creeps across his lips in remembering their cherished wedding vows. 

“Will you take this women to be your wife”? He did then, he still does now.

The words sweet and strong - like the fragrance of orchids… everlasting, forever long.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Drugs

DRUGS
11-27-09
By
William L. Moore

They been coming around
I just blew into town
Look, See the junkies
Acting like Monkey’s

Passing out the Drugs
Acting like Thugs
Watching all the others cower
Enjoy the sense and feeling of Power

Beating the people down
Deep, Down in to the ground
Giving up a ring
Just to feel the awful Sting

As the flow goes up my nose
From sucking on the hose
We hope the bread’s that leaven
Will surely send us to Heaven

Forever, Endless flight
In search of the Pearly light


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English Garden

I have found the treasure
that lies at the Rainbow's end;
surrounded by Sweet William, for-get-me knots,
and crimson shades of velvet rose.

Near the cottage of old where I was young,
the quaint charm of the English garden.
Where time has not weathered with due harm,
swirls of hued asters still in the brisk fresh air.

Moments spent dancing with cupid in midst
of a sunny afternoon.
Seconds where dreams danced on the moon,
sweet perfume floats by to wisp away my breath.
Up ahead mine eyes view the grassy slopes
where a thousand of narcissus bloom.

I watch them sway the day away tossing 
their sweet perfume to the winds.
Wicker seats and ivory benches upon I sit and muse.
The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden,
a rose plot, fringed pool and serenity.

Burn the sage, the leaves of rose and wintergreen
Light the candles in the middle of the afternoon.
From within my center core I breathe for more of this
paradise near heavens view.

Sweet surrender to growing things, cupids chimes in
melody rings, for here is a heavenly peace that mirrors
my thirsty soul.


My x4 Great Grandmother was from England a Duchess but she chose to marry my X4 Great
Grandfather and lost her inheritance and rights for neglecting the wishes of the family in
England. He was a Captain of the sea and brought many to the American shores of Mass. In
reading and studying, I found she loved to write of the sea and those things she cherished
from England and growing up, from memoires, she has touched my muse and from time to time,
I let her speak of such cherished beautiful things.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

NOT HOME YET

                                                    As stroll along life's road,
                                                    many hours more to be hold.
                                                    Many more hours have gone,
                                       mayb finding us right or wrong, weak or strong.
                                                     Climbing many a mountain,
                                                     passing many a fountain.
                                                     Traveling through the valley,
                                                      neither stopping long, or dilly dally.
                                                     A thought should we stroll with,
                                                one of so much truth it can not be myth.
                                                         A truth to take along the way,
                                                one that has us guard all we do and say.
                                                           So either on a car, bus, plane or jet, 
                                            remeber to fix you eyes to the sky, we aren't home yet.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Greater 'Minds' Than Mine

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

Is It Poetry 
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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 | |

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 | |

Hmmm

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Seek

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A songs true power

When we speak, it shall be only in songs, bursting in life and love it belongs, to the speaker of 
songs, the heart that is gone, the warmth that spreads beneath our bed sheets,
Speak in song, for stories are to played out, worn down, trampled, there is no rhythm to 
stories,
The push and pull, the push and pull, the aching throb, the ocean of emotion, stories.. They 
don't own this, for songs speak out in the darkness when there is no light, boldly treading into 
narrow spaces like the souls of might, beating on against the rain, making an appearance,
Where stories wait for an end, an unidentified conclusion that will satisfy those left in the 
dust, songs tread into darkness, creating their own endings, and beginnings, but not in 
stories, in songs,
The beginnings of a new and unexplored song, waiting to be sung.

- Trey Capello


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Sword In Hand

Sword In Hand

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Night Watchman

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) When I Deny Him (~) ~

http://allpoetry.com/poem/6665591 I have a true friend now that I met, that is killing herself worse than the cancer that is eating away at her body-yes. She has three months to live... ! Hurts to see myself; yes. Denying grace, I fear for her... . She poor-thing is angry and though having the right having gone through what she is going through now, her past, she is denying everyone who draws near to that little sweetheart that was hurt, is hurting now-you-know; still? I am crying now, my prayers are not working!!! My honesty, and patience are being shunned. I so-love her, she is me, in every respect of the word, difference is I work now to not deny, guess God cries too when in moments-still; He is offering help, to-me, and I deny Him. Author notes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4UwnYyUrKA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Fine Line

I'm walking a fine line,
somewhere between dead and alive,
I'm contently loosing balance,
tripping over my own two feet.
I'm scratched, scared, and bruised.
Will I make it out alive?
Or will I die,
on this destructive path of mine?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wise Magician

Wise magician,
Change this agony from suspicion;
Cause hope to rise
In this journey long
Without reprise.
Redeem lessons unlearned
In journeys past
That now harass.
The cost so high;
The journey long.

Wisdom must be sought
In each battle fought;
Gold within redeemed in fire;
Rekindles lost desire
When surrender released
Transforms soft heart
From one of stone
No longer on the throne.

Wise magician requires toll,
Surrender all,
And seeks a grander plan,
Though turmoil at hand,
Causes faith to take a stand.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

YESTERDAY and TOMORROW

I am not related to tomorrows,
Severed from them
I am  related to my yesterdays
The suffered REPLITIES
Do not trust the future.
Passing through the endless period of grimness,
I have owned them.
Absence of miseries,
Is not the culmination of the anguish.
Painful past, More known, more intimate is acceptable
I am afraid of the future,
The unknown tomorrow.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

believe in the magick

Believe in the magick in the power of each thought. For you are like a lovely 
flower, growing in a pot. You can do it, whatever goals you have ever sought 
and you can grow your roots and widen yourself to a great big plot. And don't 
let yourself be put on the spot. And whatever effort goes out is the same as 
you have brought. Takes time sometimes, don't get distraught. It'll be turned 
toward you every deed or need you've ever bought. Smile,you'll be happier, 
that's what I've learned and I've taught.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ Cry of the Muse ~

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

QUALITY OF MAN

			

        You are a MAN , do not despair,
	Higher and higher to rise, aspire.
	Help the needy, there is name
	Be kind to others,  there is fame.

		Bring comfort to a shattered heart.
		Some peace of mind and some joy.
		Teach them how to gain their worth
		And find happiness in life to enjoy!
			-------------	Jay-en
							


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Land of Graves

Land of Graves

A land of graves makes for quiet neighbors.  
He who blessed or cursed extant thereupon remains 
Shall suffer little disturbance at the will of his resting countrymen.  
The deep silence of an irrevocable sleep pervades his surrounds.  
His own sleep mimics that of his departed brethren 
But that kin to living rest is a far colder, everlasting condition.  
Lest it be by the appearance of some revenant, 
His nights will be those of uninterrupted stillness.  
The surface of this vast earthen sarcophagus is adorned with faltering monuments- 
The souls of their corresponding constituency have long-since dispersed in nihilum- 
Leaving playing children and Springtime Sunday-afternoon-passersby 
To speculate on their origins and exits, lives and times.  
But make no mistake this is not a wholly moribund environment.  
There is life in this soil yet.  There is an irrepressible profusion reclaiming 
This tomb from its own looming finality.  The tomb is rendered womb by its power.  
The tomb-womb is green.  It is a garden, a park, a yard and an arboretum.  
It is a charnel conservatory of the deceased, yes, but this sepulchered meadow 
Exists as much if not more for those with air in their lungs and blood 
In their veins as it does for those buried beneath its grassy lawns.  
Though in little more than a generation even the freshest entries into its 
Assembly will receive only sparing or incidental visitation.  
The ancestry hobbyist and the armchair genealogist will pay their homage.  
The digger of graves and the mower of lawns will be more frequent still.  
Is maintenance in the face of inevitability an exercise in courage or folly?  
Perhaps it is just necessary for life to go on. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

"WHEN MY MIND IS MADE UP!!!"

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TODAY

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Jupiter and Venus

Jupiter and Venus
WLM
12-08

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

No Wish Wash


Be still you moaning soul
and heart refrain from vexing
the souls domain with anxious
thoughts and wish wash emotions

Soul and heart both so sync
wish not for the past where
regretful actions and longings
dwell wish not for the future
and what it holds to ordain
stay not in the present
for lost both shall be

Be ruled by the mind which 
neither feels nor expresses
Mind over matter no
more wish wash matter
floating in two worlds
no home to gather


Details | Prose Poetry | |

These Falling Tears

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



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



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

(c) October 30, 2007
Rosemarie Schrock


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mans Man

Man’s Man

WLM
Wildncrazy555
April 18, 2011
To the gay population in the world

He is quite a man
And he will make his stand
For he will always stay
In his mind his own way
To most in the world it is a sin
But to him it is his place to begin
He is not sappy
He is continually always happy
For the love he has to give
Makes his life so great to live
In life we always change things and arrange
To most in life they think we are strange
We will sit and feel the simple breeze
Knowing ??????’s heart is at ease
In this world we will not desist
For millions of others exist
We must always give them their own space
Since they will always win their race
And they exist in their own place
Which is full of God’s wonderful grace

Written for a friend of mine
Who will always be a friend
Regardless of his lifestyle
William Lewis Moore
Bill


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Across the Street

A poet sits on his silence 
Writing naked poems 
To seduce the land 
At a hundred feet 
His shadow turns 
Against him 

A strong wind came
From nowhere 
Brought his smile 
Close to a bird’s nest 

What makes you think
Those verses are real?
Live your life 
As your truth is design. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

2008

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 | |

GET READY! STAY AWAKE!

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

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

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

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

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

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


Milton L. Delgado
May 12, 2004


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lessons taught

Long ago on rolling hills
And endless plains
Stood men who fought
For a cause beyond common understanding
Bound together by integrity
They persevered 
When odds gave no chance
Led by a man
Whose name was always half whispered
They made a vow
From that day forth
To stand as one
For in so doing
They found the strength
Lost on thousands
And won the day
Freedom they earned
From the blood they sacrificed
In defending a land
Not all their own
Thus were legends made
Respect of generations earned
Handed down from father to son
Mother to daughter
For all to hear 
How strength is found
When standing as one
Throughout history
From the example made
Nations have been born
To see freedom reign
Overcoming such odds
That would defeat weaker men
All brought forth long ago
On rolling hills and endless plains
In the lessons taught
By men who stood as one and persevered
For a cause far beyond
Common understanding of mortal men


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Journey - I

His City Was a Lonely Existence, Governed By Those

Clothed in Green. Sitting Amidst The Twilight This Boy

Of Blue, Wasted in Solitude, Begged the Sky For Solace.

                                  - A Blue Trail Beckoned Him -

Comprised of Fog, The Blue Narrowed and Curved its Way

Across His Land of Green. It Took Him to The Edge of His

World, and Ran On Across The Deep Water.

                                   - Blindly He Followed -

After Months of Skimming The Surface of the Everclear,

In a Small and Battered Wooden Vessel; He Hit Land.

His Blue Had Almost Faded, But He Strove On.

                                    - The Ground Was Green here -

Disheartened, but Never Yielding, He Continued to Follow 

The Blue Fog Across Barren and Unfamiliar Lands, Until The

Orange Hue of Light Pollution Filled the Sky.

                                     - The Arrival -

            The Blue Line Faded into a Town and Disappeared.  

                                 - His Mind Sank -

Roaming The Streets of This New Territory, He Grew Frustrated.

The Idea of Chasing Fog Seemed to Run Like Liquid in His Mind.

These People of Green Seemed to Mock Him as They Passed.

                                   - This Boy of Blue - 
                   - Sleeping in a Gutter of The Purest Green -

A Hand Sinking like Silk into his Shoulder, Woke Him With A

Gentle Grace. She Stood Above Him, Smiling and Fascinated.

A Girl of The Deepest, Vastest, Blue.

                            - She Took Him By The Hand -

                                           - And Lead Him From The Green -


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Scientific way of canal digging

The governments should adopt scientific way 
Of canal digging with an eye to 
Solve flood problem, mitigate irrigation crisis
And open up new avenue of fishery.

At first the area where flood water overflow
From the rivers should be pointed out
And nearby barren lands should be identified
Then maps of the required canals can be drawn.

Subsequently the canals should be dug up
From the last points of maps
Which will end at near the mouth of the canals
Then with the aim of joining the canals
With the rivers dynamite should be blasted off.

The government will compensate the people
Whose lands will be acquired for the project. 
 
In this way 
The government will be able to give its people
A great relief and satisfaction.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reservation

I look at the stars
And I look at the moon
And I know that a life
Awaits me soon
Although I am scared
And my thoughts are a mess
Something is reserved for me
A force I cannot guess
As the past blows ice
And the wind succumbs
My heart beats like
A thousand drums
As I search and I search
For the height of my game
My eyes light a fire
My sadness cannot tame


Details | Prose Poetry | |

ABBA

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Journey - III

With Gazes Locked, She Pushed Up And Against Me in Passions Flight. 
I Felt Her Chest Pressing Against Mine and The Beads of Sweat 
Running Between Us. She Closed her Eyes As We Intertwined. 

                               - Sharing My Body With Hers. - 
 
The Colour of Faded Blue Burst into a Palette of The Deepest Crimson. 
Basking Together Beneath The Skylight, Under The Rain and Back Up 
Into The Twilight, That I Begged For This Moment. 

                               - The Intensity Multiplies With Every Second - 

Her Gasping Turned Frequently to Soft Moaning, My Pupils Dilated 
and My Life of Simple Colour Singularity Pales Behind Me, 
As We Soak into The Redness, and Every Second Passes, Strained With Our Passion. 

                               - He Feels it in His Legs - 
                           - She Feels it in Her Stomach - 

She Screams as The Euphoria Peaks and Together We Share a Potent Climax 
Which Coils and Shivers Its Way Intricately Through Every Alcove And Vessel 
of Our Entities. I Rest My Head on Her Bosom. 

                              - Her Eyes Wide With Exhaustion - 



My Head Lifts With a Heavy Strain, and A Smile Seems to Ease its Way Across My Face. 
I Fix her Hair Behind Her Right Ear as I Kiss Her Chin, Then Her Forehead, Then Her Lips. 
She Smiles, and Curls Up Into Me. 

                               - Justification of Existence - 

- I Close My Eyes and Form a Shield Around her. - 

                                         - I Don't Care if I Ever Wake Up -


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Repast of Silence

A sparrow stopped to sing to me as the morning set
Of chance born from fate for this living destiny
Unfolding for me as a many petal flower
Beneath the afternoon’s first kiss

I sing this evening of the dawning of day 
Whose bright beams wash over my skin
Like ice blue fresh water of a mountain’s tears
Sown of happiness full and wide with wonder

My voice cries out this night into the gaping heavens
For I have been freed from my repast of silence
Like a once condemned soul that ripped from hell
His second chance from the mitts of that vile thing
The amorphous icon of putridity

Out cries forth from these silent lips a scream
“I have gleaned the Day!”
And now like a thief in secret
I hold it inside my heart covetously


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Birthdays are Important

Birthdays are important,
because they celebrate
our existence,
The genesis of our lives,
It means that we are one year wiser,
smarter and better,
It is important to celebrate
because it means the folks around 
us truly appreciate that we are here
on earth with them,
In celebrating birthdays we honor ourselves,
for having the ability to share in another's joy,
because for one day someone special has the
right to feel extremely Important.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

In the March of Dreams this way . . . once more, never before

I’m marching in the dream 
It’s raining heavily and the sky is dark and flashed with electric white
Silver shards gleam down from the sky
To shatter the still and calm I love so of the rain
In the dream I am young as I am now
Full of life
Strong and full of grace like never before this moment
When I dream within dream of you standing there in the sunlight
Of the sighing of day light waning beneath the whisper of night cascading 
Like the dreams of yesteryear come once more to pass this way

Dreaming in the dream of another dream born of memories long and old
Lost again am I amid the rains pelting my skin briskly, warmly
Like your voice in my ear of when we spoke to clutch each other fast
To hold one another close within the span of memories
Needing to feel alive and whole and with one another
For the space between us still of the yawning days and nights falling softly
Lingering here and then as we lay spent, smiling, laughing in the echoes of pleasure
And I march on; I march on toward the East where I see you standing 
With your head held high and arms holding out to me
A bright smile somehow shyly kept across your beautiful face like a river
Fresh from the mountain of days reborn in the fullness of spring

And so I dream as I march under the raining sky and shatter spikes of silver gleaming
Of when and where I stand before you with a quiet smile of wars fought and won
When across these shoulders I carried the sum of world’s worries, 
Pains and lamentations deep and plenty folded 
Like the crystal I gazed within your eyes
When whisper of meaning deep as the sky unfolded within the stars above us now
Did you from across the chasm between 
And still under the thunder of time and when I hear you so close
I dare to reach out and stroke your face with a feather light breath
From jaw line to lips so sweet I weep in the pleasure of knowing you deeply
But I am marching, still marching and into the East I find myself cast
In dream and still more I dream as I dreamed and dreamt never of you before this
For never having dared to dream such as you, 
Could not for never seen such before have I . . .

I am marching in the dream
Under the raining sky that kisses my body briskly
Like the dream of your voice in my ear in the birth of day
When wrapped within you I did, was, and will be, I am to be once more
For the first

I am dreaming and in the dream I am marching
Marching under the silver gleaming sky I march


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 | |

They slip away

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Part And Yours

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

FINGER NAILS

i where pink
my nails blink
as i wink
am not kink
i never fail
to do my
FINGER NAILS


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reality Vol.II

Ya know alot of people talk about
truth, reality, fact, fiction ya know
hypocrites in da church even the 
Apostle Paul witnessed these so called
divisions, but my focus, where I shine my
light today is on marriage. Yeah true
God adores it, thinks highly of it and 
this here is the perfect topic for discussion
yeah it looks easy when ya see it,
two people deeply in love with each other
best friends turned lovers leaving ya parents 
house to live in holy matrimony with each other
Beautiful right?

Aite now hears the grim truth God's always testing
you and the devils always tempting you 
so you try to stay strong. Dedication, honor, 
respect, loyalty forget special occasions candle 
lit dinners whenever to let ya spouse know to 
you they're more than royalty, but life ain't easy
let alone marriage it's far from simple. But question?
How hard is it really thru your years of hurt,
to let that special someone know that your willing
to go that extra mile to make it work. How you
gonna stand when you gotta patiently wait for God
when love hurts and it gets too hard. Thru ya worst 
time would you still let ya spouse climb into ya mental,
God loves a sanctified Christian but the flame in some
marriages is something most couples really need to rekindle.
So tell me whether good or bad times loyal or dishonest 
before you decide to throw in the towel maybe you 
should think long and hard about ya promise.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Unseen Oarsman

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

mold me

I have seen you in the eyes of strangers
I have heard you in the symphonies of dream time
I have wished for you on the dark edge of hope
And hoped for you in the moments of still awakening
I have mistaken you for others
The chattering ego and the carousel of mind thought have 
Captured my attention but have not fulfilled me
I have despaired in believing I had been abandoned
Turned my back on things soft
Chiseled out identities for myself
And tried to carve a niche in this universe without you
Still satisfaction eludes me
This oak cries out for its’ roots
The shell aches for wholeness
I sit like cut flowers
Essence drifting
Time sands shifting

All is naught if not for love

Bring back the pulse of the fervor
The passion that sung like a madman
Let me weep in the pain of apartness
Then fill me with all the is you
Let us eat of my heart in a lovers feast
And feed the fires of need
Let them warm me until at last they consume
And sear away the rust and tarnish 
On this once faithful soul

Whisper in my ear the words of the great nothingness
Show me what the stars look like beyond the veil of illusion
Purify me back into wonderment
Mold me back into myself


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Time and Work

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



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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Spoken

Spoken!


Are we meant to walk a tight straight line,
Wouldn’t that be saying to walk like the blind.
How will the hollow be treated in the end,
The two edge sword is being used for family and friend.
A crooked smile is hard to bend right,
The strong is most needy when using their might.
Unconscious wisdom spoken to bring down to the top,
A cliff is extended in sight of the short stop.
Wrongful delight can’t teach a child confusion,
But a picture made by evil hands gives a right way illusion.
Falling short to the tall brings along a silent bed,
Hot air in a head makes no stop air blown on hot makes stop while ahead.
Carving your pumpkin with heart out of chest,
To take a heart out of evil empty chest is best.
Cut off your left if it hinders your right,
Close your eyes to see dark to realize whose light!

Ashley Hogan AH


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Kaleidoscope

As I close my eyes
   I remember all of the colors in my mind.
That have intricately intermingled,
   Into the only one of a kind,
Swirling around out of control
   Like a masterpiece made in  heaven.

I can see all the colors of my world in front of me
   Spinning around like a watercolor dancing on ice,
Similar to colors in a rainbow that I have seen
   No just once, or twice, but more than thrice,
Just so brilliant and beautiful....
   Magenta, fuchsia, tangerine, yellow,
Jade, cobalt, and violet.
   Magnified with such intensity
Has influenced such strong feelings
   That hasmesmerized not just me,
But an entire community.

That is the kaleidoscope of my world
   Which is also fascinated by others,
But it means so much more to me;
   It is similar to the path of my life.
Because wherever I go
   And whomever I meet
Becomes a part of whom I am.

No two people can see the same rainbow.
   Not many can honestly say
That they have seen mine.
   But I will always see
The colors of my kaleidoscope.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Journey - II

Her Sheets Smelled of Lillies. A Cotton Grace Which Slipped
Like Velvet Across My Skin. This Girl of Blue Conversing 
With My Existence, Letting it Know I'm Real.
                      
                                  - I'll Show Her It's Real - 

                              - In The Only Way I know How - 

My Hand Swam Through Her Long Dark Hair With Ease, 
Stopping At The Base of Her Neck. These Fleeting
Moments Of Passion Lasted Aeons in Our Eyes. 

                              - The Cloths Slipped From Our Flesh - 

Caressing Every Corner of Her Body With Such 
Delicate Intricacy, That The Stars Themselves 
Sank From The Sky In Anticipation.

                               - Her Breath Grew Stronger - 

Moving Closer, She Felt My Every Exhalation Tingling 
Her Silken Skin. Her Chest Heaving Forward as Her 
back Arched. Throwing her Head Onto My Shoulder.

                               - I Slid My Hand Down Passed her Stomach - 

Warm Like The Breath of A Panting Dog My Fingers Sank in; 
And Up. Her Right Arm Scratching My back From Above Our Heads. 
She Smiled as Her Body Writhed With Energy. 

                               - Her Breath Now Quick Gasps - 

Both Still Standing, She Turned Around, and Dug Her Forehead Firmly
Into My Chest. Her Hands, Now Wrapped Around My Neck. 
She Pulled me to The Floor. 

                               - The Rain Beat Down Heavy on The Skylight -


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wise Journey Long

Wise journey long;
Settle my soul
When life takes its toll.
What trials bring
will make my heart sing
when healing is released.

Wise journey long,
Settle my soul;
Deep places within.
Wisdom brings deep peace
Bought with scars along the way
Now healed, transformed to gold
When I am old,
For wise hearts know
The cost high
Of days gone by,
Now allow wise gifts released
 	to those who seek its prize.

Wise journey long
For wise hearts belong;
Its treasure to be won
	with perseverance by each one.
Seek its prize in journey long.
Disappointment finds its wings
with steadfast purpose
Promises hearts to sing.
Pursue deep joy only to be found
on journey long.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TRUST

Trust in you.
Trust in your strength.
Trust in your ability to see.
Trust in you ability to do.
Trust in you and you alone.
Trust that you all alone fit into everything else in your circle.
Trust that you make a difference at work,
with your friends,
at home,
at play,
with family.
Trust that you-yourself matters.
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Broken Heart

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

Allow God to bring sunshine into your world.

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


Offering Words of Encouragement
By=Shannon Lynn Farlouis


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thank You For Lesser Blessings

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

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

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

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

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

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


Milton L. Delgado
February 19, 2008


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Virtue and Sin

Knowledge is the path that leads to virtue.
Ignorance is the path that leads to sin.

Hope and expectation enhance patience.
Greed is responsible for so many miseries.

Arrogance begets hatred.
Modesty attracts others.

Forgiveness helps to end conflict.
Revenge sows the seed of further retaliation.

Truthfulness makes things crystal clear.
Dishonesty is the way to deprive others.

Jealousy destroys peace of mind.
Kindness brings forth peace.

Sympathy teaches to sacrifice.
Selfishness destroys friendship.

Love is the key to unity
Hate causes war and strife.

So keep the world inside your mind 
As if it’s your only child.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Choose Life Instead

 I swallowed my life away one day
No desire for the future to play.

No care to live another moment
I just wanted the world to be silent.

A handful of pills I quickly take, 
Soon my body would lose its power to wake.

Satisfaction I felt as my mind lost control
Or was it the Grim Reaper, coming to take my soul.

Two hours later almost too late
Repulsive and denial was my state. 

Two doctors reviving me was my only cure
destroying the poison to kill me for sure?

Can't keep it down & not fighting to try
But it's the only way I'm not going to die.

Waking up from ill unconsciousness 
only to expel the poison of which I digest.

Help me through each waking breath
don't wake me if I drift to my sudden death.

Holding on and don't know why
I'm tired of this old life. 

I wake to find my life hanging by a thread; 
with a spitting headache I wished I was truly dead.

Then I begin to get a picture and a brief moment to find, 
I almost killed myself was I out of my mind.

It was that Gods Love that gave me one more chance to live my life to the fullest 
and spare no expense. 

The voice tells me now it wasn't my time & that Life is MINE , 
to toss away our ONLY Life, for this one Life that we have it is too DIVINE to 
swallow our life away with pills & wine!
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love, my 'Hope' In One Life

Love, my 'Hope' In One Life; 
and when not if, 
it must have come upon me.
Lost in you, held in me, your heart.
Giving you less, 
and lost, you gave me more.
I am failing and the more I fail, 
and more, I wish less to fail.
Failing that, 
will you touch my hand, 
One more time, 
before the light begins to fade.
And even after, after before, before
even after, before that dawn ever came.



Is It Poetry
   
   
 
  r.b.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Heart of Black and White

My words are on paper and my sentences made clear. Such as the testaments for which has traveled from my heart to my pen. Though my message seems clear, my intent is still obscured by the mists of days that has come and passed. Just who am I to say that I understand the hearts of my fellow men around me for I can only guess. Wanting to be remembered, I'd do almost anything to see this pulled through. Now I'm writing of lavish fiction and coffee cake stories for which I know is all a lie. What have I become...? I'm not a monster but, I'm not a saint as I'll never be. Who am I...? Through all the candy coatings of all the stories I've written and told, my heart remains obscured, lost in a blinding veil of mist. My mind seeks cover waiting for when my heart rips in two for the truth it seeks can no longer be handled from reading the lies written down for which I'm dead guilty of. What do I do now? I can't abandon my paper, my stories, and my life's work. All I have left is to embrace this as a part of me, the heart of black and white and the realms of ink and paper. Whatever the day, whatever life throws at me, I will remember the journey between the heart and the pen.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

And God Takes The Blame

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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 | |

Time

Time isn't always as we perceive it. One day, a minute could seem like an hour. 
Another, an hour could seem like a minute. We fool ourselves into thinking that 
we have time. Time to do all the things we put off daily. Time to change ourselves 
into the people we wish to be. However, this is only an illusion. We think we have 
time to do things later when in reality we don't. Watches, clocks, and dials have 
kept time for us over the years, but we have still have failed to realise that we do 
not own time, time owns us. Everyone's hourglass, which contains their sands of 
time, varies. Someone's might be half-full whereas another's is quickly running 
out. No one knows when their destined time will come, and no one knows in 
which way it is coming. All we can do is live our lives while trying to be the best 
we can be. We can't wait around for time, and we can't allow it to pass by. For 
once time is gone, we can't get it back.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Breathe deep

This tattered box has finally burst at the seams with shame and regret.
The first breath of fresh air escapes these frigid lungs of mine.
I can feel the warmth of the sun on my pale skin once more.
These hallow eyes once again embracing the light of day.
The creaking sound of a crooked smile hisses through the cracks of my lips.
My body is frail, and far out of date, but I still manage to drag it out of this chaos
The chaos that has poisoned such a light mind to such a dark place.
It's the dark place that has left me blind to happiness for so long.
Here this voice sing of renewal, and relief, I am alive again!
Feb, 08


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Inspire Me

To be greater than great. To understand that life is not just. To keep moving forward when life gets rough. To learn patience when I can no longer tolerate the mindless ignorance that lies in my face. Inspire Me.... Inspire Me.... Show me something greater.... anything..... A simple hand me down I wear patched at the knee and I'm okay with that. Your just to blinded to see. Now I walk this..this oh so beautiful planet like nothing bothers me. Finally after years of silence you ask What Inspires Me


Details | Prose Poetry | |

MY DARLING DON'T GO

let me hold you tight
all thur the night
let ' us
 do it slow
and more and more
you are my show
don''t walk out the door
HO MY DARLING
DON''t  go


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Together we can


Together We Can

Hold my hand I will walk with you
Together we will ease your pain
Let sobriety be your sunshine
As addiction is your rain.

The path that lies before you
Will not be paved in gold
People will help and with your strength
A new life for you to mould.

Pain will come and pain will go
A mountain you must climb
Tears of grief will sometimes fall
As progress will take time.

My darling wife I promise you
I'll be here by your side
If you fall I'll pick you up
In me you can confide.

Together we can beat this foe
Together we can fight
Together we can hand in hand
March on into the night.


John B Scott


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LET ME LIVE!

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


"IS THIS WHAT GOD WOULD HAVE YOU DO:
TAKE AWAY A LIFE ITS RIGHT TO LIVE...
PREVENT A BIRTH INTO A WORLD,
WHEN HE HAS SO MUCH TO LOVE AND GIVE?

I KNOW THE SORROW YOU WILL FEEL.
OH CHOOSE THE GIFT OF LIFE NOT TO DESTROY!
HOLD ME IN YOUR ARMS FOR JUST A WHILE
AND SOON YOUR PAIN WILL TURN TO JOY!

DID YOU NOT KNOW THAT ALL MY DAYS
WERE WRITTEN IN GOD'S GREAT MASTER PLAN?
I WAS WOVEN TOGETHER FROM THE DEPTHS OF EARTH
LONG BEFORE THE WORLD EVER BEGAN.

AS A CHILD YOU MUST ENTER THE KINGDOM OF GOD.
AS A CHILD HE WAS WORSHIPPED AND ADORED.
TO THE WISE THE WONDERS OF HEAVEN ARE CONCEALED,
BUT TO ITS CHILDREN THE GLORY REVEALED.

YES TO THE CHILDREN THE GLORY IS REVEALED





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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Solace

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


Life,
is never 
going to 
be,

what 
we want 
it 
to be.

It's a 
struggle
to 
survive -

But
that's life,

no day 
is 
ever
the same.....

one day
it's
sunny -

the next,
it's
rain -

So
when trouble 
comes,

God,
hugs me
with a
gentle touch
of
solace -

I say:

Father,

I submit 
to
your
compassion,

I need 
your
caress -

You are
my
supreme
comforter,

of 
faith, hope
and 
love.

My
consoling,

spirit
of
serenity -

I pray for
a
thread
 of 
hope,

to 
succeed,
over
the dark

trials
of my 
tribulation......

I pray that
you,

embrace
me
with your
Devine grace -

walk with
me
today,

tomorrow,
and
always -

Father,

Hug me
with
a gentle
touch
of
solace,

to
comfort 
me
through 
these times -

Amen















 





 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Lament

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

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

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

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


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


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Why Not Stop, Look, Listen, and Observe?

Who can cause rain?
and Who can give showers?
Who relieves our pain?
and Who has all powers?

Who can give us prophetic things?
and then give us spiritual wings?
Why are we so rotten?
Who have we forgotten?

Why are we in many a chain?
Why do we serve these idols in vain?
Why do we , The Word, ignore?
Why do we not question more?

Why are we broke?
Why did we fear that joke?
Why are there vanities?
and many insanities?

Who do we worship?
Why wear a kerchief?
Why are they full of propaganda?
Why, Our God, do they slander?

What about the weak?
Why do we not speak?
Why are we so slack?
Where is the bone in our back?

Why do we not....
Stop, look, listen ,observe?
Maybe this trial we do so deserve?
Maybe the wrong One, we actually serve?

Why do we not look to the prophets?
Why not look to Zephaniah?
Why not repent to get out of the fire?
Why not look to Jeremiah?
Why not repent to get out of the mire?

Why for Satan's System are we a slave?
Why will we not bend , and learn to behave?
Why not seek Our God while there is hope?
Why not die brave, instead of a mope?

Why is there no peace in the land?
Why have we left from holding His hand?
Why when we cry "Peace and Security"
sudden destruction will come?
Why are we not full of God's wisdom?

What about the chaos we deserve ?
Why not stop, look, listen, and observe?


         Copyright McCuen 2008


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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..


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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


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CAUGHT STEALING

you did as a kids
it was appealling
you hand money
in the hands
as you stand
CAUGHT STEALING


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Would others describe you as...?

Being of good character and integrity.
An honest person, a compassionate listener,
a hard worker, a loving person.
Loyal to family,  to friends and to our country,
despite everyone’s shortcomings.

Strong minded, yet not over powering to the point of being repulsive.
Intelligent in ‘life’ experiences, that others may not be familiar.
Not loud or obnoxious, quiet but heard.

Have nothing to prove, but a world of God’s love to share.
Willing to give, but won’t be taken advantage of.
Love freely and accept openly.
Never judge, yet don’t condone wrongdoing.

In a loving, respectful, yet firm way -  speak your mind.
Always there willing to help,
if the person is willing to take that first step.

Learned that forgiveness is for you, more than the one you forgive.
Also learned that the right way is not always the easy way,
But it is by far the best way and most rewarding.

Is this how you would be described?  
It is how I would hope to be.


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The Day Of The Lord

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

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

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

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

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


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


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Would you . .

If I told you of my pain, would you care
Would you understand and tell me you love me too
Or would you turn and walk away

If I wrote to you and spoke of my broken soul
Would you cry and whisper to me in the night
Or would you shake your head and leave me

If I told you of my hurt and where and when it was born
Would you feel the same way and tell me so
Or would you turn away and leave me behind

If I wrote to you and explained all my confusion
Would you understand and tell me its all going to be okay
Or would you throw me away like a . . . forlorn dream

If I screamed out all of my pain at losing you
Would you write to me and tell me you’ll stay instead
Or would you cut away all our ties 

If I stood before you and reached out my hand
Would you take it 
Or would you leave it empty and cry no more for me

If I told you I love you and have since . . .
Would you believe in me still 
Or see me now as a . . . façade of a lingered wish

If I whispered to you from your side of my soul’s . . .
Would you breathe of how much you care deeply for me once more
Or would you really tear me from your life

Would you . . .

Would you . . .

Will you . . .


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The Ashes of Our Innocence

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am rebuilding

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

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

We will end terror.”


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Economic Development

Economic development is the precondition of higher living standard
Therefore we should focus on economic development at first

We know infrastructural development is a must
For economic development of any country
So the government should go for it in the first place
And if necessary they should go for partnership with private entrepreneurs

Now it’s an open market economy
If we want to take off to the sky of prosperity
We need to utilize our own resources including manpower

We need to figure out our competitive advantages
Because it’s not a hard task for us in the information era

Now-a-days tourism is a lucrative sector for any government
Because we are living in the time of globalization

Protectionism is now a history
That’s why
The role of commercial banks and other financial institutions
Is more pivotal than ever

They should provide loan to the industrialists
In such a manner and style
So that the latter can import cutting-edge tech
In order to survive in the fierce competition of open market


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Acceptance

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


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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, 
Weigh, 
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, 
Quiet 
Unmolested silence 
With only the distant cries of . . .
Nature singing it's melodious . . . lullaby


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Many Things

I can do a lot of things and do them well, always have. 
This what I have been asked I fear I cannot do . . . 
What’s more important in this is how I no longer wish to. 

I can do many things and do them well, always have. 
These are my feelings and they run deeply across my soul. 
Woe to me I say because I know its over and drawing near. 
There lies before me a future full of agony of longing unrelenting. 

I can do many things and do them well, always have. 
There is one thing left for me to do and I cannot. 
Will I continue on I have been asked, 
Continue going I’m asked and I cannot do it anymore! 
I can’t keep going for much longer, if at all . . . 
How long am I supposed to go without hope, without anything at all . . ? 

I can do many things and do them well, always have. 
This what I have been asked to do I cannot do . . .
Will you understand when I’m gone and I know you wouldn’t 
For the blame you would place across your shoulders and why . ? 
It’s my life, this is my life and that’s the joke . . right? 
Yeah, as if this is living, as if this is even a pale reflection of life at all!! 
I don’t want this life anymore, I’m sick of it . . . 
No more do I pray for happiness that will never come, 
Instead I pray to close my eyes and never awaken again. 

I can do many things and do them well, always have. 
Please God spare me from growing older, from living at all, 
Please take my soul for I am done with this life without . . . 
Just let me sleep forever, for there is nothing left for me . . . 
Life is empty, meaningless, hollow and all faded away, 
There is no colour left in my eyes anymore, ever again! 
Just agony, just agony . . . 
God won’t give me this prayer I know, instead 
God will grant me an eternity of suffering, 
For she’s never done anything to answer my prayers before. 
Save fill my life with pain, suffering 
And horrible oceans of misery that I drown in every waking moment of this . . . 

I can do many things and do them well, always have. 
I cannot live without . . . I just can’t . . . I . . .


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AM NOT OLD JUST BETTER

yes  i been thur a lot
also had a push cot
worked around the clock
none stop
am ready to fold
i still work in cold weather
AM NOT OLD 
JUST BETTER


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Starved Souls

I looked in the mirror
And my soul was stirring back at me
It looked distorted because I didn't feed it
It said to me "Why didn't you feed me?
And I said "What do you mean?
It repeated itself "Why didn't you feed me?
"Feed you" I said, I feed you everyday"
"I'm not talking about carnal food"
"I'm talking about about spiritual food"
"What is spiritual food?" I Replied
"The word, The word," my soul said
"what word" I asked
"Don't you know?" asked my soul
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said
"The word of truth," my soul replied
"Of what truth," I asked
"The word of God" my soul replied
Oh!, that," I said
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know"
"Read Matthew John 16" said my soul
"Give yourself over to the word
And you'll find life eternally
And I will no longer look destorted and messed up"
"Alright, I'll do that," I said to myself
And for that whole day my heart pondered
And I wondered about my life
So I listened to my soul
And my life haven't been the same since



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Democracy

If a country’s majority of people are illiterate
Democracy will bear no sweet fruit
Whereas if a country’s most of the people are educated
Democracy will bring peace, harmony and prosperity.

Therefore governments ought to provide education to all citizens
In order to obtain good results of democracy
And if necessary they should go for free education
For the poor people irrespective of sex.

On the other hand education should be up to the mark
And moral education should also be provided
So that a corruption-free society can be established.

Thus democracy is able to set up a welfare state
Within a minimum timeframe.


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In Darkness

I stood in darkness searching
Then I saw the light …

The light of your face
Shown bright … lighting the way

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

Your arms lift me
When from weakness I fall

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

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

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

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

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



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PLANS FOR MY BABY

its my new born
in a world thats torn
i will make a stand
do the best i can
make sure its in the right hands
this is not mabe
PLAN FOR MY BABY


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HOT LEGS

it that time
when there sunshine
they walk and talk
thur parks
and ride bus chart
short dress 
tho it may be mess
you can't help but peg
a look at those 
HOT LEGS


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Sidewalk Ant

I like ants.
They're adorable.
With their tinky little bodies and legs, 
They put a tiny little smile on my face.

I remember there's things I love about the world,
Like how each ant,
Works all day with his family,
And how they all built their home together,
On a crack
That someone will inevitably step on.

I respect that ant.

As a child with minimal understanding,
I would make games
Of crushing ants beneath my sneakers,
Or blowing down their noble mounds.
I would never do that now.

Those ants inspire me!

If I venture outside with laziness
On a ninety-five degree day,
I find them scurrying faster than days past
When the temperature 
Had been seventy!

Their endless motivation tickles me.

To see an ant this spring is to remember
That there's more 
Than winter's obnoxious squirrels
And harsh words from a chilled humanity.
Where were those ants all winter?


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My Aim

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

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


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Caged Souls

It was a bright beautiful day
A lovely beautiful sunny day
Suddenly ghostly winds appeared
They became violently raging
I was caught up in it
I was neither here or there
I found myself trapped in a place
That I was not familiar with
It was a place full of souls
The souls were wailing and crying
They begged me to set them free
But I could not reach them
You see there was a gulf between them and me
I could not reach them
Some had signs on them that said
"I'm here because I did not obey
Others had signs that said "I did not believe
While others said " I did not forgive"
And another one said "I blasphemed his holy name"
They was wailing and gnashing their teeth
They were all trapped in those cages
And being tormented by their sins
Whatever they was tormented with in the first life with
They was tormented eternally with
A teat dropped from my eye
One soul tried to grab it, but it quickly dried up
I felt hopeless because I could not save them
Then i heard the ghostly winds return
They swirled and twirled violently
And with the blinking of an eye
I was back where I was
The day became bright again
And I said to myself
"That was a trip, I sure hope I don’t end up in that place"


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The Darkness' Hold

The darkness has a tendency to distort and influence your thoughts. When you 
are in the light, the darkness has no control over you. Once you return to the 
darkness, the light is of no aide. The light brings about peace, and the darkness 
brings about uncertainty. Things which seem fine during the day appear distorted 
at night. I don’t know if it is because of the loneliness and solitude found at night, 
or if it is because the light is nowhere to be found. Either way, I always dread 
those hours spent in darkness. My mind races and my heart hurts of uncertainty. 
I doubt myself and I fear that which, during the day, gave me little grief. There is 
no way out of the darkness, and the only way to come to terms with and deal with 
it is to realize that it has no power over you. It is only an illusion that your mind 
perceives as a reality. This false reality only has a hold on you whilst you allow it 
to. Once you let go of the fear, the darkness loses its power.


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Politics of Corporate

There was a media sensation to make President Obama
ruler of this Nation, as long as he did what he was told,
Everyone would remain sold,
Two years into his reign, America is filled with contempt
and disdain,
From Wall Street to Corporate America naysayers are
screaming retribution, instead of Halleluiah!
They are calling for doom and gloom for those who voted him in,
The reign of consequences and punishment have begun,
A backlash for demoralizing the nation's favorite sons,
Privacy exists no more when one goes to pull the lever
at the voting polls,
There are spies waiting to report your elections like
mindless trolls,
Companies are engrossed in their employees'
political preferences, ultimately punishing them
for any differences,
Our Country would rather sink like the Titanic
than have a "zebra" running it,
Nevertheless, we must forge ahead and create 
change,
Even when we are ostracized and avoided like mange.







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PEN AND PAD

carry always 
its your aids
mabe you write
can't tyde
its not sad
just don't be had
carry a
PEN AND PAD


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Your chosen best

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

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

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

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

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


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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 comedy...band 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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The Unfettering

Whistling through blackness
True to its orbit

Illusion of freedom
Wistful eternity

Peace in sight
But out of reach

Searching for doors
Where only windows appear

Must generate…
Escape…velocity

Must go faster
Must try harder

Fighting for inches
Unloading foul ballast

Smashing oaken doors
Their dirty guards slaughtered

Profound nourishment
Awaiting

Kicking like embryo
Clawing at billowy membrane

Shadowy cocoon falling
Away in torn shards

Gray-haired infant
Buttery with promise

No time to remember
The rolling blackness

Not continuing
Just beginning

Now





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Two Important Things Never to Forget

Each day we face many mental perils, have to make many important decisions, 
like what color socks to wear.  Some things must take priority, however, and it's 
important to keep them in mind.  The first is to be comfortable with yourself; you 
may not be perfect, but, darn, who is?  Be happy with yourself if you can truely say 
I did not intentionally hurt anyone today.  There's more than enough bad people 
out there to do that for you.  So pat yourself on the back for a day of sainthood!
The second thing is....uh...the second thing is....um...is...shoot, I don't remember!


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The Snow it Fell Like Feathers

The snow , it fell like feathers--
a downy kind of drift, but
Spring; although on the rise, 
was not yet fully'here.
Then the sky began to rain--or weep,
Though I have no reason why--
But I think that it was saddened
By the  how quickly winter passed us by.
But for every tear the sky did shed,
A blade od grass did grow...
Teaching me a lesson that,
Before I didn't know.
A cycle it was--before my eyes,
Life's grand way to carry on.
Throw a stream or two about the land, 
And watch the Salmon spawn.
"A miracle! A miracle!," 
I yelled with all my might..
I believe I'll look quite differently
At the stars that shine tonight!


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Love Seeded into Two

LOVE SEEDED INTO TWO
Love seeded into two
Turning away from sullen blue.
Time Capsules, souls search, 
for treasures and purpose, purpose.
Sullen bellows of gusty winds, there
treads the daughter of mortal sin,
as she grins and picks her victim the truth surfaces.
Abuse, slander, scandal and divorce of principles,
she settles down to a poor man's life.
Creation solely, only, for you going forward to another life.
We are allowed more than one, more than one.
So the sun comes out and smiles and shines brightly
from without and within. There is no sin.
There's reality of pain and the heart wearing thin.
Sink or swim to the shore or out another open, closed door
wondering how you tripped to the floor.
Scams, revelations, points you made in school, 
staring at statues of the immortal fathers, 
you play piano on the stool.
Crazy aspirations, 
pains pass you… asking why there is  
death and loss
accumulated. 
You will tear them from your heart 
as the years go by.
Dreams of money, power, fame and sex, 
writing out those bills and checks.  
Mundane paper-work, 
knowledge from a book, 
turning trash into treasure, 
while making it rhyme.  
Playing the lover, the playmate, the grocer and, the cook may spoil.  
Oh the turmoil when we go blind, 
we die, 
we love, 
we toil, only in the human time. 
And then God reaches in and spins the records to the tune of you, 
where love is love 
and truth is true.


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MAKE A STAND

make a start
be a part
get on a stand
get your demands
have a plan
reach out your hands
MAKE A STAND


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WARE HOUSE SALE

here's where to go
its a cheap store
buy more
rain snow or hail
this is a
WARE HOUSE SALE


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SURE THING

having a check come in
like a good friend
you always win
with a grim
no matter what other bring
this cure some pain
its a
SURE THING


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A matter of time

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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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 
behalf.

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 
life!

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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Import and Export

Import the things more the country really need
For its economic development
Such as food, raw materials for various industries
Technology, electric power and so on.

Export the things that are surplus and competitive
And whose demand is in the foreign countries.

With a view to boost export
The government should minimize export duty
And encourage the exporters
By reducing tariff on import of associated raw materials.   

The government must discourage import of nonessential items
By imposing higher import duty
And encourage production of luxury items in the country.

In the modern world international trade can play a vital role
In the economic development of any country
That’s why the governments must emphasize on it evermore.


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My Baptism

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

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

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

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

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


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Christianity - 30+ CE PART TWO

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


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The Being (Part Two of Two)

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

‘… The Being ’

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

to…  ‘… The Being ’

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

… This Is… ‘ The Being ’

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

… ‘ Your Beauteous Being ’…


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I had a dream

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

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

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

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

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

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


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Winds of Your Voice

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


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Last Chance Quiz

The challenge ends at midnight, tonight,
New york time

The questions, again:

1)What is the significance of "The Mystic Knights Of the Sea"

2) What is the significance of the following: Up, Down,Top, Bottom, Strange,
Charmed.....

1st prize- a tom bell autographed poetry book
2nd prize- not getting a tom bell poetry book
GRAND PRIZE!!!!-Banning tom bell from this site forever, if you so wish

The decisions of the judge (me!) will be final,  well at least for a week.....


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Yes, my child

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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Wash over me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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The Being (Part One)

Aeons and Aeons and Aeons  of  Energy
Beaming Both Ways into Infinity
Ultimate – Top Level – Supremacy
Pure – Power, Full-Force – Almighty
… Too Awesome in The Intensity
for Either you or me, to See…

‘… The Being ’

We – Cannot Look Fully Nor Comprehend
That There Was No Beginning and Never Will End…
He  Exists!  He  is Alive!... Have you Not Felt The Wind?
Have you Not Heard of The Garden of Eden
and The Miracle of Life, He Continues to Send?...
… If its Just Too Much Mystery for Men
Just Bow your Head and Say… Amen…

to ‘… The Being ’

… I Cry at the Thought of Your Handsome, Vigorous Visage
Saying to Your Son, “Let Us Make Man in Our Image…”
Oh, That We Should Have Such a Prestigious Lineage
And You Gave Mankind Every Advantage
It Was others, who Came Along and Damaged
With False-Food, they Gave, Left Humans Famished
… but Your Children Will Return One Day – Unvanquished…

to  ‘… The Being ’

‘ He ’… Who Makes Become… Is ‘First – Cause!...
And We… Are All-Entourage, Entailed, Excited, Enthralled!
‘ He ’… Is to Be Blessed – Above – All
This Is ‘ The One ’ , Worshiped at Kingdom Halls
His … Is The Voice… We Wait to Hear – Call
We … Are To Follow All Of His Laws…
… from the A to Z… Alpha – Omega… and ‘Aleph – Taw…

‘… The Being ’

The Omnipotent Personage Is Excelsior
O’ Maker, Most High, Your Majesty Is Superior
There Was Nothing Before Your Shining Mirror
We Will Never Know All You Wore
Yours,  Is The Pitcher, Which Pours – Always More
… The Opened – Window of Wonder and Drama of:  The Door
Everything Is Yours and You Are The Core…

‘… The Being ’

‘ He ’… Is Our Journey and Our Destination
‘ He ’… Is The Quintessential Manifestation
‘ He ’… Is The Innermost-Part… ‘ HE ’, Is The Passion
‘ He ’… Is The Giver of All Satisfaction
‘ He ’… Is The Privacy… ‘ He ’… Is The Protection
His  Moving, Is A Marvel… Watch Him  In  Action!…

‘… The Being ’

Such Indescribable, Yet Desirable, Dynamic Dignity
Your Grandeur Is Like Immense Gravity
So Immeasurable Is YOUR Ability
Again… Is True Love… Too Much A Mystery?...
There Is No Greater Identity
than That of The Eternal- Emperor – Entity…

‘… The Being ’


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5 Minutes Of Clarity And A Single Moment Of Serenity

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


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Fabel Twentyone

The city was under snow encamped in ice and wet the water never ceased to fall 
for days at times we cried my friend and eye. 
The poor were never satisfied with bread they always cried for meat to feed the 
lust replete now buried in the caverns if the sleet came near the hydras of the 
long forgotten faded flowers in the snow marking time to be considered luck. A 
Penny tossed when drinking drunk not stoned. A Penny lands in jail on tails and 
soon the food will come. Poor not poorly educated just missing love. 
 Christianity - 30+ CE PARTTWO
Flipped a penny turned to tails changed the luck to better days moving down the 
road with no heavy loaded gun shooting only wishes at the stars. Eye have a 
solar powered outlook not on life but down my nose. 
Girls at home still not in collage need to play with Barbie leave the Ken doll in the 
box. Alone. He is not the chieftain of the dolls. Fallow fish are useless days are 
wasted lost seaming calibrations find the reason for the rhymes.The science that 
deals with mental processes and behavior is sometimes revered as psychology 
the moderators quite agree the thought process is interrupted in some people 
call them crazxy treat them normal feed them house them bury them in wasted 
places sweep them up in boxes marked for burial let no one get away. Murder 
rules the day. 
Play games and get mad take the ball and bat back home save them for the next 
day come. Dress up in your finery hose smelling like a rose in purple jaded livery 
repose upon the couch in linen and in majesty her majesty arose. Toss a 
penny “is it tails?” read the poem prose the CharlaX Fabel Twentyone and love. 


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A Seagull's Salute

My dear mother always had a fondness for seagulls.
I don't know why, we lived far from the sea...
The day of her funeral, as the hearse circled the block of our home, 
An old American custome hardly done anymore...
I was quite schocked to see a seagull overhead slowly looping as an airplane on 
parade...
Near fifty years, and I'd never seen one locally,
Food for thought.


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Judgment Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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Wind Mountain


High above the horizon
rises your form of gray Zion.
Shawls of majestic boughs
of evergreens.

The ground covered with pine needles
the essence of nature blows in the wind.
Serene Silence evolves here in Mother Nature.

Ray fingers from the spirit sun, dance
caressing the heartbeats of brown earth.
The small mountain variety of flowers,
bloom and flourish in this rich soil.

I sit quietly and mediate,
I am one with the rolling
streams, floral bounty, winds,
that toil on this mountain.

Here on Wind Mountain I come to
the great spirit in the heavens,
one as a child of his creation.



 I am always drawn to nature and spiritual inspiration in the end. For me when the world
seems cruel and overbearing to live within I withdraw to the Creators Zion.


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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)


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I called you by name

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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But For A Short While

They were with us but for a short while
Their good works now live on in memory to make us smile-
Their joys, their tears, their hopes, their dreams and yes, even their sorrows and 
pains still linger on; they still remain in the portals of the minds of all whose lives 
they have touched-whether little or whether much-

And as they have now gone and left us in body, gone back to dust-
In spirit, it's only but for a short while.

For they who die in the Lord, one day they must:

       At the sound of the trump, as the clouds roll back, meet us in the presence of  
         the Redeemer, Christ, when He returns to gather His Father's children      
          home to the Kingdom of God where we will all prepare together to return 
           to the New Earth from the New  Heaven  to dwell in Eternal Righteousness-
Where joy and peace will be forever and ever, for our eternal home will be 
restored to a place where we can join together to live, worship in praise  to our 
Lord, receiving our crown and  reward of Eternal Life.

So, sleep on sister, brothers, friends, and loved ones; it is but for a short while,   
 for the  Day will come when we shall meet together once again, and all of us will 
be at Rest

In the Presence of God's Glorious Eternal Bliss!


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The Hole

I was born in a very small town in the middle of a vast, vast land. 
It was filled with ranches, cattle and grass and the world’s toughest breed of man. 
I was raised with the mythical western cowboy but he halts no mystery for me
for they were my friends, neighbors and some were my family. 
Large ranches leave little room, for things that bloom, that a cow will not eat up, 
the mystery is not in the cowboy but it is in what the cowboy loves.
In West Texas there stands a great giant hole a void where only the cattle grow, 
there are few schools and little to do, but work and watch the wind blow. 
It is a harsh land and it has culled many a man for not being tough enough, 
he will pack up his kit and hit the road go looking for something more to love.
I was born and raised and culled from there and for me the mystery goes on. 
I have given it thought for many a year just what is it that the cowboy loves. 
If you find yourself in West Texas stop in on any little town
where you can shake the hand of the world’s toughest breed of man 
and ask him what it is that the cowboy loves. 
He may share his secrets with you. or just say he doesn’t know, 
stay only a day then drive away get the hell out of that hole.
For it is a harsh but magic land were you must bring your own opportunely. 
So if your ignore my warning and give to the lure of the Prickle-Pear and Mesquite tree, 
then I’ll envy you, to be the few, who live in the hole where I so long to be, 
for I love and miss those tough hardy souls with there open hearts, who greet you so
gracefully. 
Maybe that is what the cowboy loves and it was always there for me to see


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God's Garden

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

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

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

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

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


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My Prayer

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

Keep me from saying
Anything hurtful to another
Silence my tongue

Let peace flow throughout
Your church family
My church family

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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You are the Reason

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

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

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

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

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

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


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Corner-Stoned

Bowing down for this subtle borrow in trade, 
My head just pounds with an ache just throbbing away.
My thoughts gathered and crunched with a million bits and pieces of the obvious.
But lots of unnoticed empty space!
You are there and I am here. 

Calculating, analyzing and specifying such fine details that are completely misplaced.
Never bending and never-ending our minds spin wheels like bulked bails of rolling hay.
If I shouldn’t, then I couldn’t, and if I couldn’t, then I wouldn’t.
But I’d never say that I didn’t outrun that race.
Angled in time leaning straight forward with those hands turning mine,

I’m catching up to our dawning of today.
The Sun has risen above our dark blanketed night.
Taking the shadows that linger with my soul’s final debate,
The Moon stands corner-stoned guarding glares that glow over darkness,
Veiling off your sights that radiate!
You say this and I say that.
But a compromise is far from this archer’s perfect aim targeting at my hindsight.

You’re always right, 
But so am I justifying boundaries to your realistic reasoning for my analyzed why.
Following you, following me,
We are all that we will ever be.
My night becomes the next day and your day becomes the next night.
Like spinning merciless on a merry-go-round,
My own mind has to question the who, what, and where am I.
Challenged by my own self-defeat, 
I’m corner-stoned with so many of those that have lost to a forgotten lie.
Defeated by my own self-lack to compete, 
You’re corner-stoned with so many years of albeit, 
So I’ll defy and you justify!

® Registered: Ann Rich   2002


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Name

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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!!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reigning!

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

You know what Your child
Needs before even I know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Winter of our lives

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

True Worth

Indeed,Boundless knowledge 
beyond physical wealth
becomes true precious worth


Copyright McCuen 2008


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I AM sufficient

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

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

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

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

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

I AM sufficient


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Clip My Wings






I do not fear to clip my wings,
of lover, friend, or carnal things.
I lean into the winds of spirit,
and gently I am lifted in
soaring heights.

My being trembles with delight,
surrounded by angelic flight of light.
No fear to soar to the heavens gates,
or cross the streams below with
no goal.

I am free as a bird gliding on wings
soaring ever so high above the earth.
Warmed by the hearth of the Father's
Heart.


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 | |

The Sea and Sky

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Enough to Know

It is true I've dreamed many dreams that never came true. 
I watched them vanish when dawn came through. 
But I've realized enough of my dreams 
so I continue to dream on. 

In my life, I've prayed many prayers, 
when no answers came; 
I wanted to be patient and long 
enduring. 
Enough answers came through from my prayers 
that I still to this day keep praying. 

I trusted many a person would call themselves friends 
who failed and left me alone and weeping, 
But through it all I gleamed enough friends 
so true to keep me trusting on. 

I've sown many a seed that fell by 
the way. 
The foul of the air found food in day 
I seen enough bountiful fields from my hands 
that keeps me sowing on. 

I've sipped from the cup of disappointment 
and pain I've drained many a day no joyful song. 
Still I've sipped enough nectar from the sweetness 
of life to make me want to live on. 

I've learned in my life that the love we give to others.,
that keeps coming back for more of the tenderness ,
and compassion the friendship and relations 
that keeps us all going on. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I wrestled

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So, see you still can’t win!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I have not ignored

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am making a mighty vessel as you are fired with trials; only the flawless vessels 
withstand the kiln  heat as it is fired.  Those with flaws crack, break,  shatter to 
pieces, and prove to be useless to a potter.

But you shall withstand the kiln heat.  You will come forth as a strong and useful 
vessel in which many will drink.

A vessel that feeds the hungry, gives drink to those who thirst, love and 
compassion to those who hurt; for one who has truly experienced hurt will know 
the hurt of another.

And through you will I heal the hurting,  minister to the afflicted, and love the 
lonely.  Because you feed, give drink and have compassion, not only to their flesh 
but also to their spirits.  They feel it!  They hunger for more and with My vessel I 
give to them, more and more.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thoughts

Thoughts race through my mind
Spinning me round and round

Such an over whelming feeling at times
That I can hardly stand upright, from weakness I fall

Reaching for a hand to hold
I stretch forth reaching

Is anyone there?
Where are the arms to hold me close?

Will I pass through this time
And come out alright?

As I look into my Savior’s eyes
I see His compassion

He reaches to me
The hand that I need reaches out

He lifts me up from my fall
Wipes the tears and binds the wounds

His gentle touch heals the heart
And brings strength to my soul

His love fills my spirit, gives me hope in days to come
Always knowing He is there

Reaching for a hand to hold
I stretch forth reaching

To find His hand stretched toward mine
And His arms open wide


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I hunger

I hunger after You
Longing to see You face

Wanting peace within
I long for that peace again

What did I do, where did I go?
That You would seem so far from me

Worldly things got in my way
My heart turned from You

Emptiness fills my days
Sadness fills my soul deeply

Know that I need Your joy
Forgive me, take me back into Your arms!

I thirst after You
Let me drink in Your presence

My spirit seeks Your comfort
My soul desires Your peace

My heart cries out for Your love
I hunger after You, oh Lord

For my desire is to be with You
Take me back into Your arms, hold me tight!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

He is my God

Don’t look at the ground
that crumbles beneath you.
Don’t fear a fall, for I have you.
I AM your support,
the one that holds you safe.
Look up to My eyes,
look up and away
from the fears that try to take you down.
When all is gone,
am I not still here beside you?
Then look only to Me!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My prayer in death

Dear Lord,

My Journey here finally has ended.  I am now at rest as I have so long awaited.

I could only imagine what beauty and peace there would be in coming home!  I 
pray that all my loved ones would have this peace also.

Lord, help them understand this glorious rest, that I have!  Fill them with peace 
and guide their lives that they may find the strength and comfort in living their life 
with You and for You.

For it is a wonderful and glorious rest. To be with You in heaven will be full in all 
ways, rich in love, joy and peace.  To be in Your presence truly will make  
everything brilliant.

I shall have no more pain, no fear and no sadness.  With ease I will be  able to 
dance and rejoice, as all illness and disease shall be gone!

Lord, be with each person that mourns of my passing.  Show Yourself  to them, 
that they may know You are real!  That You love and care for them Far more than 
anyone.

For You Lord, are the author of love, and You give it so freely. All they need is to 
accept it, Cherish it, and  hold  tight  to it.

You are always near them, waiting.  Waiting for the day that they call out, “Lord 
God, please . . . I need You!  Make Yourself  known to me!  Forgive me!  Save me!”

And when they call out ... You will be there. Because You are faithful and true.
Just as You have been for me.  I wait to be awaken by Your mighty voice.

Call out soon Lord!  Until then I rest in Your peace, as You have given me deep 
sleep for a season, then the joy of arising to rejoice!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Dear Mother Teresa

I imagine you're as sick of the mother teresa jokes, as I am of the bell 
ones..."ding, dong" ring my chimes, on and on.etc.

anyway: re; the door; me too, and countless zillions of others.. but to us, ours are 
the ones we deem to count to ...this is purely a natural trait...Death is the sword of 
Damacles' held over all our heads, and worse yet, to those we love...and when it 
collects it toll...our hearts have to dig a new hole.
best regards, tom


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Blessings

Blessings flow unending…
Daily we have them,
Some we see
Some we don’t

There are those we appreciate 
While others we could do without

Thankfully, God knows
What we truly need
More so than we…

That even those blessings
We would rather not have
He can and will use to bless us abundantly
If we accept and allow

I want all the blessings to flow
Unending from God above


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Empty Nooses

When I opened my eyes, all I could see was landscape full on trees with empty nooses

My father was a runaway slave, who was captured by them bounty hunters. Daddy wanted  to
be free, and provide for his family

Why do we kill and enslave other man for their differences or color of skin. The answer my
friend is blowing in the wind. The answer derives from the sweet taste of sin, created by
the love, the power and the color of money

The empty nooses keep on  blowing in the wind

I remember, they kicked, beat and then dragged my daddy, unconsciously to that old oak tree
Lord, back in the day, Colored People was restricted from sitting or resting underneath
them trees with nooses

After they captured my pappy; they wrapped a dry noose round his neck so tight, that I
could smell the rope burns on his neck

When I opened my eyes, all I could see was landscape full on trees with empty nooses

They hung my daddy from that tree. Well, I was six years old, and I dropped to my knees. I
ask the Lord to spare my father’s life and to forgive these evil people, for they do not
know what they do

God put His hand in the story. Then, He clapped His Hands, and His spiritual power
released the nooses from all the dead slaves

God said, “Walk with me, and you shall receive eternal life in the kingdom of heaven. Walk
with me down this road of light."

Then, He hurled a bolt of lightening at the landscape of empty nooses and said, from this
day forth, I promise thee, that empty nooses shall never be the fruit among these trees.

Never again, shall empty nooses blow in the wind.