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Prose Poetry Lonely Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Lonely

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fire And Ice

Fire and ice fill these veins, dreams 
are no longer sufficient to quell the
turbulent tides that quarrel within.
Deep within butterflies dance out 
of sync, and the heartstrings  await
the magical fingers of the harpist.
Solitudes aura is cold and clammy,
there is a dark side to this loneliness
that I cannot comprehend, it leaves
me wanting. This lonely castle wall
where so many poets have cast their
words, thrown their hearts to a new
horizon or a setting sun, is where I 
await the tide that brings you forth.
For I know you are real, we have
touched in another time, drank the
wine, made love, danced the dark
hours in passion. Dim my vision
since you waltzed these eyes, my
Queen come to me, come with
haste, fill these arms, fill this
heart, kindle the fires and melt
the ice. Bring me stars , bring me 
paradise, give me lips as soft as
snow, give to me your love and
these castle walls would crumble
before your smile. Patiently I
stand these walls, scanning the
seas for that sail that conveys our
union, lonely but so in love.

















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 | |

A Lonely Grave

1

I stood by your graveside this cold winters day.

A heart broken with sorrow that won’t go away.

I called out your name and shed many a tear.

And hoped in my heart that you would appear.

2

God took you from us that fine sunny morning.

Our lives now shattered without any warning.

Your work here on earth has finished this year.

Your books and teachings you spread  far and near.

3

It was a pleasure to know you for sixty odd years.

And when my time comes I will have no fears.

You will be waiting to greet me as oft times before.

When I call to your house and knock on the door.

4

Each night when I lay my head down to sleep.

I will ask the lord your soul to keep.

And if you find any time away from your books.

Look kindly on me as I walk in those woods.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Yeh Khamoshi

tum bhi toh abhi khamosh ho aur hum bhi
aur na jaane kya kehti hai yeh khamoshi...

uss din jab  tum  mile the humse yeh nahi pata tha ki yeh mulaquaat hogi 
humari aakhri...
aur mehsoos hua tha tab ek dard dil mein jab tut gaya humara woh benaam  
sa rishta aur phir ban gaya ek naya rista lekin yeh nahi pata tha ki, yeh naya 
rista hoga yeh khamoshi...

haan kuch lamhe ki thi yeh galatfehmi ki awaaz  lekin jab tut kar giri  yeh awaaz 
kaanch ki tarah , toh bikar gayi aur ban gayi yeh khamoshi...


kuch sawal the tumhare jiske jawab tab nahi the paas humare, aur jo the sawal 
humare woh kahin dab gaye aur bankar rahi gayi yeh khamoshi...


kabhi agar phir se mann main aaye yeh sawal tumhare toh padh lena meri yeh 
khamoshi...
aur jawab phir bhi na mile toh padh lena humari inn aankon main ,jahan boonde 
bankar behti hai yeh khamoshi....


nahi thi galti tumhari jo tum hume samajh nahi paye...
naa hi thi galti  humari jo tumhe hum samjha bhi na paaye , phir waqt beeth ta 
sa chala gaya aur reh gayi yeh khamoshi...


ab toh subah se shyaam aur shyaam se raat beet jati hai,waqt bewaqt dil main 
dard ke toofan sa uth ta hai ,phir bhi chup rehti  hai tumhari aur meri yeh 
khamoshi...

kehna hai toh bahut kuch tumse magar kahun bhi toh kaise jab humare vich hai 
yeh khamoshi...


jaane anjaane jo dard maine diya hai tumhe aaj phir woh dard batati hai 
tumhari yeh aankhein aur tumhari yeh khamoshi...


ab itne tut gaye hain hum bhi ki bas yehi khwahish reh gayi ki  tut jaye yeh sab 
doori aur bol uthe yeh khamoshi...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Should I die before you miss me

Should I die before you miss me

I spend my days dreaming about you
Dreaming about how good it felt just to be around you
I miss the smell of your hair; your smile and your sweet face
ShouId I die before you miss me
I want you to know I love every inch of you.

The love that i have for you even gods envy it.
Wherever I will be if I am allowed to envelope my heart;I will stamp it and address it to you.
You gave me hope when there was no hope
You gave me strength when I was losing the fight
Should I die before you miss me
I want you to know I would have changed everything about me so that I can be with you

You made me whole; when I was just a lost piece of the chess game
You became my queen and protected me like a King deserves
In anger I send you away
So should I die before you miss me
I need you to understand that you are the only one that can bring the sun to me .You are the only one that can make my name rest in the comfort of the sun. You're the only one that can let my soul dance in the grass .Should i die before you miss me i want you to know i will not rest till I find a way to walk into the corridors of your heart again.

written by Tawona M Ranganawa


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Forum with My Heart: The Jungle's Lonely Voice

Eleven – “Novelism: The-Newness-of-the-Old”
(for: Deborah Guzzi, my poetess-commentator)
… & the argument continues
… That nothing new exists of itself in Nature is now a widely reputed view. Nothing is new
but for the very thought of its novelty! Yet, the Newness-of-the-Old, an idea which I call
Novelism, permeates the entire horizon of the anti-novel ferment of our Age of Fashion.
	It is true that Nature is full of repetitions; Creative Repetitions, of course! If not
History would have died repeating the same tales. However, it isn’t true that Nature is so
reluctant in giving us new things. We would rather contend that through her seeming
change-less fixtures, Nature shows her constant dynamism. Yes, all these fixtures, the
endemic sufferings of her staticism, celebrate her novelty in endless forms.
	O, think of them: of all the activities of the Mortal star, Man; of his crafts: those
apparent webs of his genial faculties that applaud him as the Genius of Creation – what is
so old & traditional but our ordinances of Sleep & Wake, Work & Feed, & other vigilant
demands of our cultures? & what isn’t tempered with our spirit of fashionism in such
cultural voices?
	Nature may, then, be afraid of innovation & be accused of abject conservatism, only by
those who are lazy to follow her rhythmic changes. Everywhere these rhythmic drums beat so
loudly!
	When we think of the joyous travails of the Sun; of the virginous reputation of the Moon;
of the crudity of the beast; of the swift & endless voyage of moving waters into Seas &
Oceans; of the swift slippery driving styles of the Fish; of the Sky laughing at the
endurant soils of our Earth; of the Seasons in their equilibrium songs; of the ever-happy
& singing Birds – what notes of dynamisms we hear! & in neglecting such notes, aren’t we
heading for a dance of the heroic pessimism?
	While we consciously neglect the novelties in a society by demanding for a kind of
novelty, aren’t we adding to the Crises of Nature? – but, Nature’s personality can’t be
forced to possess unnatural garments that we extend! Then, let Ideas possess the Society,
not Individuals! Ideas lead to newness, although, ideas are created by men; men go out of
the Stage more swiftly than their ideas. If the Idea rules the Setting rather than the
Voice of Man, then Novelism, the-Newness-of-the-Old, would thrive; & thriving, she could
bear her drivers, the men of ideas, along the paths of Innovation!
(… & the argument continues)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dreamer

Close your eyes for awhile my friend, I heard there lies a moon far behind the black sky, I heard lovers were dancing beneath, can you hear them singing? I can feel their tipsy steps making rhymes on floor, and smell of perfumes filling the air, I heard a sun rises to brighten up their world, and birds do sing them charming melodies at morning, they say they have roses in colors and beautiful trees in the streets, and have they told you about the sea yet? They say it smells so wonderful and the delicate air of seas caresses their cheeks with soft wet breezes, oh my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the fragile ghosts that we are!

“Hush” whispered to me, “I lighted up a moon inside my heart and I smell lilies and jasmine in my nose, my dreams play tunes my heart dance on, they speak to me all night and there I see a starry night floats above, I feel the warmth of a sun in my soul as it hugs tight, whispering to me hymns of love and joy, lightening candles for hopes which had accompanied me amongst the dark, why have you closed your eyes my friend? Look through the colorful roses I painted for you with eyes wide open, let the lights off so you would see clearer, let the lights off so you can brighten up the world that hides with you, for my friend, what have we seen in the dark but the free spirits that we have become!


* If you enjoyed this piece, follow the link and share your thoughts
http://echoes19.wordpress.com/2013/01/22/dreamer-2/


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Through my Glare

My face in these eyes;
Shining towards the sky all the time
My shape is a novel with thousands of chapters.
My hair is a forest of thoughts.
My eyes are decades of worry.
My lips are opened door. 
My ears receive the howls of the wind.
My nose is a statue looking for lost spirit.
My body is too weak as Hercules was not,
My heart is arrested there searching for freedom.
My back is affected by the past as an ancient wall.
My hands are wings of bird have just escaped from a trap.
My feet are quickly driving me towards the future.
To nowhere I’m running without fixed level. 
I’m sentient enough with my semblance.
***
My face on the mirror;
I watch a tidy man’s scene with many interpretations.
Have a gaze at; it is deep and brightening.
Realize the motivation:
What really goes on with this reflection?
There would be no disturbance;
Just give that white pen.
I will write about your beauty.
I would show some reality about this mood.
How mysterious are the man and I?
Do not take us with you in this heat time,
Do not push us inside your dreams.
You will see such dusk,
Due to the night is so dark.
And I’m just a night bird.
***
My face on the murmuring stream;
Wet and dry, it is alternative all the time.
Do you like this race?
All this vitality is carelessly being wiped away,
Looking forward the oblivious chair
Who has the key of stopping the tragedy?
It is forevermore, a simple destiny-
Not imagination but messy
It causes a bit horror inside the iron core.
What is beyond the mountains?
The needles in the smooth path are confusing the soul.
The soul is still running wild under lovely trees.
Trees are inside scary jungle.
Though, there is an exit.
I’m fixed in my way,
And I’m fixed in my way.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

How I Wish To Run Away

How I wish to abandon my guilt
to live in silence,
without leaving any trace or space
for anyone to catch me.

How I wish to run towards the ocean
drown my emotions, 
my past memories thorough,
through the distance.

How I wish my priceless love dwells
in the silence of the night,
when my teary eyes feels
my children`s undying spark
without any doubt.

How I wish to abandon 
my speechless fear,
run to unlock my love
lock them in the unknown,
to remain honest to my fame.

Everything is crumbling, 
my inner fatigue,
my wounds that speak
without hearing a sound,
and my scars that smell bitter.

How I wish I could race away
as I want to live far from whom
I`ve become.
Take a boat in a rush,
even with a risk of drowning
remains in my mind.

How I wish I could dream 
of a wider dream
to wake up with me in the morn,
stand amazed and free again
to rearrange my life, 
hide my biggest secret
and piece together 
my coming days.

How I wish I could run away.
Therese Bacha
27 May 2014


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The hand named Love

There is a hand out there
and it is named Love;
don't be alarmed,
for she is a lovely hand and she smiles at you,
yet I can't find her to save my life.
If you find that hand called love,
please could someone shake it for me,
yes- please shake it for me.

.2.10.2014.


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 | |

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 | |

The Lost One

Shivers my heart, by the sound of thunder,
In the world of darkness, alone the soul wander,
The twilight that has no string of light,
Seems its brightness is eaten by night,
Frightened, every particle, every life and the nature,
I find the world no longer has a  nomenclature,
All my directions lost, ways surrounded only by monsters and ghost,
Sails my ship in the deepest sea, with no sign of the coast,
The storm of life which is obstructing my route,
Rain! my only partner which makes me sooth,
When no one recognized drops of water from my eyes, 
You were the one who showed me where another world lies,
You changed my route, my life and brought back the hope of light,
Without you i would have never seen the sun so bright.                              
Waiting for my wrecked, sunk voyage to come ashore in the sun,
Sweet heart! move on, because I am now forever the lost one....

                                                                        -'Panchi' Panchal Hitesh D.

(for more please visit: www.reckonhp.blogspot.in)


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wish

Wish

Seven years I’ve been waiting for
A Christmas with you I wish for
Just like the other years that passed by
My wish for Christmas never gone by

A thought bothered my mind
How do you feel fine?
How do I feel fine?
If it breaks your soul it breaks mine.

Everything you have to sacrifice
A tear drops in your eyes
I wish I could make it dry
But I too can’t stop myself to cry

I hope he will grant my wish
If not now, maybe next year
I would still be waiting here
The same wish that I wished.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Why So Sad

Why So Sad?

Why do you look lonely, 
Bereft and so, so sad?
Has someone been quite nasty? 
Have you been really bad?

What lies beyond your haunted eyes,
Your melancholy stare?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
Do you want to take me there?

Your doleful gaze cements your face,
Your shoulders hanging low.
Do you want to tell me what it is?
Or would you prefer that I go?

I stand transfixed, absorbing your pain,
My breath is quick and light.
Do you want to tell me what it is?
What causes your terrible plight?

What demons grasp your very soul?
Why do they steal your smile?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
This cruel and evil bile.

Can you see through your vacant gaze?
Do you know that I am here?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
And explain what monsters are near?

What has sucked the life from you?
Who have you become?
Do you want to tell me what it is?
What nefarious deed has been done?





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 | |

I Hope You Know I'll Always Love You

I am what you call a hopeless 
romantic,
But im also a lost lovers cause, my 
heart belongs to another
Yet in my head a love triangle starts 
to form, the girl I love doesn’t love 
me
She holds the heart to another and 
mine caged to the floor,
She isn’t afraid to fight for what she 
wants, not even when it comes to 
leaving another man torn
Trust me she’s happy, as that boy 
holds her heart ever so close
Seeing what I shouldn’t I smile as I 
wear my blind fold,
Blind to everything around, lifeless 
staring into air
My train of thought running so fast, 
the second I stop you’ll hear a crash
Derailing my hope, for ever finding a 
love so pure & rare
Wishing I could hold the hand of the 
lover who stole my flame,
Wish I could change the last days in 
which we parted ways,
Realizing now that we can never be 
the same
Finally saying it out loud as tears run 
down my face
You stole my happiness, as I walked 
away that day
But it’s because as of what you said 
I guessed I changed,
Now every relationship has just be 
the same,
No one can seem to bring back that 
flame,
Because a love likes ours comes 
once in a lifetime
Well at least it does to me,
But I mean you’re happy with who 
your with 
I mean I only wrote this as I heard 
exchanging “I love you” flow from 
each of your lips.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

All Alone In This Tiny World

This lonely life doth take it's toll, Lonely are the nights, Surrounded by nothing, I alone can't fight. The lonely soul become more lonely Alone on the way of life. Lonely is heard in echoed Footsteps of a departing friend. Lonely penetrate the solitude Of nights that will not end. Looking at all the lights Alone in such a big world, Seeing all the drugs and booze, All alone in this tiny world.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Teenage Confusion

How could this be.
He said I was perfect,
As he looked at me.
A common misconception...
A deadly lie he told
Now I'm a rejection?
I lie hear so cold.

My vision blurs,
So does my life.
Nobody who cares
His future wife
But that was all gone.

Sweat rumbles of frustrated birds,
escape and now rumble in my mind.
Thousands and thousands coming in herds,
Why so hurtful, please be kind.

Love is harmful and so blind,
Pay it's price or forever hide.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

You Dream to be Best

In the deep slumber
Of thoughts fuzzier than ever
Close, and closer a voice echoes
Through the haze
And darkness of a nocturnal place
A face brightens the day
With the ray of hope

Touches this hand
And never let go
My face is just low
For an unworthy child
Just mild and helpless
Dependent and immature
That is who I am I know for sure

I'm so sorry that I am not Ideal
Not perfect full of mistakes
I am nothing, just nothing
Can't do everything
To be on top deep down I'm a mop

Cannot sleep, no peace inside
Please forgive me
I can't stop the pain
I can't make it go away
On the edge, I just fell
Thinking of it every single day
I might drown
By your thoughts
I cry and frown.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wishing you could love me too

You mean so much to me, more then you'll ever know. 
More then ill ever be able to describe.
But I'll try.
Voice of a angel, touch ever so soft you would think its a feather.
Eyes so beautiful seeing them on a sunset day, medusa stare ever so hypnotizing locking eyes can't look away.
Baby in the tummy, heart just started beating giving me a rush that I really needed.
Love so old I feel defeated.
Even though I do everything for you, I'm looking out for me just keeping a close over view upon you.
How can I fix your life if mine isn't alright, but i don't know where id ever be with out you by my side.
And I thought I'd never know but as of now I'm pushing through. 
Now that your gone, I miss you every night.
But I gotta be strong.
Cause if not you'll be gone and ill be with a baby missing its mom.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Haunting Melodies of a Lonely Soul

The moon bearer of light to his once dark soul
His celestial magnet on the seas of pain
Washing over lonely shores of his pain
Solace found in his music
Endlessly orbiting around the earth of pain
Of humourless souls
Awakening passion and wonder 
In the hearts of females from across the world
With haunting melodies of a lonely soul
Affecting all aspects of his life
Caressing soft folds of hearts stolen
Illuminating dark hearts with love and yearning
His audience’s teary eyed glistening like stars
Feeling intense loneliness in his haunting melodies
Illuminating night skies 
For lovers locked in sweet embrace
Casting contrast of colours on earth
His rainbow of melodies a blessing in disguise to others

23:02:13


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A great artist is always before her time or behind it

As she clutched the embroidered paper, she wept, observing her tears sprinkle as they percussed the paper. Watching her droplets marinate, she was reminded of a certain pebble she tossed across the waters upon a heavenly cloud as a child, glancing at it in its attempts to clutch the current as it shimmered across the creek. Brushing the wandering dew from her cheeks, she peered sullenly towards the window as the snow danced in its patter against the mirrored pane. Bravely, she stood, aware of her head as it lowered in overcast almost to its own accord. As she grasped the stool beside her, she hurried, wearily, and approached the window and forcefully opened it. As she liberated the air, she sympathised with the tender wind that kissed her cheeks as it lost its direction. Befallen, she succumbed to the tearful weight her eyes whimpered and gracefully fell upon her bed, clutching the silken overlays as she swooned like an osprey with an artistic temperament.  Hiding herself between two pillows in a divine light, she glanced up to the tapestries as they moved gleefully to the melody of the moonlight's breeze and the howls of forsaken souls lost in the lands afore. As she focussed on the symmetrical elegance and the rich refinement of tragedy, only then did she realise that art was the only way to run away without leaving her home.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An Ceiling

We cut out our windows so they'd match the pattern in the stars we'd fall asleep looking at
screaming your name over and over only produced tears and a ruptured larynx
Whispering it only tore down the walls that held us together

of all the mistakes I've made
the worst one was when I said I loved myself when in the end I was the worst friend I ever had

her teen years were spent mostly on her knees
holding two jobs
split between boys cars and church pews
If I loved you any more it would turn into hate
or maybe it's already there
at this point I'm not sure

we speak in riddles sometimes
almost asking questions but never failing with backhanded compliments and floor ridden apologies

I had the best time of my life in April
a night when all I did was break my own heart
it was at that point I knew for sure I had one


Details | Prose Poetry | |

After Valentines' Day

After the roses and heart-shaped boxes of candy chocolates
and glasses with broken promises litter the floor;
bottles of crisp champagne dripping in a corner,
as I lay on the hard wood floor, beneath a rug stained with lipstick
and rose peddles,
I laugh at the scene around me,
when I turn over no one next to me and the front door wide open,
what a waste of a day.

.2.15.2014.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

On Verge

Have you ever jumped in and out of your skin?
Found yourself on top of a hill with no shade to stand under, the skin around your lips and eyes starts to crack and peel.  Don’t you wish for one moment you could simply have a hand to cover the glare and give you a screen, to sooth them for just one instant and feel a breath of relief.

Have you ever bled without pain?
You are soiled red but the gates of pain are simply numb. You simply watch the drops stain. If only a hand could compress the hurt and brake the flow of this rouge river game.

Have you ever spat words of scorn? Only to discover it was a feeble attempt that bounced the daggers back at your wall of ice. They simply echo back, the acid splatters in your face. You regret what you said; you wish you were dead.

Have you ever defied your own line of fire? You’ve broken down your walls of guard and allowed trespassers to rape your morals. If only a hand could pull you back and tug you in, the rules you made would still be in.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

EXPATRIATE


     EXPATRIATE…
     (Apropos Soon Come)

Heard the chichi budo singing
in the banana walk; heard
the burro braying; and
the mongoose roaming the coop;
smelled the aroma of roast breadfruit,
ackee and salt fish; and
felt the icy cold air tease
the warmness of my body.

Then came the off-beat
pitter patter of raindrops falling
on the roof top, drowning away the dream:
washing me back to the shore of this distant reality.

Self imposed exile rivals
only that of being a refugee;
the thought eased by employment
of the more dignified term---expatriate.
Mocking Odysseus, we wander
the haphazard journey; sadly seeking
stolen ways back to the womb of our beginnings.

Digging deep down into the sacred screaming soul
of myself, I pray and implore almighty Jah---
mek mi not become a  of Sisyphus:

Jesus, mi’a crave ‘ome.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WHERE YOU COME FROM

mabe your on top
and your hot
top of the lot
sometime stop
go to the old block
there're work to be done
and some
DON'T FORGET
WHERE YOU COME FROM


Details | Prose Poetry | |

was it easy or was it tough

Was it easy, was it tough 
Can't you see, can't you see 
I have tried to make it clear, but I guess you are too blind to see. 

Why is it so hard for me, but so easy for you to let go 
Was I so easy to just be forgotten or was I just a face in the crowd. 

I imagine me in your shoes and try to see things your way. 
I try to find out what went wrong which made it so easy for you to walk away. 

I wonder how much time you took and what things you must have asked yourself. 

Did you compare me or did you even give me enough thought. 
Did you think of all the time I have been there for you and the concern when sickness struck you or was it just one silly mistake which made it easy for you to decide everything. 
I wonder and wonder or was it just me. 

After hearing my story people say to just move on, as it was just something written on a paper which could easily be torn down. 
I just wanted to ask them is it so easy or is it just me. 

I start to think and try to make sense. I try to be my own hero and fight my fears and wipe away my tears. 
In the end I just ask myself WAS IT SO EASY OR WAS IT JUST ME


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Torn

I am torn cause you broke my heart

I am torn cause you act like you had no part

I am torn cause you went away

I am torn cause your choice was not to stay

I am torn cause I believed you

I am torn cause you said we were threw

I am torn cause you said goodbye

I am torn cause our love was a lie

I am torn cause you walked away

I am torn cause I don't know what to say

I am torn cause I don't know what to do 

I am torn cause my heart can't live without you.....