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Prose Poetry Passion Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Passion

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Certainty and the Shade of Seven More Months.

He's infuriatingly...


and I follow myself over his smile to find my eyes, promising uncertainty and chewing on
my bottom lip with the hunger that resides in...


He rolled me over and kissed my dreams, his mouth became my salvation and I nailed myself
to the bedpost as we made love, my legs became morning while I screamed midnight to the

and I had never seen such a beautiful sunrise, I had never seen the beginning color herself so

I told him, as our eyes appeared shallow, as the light dimmed and he breathed summer on my

“Blue is blue, Dear, don't try to shade it with red.”

But he explained to me the art of bruises, he informed me the results were beautiful, and
he held up a mirror to my unmarked skin, places where the black and blue and...


has dissipated...

while he sheltered my chest with his hand, covering my heart with his palm, and told me
the results still beat...

I cried, tears of the rain that once fell in April, and he held me, time slipping between
us, beads of sweat that spoke eternity and seven more months, and I spoke silently so he
could hear me, I whispered his name...

“God, you're beautiful,” he said on the second I realized the sadness had left me, that
she had found content and was studying the games we never played with the fascination of a
child, I touched his cheek with the surreal movements that occur when one has fallen and
been caught and smiled at the thought of us...

I sacrificed my pain that night, I handed it straight over to midnight when the day broke,
I blended the sunrise with blue and watched the sky turn purple with him right beside me,
I counted the minutes to eternity and he laughed at my obsessions as he told me I was...


as he drank my belief off my left shoulder with a kiss...

and I looked at him, in the light, my eyes deep with the memories of the sea, as I kissed
him, with a certainty I never questioned as tomorrow started forever...

and he would live inside me
for seven

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Remember Me Like this

Remember me (like this)… A smile that made your heart Feel lighter A word that made your Day brighter An embrace you only wanted To be tighter Please remember me… Like this Forget the frowns Forget the pouts Forget the downs The angry bouts Forget the times I wasn’t there Forgive me for that Frigid stare and… Remember me like this… A hug whenever you Needed one A back rub… late at night A place to go to When you felt so low A touch that felt So right Remember me… The provider for the family Companion always there Old friend and confidante Cuddly Teddy bear Gentle soul with good intentions A moral man who could not lie Humble man with no pretensions A man you can’t forget, even if you try A stubborn man…I’ll give you this A simple man…tho’ a bit remiss A man always ready with a tender kiss So when, (and if…) you reminisce Please remember me …Like this…

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Jealous Woman In Love


                                   ~ A Jealous Woman In Love~

             Since I barely slept I felt ill as tears blinded my vision 
                     heart broken burning with desire to see him 
        to hold him to kiss him love him more and show him that strong will 
                     through my eyes to make him understand 
            I am a woman and should not be judged because I am jealous
                  I am a woman deeply in love how can I not be jealous 
          I am jealous of his sheets caressing his body when we share our bed 
         I am jealous of his hair being part of him all day when I am not with him 
                  even his eyes when he sees the moon instead of me 
      I am jealous of his phone feeling his breath or using a knife and fork to eat                    
              as I only wish at the time to feed him and caress his lips
            Oh! I love him so much that I became jealous of his shadow 
         so jealous I drowned in my thoughts like a fish thrown on the shore 
          by the raging waves trying to breath to survive without the oceans 
                                               salty water.

For the contest of Andrea Dietrich
a poem For The Honor Of My FAVE Poetry.
Therese Bacha  ( Win No.1)

Details | Prose Poetry | |

An Open Communique to the Rogues

To the seedlings sprouting in the 8 corners of the world:

An open communique can lead towards a perilous precipice overlooking jagged rocks being pounded by the relentless waves of a cold, apathetic ocean -- in such a circumstance, it doesn't take much to slip, to be pushed, to be sent over the edge, shattering upon the rocks below, sucked down by an undertow erasing all evidence of your prior existence. We have come to an impasse, the windows of opportunity in the jet-streams of change, are passing by at astounding speeds. A true Anarchist is not a Terrorist; leave such decrepit despondency to ultra-fanatic zealots and the New Gestapo. A true Anarchist should not fight for lawlessness, should not wish for chaotic, wanton destruction - such myths are propagated by automatons and the controllers themselves. A true Anarchist should not raise placards in protest, should not spray-paint graffiti upon the walls of gaudy Bauhaus replications, nor lob Molotov cocktails at an establishment so entrenched, four heads grow back to replace every head, decapitated. A true Anarchist dons a masque of mirages, reflecting nationalism, consumerism and Swastikas back into the eyes of the pushers. A true Anarchist does so by donning the uniforms of business districts, of the worker, of the paint-splattered, ink-stained artisan. When a true Anarchist gains the confidence and trust of Drones left in charge of oiling the cogs, a true Anarchist enters the control-room not to smash instruments, but instead, turns dials, flicks switches, presses buttons, re-writes programs and codes, in order to help alter the directional course of the very Beast itself. 11.21.2012 .

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My blessing, your curse

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Collecting the Cracks that Bleed Through My Voice.

We broke in two and it amused him that I was still counting...

I could hear the night whisper beyond his ears, the bed we lay ourselves down upon and
passion was considerate when his mind let go....

she was direct and unforgiving and I...

I could listen to the tumbling of my heart for ages and I collected music as my lips split
in half, it was only to kiss him, you see, only to allow him to know...

how I bled.

I tasted myself as the night wore on, exhausted yet hungry for his arms, I studied my own
in the afternoon, multiplied my freckles and wondered if my child would be ashamed of the
scars that decorated my skin, prayed she would never know how years could bite, so I
reached for him when the clouds became cold and I became...


as I frightened myself to death in the realization that we....

were still so alive.

The ground we walked on spoke of faults and mistakes, there were cracks in the earth yet
my hand still held his, he was clueless and I was silent but we slept well, he and I,
after passion erupted and the sky split...

when the clouds collected my music and rain sang, just to show him, how the days

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You Haven't Left

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Shall Never Love Anyone Like You

I Shall Never Love Anyone Like You

My heart ache as I watch you fall for another.The pain hurt so much I felt sick.I didn't have the courage to tell you my feeling I din't have the courage to tell you what my hearts feels.But  I can't refuse to watch you fall into he hand of another.May i blind myself may i break my own heart may i give relief to the feeling that I had when i could no longer hear your laugh no longer see your smile and no longer feel your touch.To me being alone and feeling nothing is worthless I shall miss what I have lost but this I have done to protect what little shard of my heart remains.You feel another never knowing my feeling for you.but it fine now for I shall never love another like I loved you.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sexual Desires

He raps his hand in my hair

He snatches it back and I can't help but to yell

I love it when he pulls it tight

He grips it and bites down on me just right

He then pulls out his leather whip

And smacks me until I buck at his will

My body feels like it's on fire

The pleasure he gives me heats my desire

He flips me over on my back

I can't move my body for it is slack

He bonds my hands and feet

I get excited about what I am fixing to meet

He lights the candle as it burns

He watches me and I start to squirm

He pours the wax on my skin

I am in so much pleasure my head begins to spin

All the things he does to me

Fills my desire to no degree.....

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Under The Wise Old Oak Tree

In luscious green fields 
As far as one can see
With her eyes closed embracing her tree of life, 
Her supple body 
And soft cheek pressed against the rough bark
Awaiting her beloved

Hugging her from behind
He’s hands cupping her bosom 
Pulling her ever so close
Gently turning her to face him
Passion in his eyes

The wise old oak tree
With whom she shared so much
Her memoirs since her 3rd birthday
When her puppy died
All her little concerns and secrets
It is here where their lips first touched
It is where they will lay to rest 
 Long silence, no more voices inside her head
No need for words while with her beloved under her tree
Though many years have passed
The old oak ever majestic 
Has lost some branches during the winter storm

She sighs with contentment 
Enjoying the shade it provides
After their walk and teaching him all about hugging trees
They settled on the lush green lawn for a sunset picnic
He picked up his guitar and sang to her 
 Love songs from his soul
It is where tonight they will
Consummate a lifetime of songs 
Exploring and learning
The air moist with mist blanketing 
Their pleasured sighs
In tune with the nocturnal symphony 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Feel Your Touch

My bodies weak from your touch

This sensation is to much

When we kiss I melt away

You have to grab me before I sway

With our bodies intertwined

Our love for passion make us blind

I scratch, nibble, and bite 

Because you feel so right 

The sensation is so strong

I don't think I can hold on

My heart is pounding "o" so fast

The feel of your touch I want it to last....

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When We Met

          ~When We Met.~
Battling everyday is so hard to maintain a healthy 
brain to keep up with our everyday work our 
thoughtful speculations of wanting the impossible 
to take place,has to change,by gaining self confidence
and become independent.

When we just met at the hotel lobby for recollection 
of work,accompanying us the sounds of 4 of July in LA. 
Our ceaseless conversations felt flawless immediately.
A faultless intimate sharing took over a mixture of
work and pleasure.

When we just met,our loving nature coincided with
authentic sounds of fireworks plus its music filling 
the sky with a huge combination of the most
beautiful Technicolor's of fireworks.

The sounds with musical lights combined together
allowed our eyes to sparkle more than ever,both 
of us became in a pensive dreamy mood for a rightful 
discussion about how love can start by romancing,
to evolve later into a durable long lived relationship.
He was so much my type of a man,an artist in his work,
very authentic,fancy,& has an unforgettable 
sense of humor.

Smiling drinking and eating with our discussing, 
constantly allowed us to remain in high spirits, 
behind us the sky illuminated our joy of being 
together,that delightful lasting closeness felt 
like a challenge awaiting for the unpredictable 
to happen,the tremendous sounds of fireworks 
accompanied with a charming tempo ringing
in out thoughts.

Instantly our touching hands felt permissive,
stimulative,devoted,his voice transformed into 
an echo inviting me to later go up into his room 
to heat up the bed and enjoy cooling off our desires.
Having asked me before about what color of roses I love,

Later on hand by hand once inside the room it was filled 
with yellow roses everywhere,and layered on the 
beautiful bed.
Suddenly, he threw my hand bag and held me so tight 
to waltz to the sounds of music,a telepathy between us 
and the sounds rang in our ears as a sweet mixture of music.
Immediately took my hand kissed it with his warmest lips 
begging to love me tonight,what a gentleman our body 
connection was authentic,flirting as a start was conceived 
in an artistic way,kissing wise and making love was 
memorable, slowly the sounds ended while gradually 
our naked bodies parted in the morning when our 
routine for work had to take place. 

We parted with a long sexual kiss,emancipating
another brutal night with a candle light.

Therese Bacha

Details | Prose Poetry | |

You're such a lovely cyclone

Hey girl!
I love the way you whirl, 
and swirl,
so deep inside my heart.
you're such a lovely cyclone as you tear my mind apart.
seething lava in my veins,
tsunami in my breast,
a hurricane that's gone insane,
an earthquake that won't rest.
your tremors how they move me,
I simply can't resist,
so I sprout wings, sweet golden things,
and fly into your kiss.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Have you ever imagined the world we live without women?
It is like a lung without some oxygen, agonizing and inevitably dead,
A face never with a smile, boring and unfriendly.
A cup of tea without some grains of sugar, bitter and foul,
A pool without some water, dry and empty,
A good ride on a bad untilled road, rough and uninteresting,
The earth without some drops of rain, an inescapable famine,

But how come with the great number of women on planet earth?
We still live to cry as a reggae legend sang “no woman no cry”,
It is because they permit evil as much as they permit good,
Gullible and instrumental in the hand of the wicked ones,
Ugly and nice, beautiful and dangerous,
Cunning like serpents, deceitful like chameleon,
Holy but liars, having a form of godliness but highly ungodly,
Lovely like little puppies, sweet like bees honey,
Women, an invincible force in our our world today.

(c) 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Touched By You

Touched by words not witholding passion
Caressing sweet thoughts, where the light of passion flickers in the recess
of a mind once doused dorment feelings
embers ignite a language that heightens senses 
Steaming up views with articulating prose 
Enchantment growing with each line
They say what lies behind us, and what lies before us are tiny matters 
compared to what lies within us. 
The glowing passion is but a reflection of our inner fire stoked by excitement of the new.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hot Liquid Love

hot liquid love, 
pouring down from the skies,
splashing into your gorgeous, star speckled eyes,
my heart blows wide open,
and cries out in delight, 
the light of you blinding, 
so warm and so bright,
I'm a heavenly feather, 
floating high, and so free,
drowning deep in your heart, 
love's sweet ecstasy.

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
into the tranquil eye 
of your whirling swirling hurricane
let me in sweet darlin'

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Burned by desire my love for you is as hot as a fire

My palms are sweaty, my knees are weak that kiss you gave me was my defeat

There's no turning back for this i'm sure your already in the center of my core

Your gentle touch, your hot breath, there's no other feeling like this I must confess

With your arms around me I lose my breath and my heart skips in my chest

I can never explain the way you touch me drives me insane 
Your tongue on my skin is liquid fire

I can't control my lust you are my desire....

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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

change my name 
fairly often, I suppose

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

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

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

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

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 | |


                     Be the best you ,you can be...even if you have stereotypical strikes against you. Use the back door, dressed in khaki not Gucci, armed with knowledge and the courage to know that you be the best ,at whatever you do. And let it be proved, no one can perfect on being you. Make sure what ever you do ,you do so well that once you are gone. you'll still be remembered;   Remembered for the improvements,and not destruction. King wanted not to be martyred, as he wanted to prove:  As I have done you can also do:There's no difference between you and I; So do as I have done and even more he would say, prepare your self with education and the knowledge thereof.

. Stand on passion and be guided by LOVE. Passion and self determination is the lamp at our feet. Even if you cannot afford a college degree, Grab a book from the library and read, be you self taught or guided by ancestors voices. Its all in a book, the ancestors still care.  The way has been paved and the motivation is there. Some made it through on wisdom and prayer. He did not die for us to praise him, he wanted to be an example and his example was ample; To show that just an ordinary man...could leave a legacy and a dream. That all men are created equal ..SO do even more than I have done he would say Because he has already opened up doors and paved the way..  Let us not run backwards ,forward we tread. His dream is alive and his memory not dead. Stop looking for A leader and become one instead,by his courageous spirit, let us each be led...Billions are looking around for a King, put on your gloves and get in the ring.You are chosen by the mighty....Yes you are the one...each of you have a Job to do. Be the best you,you can be. And lets get this done.!                         YOU ARE THE ONE!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


written 17th Sept 2013

When it comes to love, I AM poisonous
 don't let me curse another, leave me loveless

For the first time in my life, I felt your pain and cried for your heart
 my heart finally hurts, knowing I passed this pain from the start

Please find help to set your heart free
 trust me, it's not a life you recover from easily 

Damaged goods I told you, unrepairable
 but some how, you managed the impossible

Unlovable for my entire life
 yet you had no problem, getting me to become your wife

Yes, it's been more than both of us should have ever had to bear
 at this moment, every cell in my body is overwhelmed, so I really do care

Please don't enter my life's pain and despair  
 you don't deserve it, you are so patient and filled with such love

I'm sorry I let myself fall in love knowing it would poison you
 soul mates forever and eternity, my love belongs only to you...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Drowning in your sacred love

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sweet River Man

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

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

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

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The color of love

Without him beside me, my future seems so bleak, being naïve, 
i was told he was not meant for me. Ignoring this world of cruelty
and its power tear our world apart. Now sitting i ponder why I being so naïve from the very start

My tomorrow will never come, for I will forever live in his yesterday. Turning my back on the one who loved me in every single way.
Not even time can heal a shattered heart, but I guess somewhere in his heart he loved me after all

Many times I’ve dreamt of him and unable to hide my tears,
As I reminisce that sad day I decide we go our separate ways,
I pinch myself, as in a dream, knowing it is not true,
How could I let go of such a man, no woman would ever do.

I remember the look in his eyes when he dropped by and found my note. Pain crippled on his face leaving such a heart in pain, as he read along “My heart is with you but I will forever be alone, never will you and I share a place of our own. Rejected by all to cross the color line thinking my love is blind".

 If again such a love should come my way, I’d break free of those dark days I’d confess my true heart and reject the rest and  break through this racial barrier and fallow my lovers path wherever he lead to ease this heart that beat to grieve.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When Love Finally Define

I the one who took a shelter in your brittleness
Who was hiding behind your tears
The covert strength which overwhelm your weakness
I am the sunbeam reversed to your darkness

Your tears are my wounds
The clatter of your journey is an obvious scratches
Which frequently seize my heart
And these feels are yours, even yet you touch though you see 

I try to open the casement of my heart and trace it
Is there anyone or whom?
Is it you, the biggest question?
Or maybe you are the answer

Everything revolve, encircle between the conscience and thoughts

I tried to pull my self out, withdrew all the feels that I've got
Yet the trails of yours continuously compel my limits
The silhouettes of your times mesmerize  my days
I trapped within the charm of your soul
However these barriers are no longer be sustainable

I will run after you
I no longer be an idle beneath the dark side of you
I'm finished with the dawn and I will be the day

I quit play as the role of a shadow
For I am the tangible, I am real...
As real as the embrace of twilight  which always there for you

                                               11th place
                                       old romantic poems........ 
                               Sponsored by: SKAT- AB SIN THE-

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.

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
and sublime
I'm staying here forever, 
until the end of time.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who i am

Who i am

Gazing at the mirror observing what I see,
all might not be perfect, but it all belongs to me.
In the eyes of the mirror, a woman beckoned me,
when I looked at her from head to toe, I just love what I see.
 There might have been a part of me, that to me was never known,
 i would have search to find it, if I had only known. 
This love for myself that was embedded inside confused an approaching frown
 and the moment I spent to discover myself, my world Turned upside-down.

I was afraid of people saying, "Who does she think she is?"
 Now i have the courage to stand and say "this is who i am".
 Never will i follow the majority of living a life of constant duplicity,
 as a successful rebellion, take me as I am, or watch me walk away.
 What makes me, me is my originality, with lots of sincerity
 and I cherish this freedom which lies in being me.

The eyes of the society might not project its light on me,
but never will this bring me down or makes me think less of me.
 No external source will fulfill my void, within me i find my eternal joy.
 Known life's is too short to be self- obsessed but when my eyes sent me a rainbow
 filled with gentle colors that project confident within me, 
my world seems brighter each time i opened up the window of my face. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Twinkling eyes

Twinkling eyes that sparks, funny how emotions can takes over the heart
Impossible words that is hard to find, thinking one movement and he might cross
the line.  He wore his pride like a badge, but the wounds in his heart is deep,
and for him to love again is just a broken dream.

Even through loneliness scream when he’s under his sheet,
He rather succumb to its sting, other than listened to the silence song his
Heart had to sing. Known his heart is a self made wall,
And he’s not the type of man she should tell how much she loved afterall.

Thoughts kept running through his mind when he recall
how profound he looked her in the eyes. Making him feelings so awkward that
 he could not control all he knew is having her besides him daily, his love will grows.
He realize that her tender care is the only thing that keeps him alive, yet he 
Settled with routine and afraid go beyond the boundaries.

She reaches out to feel his touch, but somehow had not get enough
Thinking of going her way, but she knew her mind will suffer in everyway
He took her in his arms, where she found security. Hands in hands 
She looked in her lover eyes and saw the love inside and
Made him show the feelings, he always had to hide
Tears fell down his face as emotions takes over
his body language says everything and there things became clear.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


You wrapped your hands around my thighs

I swore I seen stars behind my eyes

You gently licked your lips

While I waited for my surprise

I felt a shiver up my spine 

I slowly rose up and you caught my from behind

You spun me around and brought your lips down to mine

Your mouth tasted divine like sweet rich wine

I lost all sense of time and I knew you were mine

Our bodies melted into one

You couldn't tell where you started and I begun

Our hands roamed as best they could

Searching for release that we knew would come soon......

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 | |

I danced with the Devil but stepped on his toes

  I slide my tongue across my lips; I taste salt from where my tears once fell. The serpents been winning the race, Infiltration of my desires take procession, I’m standing in the mirror and I don’t recognize my own reflection.  It’s not the flesh but the soul that’s been disquised, every carnal temptation he’s devised oh how quickly I’ve come to oblige.  I need to hit rock bottom and slow my pace, at this point he’s winning the race, baking firm an eternal glaze upon my face. I care so much that I care not. I’m so hungry yet no food is sought. Feel so much sorrow that I’m not dolorous, sing so loud but leave absent the chorus.
   I’m vulnerable, looking for warmth in another’s touch, simply falling victim to his charms like a little girl searching for warmth in her daddy’s arms. Though, he provided no warmth, he didn’t provide much, just the foundation, the stepping stone where he left his prints; of course I followed with every step slipping farther from the grasps of temperance.  You can call me an abuser Lord, I abused your love, snapped the wing of your symbolic dove, snapped too the wings of thee angel upon the golden gate, funny how I just read Job and he knew not his fate.
  Thank you for trampling me into the ground, into the dust from which I roze, into utter darkness living with consequences to paths I chose. I thought you were guided me completely from the light, in reality it was never out of sight, even your own shadow leaves you in darkness. Give me the courage that I seek, give me strength when I am weak, and at times make me weak where I am strong. Give me positive passion for life like the passion in “Solomon’s Song”. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A bed of Ashes

I found myself needing something more than a tender curve of dimly lit flesh.
I needed a woman's fire that could stoke my soul into a living rage.
I needed a courageous lioness to teethe my muse and let the pain
in my brain bleed unto the Earthy canvas before me.
The salt of my skin wept unto her, and she made it steam.
She was a cleansing fury that damned the man I once was.
She tore me apart so that I could become something new.
Sometimes there is beauty in destruction,
sometimes forgiveness is born out of pain.
She let it rain inside of me when she left,
and I found myself in a bed of ashes.
A new man.
-James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.

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)

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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 | |

I have Seen Nothing

I do enjoy butterflies, forests, flowers,
brooks – flying in the sky like white mists,
I do enjoy grass – an endless miracle:
all are so wondrous even because they’re visible!
But is not there also
the invisible kingdom? –
The roots of  a brook entrusted to the earth’s dampness,
seeds of flowers,
the converse side of grass and forest hidden in soil: 
All which are left facing graves only,
What do they look at, what do they enjoy,
what, after all, there happens beyond this earth
as they, all these blessed ones,
do emerge, so beautiful and motley, out from it? 
Would you consider that their beauty
shines out with no bliss?
Is not a man this way, too,
radiating what his soul contains?
I have slid apart, so many a time, that black soil, 
and looked inside…
Alas, the wretched, I have seen nothing.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


(Dedicated to Penny Wilcox)

Nice people, rear to come by without ulterior motive
 Good fellows tend to strain from doing what they do
Because of unpleasant surprises they sometimes get
Bad girls are everywhere pretending to be angels
Animals in human physique living “animalistic”
But you are different, of exceptional attitude
I believe that your virtues are divine
You are a fabulous creature that really exist
Radiant, full of happiness and love
You are sweeter than honey pie
Eagle –eyed with supersonic focus
My first love that saw the need to smile in me
And always encourage me to do smile
You are not too old to be my sister
Neither are you too young to be my mother
I am whatever you want in me
Very perfect to be my friend
The first to know by revelation that I’m blessed
I know I am a blessed man because I have you as my friend

© 2010 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

It's Great To Be Alive!

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

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

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

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

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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 | |

Almost Remorse

The slowest clocks bind the official wound,
An azimuth of the flesh, trust, first contact,
She blinks but no face appears, 
Does every mistake ask for such an ordinary end?  A seed cannot forget.
Cold, weeping statue of lifetimes, suckle her prayer in the erupting bed.
Fallen beside the tear of the flower blight, lips against the penetrator,
Learn to forgive the righteous terrors for an idle comfort.
What numbing freedom presses the soft lump pulse?
Tongues rally to expose the ghost of private remorse,
Who conceals the dignities of a suction thigh grave.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beautiful Apparition

It is not hard to fall in love with a beautiful apparition. You don’t know them, but are easily 
entranced by their chemistry. Your brain ignites a myriad of sensual wishes. Carnal exploration 
and fantasies played out in seconds, heating your heart like an oven. They disappear as quickly, 
a wisp of smoke, but you miss them immensely. A hallow feeling leaves you weak, sad, and 
alone stretching for minutes, days, or years till the next one steals your heart. Man or woman, 
boy or girl can manifest and escape around corners and be gone, but in the moment you had 
them for eternity. The Petrarchan romance you read lives in their dance and laughter. No one 
goes without this fictitious ache; it follows you as your shadow does, comes to life as often.

Looking serene a placid lake reveals a reverse world where everything is as real as the earth 
you tread, as vivid as those memories you hang on walls. Veiled in disbelief as a mere image 
those waters taunt you with their likeness. The ghosts you long for are down there, but there 
they know you as the beautiful apparition

Details | Prose Poetry | |

First Kiss

The instant our eyes met we knew the kiss was imminent. We smile playfully all the 
while in pursuit of this aforementioned kiss. Each time we part ways we audition 
attempts at the kiss in know of its accelerated position. The instance was right, I 
knew it would be this night that I without trepidation, boundary or fear. Free from 
hesitation and wonder of return, tonight will be the night of concern. At suns set I 
stretch forward my arm, a coward no more. We adore the charm of each other and 
are ready to explore, risking harm without worry all kiss" long and longed have I for 
the moment on approach. I chose you as my love to share after approving smile this 
incredible moment of kiss. This here is the moment of truth, I can hear your heart 
beat in your ear, the same ear I now peer through into your mind and find it's true 
that all fear has disappeared. My fingers brush through a handful of your fair hair, 
together we share one final breath of single air. Our lips are now erect and on direct 
intent of meeting, millimetres remain. The time for our minds to change has past, at 
last the moment is here. Your eye sheds the tear of fears farewell, I taste the swell 
flavour of "please kiss me" and I do because I have wanted to kiss you so badly too.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Shall Wait For You My Beloved

I shall wait for you to come my beloved
For you are my white star of twilight
The moon in the sky’s far end

I shall rise up with thee
Lie down with thee
For in my dreams thou art always with me

Oh Great Spirit
When our time has come
Join us together as one in the wilderness of your sacred home
When you look upon us give us your peace and refreshing sleep

For you and I my beloved, are two halves joined together
Each others distant shore
The left and right wings of the bird
Two halves of a seashell

We are apart, yet connected by a greater love
I shall wait for you my love 

The sun and moon bless the union of our spirits
Designed by our Creator for life’s endless journey
Joined like a tree to earth, a cloud in the sky
You are a part of me, as I am of you
Bonded by the Great White Spirit

You are my love, my heart’s best  friend
Our love will never cease, never end
I know it is thou who moves within my heart
Now and forever my beloved - I shall wait for you to come
Ayor’ Anosh’ ni’ my love

"Ayor’ Anosh’ ni’ means I love you in Navajo"

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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

(c) 2009

Details | Prose Poetry | |

O! America Reverse

My opinions are changed, 
My heart lacks fervour, 
For you lunched the war, 
To liberate who are already free,
To enrich who are already rich, 
To make the fierce, more ferocious.

When will the time intrude you,
Make you see the brilliant aspect of the affair,
And humanity will sing the song of peace?
When will you peep into your inner-self 
To see the reflected image of you own?
When will you obey the divine commands
And make out them that God forbids pollution
Smog and fumes of turmoil wrapping His fair Earth?

 Now open your eyes
The shores are red; 
The lands are coated with blood,
The skulls are scattered like stones, 
For the sake of oil or the reserves of gold,
Be aware a single drop of   human blood 
Possesses more worth than all treasures
That the earth contains. 

Now stop killing; enough, enough, 
You neither surrender, nor do deprive others
Of the rights which the divine commands allow,
Go through the lanes with moderate bearing. 

Live like a benefactor among the nations, 
Share with them your victuals,
Stock of knowledge and skills,
And snatch them not of their own.
Return fathers to the orphans,
Husbands to the widows,
Brothers to the waiting damsels, 
And sons to the aged mothers,
If not then compensate them all,
For the broken hearts, shattered dreams.
Hatred against you thrives, 
Magma against you grows,
Let the volcano sleep, 
Beneath the layers deep, 
And only once apply,
The strategy of the weapon of love 
Discarding the old devices of uranium. 

The amount you spent on the arsenal 
Would have been enough to feed the world 
Though ten times bigger; 
If you had ruled the hearts,  
The world might have been a different place
Of love, peace and harmony. 

Through force your aims will never be gained,
So amend the ways and stroll on the route 
That enhances you in respect and esteem;
Review and revise the modes of actions,
 Follow not the path that leads the world
To the chaos, and on the point of no return,
For there will be a dark dungeon of curse,
O! America, for the sake of humanity reverse.  

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Red Hot Snapper

When a relationship is based
on a red hot snapper
with a knockout wrapper
that builds a fire in your jeans.

This kind of marriage is for
the movie screen.

In time the snapper cools down.
The knockout wrapper isn't
quite the knockout it used to be
and the fire in your jeans is on it's way out.

This is now the beginning of the end.
You don't really know each other
your not even friends
and now the fights begin.

If you had picked your wife for life
with the head on your shoulders
instead of the one between your knees,
you might have found a wife for life
instead of a high maintenance money pit
that you can't please.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


She came from out of nowhere 
Her hair flowing in the breeze 
Wearing a cowboy hat and boots 
With denim skirt above her knees 

Her steed that she rode upon 
Was as white as white could be 
How magnificent they looked 
Both such a sight to see. 

She rode up along side of me 
Dismounted with such ease. 
Long legs made her skirt rise up 
My God, she was a tease. 

Her blouse was made of satin 
Undone three buttons down. 
Her breasts were free and unrestrained 
And tanned to a golden brown. 

She said "Howdy handsome stranger, 
I've been watching you for awhile, 
Is it true you're a tarnished cowboy?" 
She asked, with a playful smile. 

I said "Yes, I'm a little tarnished, 
But I can make your dreams come true. 
Is that why you came riding by? 
Did I cast a spell on you?" 

"Oh yes, I do believe your magic 
You can cast a mystic spell 
I can see you're slightly tarnished. 
How much more is there to tell?" 

I put my arm around her neck 
Our boots fell into a rhythmic stroll 
My hand was hanging loose and close 
To free buttons and her soul 

She smiled as I spoke to her 
Said "Do you really want to know? 
How I got a little tarnished 
Might not be a place to go." 

She gazed into my eyes of blue 
There was a little hint of doubt. 
My mind started wondering 
What was she really all about? 

She said, "Listen blue eyed cowboy 
I want you to talk to me 
Show me what you want and need 
I will do my best to please." 

We spread a blanket on the ground 
And together we did lay 
Campfire was burning warm and bright 
We made love, till the break of day 

When I awoke my pretty cowgirl 
Was nowhere to be seen 
Was she just an apparition? 
Was she just a mystic dream? 

Her cowboy hat and denim skirt 
Lay rumpled on the ground 
I picked them up and held them 
But she was nowhere to be found 

Guess I will keep on dreaming 
As I Hope for another chance 
To lay 'long side my Mystic Cowgirl 
And do another mystic lover's dance 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I can’t wait to have a love match

With you in a love nest 

Surrounded by love-lies-bleeding

Sitting on the love seat 

Where we hold a love knot together

And with love beads around your neck

After which we’ll travel down to Love-land 

Where we will be joined in a love-in

(c) 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wash Away My Tears

I see the sail disappearing 
Upon the horizon blue.
Waves crashing on the shore 
As mind thinks back to you.

You are like the sail
That no longer do I see.
Seems that a waft of wind
Has taken you from me.

Was it not so long ago 
We sat upon this shore?
Words whisper of tomorrow. 
We'd be one forever more.

How we laughed and giggled,
 Waves washed between our toes
Words of I love you 
From our lips so easily flowed.

Our bodies so entangled
On the blanket we did share.
Made love under moonbeams
As waves threw mist up in the air.

That was forty years ago
We made love upon this shore.
Still have that blanket 
I will keep for ever more.

You are no longer with me 
The tide has taken you away.
But in my mind and heart
There you will never stray.

So come sit here beside me
Whisper I love you in my ear.
Hold me close and kiss me
And wash away my tears.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Soldier: An Emblem of Sacrifice

We know only those faces,
We have seen in history.
Yet countless strange faces are there
Who fought for the country.
We can never repudiate 
Selfless sacrifices of those men,
So I am paying tribute to all those
Martyrs and soldiers through my pen.
Indulged in your duties,
Far away from your family and loving ones.
You fight for our
Dreams, hopes and liberty,
Strutting boldly amidst the raging guns.
Whether it is scorching rays of Sun
Or it is blood freezing cold,
You fight relentlessly
Standing so strong and bold.
You are the true sons of the nation.
For the sake of our lives,
Irrigating this land with your blood
Is your only passion.

Time will never obliterate the fact…
You stand for us like an adobe.
With lion like courage and firmness of temper,
You have made our tricolor 
Shimmer throughout the globe.
Death can’t cease you to live
As you live even after dying.
I salute your martyrdom,
For you never got older.
Fighting to keep us free,
It is the stiffest thing 
To be you- A SOLDIER......

Details | Prose Poetry | |

On Writer's Block

Perhaps I should
write about something
besides love
although my freethinking pen
is attached to my heart
a battle I cannot win...

I seek
to be a writer assassin
but I cannot slay the muse
or force her to show up
I must pamper her
squeeze her
and kiss her
for all of her inspiration...

Ah, but not to write
is short of torture
a chaotic and bloody battle
If I write
I find inner peace
not writing
is death of the soul...

Ink on paper
arrange and polish
add and delete
merciless determination...

My words
my poems
are beatings of my heart
put to paper...

It's a sad thing
when one gets writer's block
such frustration and tears
fortunately for me
I don't have it....

Details | Prose Poetry | |



his spoken words that special night so long ago
‘I want you and need you in my life—never fail
to remember this moment as an eternal display
of how I find absolution in your body and soul’

bodies embraced  warmth on that cold night
swiftly elevating to burning passion and desire
moonlight spilled through the frosting window
as he entered her gently with tears in his eyes

their rhythm held a natural exquisite beauty  a
parallel ebb and flow of tides as waves swelled
drawing her yielding body firmly against his taut
in unison they touched star crescendos pinnacles

for both of them - the first time-  an eternal  love
cemented in their bodies and souls everlastingly
cruel life paths wrenched soul mates unity apart
but treasured memories remain bonding hearts

© Kim van Breda—May 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Walk

It was a long walk, with time heeling at my shadow. 
(and somewhere miles away the garage door closed, and the exhaust flowed,
and a small dog died in her limp arms)
I was friendly with God. Only with small trepidation did I drink from the sordid 
chalice, minutes before, and decided that a walk, skip and a jump to nowhere is what I
needed the most. And so it was.

Block after block, stones in the pavement, the smell of creosote poles.
Delicate foil wrappers, industrial petals, She loves me not, she loves....
Sidetrack with backpack, it doesn't matter. I don't care. 
I'll be there when I damn well find myself somewhere. Which is where 
the trees grow bright, and the birds flit without flapping.
And the water forms misty and bejeweled, laying my mind out flat
like steam would fine linen. then I will sit and breath with an "e". You bet.

But first a small lap in a languid pool of solace, a tip toe through the forest afire with
colors borrowed from alien hands, a taste of spring time cum. Let me wallow.
God, friend, let me wallow in your mess of beauty, before I call it something.
Let me roll around like a goddamn dog. I want to itch and draw forth honey from my veins.
I want to suck sap bleeding from the tree, and dine on the lost sound of the whippoorwill. 
God, let me die a small death of beauty, and be reborn in an orgasm of **** all get out!
No qualms. Buddy. I love your work. It looks like you ****ed yourself a good one. 
And what came was all this edible goodness. Like Dali, I want to eat it. All. 

Now, like I promised you, I'll give back. I'll play your hypnotic song 
and sing to your soiled minions. I'll take heed in your loving whispers 
and open up my heart for your midnight snack. I'll clean up your moonspill
and read to you that silly book of yours, the one about the golden rule
and those twelve dudes. (Sorry God, not my cup of tea). 
Draw a bath for your daughters, and draw back the bow for your sons, and ready the bed for Venus.
Sit back and relax, ol buddy, I'll do the best that I can
then I'll grow tired 
and fertilize
your garden.

Oh. Now I can breathe. The song has left my lips for now.
I walked myself into a lovely stupor, and you showed me
the rainbow. And I raised your worms.
I played your song, God.
(I hope that somehow, she heard it over the din of engine and whimper of dog)
I played that timeless song, or you played me.
Either way, it's still the day
that the trees grew bright with sun
and the birds flew without flapping.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope You Know I'll Always Love You

I am what you call a hopeless 
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 
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 
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 | |

Can't Let U Go

"You brought me into this world. You guided me the best you knew how to. You watched me 
grow before your very eyes and yet you still can't seem to let me go. Now the tables have 
turned, for I've watched you live your life with out me there. Watching you live your life 
alone and free. Now its my turn to lend you my hand. As I guide you on your way and watch 
you leave this world when the time comes even though I still can't let you go." 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Like An Angel from God

Years passed with no attempts at finding the one,
The one to cherish forever and call mine.
My inner soul sometimes cried from loneliness
But was it a simple relationship I had been yearning for?
Or was I crying out something so much more?
I could feel the struggle between body and mind
The scorn, 
How it left my heart completely torn.
I began to think I would never taste,
But not a normal taste,
I began to think I would never get that real taste of Love.
Realizing Love was no abomination,
That it was possible
Possible for anybody…
And like an Angel from God 
I found my one
The one to call mine
I felt as if I had bamboozled Loves obstacles.
The one that I now call mine is like no other
She undoubtedly is something special. 
Our Love has only begun to bloom
But the tender touch of her heart against mine,
Makes the passion and Love for one another burn like an endless flame

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


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

>> ntema's unique poetry (nup)

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Democracy In Nigeria
It’s been ages you passed into deep slumber
Or rather you were long dead, democracy
You have striven to rise but fall many times
Your limbs were over-powered by some political demons
You have been crushed in the dust by some powerful beasts
The people with green skinned body, white spirit and green soul
Are eager to see you come alive again and take your full course
Take control to the fullness you place in their leadership
They know the time has come and now is the hour
They cry, they sing, they shout, they talk, they pray, they hope and believe
Equally important, they are ready to work, support, and vote
To see the emergence of a new democratic Nigeria
The reality, evidential rebirth of democracy in a new Nigeria

(c) 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Will I Still Make You Swoon


We walked hand in hand,
On a crisp autumn eve.
...Both gazing up
At the pretty colored leaves.
Though we had only met
Just a short time ago.
I was struck by an arrow
shot from Cupids bow.
I was not looking
For a long time love affair.
Had my turn at failure.
Felt again I would not dare.
Seems that the same words
Came rolling off your tongue.
Said you were hurt before
When you were very young.
Said you were leery
Of anyone you meet.
Then you lifted up my spirits
When you said "I'm kinda neat"
Asked if you would like
To have a warm cup of tea?
When you said yes,
Surprised the heck out of me.
You had the green tea,
And I ordered black.
The things one remembers
As your mind wanders back.
Well we've been together
Now so many years .
Had so much happiness
Yes, and even shed some tears.
But I still can see
That twinkle in your eye.
And I still get excited
When I hear your sigh.
So how about a walk?
For it’s a crisp afternoon.
When I whisper that I love you.
Will I still make you swoon?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Gold is precious,
I am more precious
Gold is valuable,
I am more valuable
Gold is strong,
I am stronger
What make me more precious?
What make me more valuable?
What make me stronger?
Is I am a being that never quit in the face of fire

(c) 2010 

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 | |

Me and you, you and me

The mood is set….
Me and you, you and me
The warmth of Love swims through us both
My touch on your body
Soft and sensual
Your skin lingers,
Your emotions begin to spill like an overflowing caldron
O’ how you desire this moment between…
Me and you, you and me
Your gentile hands on my body,
The touch so delicate 
And your lips against mine
For these feelings we share cannot be defined
Our bodies become one
Together in Love….
Me and you, you and me
Your sweet embrace I cannot resist
And you the same 
Our bodies’ dance together,
A dance of passion and Love
Still as one.
For this moment will end
But the passion,
The Love,
Will last forever…

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Flowers After A Morning Rain

Flowers after a morning rain
Reflecting a prism in you eyes
You will never see two alike
Each  has it's own surprise
When I wake up your by my side
It can be raining or skies be blue
For your my prism every day
That's what I receive from you
When I was feeling dark and gray
You brought color in my life
Showed me how to live again
Rid me from my angry strife
These flowers that I send your way
Have a special meaning too
I see their beauty in a prism
That's the beauty I see in you.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fire and Merlot

I remember the honeyed words,
and the
 of the touch that rendered time irrelevant.
I hear laughter in the next room;
astounded at the drunk and the blind.
it’s all so fleeting; we turn to dust in a heartbeat
I speak in logic and move inside of thunder.
 as my skin is peeled away,
as shadowed eyes follow me,
and I feel fingers reaching from the grave,
 the familiarity of your nails scratching
down my back and ancient melodies we shared
that reflect our persistent missteps;
 the ones that buried me alive.
I remember the creaky floors that
carried you to our bed,
The crimson sheets where we danced;
We found harmony in this place
As the world stoked it’s flame around us.
I can still hear the echoes,
Distant and smoldering.
“My love was born in your eyes,
                   Don’t you ever look away.”
Your face hides in the mirror,
Lost inside my own empty stare.
You promised me forever.
But beneath this broken glass,
I can hear it all shatter.
Can you remember how you asked me
 if we could turn back time?
The ash that we laid to waste
 between your chains
and my misgivings set ablaze
in our lovemaking
Now time is timeless for you
 and I feel you, erotic in your ghosting touches
I still claw to hold on to this life
You're essence caresses and taunts me
your touch is warm, from the other side
 ...of this veil
Our hands release from their dance,
as your dead, coarse skin withers and dries hope for a final embrace
But I can still taste your merlot stained lips;
The way they brushed against mine.
I can still feel your pulse rushing to meet
My own.
Your voice, and it’s promises.
“This world can burn us down,
                          But our ashes will be spread together.”
-Katherine Wyatt and James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Direction of Sheets that Kissed His Skin.

I found the break in belief upon the study of honesty...

I knew the subject of smiles and that the left sided curl of a lip decided the direction
of my kiss...

He was...

untouchable, yet I adored the feel of him, and I sat behind mirrors for months pretending
to be Alice as my skirts raced dangerously close to tomorrow, the decoration of my thighs


“This is perfection, you know,” I whispered as the sun fell, and the blankets that covered
him danced silently over his skin as I watched night fall across the shadows of his face,
and I touched...

his smile...

with desperate lips as I tasted happiness and the delicious idea of me.

I curled up for a moment and thought, pondered, I decided I'd watch the direction of his
breath as my vision faded, he slipped his fingers through my hair and I split time in half
as my legs untangled, and we were...


uncountable, the months that forgot themselves, the nights I lost myself in his dreams,
and if that wasn't beautiful then reflections were liars and I slapped dishonesty straight
in the jaw...

before I told him how much I needed him...

before he watched the patterns of my breathing without understanding...

I exhaled for him..

without knowing I loved the way summer sheets touched his skin right before I held him...

right before I knew that forever is untouchable and existence is created with the smile

that settled on his lips

after we kissed.

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, 


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 | |


She makes… rainbows sprout from her fingertips with every touch of my corpses flesh, her angelic
 presence, bringing sunshine to my cheek with lips unshaded, her kisses, were full of sun beamed 
pleasures and, all I could do was steal them, steal love from the heart of one whom I felt, I’d never be 
deserving of. Introducing life to the hands of one broken, tattered by his past and scared of the déjà 
vu. Only hoping that she, could wipe the waterfalls from his grassy planed face. When she did so much 
more with just a stare, she, penetrated his mind and made him fall so… so peaceful like. With truth only 
found in the way her hands serenaded his cheeks as her lips marinated his and we fade… into 
teardrops in the ocean, knowing I’d drown forever for a kiss on my corpse cheek just to know… that 
you’ll always love me and never hurt me… not like the others did. Fear is the death of bravery, but I’d 
soon go toe to toe with the rights to your eternity to prove that, we were made for each other. 
Carrying the cross for my own crucifixion if it’d show how much I love her. &you could pierce my body 
and all I’d bleed is the reasons I love her, then die and be reborn on the 23rd hour to prove that… I 
could never go a day without her. So I ask you, what else do I have to prove?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Refrigerator Love

Refrigerator Love (Poem)
God, I don't really know why You made the breadth of Your Son's arms stretch far enough apart to allow your living breath inside of dying lungs like mine. My sin is the tree cut down and shaped into the crucifix. For years, I took the blood of Your Son and smeared it over the wood, trying to splinter the genes from Your hands from ever matching mine. 
So why are you still molding me in Your image? I've always been attracted to the wrong people, places and things like a noun with bad grammar, but You spell I love you all over my surface like refrigerator magnets until it sticks. I've been outdated since the day I was born, and the 90's left my life so fast I swear they ran to the 21st century outlet to pick up a better model of me. My insides have grown freezer frigid over the years, but You've kept my heart preserved. I've left a few more spoiled memories on my shelves longer than I would've liked. Back then, I just loved the look of them still alive in me so much that I never learned to let go when I thought my life was still in one piece. Compost my past like the gardener You are. I'm on my knees begging to You to plant and harvest seeds in Your fields that will grow into fruits without expiration dates. Father, Your food is eternal because Your love is everlasting. Reverse me like a walking tomb, and let me be the body for Your Spirit to live in.
Tend to my inside circuits, and help me be a bright, electrical vessel,
Continually kept running through the night so others can see You too.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Blind Found Love

I could be mistaken,
But I believe my heart been so graciously taken
Taken by a girl
But not just any girl
A girl whom I know is the one
The one who gives me feelings,
Feelings I have never known before
Before her, I was blind
Blind to Love
For this blindness has now vanished
I can see and feel love 
She is my Love

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Three. Two. One. Screams of excitement, with a little bit of death in each roar. Disturbing the serenity of the big blue sky, piercing the atmosphere through a rebellious dive. I let gravity take control, putting my delicate life in her hands.

Swarm of suicidal thoughts each time he springs from the aircraft’s door. Floating in the air. Embracing the silence around him. Feeling his racing heart beats break through his rib-cage. The rush and thrill of dying always makes him contemplate the value of life. Up there, there is no worry. Up there, there is bliss.  A disapproving wife, not having locked eyes in years. Merciless children, all that remains are the photos on the living room desk. A receptionist job, growing insane from the accumulation of those counterfeited smiles. Up there, there is no worry. Up there, there is perfection. Approaching the ground, inner demons yell ‘do not pull that parachute cord!’ Rashly weighing the options in hand. What is the point in returning to a disgusting routine called life? The skin on his forehead quickly folds, his eyes are tightly shut. No reason for a man not to take his own life the way he pleases. A beeping noise from his wrist awakens him each time; at 2,500 feet the cord is cowardly pulled. With regret and pain, he reenters his home. Another promise broken, another promise made.

Freefalling into the sky, I finally understand. The ironic beauty of being, the verge of death.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Fading of Salvador Dali When Wednesday Rose Too Late.

I regarded us on Tuesday, after finding Monet in the closet, and thought our lives
resembled institutions, I thought I'd tack that painting right above the fireplace, I
imagined we'd laugh...

He took ten minutes to figure it out, he took fifteen to tell me, he took three minutes
more to kiss my lips and I told him he was seven minutes late, so he glanced to the clock
that raced tomorrow above my head and told me that late was better than never as he
grabbed tomorrow right out of my hair...

This tangled me, you see, and I gasped for air as my thighs fell apart, it seemed to be
distinctly him as he swirled into me, and I lost the definition of myself shortly after
Wednesday rose, and we smeared Van Gogh all over the walls as my screams became edible and
he licked his lips as I sighed his name, he removed the fabric that kept me warm, he wrote
forever with his tongue and I thought, better forever than gone, right before I dissolved
into nowhere....

I think my hand prints were distorted and I searched his chest for some resemblance of
sanity, but I only found myself in the swirls of moonlight that ventured in through the
window we tried to block...

he had told me of blankets years ago and I wished they would cover me when December came,
but I haven't seen December yet though I've watched snow fall and settle on his eyelashes,
I've studied the melting of time when he blinks...

“You have the most beautiful eyes in the world,” I informed him, minutes after the night
solidified herself and I realized we were tired.

“No, I don't,” he replied, in a tone that sunk beneath Tuesday, and offered me the calm of

“You do,” he whispered, and I could hear that smile and the echoes of his eyes closing, I
could hear myself enter his dreams as I watched my hair flow abstractly through the weeks
he remembered, and sometime before I fell asleep, thinking about St. Petersburg when the
visions that dance underneath my eyelids resemble the imagination of Salvador Dali, he
told me he loved me...

right on time.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Don't Give A Damn About Your Hair

It is a pretty morning.
Sun is breaking through.
Moon is setting in the west
My mind begins to think of you.
I'm sipping on my coffee
Would you like a cup?
We can watch the sunrise
Before our dogs wake up.
Let me hold your hand
Look into your in eyes.
Say how much I love you
As the sun brightens up the sky.
Your reflection upon a moonbeam
Is something to behold.
But with a ray of sunshine
Your true beauty does unfold.
Your smile is still enticing
Though your hair is still a mess.
Your eyes still have a twinkle
I think now you look the best.
I love you cause your beautiful.
I love you for you care.
I love it when you miss me.
I love it what we share.
Your heart is such a warm place.
I'm so glad that I am there. 
The way that you make love to me
I don't give a damn about your hair!!!

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 | |

Quench Their Thirst

their every heartbeats are for each other
no intake of food
they live on love
they drink each other’s smiles
nurture their love
his, every tender word
her nourishment 
his touch sends shivers up her spine
his thought only of her
she is his dream girl
never did she believed that one day 

her dreams would come true
and still she is dreaming of him
still she is longing for him
when she looks into herself
she aches at night without his touch
because she is not with him
 words spoken
desires placed on hold
soon her dream will come true
together they will quench
their thirst for true love...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The fallen solider

As she stands there looking at you
she remembers when your eyes
Were bright and filled with life
Filled with a qiuet strength
The heart of a warrior who yeilded to no man
She remembers a solider ready to brave the battle of life
A solider who stood above all adversaries
A knight who defened his love to the death
she remebers you charging in to the battle of Judgement Day
Fighting through enemies and friends alike
Everytime you fell she caught you and beg for you to stay 
To end it but her solider continued to fight 
Through fire blizzards and storms mortally wounded with each blow
Yet her solider fights on
The battle intensifies the sky turned black 
The clouds shed tears of blood on the warriors below
Nature itself contorts into a mass of twisted dejected souls
As hell rained down all around you engulfing you in its dark twisted mist 
Filled with howls of the damned
As the fire dies and black mist recedes
She see's you now kneeling alone a battered defeated solider
Back stiffened by harsh realites
Your shoulders sagging but rigid under the crushing burden you carry
Torn an stained hands your soul broken 
Her solider who endured all till you can't anymore
The hounds of hell rise again screaming and twisting
Ready to devour your very exsistance
She runs to you unafraid across oceans valleys and mountains
Crosses through heaven straight into hell
To catch you in her arms in a way to sheild you from the demons and hurt you face
Your princess from above willing to die with her
Defeated solider in the bowels of hell
Ready to sacrifice her life to hold you through the end of yours
Her Defeated solider who won her heart

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Though Long and dreadful, the darkness has now become Light

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

There Was something

There was something in her eyes
That said to me
That what she was listening to
Couldn’t be heard
And the words being spoken
Couldn’t be said
There was something in the way
She held her head
That said to me
She really wasn’t where
She appeared to be
So I quietly whispered
Would you care to take a walk
She didn’t question why
Just quickly answered yes
Held out her hand to take
And I never said a thing
We walked through the night
Just listening to the stars
We felt the warmth of passion
Against the chill of night
And never spoke a word
For eyes, arms and lips
Say so much more
When the sun broke upon the day
The grass told where we lay
As time and years went by
I saw her eyes again
They were so much younger
As they reflected back my smile
There was nothing much to say
In the way she held her head
I just remembered how in the sun
The grass showed where we lay

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Modern Day Merlin

To the torn page out of Modern day Merlin’s book of wizardry,

I regret to inform you that you are nothing more than a recipe for tomato soup. You have no enchanted qualities about you, but you tend to brag about where you come from more times than you realize. Dear torn page, haven’t you noticed that the he only wondered on your whereabouts when his life was turning quite pale in color, and rugged in shape? Your words of zest, and your smooth direction brought vibrancy into his blue octagonal soul. Probably like how an octopus would feel escaping from a cloud of his own ink. He could breathe again.

But you’re lost now, and he doesn’t care much. You wonder why you were written in the first place if you’ve only felt what magic you can make once. If there are over 7 billion people in this world, have you ever wondered how many pages in books there might be? Has it ever occurred to you that out of those trillions of pages turned, over half haven’t been read at all? Has it ever occurred to you that books have been transformed into toys? Children in schools use you until they grow up and buy iPhones and laptops, and you’re left on sitting sideways on some rotting wooden shelf that has nothing more to talk about than how bad of a shape he’s in. Has it ever occurred to you that there are mysteries, histories, nursery rhymes, and adventures that have been overlooked because of the simple fact that humans have given up on the great things?

Actually, it would seem that giving up is the only thing their willing to give. Your black blood on a papyrus shell just doesn’t flow in the mind like it used to. You reminisce on the time when you were the only one that cast a spell on him, and you gave him life again.

Now the wizard is off signing autographs and performing shows at Rockefeller Center every first Friday of the month. He uses only spells so basic that he doesn’t have to read the step by step instructions anymore. To be honest, the book isn’t even used as frequently. I think I even saw a family of dust specks rent a home on page thirty-three last week.

But has it slipped your mind, humble recipe? Have you forgotten already of the position you’re in? You are a torn page now.

So float on by.

Let the wind keep you steady.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Every night, we take the moon home. 
Split it in half,
and tuck it away beneath our ribs
for safe keeping. I always wince,
because of bruises that never 
heal but her smile kills that pain,
and when we get home
we get to dance under the same
light that led us to each other,
fashioning our love to the 
ceiling above, so it’s shine
can light the only world that
matters to us anymore. 
When we get home,
the rest goes dark,
and Earth’s rotation
adapts, forced to synchronize
with the steps of our feet
across the only real living room.
She says she’ll give it back 
when I decide the pain is
no longer worth walks in the
shade of rain.
t  e a s 
             ing   me with 
the zap of lightning’s charm.
But you see, 
this burdened cage of love’s misery
is a metronome’s swing to the 
beat of infinity. 
And so I press play on the 
heart of this, my favorite song
and once again, hold out my 
hand..and wait for her to
take my pain away.
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Giver and Thief

Like a thief, you have stolen my heart
The feeling so good, it’s hard to be apart
You are beautiful, rare and will always be mine
I will always love you, till the end of time
Like a giver, I have offered you my love
You have it all, until we’re taken by the Man above
Like a thief, I want to take your heart
Hold it forever, like a priceless piece of art
Like a giver, you offer your love to me
Embrace it I will, because with you I desire to be
You have my heart, my body and love
And our hearts fit together like two turtledoves 
So together we are, both givers and thieves
Never to separate, like one from their beliefs

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 | |

Forever You by WLM created on March 20, 2011

You are the one I want 
Forever and again
To brighten my day
In each and every way
You shine as bright as the sun
With the streaming rays which fall to the earth
And your smile is as beautiful
As the stars at night and the moon so bright
With you in my life
I will have not strife
Our lives will be so content
No matter where we have went
Our love together
Will last forever
You make the dark clouds go away
With each and every passing day
There are only a few
Whom are just as you
You are perfect in every way
And this is how you will always stay
I know you will be mine
For now and for all time
We will follow the line
Our lives together will be so fine
Our love will always be new 
For me and for you

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 | |

The Scattering that Comes With Painful Impossibility.

Morning light and time breathing, he slipped himself underneath me as daylight broke,
I fought tears, I fought him, I fought myself and life happened in the midst of refusal...

I fumbled in my pockets for pieces of him when the puzzle of me scattered, I watched
months become rich with memories and curls tangle themselves into shadows against the
moon, I yanked out promises as my elbows bruised and wished my mouth had been sewn shut as
my jeans could erase the treasures that were left by his fingerprints...

Letting go of me and I forced myself to reach too far, I challenged my beliefs for the
taste of him, for the taste of a smile when my eyes were wet with the tears I refused to
let fall and I fell, underneath him, on a Sunday, in June, when we spoke too softly for
the sun to hear us and I don't think summer ever knew I was waiting, I don't think he knew
that I patiently watched my heart break.....

Dawn rose in October, afternoon glared at me from beneath the stars in January and I felt
him again as I wrestled with ideas of why I wanted to, and I wondered what his motivation
was in March, on the night the snow fell without regard for our safety, I almost knew it
couldn't be my curls, I felt I was way too...


I felt him in May, I reached for his hand when our windows erased the nightmares, I lay by
his side and listened to his heartbeat to find my voice and we breathed...

when lips touched without speaking, when eyes locked and closed and whispers danced
through sunbeams, when he told me, from underneath me...

he loved me...

before the sun fell and after heartbreak felt a little bit too much like June.

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 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 | |

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 | |

Temple Of Cinnamon Memories

The echoes~ 
from a haunting refrain 
     buried deep, 
within the many corridors 
    of her heart 
weave their tangled, worn threads 
    playing on her memories 
like the delicate, frayed strings 
   of a lonely violin.
Lingering whispers intricately 
   seek the depths to the labyrinth 
of her soul, creating a tapestry  
   of wild cinnamon roots and leaves.
Her wounds of torn and shattered illusions 
   roar their voices in her mind 
like a jungle of ethereal savagery 
   that clipped her silken dreams 
leaving her flying with broken wings.
the tenderest of love came unto her 
   opening her eyes with magic rays 
that touched her spirit 
   with its fiery fingers of love 
opening her heart  
   to the rebirth of lost dreams. 
When his wings unfolded 
   he beckoned her to come 
             And ~ 
      She followed  

Anne P Murray
C@2011 LadeeAnne 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


A soft kiss to initiate the passion
Warm touches from his fingers dance around her lips,
Tempting her.
His fingers find her elongated neck.
She is hit with instant arousal.
His confident but gentle touch reaches her chest,
Tempting her yet again
Her body becomes addicted to his touch.
Deep breaths rush from her as a single finger traces down her stomach.
Her body moves sensually, pleading for more.
She knows this feeling.
The beginning of a climax, but is must be lured out of her.
Those strong fingers ease beyond her waist.
She can stop him, but there is no shown effort.
He is in a place forbidden to others.
Eyes close as her muscles tense.
She cannot restrain her soft screams.
The passion grows like a rogue wave.
Her heart rate accelerates with no signs of slowing.
The touch he gives becomes overwhelming,
The control she once had is lost.
She clinches his body as if to never let go,
And for those few intense seconds,
This feeling cannot be matched and will never be forgotten.
Her eyes open softly as she lay beside him.
She is passion, 
And she is love.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


A fine morning to watch the birds
By the ocean side. My dog by my side.
Deep cool breeze
Setting ablaze my ribs
My jacket and the dog’s fur
All I needed and asked for
Perfect company and comfort
…a lonely life.

My surrounding,
Oblivion of me
And me too, void of all
Very deep in thought
Knowing not when,
I sipped from the coffee cup
Wincing in disagreement,
I jolted back to memory
By its bitter taste.

What a way to discover.
But discovered I have.
A great deal of life is false and bitter
It’s bitter when you love
Yet, you be not loved
It’s false, thinking you are loved
But all the while, mugged

Why do you tell me
All is fair in love and war?
When I know what I saw?
The weak is the stepping stone
For the wicked
The honest a tool
In the hands of the fraud
Woe to them who made you bear grudge
Woe to you who got soiled in vengeance.

Nature is smart…so smart with it
For the sun must rise again
And time must heal your pain
Like the Americans will say
Every dog has its day
Dust up and take a walk
For your new lover
Might be waiting by the side walk

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dark-haired ninja over my hips

I watched as the dark grew around his eyes.
He came through the window,
Stepping like a shadow.
He was the night, he was the ghost, he was the 
Unaided fighter as he reached for my side.
And I so desperately wanted to caress his masked face. 
His pace was noiseless and so attractive,
Yet death was nearer with every step,
I thought.
Still, I didn’t care if my life would have ended 
That night, stolen by the elusive ninja… 
I wanted him even closer.
He quickly searched the inside of his shozoku,
Only to reveal a deadly suriken.
Breathless, as he approached, I stood there, 
Not wanting to disenchant from his spell.
With one blow, the suriken ripped 
The shoulder of my nightgown.
Flowing red stained my pillow
And it felt so real.
Oh, how I wanted his knife at my throat,
Me, his target of the night,
And how I sighed when he drew 
His katana.
With one lethal strike I would have 
Plunged on the floor, choking for my last breath,
Yet he gently traced the contour of my 
Trembling chin… trembling, but only for his touch.
My tears sparkled in the cold, hard steel
As I sensed his breath arising.
I only heard his samurai chuckle and with no warning
He hurled his sword back into the dark.
We both moaned in anxious passion
When he bore my hand into a painful 
Wrist lock.
I did not care, I did not see, I did not feel anything aside 
The dark-haired ninja over my hips.
Our mangled bodies mirrored in the shiny steel of his forgotten blade,
His chest crowning over mine,
His hands fondling in my hair, down to my aroused breasts.
Two naked bodies trapped in my jujitsu legs.
A ninja so dark, so passionate, so fast,
He gently pulled aside my hidden Sai from under the cushion. 
He kissed my breasts, my wrists, my hair,
My lips…
My shoulder, he patched with his soothing mouth.
We locked in kiss so quickly, his tongue
Bitter from my blood, snapping at my neck
And torso while he pushed inside me, deeper.
Invisible in the dark, he loved me
In endless ways, my fragile ninja rested 
On the top of my chest.
I stroked his hair in content and silence,
Not even knowing his name.
A dark-haired ninja lay over my hips
When dawn came chewing at our lashes.
I then turned, not to see his figure,
Relying on my silent samurai
Of the dusk that I’ll go back to sleep
And he’ll go back to black.

© 2009 Stefania Carmen Misaila 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Cheshire Grin

The climate now is changing. 
Summer seems to turned to fall.
Winds that blew hot with passion
No longer seem to blow at all

There is frost upon the pumkin.
And it's only mid July. 
Think what we thought was love 
Were the wrong words to apply. 

Seems when we made love, 
In the day or even night.
Feelings stirred inside us both
There's was something just not right.


Maybe just be friends now 
Is what we're supposed do.
Saying that it is easy 
But in practice it's untrue.

Maybe in few months, 
Or maybe even more. 
Once we've gone our seperate ways 
We can try to open up that door. 

Can't say we don't care 
Or that we didn't try. 
Just that something happened 
Our love it slowly died.

May have been the distance 
Or maybe things we didn't say.
Just no longer had the magic 
It just faded right away. 

Both tried to cling 
To something  the past. 
Not one, but both of us 
Knew It wouldn't last. 

Now a Cresent moon is rising 
Slightly hidden by a tree.
See it rather different now 
It's not like it used to be.

When the sun rises in morning 
A new day be ushered in. 
Though I'll be without you 
I'll still have this Cheshire grin

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Strange philosophy

i've always been so afraid of flying,
is it my fear of heights,is it my fear of falling?
it's a strange philosophy,
a troubled heart,a shooting star,life's a remedy
for who we are.
oftentimes my hope is fleeting,
so engrossed in so believing,
in who i am ,the calling,
it's a strange philosophy,
that up is down and down is up,
no doubt my truth is your lie,
but this is music,hear the heart.
it's a strange philosophy,
i live in you,you live in me,
you're trying hard to make it,
work it!
you lose your soul and hope it's worth it?
we trusted in whoever we believed,
Jesus died for my own fault,
i heard that all things pass away,
but love like this never fades away.
one last thing,
it is what it is,
a seriously strange philosophy,
all that and so much more.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Invisible Lover

From amidst the raging storm of thoughts a cry shattering the sky… 

“When wilt thou return from the dew-topped mountains?
From those high peaks that rub my imagination through.

Where oft doth thou disappear into a fragile trail of foot prints that mystically 
from where I hear a heart’s lonely cry; from where the frantic cries of the reaper 
submerge dies.
Is it true or is it just I? 

What hath thou so wonderfully witnessed from a town so tinsel lies?
From where such ruthless condemnation forked displayed…

From where ever, tell me now, tell me how and tell me why?
When thou art gone for what must I still low lie?”

Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ 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... . ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ....... ...... ..... .... ... .. .

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Milroy Farm

Milroy Farm
William L. Moore
William McCracken Milroy

Sitting in my Deer stand
Upon my Uncles land
Feel the simple breeze
As it whispers through the trees

Waiting for the Deer
Not a single hint of fear
Hear the leaves rustle
In all of the bustle

As they encroach
The closer they approach
It’s really really strange
As they cross the range

As you hear the gun go CRACK
I may have hit his back
He stumbles gently away
And falls where he may lay

I must wait until he dies
Let alone through the cries
I am through with the season
Since I have accomplished my reason

Uncle Bill I thought of you when
I wrote this and wanted to make
Sure that you got it
William Lewis Moore

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Heart of an Ocean

My love in you  
like the ocean,  
I want to dive into your soul,  
never resurface.  
I’d drown if I could.  
Breathe in, never let go,  
explore the very depths,  
into the heart of the ocean,  
to see what lays at the bottom,  
Unrequited, until I touch it.  
the further I venture into  
a territory unknown,  
the more I discover,  
the more I love,  
the more I am enthralled and determined  
to see what mysteries await me.  
The more I penetrate into  
the gratifying abyss  
of your heart that seems  
to have limits boundless, 
the more I want,  
the more I seek to reveal.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I am not handsome
So my love is not in my physique
Am not rich,
So my love is not bulging in my pocket
Only my brain is wild
And my mind is mild
A fanciful tunnel links both
Its walls,
Romance lurks and links close

Where a man’s treasure is
There you search out his heart
Mine locked you in as its treasure
A drop of tear from your eye
Is twin to a sword thrust through my heart.
My love is in you

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Addicted

My life has dumps and learning experience
and pain but 
I had grown to understand that 
                             this is not the end
I feel that I answer a question 
that's been bothing me for so
now my life is smooth 
and almost all
now I have 
to heal this 
feeling that

spreads poison inside
bring back that power
and marvelous feelings 
that I once had for
                    me love stills a beautiful thing
its not hormlous its lovelous with addiction still
at harmful recovery 

body so a mude to the actions you

my thinking is you
and my body craved for
you my lips less tasteful
my heart is fighting every man that come close
 to the heart I shared with you
bring back you give me back what I need and thats 
you that keep my soul, world and life alive

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost Love WLM March 29 2011

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When you speak

when you speak..
such rousing vibrations   
pour from you           
Tendrils of sound       
meander from your mouth           
and settle around my neck           
They curl           
and thicken           
and tighten 
with delicious finger-like grip           
Soon, I mightn't be able           
to breathe       
I should beg you to stop 
But I adore that you're killing me

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ballet In The Sky

The whole air is dancing-
     Ravenous thunder rumbles
        Lighting curls her jagged bolts
          flashing like gold through amythyst, sapphire skies

I'll not allow your image to spoil my view
   With you-rain would cry it's droplets 
          as it mumbled whispers to my haunted heart
               Oft' times-rolling clouds rumbled their voices in my soul


Now, I dance in scarlet flames that spark across the heavens
   gliding thru turquoise skies with copious clouds... 
       that delicately clothe my body             
           pirouetting gracefully ...
               to the peaceful harmonic rhythm of rolling thunder

My flesh no longer aches for your barren touch
   I shall not desire your hand opon my beautiful rain drenched skin
       whetted now with golden silken tears

My memory quickens...
      I no longer remember your face or hunger for your sterile love
         I'll not dance to your chaotic rhythm

Nature baited me with her sweet breath
     Embraced me in her loving arms-
         singing her gentle rain of tears

    baited me with your hook of selfish love

My heart now dances with another
     One who bathes my soul in fertile soil
         He feeds me with his hungry, selfless love...

   fed me worms with your stingy heart   

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Alongside Me

Not a message in a bottle...

As my heart looks out to sea...

...Each wave that crashes...The message I receive...

...Not my bonnie lies over the ocean...

...This gift, this love,

...Upon all sands...

...Stands alongside with me...

...Deep within ocean waves...

...To white surface spills...

...Like champagne corks in celebration thrills...

...Not my bonnie lies over the ocean...

This gift, this love,

...Upon all sands...

...Stands alongside with me...

Details | Prose Poetry | |


           HABEAS CORPUS

My daughter writes
Where are you Dad?
 When'll you come ?
Who builds walls between us ?
Even if you come , how will I
Recognisze you ?
Blood simmers-
I was safe in mamma's belly
The day you stepped down
With accompaniments
Mamma lost her sense
Today, my ninth birthday
No cakes , candles and guests
Where are you ?

Parents meeting in school
I stood alone embarrassed
My Miss holding me,kissing on cheeks
Friends say
You are behind bars
Is it Dad ?
All relatives swear my birth
Am I that doom'd
Tell me Dad !

Mamma weeps often
Looking at railroads
Down our flat
Says nothing-

My daughter writes 
When will you come
Where are you

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Into the Light of the Day

Into the Light of the Day

Front from back who can tell how many lives are changing
Beginning to end
We start and finish time and again
Enter and exit, we come and go but no one knows
Just what it all means to me

Doors unlocked remain unopened for lack of challenge
I only cross where others would not dare look back on
I find intensity in the fight to carry on, at any cost
Survive for you and I, you and I!

Unfinished works lie untouched in the process
But at hand we have created another chapter,
This verse
And tomorrow, saving me from today
Will find this pen in hand
Guiding myself and any believers
Out of the darkness of the forest
And into the light of the day…

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sunshine By WLM November 25, 2008

Outside the sun is grand
In which I love to stand
Soaking up all the rays
Hope it stays this way for days

The breeze is cool
Like a shining Jewel 
The noise is so quiet
You wish you could buy it 

How heavenly I feel
It tis the real deal
The beauty abounds
As I walk around

The planes fly high
In the deep blue sky
Marking their time
Just follow the line

The tall trees that show
Will continue to grow
And are the trees we love to see
Glory Be!  We will jump up with Glee!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Last Embrace

Last Embrace
Arabic Poem by: Mohanna Al-Khikani *
Translated by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)

I only want
A hat
To hide my memory,
A shirt coming out of the night with ample
Saturated with the fragrant smell of makeup.
A new step has not yet come out
I enshroud my bewilderment with a last embrace 
And get ready to die, leaving behind
All this nonsense! 
Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
 USA / September 2013
 * Muhannad Al-Khikani is an Iraqi poet

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The blind man from mid-west town

A blind man hailed from mid-west town
A mild but lonley clown
In search of love and happy times
A life so filled with rhymes

His friends would tease and call him blind
But still he would'nt mind
They say deep down he is truely kind
And deserves a worthy find

So he set off-shore "the fairy tales"
With gusto that never fails
He sailed accross the bitter niles 
And the shores of lonely miles

He went on-ward with head ahead
With little or no bread
In hope of making mends amend
With glimmer of uncertain end

An abrupt stop suprised he made
Cos he saw what none could see
A vista view of a pretty maid
Behold!...a magic tree

With leafs cut out in golden sheets
And sterms stretched out in fleets
Upon each nod a diamond ring
Of roses and lilies bling

"Oh! heavens i must be dreaming here"
So he said with uneasy stare
He tried to place in harmony
That life is such an irony
For years he prayed his sight would be
But the world was blind but he

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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 | |

the craving

the empty timings 
of ford trucks six galloping horse's
and industrial
hushes of flint Michigan's or'r
of a solid notion 
covered above quiet gestures
where almonds 
and mustard seeds gather

throughout the earths
crestful daunting arches
that glowed gravely
within the abrupt tides

flushing giant gnats 
crushing simple thoughts 
where sullen valley's closed in
the faint scent 

of perfumed nectar
wretchedness calling 
of tidy bindery folded

above empty wine glasses 
and half filled tea cups
catering to the craving 
sound of humanity

while chaste mindful 
cringes grazes 
within yellow fields 
of dandelion's mist 
concealing a paste 
of harden surfaces
grooming the rough edge's 
of man's inner most soul

pardoning infancy
therefore simply
tampering with 
the keeper's nest of kindness

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Beauty of Fortitude

A two toned rose 
Of white cream and red-
Reflexes beauty of the truest of hearts
A wildflower found-
Of purple and yellow,
Is beloved,
Reflexing passionate strength of a surviving will
When one combines the two-
One may find a sight to behold
Of a creature with a will of such fortitude
To endure battles of small and large
And have the tenderness 
As that of a brush of air- blown against one’s arm
Yet having asperity- 
Like that of a sharp leaf cut to the skin-
And the strength of ten bears-
Yet be nimble and sure-footed as that of an athlete

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Friend in Doubt

A Friend in Doubt
July 2, 2011 

Thought I had a true friend
He would be there till the end
In the end I found out 
What he was all about
Making me the shrew
And giving me the screw
Though the years we were there
All we did was help and share
You show concern 
But then you learn
His name is Jimmy and so full of bull
He treats most as a fool
Once he is alone
It will finally lost last be shown
Just keep on to thyself lying
Because soon you will be dying
Things will be better in the end
Cause life will be begin again
But now a lost friend to me 
So my life is finally free

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Imprinted Love

Simple thoughts of you make me smile
You have entered my life like this missing tile
Honestly never thought I could sing this love song
But then out of nowhere, this Angel came along
You are my Angel and I love you so
I’ve found this love I never thought I’d know
Unknowingly you have imprinted your love in my heart,
And I never want this feeling to depart

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Used To Be

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Internal Cremation

The burning, it cremates my chances

A raging fire- it jumps, it dances

Lighting new paths then turning them to ash

Sweeping up the future to mix them with the trash

Destroying my organs, ripping through their being

Tearing my faith and preventing hope from seeing

I promise one day I will put out the flame

For the ignition, I'm the only one to blame

I want to strike the match in a different place

I crave its full effects and not a mere trace

I need it, and want it to show on my face

Happiness should be here, and I'm so sick of the chase

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Christmas Poem (For Lyn, et al)

...Have occasioned
I think to have been decor-
rating The Tree, it's 
piney quills & tines   
dressing in glassy festoons
weightless baubles of 
tins-led Christmas-candy
colors, like porcelain 
fragile-fine, hooked canes
& dangled barber-pole-paean
peppermint-stick Memories
of savored hangon 
trinkets & heirlooms
looming like a twinkling 
tapestry 'round 
wreaths of snowy popped-corn
dangling - "No, darlings, that's not 
for eating..."  Yes, I 
have occasioned the 
rows of bubbling light-tubes 
like glowing chains of 
warm caterpillars 
inching-on toward the Manger's 
Star of a chrysalis 
Christmas Joy to Light-
Up the World!  Oh Yes, I have 
occasioned The Tree 
Breathing in Ecstasy...
And the Wonder, of this from
a Guy whose Imprimatur 
might have been

"And so, as Tiny Tim observed, G-D bless Us, Every One!" 
(" A Christmas Carol").  And...

A "...Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night!" 
(Clement Clarke Moore, "Twas The Night Before Christmas").


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Enthusiast

Enthusiasm is a sharp blade in our toolbox of genuine stories.
The box embroidered with desire and filled with emotions you learned before thinking
to raise your right hand 
and give your answer an
honest try.

A want
to be willing 
to be worth it.
That’s what enthusiasm brings.

A hammering heart next to 
the beating one you have 
no control over.
It beats the blood upward like piano keys
hammering your brain to 
make a decision for your body to act upon.
A decision that breaks 
mantic-metallic peace and concrete brick chaos 
into two opaque pieces
and welds a glass mirror of love 
in between 
to remind you that the 
happiest time of life prescribed 
to you was when you saw 
your reflection 
and could see through any

We call ourselves blacksmiths.
Take bits and pieces of moments 
and memories
lay them across the 
old wooden table 
and try to piece together
a sword shiny enough to
smile at your problems in the steel.
But there is sword so spotless
No, there is no sword
strong enough to keep the 
table from splintering your fingers.
Foundation is everything.
A deaf man screaming at 
a blind girl’s watch dog 
to direct her out of green light traffic 
will do nothing more but 
make the mutt angry
and he will bite at your hand
for feeding his master murderous
If there is one thing 
that my life stories have 
taught me 
it’s that you can’t wield an excalibur of peace 
with a wood-splintered vision
of the future
And that you can be 
the cause of chaos 
if no one understands
what you’re saying.
‘Grabbing for breath has now broken my fingers.’
No matter what your 
intentions are 
actions will always speak louder than traffic-signal speech. 
So forge enthusiasm inside
of a burning desire 
to love other 
without being so judgmental.
The toolbox of genuine,
embroidered with desire
grins at me
every time I see my reflection
and see you standing
by my side.
My enthusiast.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

North Carolina and the Moment in Which People Kiss.

I sang the words of


and pretended to own barstools as my sweaters lost color, I scribbled words on napkins and
slid drinks underneath them, I pretended to be...


“Buy me something, something I can wear around my neck and place pictures in, something
that sparkles, something.....pretty,” I asked him.

He shook his head because he knew about my tendencies to break chains when I felt too
locked up, he knew the way I loved to run.

I stopped for a second and paused the moment we were supposed to kiss in, I placed my head
on his lap and told him of North Carolina~

only because I loved the words.

I stopped there, sometimes, on the borders that separate Virginia, I've thrown my life on
hotel room floors, losing it under the bed just so I could sleep, I've walked out and left
myself behind, and I've wondered, those times, about the meaning of forever.

We met, he and I, you know, in a hotel, in a room where the key unlocked me, and I had
thrown myself to the floor with a black skirt and a pair of fishnets and 

h i d

under the bed while he smiled...

I kept my eyes open, on top of bedspreads and headboards and I kept thinking that we'd

stayed too long
stayed past the moment where people kiss...

and I wondered, that time, if that moment meant forever, but I forgot to ask and was too
frightened to hear the answer.

Years later, we slept, we dreamed in North Carolina, after I sang him

Joni Mitchell

after he gave me something pretty,
he gave me his name
to dangle

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I have written fairy tales 
And of babies in a mothers womb. 
Even written about the tempter. 
And the Bibles coming doom. 

Wrote about a mountain top, 
Where I almost touched the sky. 
Wrote about how I lost my son, 
With many a teardrops in my eye. 

Even wrote about my dog. 
Used to sit here by my side. 
Wrote about love's I've lost. 
And a yellow rose that died. 

Then a lady in a cowboy hat, 
How she really turned my head. 
Really thought I loved her. 
Should have stayed at home instead. 

Wrote about ones eloquence. 
And the way she could excite. 
How her breast of alabaster 
Did keep me up all night. 

Wrote about a dress once worn. 
It was periwinkle blue. 
Just how sad I really was, 
When knowing we were through . 

Wrote about my Unicorn. 
Yes, his name was Dream. 
Took me over rainbows. 
We did make quite a team. 

Wrote how I slayed the dragons. 
Some say, I was the very best. 
Even when so deep inside, 
I laid them all to rest. 

Yes once I was a Knight, 
Shiny armor I did bear. 
Tempter got the best of me 
Now tarnished armor I do wear. 

Yes, all the words I write 
Come right here from my heart. 
I do so hope they touch you. 
That's the most important part. 

I really want to thank you all 
For reading what I write. 
Without your words of kindness 
There would be no Tarnished Knight  

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When All

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Twisted Karma

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you
Who am I to you?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Reading Heiroglyphics and the Shadows That Dance on the Wall

He impressed me, his eyes were reflections of fire, his wrists were his passion and his
hands drew patterns over my skin...

He glanced, over to the left, and I imagined something important must be written on the

There were shadows dancing, the way we kissed on moonlit nights, the way we played out
secrets and turned silence into games, and somewhere on the right side of all this, I
slept and he breathed and I learned how to read the


of us, the language of who we were...

“We're somewhere in the middle, Dear,” I told him as I traced my hands lightly over the
center of his chest, I watched his arms move, slightly, to pick up my past, and I made
figures under the blankets that saved us from the chill of March with my knees...

Every scar can be counted, every flaw tells a story, and I knew they were written upon the
way he furrowed his brow, I knew that if I counted the moments in which he kept his eyes
closed, I could find the letters that wrote his sentences...

I could speak like him and amaze myself...

I could corner him and back out before he trapped the meaning of trust...

“You don't have to worry,” I told him as he breathed the air we slept in, “You are poetry,
the embodiment of my words, you are the ink captured secrets that appear on my every page,
you are the tear stained notebook that holds herself through years, and you are the
corners in my pages, carefully folded over, carefully...


He replied with a dream, he replied with a breath, and he impressed me, his smile, and the
shadow he placed on the left side of my walls when I got stuck

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Remember When

Remember When
Remember when I was twenty
and you were only twenty-four?
Remember how you looked at me
and how my eyes rested on yours?
Remember the eyelash on your fingertip
and how you blew it away?
Remember my prayer, my wish
and what I wanted you to say?
Remember the pounding of our hearts
as love embraced our very souls?
You and I
Have known each other from long ago
Before there was life
Before there was breath.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fifty-percent: A Paradox

Power is too devastating a concept for the groundlings to scourge on.

Instead, we thrive on inspiration,
A hope that things could change.

And those luxurious bourgeoisie that roam the outskirts of reality, have no limits,
 But unfortunate for them, they also have no ties to humanity.
Floating above everything that breaths, until they breathe their last
And having only the masquerade of parts they acted out to define their existence.

I would like to leave a footprint that has not my name flashing on a red carpet,
[mostly likely red from blood split henceforth]
But instead a list of people I saw with bleeding hearts.
A story of a homeless man who knew the meaning of all arts, despite his lack to 
make any living off of them, and you could see him everyday making rounds, pushing 
his  rusting grocery carts.
Every ingredient from the sliced finger to the squinting eyes after tasting the 
accidental mistake of salt for sugar, that went into baking that perfect apple pie.
To impress your in-laws.
The picket fence painted by Mr. Cain, and the window washed by Mr. Townsend of 
Lot, who did not drip a drop, or leave a single spot.

Retrospection to the simple question of would you rather?
For I would like to think that money escapes my vision,
Morality ruling all I see.
A true Robin Hood story is sadly a compulsive lie I choose to try and be.
As altruism is as false as any other self-deceiving truth of modernity.
Any gift given with think or not, gives back with a smile or warm thought.
So do not think you are true, because that thought makes that truth, untrue.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Cadeyrm - Battle King

The battle hardened warrior
stood solemnly upon the war torn land
the battlefield before him covered
with the life's blood of his warriors
battle armour, sword and shield
lay strewn across the land.
Flags fluttered in the breeze
as grim testimony to the fierce
and bloody battle which before
his very eyes had been bravely fought
with his fellow countrymen giving their lives
for that which they had sworn to defend
the very land upon which death now ruled.
His warrior Queen by his side
her allegiance to him the same
as those who had come before her
she swore to give her life, if called upon
for her Lord! her King! her Husband!
The ground, soaked with the blood
of warriors young and old
lay open before them
like that of a bloody wound
received victouriously in battle.
The once pristine beauty of the land
upon which they now stood
lay clenched in deaths mighty grip
a stark reminder of the ravages of battle.
With a warriors cry long born of anger
his sword raised to the heavens
he vowed his life's blood
that those who lay before him would be avenged.
As he turned to walk away
he heard the shrill call of an eagle overhead
this was to him a sign
felt throughout his very soul
that his cry had been heard
and he knew he would be victorious in his quest.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Positions: Part Three

Positions: Part Three
Arabic Poem by: Bushra Al-Bustani
Translated into English by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)

The Position of Grief

Was the sky blue in any day?
 I have never seen it clear! 
 Sine the time of the Mongols to the Amiriya** day
And from the Amiriya day to the muddy days of the plot.

The two rivers are pouring from your fingertips, and I am thirsty
 There or here
 There is no difference 
 Since the globe is a ball for the blind to play with
 Forgetting that Earth is the inheritance willed to us
 The night is dark, as the stars have fallen in my blood.  
Since you departed, 
Moaning of the words has been obscuring the light from my paper
And digging a cave for my pleasure in the trunks of trees
Since you departed, 
The night has turned into a silent old man
Falling asleep on his cane
And I am withering as a wish did not come true 
As I court the tears of my waiting. 

Since you departed, 
Your voice has become an aching child in my blood, 
A burning flute
And a never drying tear drop in my wound.
Since you departed, 
My coffee cup has been extinguished
And two seats have fallen of the terraces of the stars.

Since you departed, 
The water turned yellow
And the fingertips of words have been dry.
In the last watch of sadness, I hear your footsteps
And see shadows walk away

The tavern keeper Sidori said:
“Pamper the boy who holds your hand!”
I replied:
“But they kidnapped the boy
Taking his hand away from mine...
A history of colors was sparkling in his eyes
And writing canceling writing
Amidst the ordeal whispers were faltering
But they may not dig graves for his heart and mine
As long as there are veins for water in the sand of my soul
And lamps that refuse extinction in the erased script.”  

Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
*Bushara Al-Bustani is a poet from Iraq
** Al_Amiriyah refers to a shelter used by civilians during the Iraq-Iran war in the Amiriyah neighberhood in Baghdad.  It was bombed by the USA Airfirce  with two lazer-guided "Smart Bombs" on February 1, 1991 where more than four hundred civilians mostly women and children were killed and a thousand were injured.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Angel's description

I once caught a clear glimpse of her, when she smiled to me, in the train station, not
knowing what to think, speaking to the cellphone and looking at me at the same time,
trying to stay calm, yet couldn't. How regal she looked with the smile on her face... 

My next glimpse of her was in bed, at night, when she could not endure the thought of
being held by her hands as she was, yet, with a once dominant instinct, loving the way she
was seduced. It struck me how dreadfully vulnerable she seemed, being a girl and yet in
some obscure way a mature woman. 

But the angel was released and forgiven and returning to her Eden she was no more able to
withstand eternity without the one she loved. So she rose from her wooden chair and
enchanted the mortal, seeking him, loving him, bringing him to her. 

He arrived at Heaven's doors and gracefully entered the gate. 
Only a few paces from the beauty he draw her closer, teasing her, kissing her ... making
her feel so excited and tantalized.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tomorrows Tomorrow

I loved you yesterday...

I love you still...

I always love you...

I always will...

...The sun will wait...

...To greet your smile...

...The jealous moon...

...I loved you yesterday...

I love you still...

I always love you...

I always will..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Positions: Part Two

Positions: Part Two
Arabic Poem by: Bushra Al-Bustani
Translated into English by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)

The Position of Love

Your love is the twin of clear water
It sprays aromatic mist on the wing of an angel
Staying up all night to guard our two moons. 

All my bare-foot poems
Play in the terrace of your heart.

If you were not at the door,
All these roses on the terrace 
Would not be smiling.

If it were not for my hand in your 
The curtains would not be trembling in fever.

Your love is a tear drop
I defeat once,
But it defeats me times and times.

Your fingers are smart and intensely glowing 
Their wandering in the mazes tempts me.

Your presence in the pulse of my words
Teaches them how to dance in far away courts.

The violet is sad
With open arms, it waits for you. 

Your love 
Is the only sin 
That refused to disown me,
Therefore, I dwelled in it.

In your arms, my safety lies
I wake it up whenever my pains waken.

Your love
Is the arbor that I have not reached yet.

Your love
Is the bias I refuse to free myself from 
And am not afraid of getting lost in it. 

Your love is the privation
The springs of which I seek to quench my thirst
I am she who is haunted by the bliss of ecstasy
Always leaving and heading to places you do not know,
As the routes of longing take me to the warmth,
I wonder, like a yearning garden,
Are you with me?
And without waiting, the sky pours down gifts,
Glimmers on top of each other,
And my garden unfolds lilies and anemone. 
So I ask my god,
How could fire produce lilies, nightingales and butterflies?
Why does the universe dither
Like your waves that stumble on my stupor?
In the stupor, I no longer fear you.
I discovered that the eternal light is your fire,
My paradise without you is a mirage and a chunk of the night
So, I choose eternity
Since it is the start line for two forearms 
Committing the act of shy shells  
And these forearms are yours.
So, teach me,
Teach me a game of more suffering
As our skins, germinate nothing but torment.
Teach me a game, in which you are the only winner,
So that I have the sense of victory with you.

(Part Three: The Position of Grief follows)
Translated  from Arabic by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
*Bushara Al-Bustani is a poet from Iraq

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Are You Knocking- Do You Hear The Wind Sing Your Name

I seem to have lived my life in thrice written scrolls
    flowing throughout the eternal winds 
in bits and pieces of torn paper

I’ve searched my heart for you my love
    I’ve sent your name to the stars -
sending it throughout the Universe…
    floating across the essence of time

I seek my heart’s desire…
    Bidding him to send the mysteries of his soul
I search and search - oh, there must be more
    Is that you knocking at my door?

Why is love so hidden?
    We think it has arrived, only to find…
it was not for ourheart - our soul

In my dreams - you’ve come a thousand times
    Your spirit sings
I’m aroused by the gentleness of your touch
    I feel the passion of your caress
My heart keeps searching 
    My soul yearns for the sweet taste of your kiss

Where are you my love...
    There must be more
Is that you knocking at my door?

You sleep in the recesses of my mind - my heart
    Come fill the emptiness within - 
draw me into your warm embrace 

I’ll wait a lifetime ...
    for there must be more 
    Is that you knocking at my door?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The She General

The She General
Arabic Poem By: Fayez Al-Haddad
Translation into English By:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
I beg your passion, O General of Love!
Grant me leave to say
Some of the divine revelation of love,
Though I don’t know but the opening verse,
Your endless opening,
To recite for your eyes the glory of what God loves;
As there is no peace,
When love is but messages
Akin to caged birds.
How could I conquer your heart
with my weary army,
When you break into my kingdom,
Heavily armed with the power of women?
Have mercy upon a captured Bedouin,
Who has nothing,
Save the clemency of your eyelashes
in the Holy Spear!

O you! One with the solemn mouth
That's colored with music,
O you! Lung of water,
That's thirsty in me,
O you! One with the beauty mark
And anklet wings;
Prophetess of promised kisses!
Sing what you wish of fancy,
And recite what your generous mouth lets out
Of precious hymns;
Trench me with the downpour of your honey,
As beyond your mouth, there is no spring,
But the “Well of Joseph” and the drought;
And beyond your lips, earthquakes trellis
In the dribbles of tales.

I tremor like the heart of a cold homer,
While the warmth lies in your chest a caldron;
Is it fear? Or is it love? Or,
Is it hate in what you know?
Hate me as much as there is love in hate!
My heart thinks no more
of the taste of touches,
And adoration forgot to cheer in the pottery jars.
Name it as you wish,
but I am a heart fluttering under your wing..
Where no limb could vie for
its tenderness of yearning.

Draw closer to me,
But I fear for your clothes
From the flames of my narcissism;
And you know me:
I am aroused by your mere image,
How would meeting you, face to face, bear me?
Be the hot coffee,
For me to be shattered
On the rim of your cup,
As multiple mouths, 
Breath of cups, and smoke pipes;
As I am
And rendezvous;

I do not wait!
Translated by:  Em. Prof Inaam Al-Hashimi

*  Fayez Al-Haddad is a poet from Iraq
Link of the poenm with introduction in Arabic:

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beauty Surrounds

Beauty Surrounds
June 27, 2011

See the wonders of the world
As they pass to us unfurled
Such an amazing light
Sun shining so bright
Flying on the wing
Hear the birds sing
The grass so green
Such a sight has you ever seen
The lilies in bloom
Orange hue in their flume
I see stars in my head
Of the roses so deeply red
The crate myrtles so pink 
They cause me to blink
Birds sitting in the trees
Catching the cool summer breeze
Dogs continually play
Let them stay and have their way
The fluffy clouds so high
Up, up high in the sky
The trees they sway
In the wind they play
The magnolia blooms
The beautiful pearly white flumes
The scent so pungent
So sweet to the smell
The bees they separate
Jump from flower to flower to pollinate
God’s wonderful earth
Created for our birth
We shall begin again
From now until the end

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Soul decaying, heart breaking, knees shaking,
And still nothing I can do to make your presence fade,
You’re nowhere in sight yet you still make yourself known,
Now I know the feeling of getting your heart thrown, 
Into a dark lifeless pit of tragedy and despair,
Knowing your arms wrapped around the waist of another,
Tares my soul in two,
I’m drowning in my own tears,
And grasping nothing but blood,
I hate seeing my heart cut up and dropped in front of me,
I sit on the floor with my head down,
Rib cage open and arms drenched in red remorse,
And you,
Standing above me with a blank stare and what was my heart,
I’m never waking,
And you’re gone and taking,
What was my heart grasped in your hand and a plane ticket in the other,
Smiling at him starry eyed,
And I’m still waiting to get that heart back,
Hoping it’s from you,
But now I’m hoping it can be from another,
I can’t wait to learn how to finally love you.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Sins I Commited When I Loved Him Too Much.

I knew the rules, the engagement of us, he had a wound on his chin, he told me it was ages

he told me about her, he never spoke her name softly enough.

I sat on floors as I looked out windows, I stared for the time it took him to pull his
jeans up, I heard his fingers fumble at the button, his callouses rubbing against metal
and the quick goodbye of a zipper, and I knew it was summer, but the sun seemed to mock
me, the sun rose two hands too far for me to feel her.

“One day, one day, you'll love only me,” I whispered to myself, loud enough to break the
silence but quiet enough so he wouldn't know he had hurt me, though my tone wasn't
convincing and I could never stop the tears.

I pressed my back against pillows and sunk quietly into where he lay his head as I closed
my eyes, I made myself familiar with the fabric of blankets, the soft pattern of quilts
and discovered a new way to hide, and I hid from him so he would stay...

I would have done anything if he would just stay.

He reached over to kiss me, to touch my cheek and run his hand over the freckles no one
ever saw, he smiled for a second, for the moment it took for me to curl up into him, my
lashes tickled his arm, my tears traced over his tattoo and I found it hard to let go.

I composed myself, I looked into his eyes, I thought about how sad it was that I begged
for him even when he was right there, I stopped for a second when he opened his mouth, I
followed the trails of his breath as if they were swimming through my air, and he told me
that I was the only one who ever made him happy...

I shook my head, I blinked and found love to be ironic because the feel of him was killing
me, I kissed him, lips meeting and sins committed, and for the time it took him to walk
out my door, I turned my head and stared out my summer promising window...

just to watch him leave.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thursday's Destructive Inconsistencies.

He believed in inconsistency, with the claim that he believed in me...

I held onto every word as I watched the the ashes of my heart scatter into rain and I
stopped, stuttered and shut.down., the key to everywhere ripping through my palms as I



Hope lay immortal inside my smile, the rainbow of dreams slipped through my teeth, he slid
down my colors with arms that entwined around my calves, I screamed his name with the
earthquake of secrets and he bruised possession into my skin, but I knew he was already
inside, I knew he had planted years of unreason into the separation of my soul, I knew he
stood right

in between


Too many narcissistic dreams, mirrors grinned at us from every angle, I shut doors in the
faces that frowned, I felt I must be dreaming but the kicks inside my stomach woke me up
and, here, I knew the hold of sanity existed throughout the idea of being needed as the
edge of tears fell down with the thought that maybe I wouldn't be wanted as time...

destructed herself.

I allowed him to choke me, I fell apart in the intimidation of strength, but I knew we'd
be beautiful as our smiles stared life from the pages of picture books, I knew the corners
would turn up from eager fingerprints that would shame our past, and seasons change~

don't they?~

so why shouldn't we?

Two hours too soon and I had to admit through painted eyes that once I was wrong, twice
I'd been a fool, three times I swore I'd leave...

but promises broke and fell into ashes as hope arrested me into believing we could
inconsistently shock the world if the world took the time to cry for us...

if children held onto the dishonesty of fairy tales...

and I forgot to lift my feet...

when my secrets gathered themselves into a kiss that colored his shoulders and left us bare



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Endless Night

Lips touch, bodies tight,
I desire your touch, on this beautiful night.
Hands explore, toes curl,
Our emotions, begin to swirl.

I’m yours, you are mine,
To this we both, cannot deny.
I never see, our bond breaking,
My love and my heart, is yours for the taking.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dream Come True

Dream Come True
January 12, 2011

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

An angel of Love

An angel of love carries a deed
This must in turn return in heed
It a powerful spell that withers and dies
Not unknown too well within hearts lie
What feeling we feel as though we have come undone
It feels somewhat real as it sulks in the sun
Which day we have spent counting the hours
While the seasons pass its lovely powers
In dread we have seen what we suit
When an angel of love begins pursuit
What seraph?
What meaning of love
An angel of love 
Will come from above…

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Positions: Part One

Positions: Part One
Arabic Poem by: Bushra Al-Bustani
Translated into English by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)

The Position of Secrets
Tonight we are alone
 You and I, and a single goblet.
Tonight we are alone
Like the moaning of mountains,  
My aching takes me to you.
Tonight we are alone
I will give you the puzzle, 
And you give me the glimmer of your forearms.
Tonight we are alone
I will give you all the rest of me, 
And you give me a pomegranate blossom.
Tonight we are alone
 I will give you the secrets,
 And you give me the keys.
Tonight we are alone
We shall be lost together
In a universe, that has lost the way.

 The Position of Sharing

At night, they share positions 
She gives him the position of the light
And settles in the wave.
At the twilight, they share the flowers 
She gives him the flowers of love
And lives in passion.

In the morning, they share the trees 
She gives him the fruitful trees 
And takes the ornamental shrubs.
Who said joy is stupid?
Joy is a sea that hides its treasures
And waves in the laughter of a spring sun
Just like his smile waves in the glimmer of her eyes.

The Position of Resurrection
It is not love
Nor it is an illusion of love,
Not fondness or a dazzle,
Not a glimmer or a gasp of panic,
Not a sin or a fancy romp,
It is resurrection 
Uprooting the universe of its dormancy,
Repeatedly, with fascination.
Between the bed and your forearms,
 Between an approaching sofa and another rolling away
 Between fingers and fire
There is a wound the ages failed to heal.
To be continued in Part 2 that includes:
 The Position of "Love" and ThePosition of "Grief"
Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
*Bushara Al-Bustani is a poet from Iraq

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sleepless Nights

Exploring secrets of the enigmatic veiled nature ,
And enthusiastically glorifying strange ways of 
I traversed as a liberated soul.

Until you stepped into my life and stole my 
And stood invariably at the receiving end,
Kept me on the horns of dilemma.

That extravagant obsession that I now detest,
Conferred me countless sleepless nights,
Where I kept counting stars in the sky.

Nature repairs her ravages, but not all,
Uptorn trees are not rooted again, parted hills left 
No thorough repair to the eyes that have dwelt in 
the past......... in those sleepless nights !!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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

Details | Prose Poetry | |


You are as soft as wedding cake,
You’re as warm, dear, as new-baked bread.
You are a blossoming apple grove,
And a sandalwood treasure trove…
There are many ladies, but you’re a special one,
Fierce and passionate woman, kindest princess!

Your smile, dear, steals away the rain,
And melts the hearts of the strongest of men,
The fragrance of your beauty takes men to war,
And splits the hearts of the greatest,
Making them forget how to breathe…
How I wish I was the master of your beauty….!

Don’t let my heart sleep on your beauty,
And dream of your smile!
I need to sing of your beauty,
And feel the melody in your voice,
I have been in slumber for so long!
When will your love flow into my pool?
And flood the garden of my love?

Wake me up when dawn comes,
And when the morning breaks,
Wake me up when the morning sun
Streaks across my room,
Wake me up from another dream of you!
And let my eyes see the fragrance of your smile…!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dreams of flawless cadence

I gently massaged her shoulders moving surely
up and down the nape of her neck
she flinched, as my hands moved passionately
down to her lower back
and as my fingers tickled, she moaned a 
whimpering moan and I gently caress her 

As I worked my way up her back, my fingers
tenderly perusing the sides of her breast
I kissed her bare neck leaving a wet trail as 
I nibbled on her ears

I plucked her lips with my own, and I let my
tongue teased her open mouth, then gently
held her breast flushed by the now rising 

As I kissed the black lace covering the firmness
of her full luscious breast a trail of wetness
followed, and I gently caressed her now 
protruding nipples with my moist lips, 
she sighed quietly as the passion continued
its arousal of her know pulsating desire

As the moonlight glistened though the open
window she climbed her nakedness on mine
kissing my belly, her tongue making wet circles
as the juices of her mouth mingled with my
now seeping liquor

As I tickled her belly button with my eager
tongue and worked my way into her silky wet
tresses, I nibbled on her dripping inner thighs
letting the juices of my mouth blend with the 
liquid of her now full pudenda

As the stimulation intensifies I enter the warmth
of her wetness and we became one in flawless 
and as the passion escapes the boundaries 
of heavenly fervor her face glows blissfully 

And as we are engrossed in this moment of 
absolute nirvana 
We glow in the wake of the streaming moonlight 

Earl S. Jackson
Oct 2006

Copyright © 2006 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


I came, before you like a servant, 
So politely, shivering and hesitant
across the threshold of your dwelling
So desperately, trembled and unwilling;
Violating desires of my inner mind, 
Kneeling down on  the bare ground.
Once again, looking in and around,
crossing the path of heavy wind
Blowing heavily and so unkind,
Switching from one unfaithfulness 
To  another  faithfulness 
to love; to lust  and to live

By Williamsji Maveli

Details | Prose Poetry | |


(A duet with Jay Nonny Kariuki)
I saw her smile, and felt the beam,
Catching the smile, in the stillness of the room,
She kept a smile, in the face of doom
And brought a smile to wipe the bloom!
He felt my heart, it skipped a beat,
How it would hurt, if we would meet,
Coz when he’d glance, my heart would dance,
In epic stance, I would just cause,
A stare at me, and kiss goodbye!
She brought a smile, in the darkness of his life,
And made a mile, which made him fly
Away to the Nile, to make a plea
To the goddess of love, that kept a smile.
With the passing of time, I feel so fine,
We don’t waste a dime, but we wine and dine
I want some time, with a man so fine
In the blink of time, he may be mine…

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Forgotten Love Found

Forgotten Love Found
March 31, 2011

I thought she was lost
I did not know at what cost
She did not want me
So she let me be free
But now I have no more fear
For now she has returned here
Do I really know to see?
That she really does need and want me
For now I will think and just sit
This is her chance to prove it
I will truly be very strong
And she must show me that I was wrong
Should I let go of the slack
She must show me she wants me back
Will she really come and show 
If so my heart will have such a glow
As the sun is so hot and bright in the sky
I will lose all my fears and know why
I want to hold her so bad
And by doing so I will never again be sad
All my love I will give to her now
The amount she will never know how
We will make love for the first time
It will be so exciting and so extremely fine
I hope she will want me forever
If to be we will always be together
We will have to be till the end
This is the best time we can begin

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Life Of My Mind

Looking over the trees and in to the sky
My mind is far complex to ever ask why
Too beautiful to wish for another
Too demanding to fit with any other
Too abstract to piece together
Too deep to think forever
Too painful to get inside
Too fast to jump off the ride
Too...unlike yours
Too...much the same
Too hurt from what this isn't
Too tired of this game

Details | Prose Poetry | |


the solid structures
opens a sort of bliss
beneath cairo's lessons
the hardship of catered 
gestures above a silver spoon
soiled linen long naps depicts
the empty soundless notions
a gentle force of completion
while the withered kindred
spirits soar across the sea
seeking wasted bread crumbs
and folded sheets 
of racing thoughts captured
within a lessor mean

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 curtain slowly rises...the audience is spell-bound
by the appearance of royalty

Act 1, Scene 1

King Henry VIII: O adored wife, you never drew
another man to your breasts;
have I loved you more or less?

King Henry VIII: O voluptuous lips that have kissed mine,
when roses spurred to greatness,
is your trust in me flimsy or fortified?

Queens Katherine: Why are you asking me this,
beloved husband, if the promise
of that young virgin was more than true?
I have desired your strong arms around me,
to dispel my fears and doubts on many moonless and frightening nights...
when the northern wind ruthlessly entered in the chambers,
and blew out all the candles that were more aromatic than columbines!
O dearest love, which need I didn't provide you by touch? 

King Henry VIII: No, sweeheart everything you offered me,
but lust for another woman led me astray...
leaving your marital bed and sneaking away!

Queen Katherine: O dishonorable husband, what made you so unfaithful...
if I made you the vessel of these dreams,
to transport me on soft waves like cherubs' wings?  

King Henry VIII: Not enough passion in love-making, insensible wife...
permitting your guilt prevent the pleasure 
I sought in every embrace and intimate feeling,
to boost this amorous ego without ending!

Queen Katherine: How dare you say that, unmeritous husband...
while your attention was focused on a mistress?

King Henry VIII: How can you blame me, uncaring wife...
making me escape and causing me to cheat?

Queen Katherine: This marriage took place under the eyes of the  Almighty,
and you solemnly swore to honor me,
to love me, to strengthen me and to spend a lifetime
of joys, of hopes and sorrows through love and fidelity!

Details | Prose Poetry | |


i can do it in a trance
do while i dance
hip to hip
lip to lip
can twist   and dip
its easy to get
that you can bet
it makes me sweat

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Tableau Les arts

j`ai dessiné
avec des lettres
sculptées en couleurs
qui parlent
de nostalgie
comme un souvenir

à  l`exposition
de  la vie
sur le mur
de mon coeur 

moi ,
je signe

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Karma Twisted

Who am I to you?

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you
Who am I to you?

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I'm The Phoenix

I'm The Phoenix
  *     *    *
Perhaps I'm meant to carry
these burdens alone; 
to struggle to a new level
of achievement
only to find it's all been an illusion; 
to have my load 
come crashing in around me, 
only to have it lifted again. 
If that’s so let it be. 
For I only lose to those who 
not enjoy my labor, 
perhaps I'm the Phoenix 
that's meant to have many love’s 
within me as this world go 
though it’s cycles as 
I grow more common then 
to self-destruct with 
flames of slow desires and excess, 
if this is true so be it. 
For then how I can still lose 
when I fail to rise again, 
when I'm meant to have you 
put before me to gaze and crave upon and to share 
even but for a fraction before having you wrenched 
away without even a smile 
when I reach out touching you?
If that's truth so be it. for I only lose when 
I fail trying to stretch out for you 
at the end of my life! 
Steven L. Siegel
December 6, 2009

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Small Torrent of Moonlight

A small torrent of moonlight breaches the space between The window and curtain, giving light to nothing less Than herself who lives viciously. She's scared, Not by any spirits, but by demons, an incubus. Forced to never sleep in fear of dreams, and Never not tire, as an exhaustion falls over you. Always falling over, like the splash of rain you've been wanting

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Your so pretentious,
The repetition is endless-
And the conversation relentless;
Though my restraint is tremendous.

Trying to keep cool and collected-
But even I, will be affected.

I'm sick and tired of being falsely 
I'm uninterested, in the fact that you feel 
Consider this the new me; reinvented.

-Carly Larkin

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 | |

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 | |


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 | |

to The Public

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

To the Public
June 28, 2011

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love and Desire

Tonight… I want to sing to the Stars

I want to sing to the Stars and the Moon

And remember this night like no other

Because this night I tasted

The utmost flavor of love and desire

Tonight… I want to sing a song

A song that whispers the voice in my heart

In its notes the perceive sound

be listening

As echo with flames with no depart

Tonight… I want to keep that feeling

Of your passionate kisses 

Absorbing my life

On those hidden corners

Where I keep my secrets

Where you find leisure

Walking slow and fast

Tonight… I want to hold this moment

And certainly keep it forever alive

And maybe one day

When you look up the skies

If the Moon have a flush

…Is because I am singing

Remembering this night

written by Gloria Jamrozy

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Plans, morals, perpetual dreams
A whisper in your ear and your heart screams
Eyes that gaze deep
Skin, white as a sheep
I'm forseeing the fall, but I might take the leap

He's the one across the room
The late party guest that couldn't come too soon
He's the one in the coffee shop, sipping some black
A swift runner in the park your eyes try to track
He's the guitar he's playing, the music too
He's the fairytale you read that never came true

Smile, eyes, daring grin
A touch that gets under your skin
Lips that invite
Head like a kite
I would take him home, and I think that I might

He's the one eyeing your chest
The impatient bed-mate that won't let you rest
He's the crawl in your skin
The roofie that made your head spin
He's the one who invented the mind game
The alarm clock at sunrise who forgot your name

A smirk that turns to gritting teeth
A mask concealed underneath
Biting nails
Charm that bails
Calling his next move is like calling heads or tails

He's the one with roses at your door
The commitment he made but isn't sure
He's all you thought you wanted
The harsh denial of bi-polar confronted
He's a sip of sweet tea with a lemon on the side
Not a fairy tale, but a tale of a modern day Jekyll and Hyde 

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 | |

10 reasons

Let me count to ways I love you
1,  The awesome beauty of your sweet voice when you speak
2.   The fact that you are so beautiful to mine eyes
3.   That you accept me for all of my faults and medical problems
4.   That our lives together will be content, happy, and wonderful
5.   The beauty of your eyes and the smile upon your face
6.   Your luscious lips which I kiss as often as possible
7.   The fact that we will always be as one entity
8.   That we can lie in bed and talk for hours on end
9.    That when we make love, it is always as if the first time each time
10.  That I can change for my sweetheart and wife when needed 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


i took one look
and got hook
on you
with feeling too
you are a treat
i like your beat
your thrill i seek

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Chronicles of Love

In the Chronicles of time our love 
is written like a fine wine aged
with time.

A lineage of passion and adoration,
of cooing and wooing of love we
both hold near and dear.

It is the story of the dame and the sir.
A story of love and passion with no
cure that will forever endure.

Entries where snow thawed in the
moments of fire and desire.
Where eyes suspend in a trance
by agenda glance.

Where lips hunger for the soft yet subtle
brush of the ones lips they adore to wear.
Rising blush upon our cheeks reminds
us of the adrenal rush.

Our heart beats like a lone drummer pounding
to clone one another’s anticipation.
For your embraces, there is no compensation.

I want to hide between your shoulders
away from the view of the world.
Lost in the depths of your love and strong embrace.

Our love is written in the sage Chronicles 
of time of two lovers like fine wine,
aged by time.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rain begins again

Rain Begins Again
June 28, 2011

Dizzy Lizzy sitting in the rain
Waiting for it to sustain
Hear the thunder rolling
The giant in the sky is bowling
The rain is so cool
As the mourning jewel
The birds in the trees
Feeling the cool breeze
The rain gives new birth from the heart
It quenches the earth from its start
The rain feels so fine
It makes my head feel so sublime
The earth needs the rain
So all life can sustain
The feelings that we share
Surely, do we dare?
Revel in the glory
Of the never-ending story
With the land and it’s age
From this to another stage
The flowers so much in bloom
With such a beautiful flume
Surrounding our earth
From the beginning of it’s birth
Will be the rest for me
For all time and my destiny

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Look out, itís getting dark
Time never strode
Viciously before
Treachery, torment
And unleashed lust
Demonstrated route-march
Even at broad day light
Look out, itís getting dark.
Daughter has not reached home
Look out ÖÖÖÖ.
Clutches of evil
So visible, virulent
Brutish libertines
Clung in air embodied
Tender child
She is not at home
Look out-
Sharp beaked vultures
They flap wings,
Ugly luring of tongue
Resounding rhythm
Vagrant beasts roam, grunting.
Celestial bodies, guardian angels
Keep eyes shut
Look outÖÖÖÖ
Way side brooks
Bogs lay bare
Ferocious shades in darkness
Fireballs roll from gut to throat-
Dispassionate halogen lamps
Hostile streets concealing
Treacherous holes
And ferocious bipeds to pounce
On pray.
Itís dark
As dark as the Black Angel
Our daughter-
Look outÖÖÖÖ.
A wail on wings of wind
A choked scream-
Nauseating odour swells in air
A shadow at the rear end
Of St. Joan street.
Stage sets of a trap pit
Scary shades, bitter fruits
Of calumny, distressing.
Arresting with claws
The black scorpion stings
Prey shivering in fear, disgust
Flames, flesh burning
A self immolation
Crumbling down to ashes.
Our daughter
Look out-
Itís dark
As dark as Black Hole
Devilís stake
Charred body-
My cherub
My blood-
She is not at home.
Night spreads heavy shroud
Over our dreams.
A death knell mourning
Crushing life
Our life

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 | |

Blood, again

blood again 
The two hovering faces are white and brown.
They seem to look nice, saying, “we’re in your side.”
She aches; both her sides ache; bruises, clotted blood; 
She sees them, two men with the force; denies to complain.
The trust has been lying killed, somewhere in her den.

Discharge means returning home, to the fear’s room, 
where he may return for tearing her more.
But she won’t dial for force, at least not before 
she has put six inanimate hates into him;
not before she has seen blood once again, not hers. 
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar

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Ebony and Ivory

She hides her heart behind misleading eyes, layered with mahogany colored armor & a cloak of insecurities, walking as the proud figure of beauty when all she really wants... is to be accepted. She is, n open book of words unread, full of dread she wished she could express but is too afraid and borders herself away from the world around her. With pearls as her microphone head, lines of poetry as its staff & a background full of instrumented blasphemed romance, attached to an undercoating of Verde. She is, misunderstood and outspoken.. &she reminds me so much of myself. The well anticipated J. Cole concert we'd all been waiting for. She is, the reincarnation of musical masterpieces played through nimble vocal cords, & she's capable of so much more.. than she'll ever truly know..

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mans Man

Man’s Man

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lovers Of a Hundred Decades Ago

They had dreamed. They had gone so far with their dreams. Yet, so deprived they 
Like them, I have become a denizen of the desert, ever since I laid my eyes on 
Like them, lovers of a hundred decades ago, I was destined to wake up everyday 
in a new shelter, a new tent.
What would my shelter be anyway, that ceases lamentation.
So far from here I have gone. An inhabitant of the moon perhaps have I become, 
ever since your love was seared in me; ever since I started missing you like 
the desert misses the rain, I have been unutterably agonized.
Now, it has been a month, an eternity shall I say.
Now, to believe that you’ll be back, it would take me as many trials as there are 
miles between the moon and us. “Us”.  What a soothing word. As soothing as it 
is for you to realize that a series of flaws have been nothing but a lame 
nightmare, and as queenly as stereotype works.
Like the sand under the misty skies that I have seen from my window, scattered 
grains either cemented or carried away, is my salvation.
Waiting to be held closely, with cuddles and a sweet lullaby, the immutable child 
amid my exhaustions cries in grief…
…and when it rained, I had to believe…at least to recall the hope that I had lost.
Yes, today it rained, amidst the scalding and the warmth, it came; I believe it did, 
yet I still don’t know whether it was sent to heal the pain, or cut the line and cease 
the chain.

Jessica J. Hanna
November 2006

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May Never

I may never have really seen you 
but I do not allow this thought to be blue.

Nor I have never watched you from afar
yet this distance is infinity.

Though we have never slain the
satin sheets of lover's passion.

The longing scares my heart
for the here and after.

I may never see a sheepish grin
as romance kindles our fires.

I will always watch for the hearts
desires along the way.

If fate was the one to decide then
for us it may never be...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Missing You

Missing you is no longer easy to me
Everyday goes by without you here
I've become breathless and I can't speak
At night I dream of holding you near
But just the thought of it brings tears.
Missing you is no longer easy to me
Without you by my side I am weak
You kept me strong and pure
How will I ever survive without you
I'm not even sure.
Missing you is no longer easy to me
The love we shared can never be broken
Our hearts has become one
And picking up the pieces is hard to do
But is life worth it without me and you
Nothing is left here but old memories
So it's time to move on without you
But our hearts are still connected as one.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beauty Is In the Eye of the Beholder

Oh, was it really possible that we’d ever pen, or 
is it necessary to debate our in-sensitivities, 
the ups and downs of life, being sandwiched between
our likes and dislikes of a certain form in writing?

To a degree, of versifying, we have the so-called 
“To each his own” ability
and power to attract the readers of the mind,
to fully enjoy us, in our chosen form. 

Some would profess they dislike haiku
...’cos of its shortness and simplicity
and most likely, many would prefer free verse,
than to listen to the enchanted soul of rhyme

...’Cos of its un-metered style and absolute freedom;  
yet I, the handsome I (ahem!) do love, not prefer 
the beholder of my beauty, my beautiful wife (ahem!)---
a thousand times over, and greater than those few.

Ahh, the exquisite beauty of poetry, 
the subtle meaning half hidden 
in ones’ lines, and totally not seen in its form
but most certainly, lies in the eye of the reader.

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 | |

Passions Flame

When did my fire go out?
The flames sizzle in the pain?
Anger dousing my passion.

The feeling of being a woman...
The wanting you as a man...
Distant memories, fading desires.

Are the embers still there?
Can they be re-lit with care?
I want to want you again.

To kiss your sweet face
To hold you in loves sweet embrace, 
But how do I forgive?

How do I gather up the pieces of a broken heart
Shattered and scattered.
And fan smoldering passions dying flame.

Tears threaten again and the hurt is so much
They dampen the still glowing spark.
There is so much to forgive.

Where do I start?
I must begin with my own heart.
Before I can hope to regain passions flame.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A sound of orient

A sound of orient 
He looks like a fragranced oasis in this city; 
a lean, yet muscular man in a dhoti, 
sweaty; playing flute, a plateful of bland food 
in front of him, his humble surrounding, the hut.
A village man, who has once come in chasing dream, 
is now a part of this city, a part of speed, 
all except his flute and customary dhoti. 

The dizzy sound travels up, to the fifth floor terrace, 
to the sad man and sadder woman, to the sadists, 
to the dying and to the dead. It climbs up like veins. 
His is a life, with its own brands of pain and love, 
not demanding, the way sometimes this city extracts. 
The days and nights extract a man. 
He hauls out others or vise versa. 

A sound disappears in sleep, 
becomes a village in the vale, 
where dreams move like sheep.
~© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar.

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Forgotten Bud Of love

We started like most new lovers do,  on a journey of passion
  Me...hoping it would last forever - never dreaming it might end

Making love with one another was magical, blissful
  Strong, yet sweet with tenderness
Such ecstasy and passion we shared like none I'd ever known

Romance novels didn’t compare to our story 
  You said I was your goddess, your life’s blood...
So right, we were
  We seemed to be so in sync - our hearts beat as one 
in a passionate syncopated tune
  I remember how we fit so perfectly like two puzzle pieces  

We met at an intimate café in Madera -  a small quaint city in Italy 
  I was lazily sipping chinoto and eating pizza napolentana
I was so happy and excited - it was my first time abroad 

You,on the other hand had lived there all your life
  A true Italian uomo,  "un uomo molto interessante”
which means, “He was a very interesting man” 

I looked up and there you were...
  sitting at a small table across the room 
Your gaze met mine...
  as we smiled simultaneously at one another 
We left together 

I was feeling quite lightheaded from it all
  To my suprise, you took me to meet your family
a group of robust, happy, family members
  gathered together for a partito- which is Italian for party

It was kisses and flowers - we fell in love...
  So I thought
But I was wrong, something happened  

You were gone - into the arms of another
  leaving me with a sad, forgotten bud of love…
of you and me
Wishing you were standing where you used to be - next to me

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Our Love

Our Love It’s Love Your Love Our Love (Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love) 
We are love……, 
You are love……, 
Together we love……, 
Forever and always……, 
We love…….., 
Our Love It’s Love Your Love Our Love (Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love) 
We are love……, 
You are love……, 
Together we love……, 
Forever and always……, 
We love…….., 
Our Love It’s Love Your Love Our Love (Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love) 
We are love……, 
You are love……, 
Together we love……, 
Forever and always……, 
We love…….., 
Our Love It’s Love Your Love Our Love (Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love) 
We are love……, 
You are love……, 
Together we love……, 
Forever and always……, 
We love…….., 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

She is mine

I am the formula that brings her to ecstasy 
Her beauty as craved my fantasy 
As she lay upon my chest 
Through her blossom, I am truly blest.
She’s the rose of my life 
The one to be my wedded wife
She’s my help meet through the hardship and strife
Every morning as I woke up
She’ as been my corn syrup
As I go out through the crack of dawn 
I am the one to mow her lawn
In her fears 
Through her tears
She yield to my warming embrace
I love her at every moment from beginning to end 
She’s brilliantly wise
I tell you the truth 
God has given me the correct prize
She has allow me to grow 
None of a scare crow. 
She’s hundred percent 
She’s no less than a cent 
I crave for her increase 
Through Jesus Christ the one who paid the ultimate price.
‘Me n she’ trusty love will never decrease.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

War and Feast

Food! Glorious food, oh we love you so. The energy you give us or the taste that we know.
Will fill our soul with parts of joy. of which we cannot buy with the currency of love.
Food, glorious food! But food comes at a price when there is not much left. Countries
fight over food when one has more. But there is one country, famous for food that is quick
and wars they always win. but this kingdom we call America. Is lacking something great not
War not Food not wealth. but passion for art and passion for belief. They have become the
music capital of the world. and they have become one of the most respected places of all.
But they are losing it. and they know it. "So drop your forks and disarm your war
machines. There is a new age dawning and you my fellow Americans are not going to survive
it. Unless you do something about it. So, are you hungry now?"

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Embracing A Dream

I knew you were someone very special
When I embraced your lovely smile today
I knew because of its perfect beauty
I wanted more moments like this to stay

Filling my day with an enchanting beauty
Making my former thoughts easily replaced
For I found myself floating on air today
When I was swept away by your lovely face

I found my mind was easily captured 
And my thoughts were no longer my own
My heart was beating very rapidly
As I began dreaming of making you my own

Like the leaves falling throughout Autumn
So I also found myself easily swept away
By a refreshing wind leaving me so helpless
Easily filled with a desire for you to stay

I knew I had to find new ways each day
So that you might for a moment notice me
For since the first moment I saw you
I found my heart would never again be free

I had to choose the perfect time and place 
Where we might be able to sit side by side
So I might have the chance to let you know
How much I really wanted you to share my life

I found each night when I would try to sleep
The vision of your smile would keep me awake
And my many dreams would be so beautiful
As within each I would feel your embrace

I begin to realize what I had hoped for 
Would one day soon become so very real
And the first moment your hand touched mine
That second for my heart and mind was ideal

That love had found a very lovely place
Within my wanting heart that special day
For the blessing of your genuine smile
I found days later in my life would stay

The blessing which really happened days later
As the soft beauty in your face embraced me
Was totally reaffirmed in a single instant
When you said you also shared the same dream.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Beauty, like most things, is subjective

Beauty, like most things, is subjective
Some people prefer a statue, marble, 
Crafted at the enervation of the sculptor.
Others prefer smoke, thin and intangible, 
Dancing in plumes to an atonal rhythm.
Call me crazy, but I prefer neither. 
I admire you in your skin in clothes 
Shorts and a tank-top, as you move
So exotically your hips to a drum in time.
However I don't find beauty in arousal, 
Yet in a connection seen in eyes, 
Held in hands, and know, I find
Large amounts of beauty in you
I could sit with you and die. 
As we all do now, sad and alone, yet 
As soon as proximity is reached
Between us, dying becomes more.  
It becomes the tobacco between
The fire at a cigarettes tip, 
And the filter, that sweet sin 
That has so enticed you before.
However, that's just me,
As beauty is subjective.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Winter Rose

I lay here in the stillness of night
Like last night, the night before 
Alone with no one to hear my voice
Echoing in the silence against these walls
That slowly close in each night, tonight, every night

I watch these winds outside my window
Brushing the cold snow across the valleys between trees
And I cannot help myself from wondering 
If the cold chill scratches at your window
Whispering in shivers across your shoulders of our pain

Does it echo my love instead?
Does it dream of you like I do?
Does it hold our love like a rose?
Does it breathe across your neck?
Like I do, have done, will do again

I watch the languid snows falling to the ground
Down through the canopy of remembered leaves
A many folded memory they cup fast within
Of you, of me when in these arms you bathed
Inside the rhythms of our hearts beating like one

I shiver within the memory of your body next to mine
Of the way you fit beside me as we two slept to dream
Until dawn broke with pastel shadows across our bed
To fall upon you the Rose of lush and vibrant life
In each moment cast of whispering light from dawning day

I remember watching you in those moments
As if it were this morning, yesterday, the day before
And this memory fills the bed that yawns beside me
Of your waking eyes and smile beneath the first ray of light
When you looked so fragile with a foreshadow of strength

I see you my love everywhere these eyes do fall
In the roses of winter only these eyes can see
I see you smiling in the falling snow bathed in moonlight
In the wind billowing across the twilight earth
I remember you in every shiver to touch my shoulders

Each an echo of your love
Each a dream touching my skin
Holding your soul as if it were a rose in bloom
For this heart still singing of your embrace
And I do, every night, each night, this night

I think of you
And of the day, the morning when . . . 
My Winter Rose
I see you smiling

Details | Prose Poetry | |


you hot
time to tight the knot
i love you alot
going buy a thing
that sing
an going to buy you  a

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 | |


i was press for time
sex was on my mine
me and my lover
like no other
we kiss and did this
real quick
its was a hot mixs
but it was fun

Details | Prose Poetry | |



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 | |

L ia Ains cy rinn a elle (Part six)

From my pocket I draw forth my friend

The best of me

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

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

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

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

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

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Fighter

He had come in all banged up.  
I normally lust after the tall ones, and he is relatively short --  
Having just returned from a weekend of Mixed Martial Arts,  
His left eye was swollen.  
He had a bruise across his right cheek bone.  But he was smiling.  
He was smiling, and happy, and kind, and gentle,
 brought in freshly made frittatas:
“You know he’d do it.  
“But Katie’s a nice woman.  She really is a great woman.  
I love her.  I absolutely love her.”
I want him to slam me against the bathroom wall, 
tear off my clothes, 
restrain my arms and have his way with me.
It would be so easy. 
So easy for such a quick, cheap thrill. 
 It is winter, after all 
      (Too cold for roller coasters).
I roll it around, taste it on my tongue.
“Oh,that Katie, you would love her.  I miss her.  She’s just the happiest, cutest little thing”
I’m too old for that.  I’m thirty now.  I have morals now.  I have morals.
I tell her so,
       Tell her! --
Tell her I have morals! --
I finger his card in my Rolodex,
Make note of the ten-digit number.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Today's Blessings

Today's Blessings

The Lord has blessed my soul today.
He deserves my thanks and praise.
Even if all He had done was to keep my heart beating,
And to keep me breathing in and out,
It would have been sufficient,
For I would have lived to see another day.
But He did so much more.
He showed me the anger and turmoil of another,                                                            
And showed me how much I have changed.
He allowed me to feel His Spirit working through others,
And gave me better words to say.
He took away the pain of yesterday and yesteryear,
And helped me to see His Spirit within myself
Through someone else's eyes.
That is a feeling I had forgotten even existed.
Now I know that through Him, all things are truly possible.
All I have to do is provide the willingness
To let Him live within me.
If all He does tomorrow is to keep my heart beating,
And to keep me breathing in and out,
That shall be sufficient once again.

Thomas Cusick

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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

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

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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 | |


I delight in love of a smile so gentle
a touch so divine and a warmth so cozy
I delight in the love of the flames of romance
they melt mine heart like wax to a flame

to love as commanded for love is divine
to uphold to trust and to delve into the quarry
the quest of a thirst so pure that dwells inside
inside of mine heart that yearns for a lovers embrace

I brace my self and steel my nerves
as i drum up courage the courage to approach her
love personified in the pretty female form oh so divine
an attribute so pure beholder I so desire

I smile on the approach on her part its a shadow of a smile
I know by now she is delighted in me pursuing her very heart
she knows i wish her well though not all mine intentions are holy
for to love is to stare into her eyes and feel them flames

flames that draw me to a cesspool of emotions a place divine
where mine fears are subdued wars fought and kingdoms taken
taken by her through the attributed influence her fiery passion
if to love is a commandment then mortal man i will adhere strictly

lewis k nyaga

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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 . . .

Details | Prose Poetry | |


we have same ideals
love the same meals
like to watch the news 
and listen to the blues
teach me tomake your boby  sing
with love pains
things you like too

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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
DON''t  go

Details | Prose Poetry | |


i waited for this
i need love and a kiss
come into  arms
let me love you with charm
the feeling i can't fight
do it right

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Lady From Afar

The Lady From Afar

(verse 1 by Jimmy Boom Semtex/Nick Armbrister. Verse 2 by P.J. Reed)

I see the lady from afar. She looks away, not from me but from something else. I'm unsure what. It appears to be known only to her. Some malady tormenting her that others can't see. Is it in her mind or something else? A mischievous spirit or malevolent demon? With the power to tarnish this lady's reputation, hound her senses and crush her will to live. A frightful expression forms upon her pretty face. Shadows drop over her light green eyes. Real or imagined? Fantastically cruel or fakery beyond doubt? Her long black dress once looked elegant. Now it's stained ever darker - blood! Her own or another's? If another's, what happened? A fight with a lover? A duel with her sister? An insane mother finally coming unhinged? Or herself, falling to the abyss?

She approaches; trailing lavender fields and golden summers through the amber streets. A thousand years of ancient wonder in the greeness of her eyes. Drifts of ebony hair wave to me as she walks. An intoxicating eastern beauty I reach out as she glides by. Black dress caught between by fingers, crumbles to my touch. I breathe her ash, it cuts my throat, makes my eyes bleed red. I choke in penance for my lust and fall screaming to the ground as I see in the distance the lady from afar.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |


…some people equate the phone number with identification in the millennium…
EEYE do not have a PHONE NO CELL PHONE eye almost cried. 
the messages is to eye sounds like a distant poem come to life…beware the cell 
phone jabber walker there…`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
  Did gyre and gimble in the wabe; All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome 
raths outgrabe…to paraphrase a phrase the brilliance that ewe are and the slimy 
toads on roads that dance in the waves of the island cove for mamsie loves her 
dandylion and he lives with no regrets, and the moment grabs the lather of the 
foamy waves of our island home. NO phone no lights no motor car no electric for 
TV, we make our fun beneath the waves the charlax and Ianthe race the merman 
and the mermaid place the love they have in the island place the woman and her 
toad… A hip hop to the barber Shoppe is cold blooded would you how could you 
the baby is with us please hand me the cell aunt ethyl is in jail 
could you hurry up now the thing should have already been plugged 
into my ear She needs our help oh Sherriff can we pay 
can we bail OUT our aunt ethyl out of jail…the ending to this is not hard to twist 
the judge said time served go forth and do not break any more pay phones use 
cell phones instead for they cost less than this and they pass all the tests of the 
RICHARD Tracy fans not to mention the Communicators on Star Trek.



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Peace of mind can't be bought

This Warring, the Town itself Panting Red

Thoughts enter drunk, amid the Sinking fog

“Birds, they Raise their young For Dead.”

A Calm slow look 

as I Measure Myself about him, Eyes across Shadow

A Tourniquet,  a Scalpel, 

Delicate Sloping stomach, thinly curved and slightly outward

Like a 6-ounce Bottle Of Opium Skin. 

The Color of the room is Hushed,

Solitary ghosts creaking through the Lonely blood of my Heart.

A mind Lit by dampened Thunder \\\\ and Searing dirty lightning Flash.


Drinking in his Champagne Eyes,

Arms like Gallows, 

Fingers a Noose

(One Touch, One Stroke, And You’ll Choke, You’ll Choke… you’ll choke)

The Fever of my Voice however, does convey… certain advantages.

I Can see the Sweat just beginning, a hundred little Diamonds written out in Lust.

(or in my case, Luck)

For I 

am Out Matched,

Neck already straining against the Ropes.

(Soon, My Voice will be as Vanished as the strength in my Arms)

(And With a CRACK, I will be completely at Mercy)

(Another Corpse for Heaven)

(The Air in this Room, Overcharging me for Existence)

(Swindled by such Light and the feel of carpet between Toes)

Tic-Tacs, Tic-Tacs,

Don’t forget the Tic-Tacs.

(Fruit Punch)

Impudent Smile, and

I Ready, as an Army

Consisting entirely of Volunteers.

A clashing of Flesh, The Eyelid of atrocity,

Hurricane Fingers gripping Muffled waterfall Hearts,

Come with Me 

To the White Day that is Dying.

Its Thighs spread and Eyes rolling through the Stars.

-The End-

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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?

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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 | |

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

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


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 | |

Dregs of the Cup

Straining to swallow the remedy,
Thick like blood with the stinch
Of gall mingled with death
And the after taste of pleasure-
None running out the corners
Of his mouth- the Physician drank
The bitter cup, enduring the sting 
And curdled abominations stirred 
With grievous residue at the bottom 
Of the cup, and became tannic acid
On the Tree for the sick in the world.