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Prose Poetry Prayer Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Prayer

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Why must I Cry

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Urban Forest

  All I hear are sirens echoing off tall buildings; a drunk man ranting, a prostitute looking for her next trick, a drug addict looking for his next fix. Young teenage kids who seem to have just learned the art of curse. A young couple fist fighting in the streets---more sirens.  A homeless man pan-handling, picking up cigarette butts and smoking a hole into his neck, gum pushed deeper into concrete marked blacker with every step. All I hear are sirens and I say a little prayer for the person in the back. Trains and boats chiming in the distance, a stray cat limping into an unknown existence...must be nice to have nine lives! Yet, all I hear are sirens in this concrete urban forest, where trees are replaced with buildings and cars are the only waves I hear, street lights in place of the stars, sirens in place of the wind. 

   I close my paper eyelids tight, i can hear in this concrete urban forest of man-nature, for a glimpse, a stolen second in time, the sound of Mother Nature...she still sings and she's crying. She's crying for the people in the back of all those sirens. She cries for her bush the drunk man urinated on; the puddle of blood collecting on her blades of grass that a young man drew from his womans lips. She cries for her branch the teenage kids snapped for fun. She's crying - Mother Nature - is crying, because man - nature takes her place. In this concrete urban forest...all I hear are sirens and I close my paper eyes; i try to reach out and steal the tear off of - Mother Nature's - face. All I hear are sirens and im saddened, man-nature takes her place.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Knew That You Were Waitting

I knew that you were waiting                                                                                                        Somewhere between the last war                                                                                               And the next kiss                                                                                                                               And that you where dreaming of sweet angels and vampires                                                         Because they have always known                                                                                                     In spite of John Cameron Swayze and timex                                                                                        Or the mechanical of Mickey Mouse                                                                                                           That the nights are always longer                                                                                                    I knew that you were waiting                                                                                                                  For the summer to turn to silk again                                                                                              And carry you away before the next big flood arrived                                                                        Before the thunder and after the lightning                                                                                             Before the smoke and after the fire                                                                                                Before the dance and after the song                                                                                                Before the hope and after the the prayer                                                                                       I knew that you where waiting                                                                                                          Like an eagle's wing and a child's song                                                                                               I was waiting too


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A visit to an old church in Ireland

A visit to an old church in Ireland

Stone upon stone
I see fields of green 
Swaying to the east
Where the sun will greet
Those who visit
Early in the morning


Stone upon stone
I see statues of ancient glories
Incense and ornaments
Gold trimmed vessels
Cloaks of colors that tell
The Story, the meaning of Him

Bring prayer back to nature
And what is natural of prayer

Stone upon stone
A trace of abandoned hope
I kneel
Pew aligned with pew, wooden
 And resistant
To my wish to know Him

Stone upon stone
I see fields of green
Now swaying to the west
Sun slanted to catch
The last shadows
Of seekers of inspiration



Details | Prose Poetry | |

STRONG WOMAN

Strong woman
That woman 
Who tears behind the mirror? 
Made me who I am 
My hardened heart she took
Tenderized it with love
Took my salty tears 
Turned into joyful tears

That woman 
Who sighs behind the mirror 
Sighs in memory
Memories and feelings
Hardships she went through 
To feed my whole stomach

That woman
The woman pulling back her mucors
Does so in fear
Fear that ill not be what she hoped
That teared woman 
Crys in fast and prayer 
Crys for my dark self 
Cries for my future 

That woman crying 
Tears down her body fluids
Hopefully that her anger and disappointments
May atleast flow out with them
Her body almost running dry by now
That woman calls upon God
GOD atleast make him better
That woman cries for me 
That woman cries for her lineage
That woman cries night and day

How I came to be 
To be what I am 
I don’t know how
A slave of the world
A slave with one work song 
A song entitled failure 
The first stanza of calamity
The last stanza dead man where I am heading





Looking at her cry 
Twists my brains 
Is this what I am?
Is this my purpose to the world? 
Is this the man the world wants? 
Is this what God spent time Molding 
Is this what the bible describes? 
Just for her 
Just for her I take my life back 
Just for her God I stand strong 
Just for her I say no
NO no no this is not me 

Come mummy take this handkerchief 
I don’t wannna see those tears again
I love you mummy


Details | Prose Poetry | |

DAMAGED MY TRUE LOVE

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 | |

Glistening Silver

Glistening Silver

Glistening silver on water’s edge like thousands of diamonds for my hair - 
Snow covered mountains hide summer flowers of purple, pink and gold
while black bear and deer search for left over apples from October’s harvest.
Ellijay is crisp and cleaned to perfection by nature’s wind and cold - 
The cows hide inside the old, red barn up the hill.
Hickory trees barren of fruit, yet a lone woodpecker flits back and forth looking -
searching for substance from the thick bark only it can penetrate. 
My prayer for snow covered mountains has been answered.
Seventeen years of Florida sun has scorched my throat and mind.
I wanted to see New York snow in North West Georgia -
One full Sunday of snow falling for my eyes to fill
 in the glorious beauty of winter’s wonder.


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.

			--2009


Details | Prose Poetry | |

How You Care Is Who You Are

Men and women, boy's and girl's listen to the sound
of my voice as it speaks to you,  for it may make you frown.
I have a few things you must know if you wish to be as me.
It's laying down your own life to speak my word continually.
It is not as you think  a big revelations for you to be.
But it's the very simple things that men don't seem to see.
When one would ask you please to pray for some special need
their heart is breaking for some loss and for your help they plead.
Do you remember a need of your's, you asked for them to pray?
Your mind was stayed upon that prayer each moment of the day.
Do you in turn give back that prayer,or do you pray once needlessly
for your brothers special need, then from you let it flee?
Or what about that person that does not agree with you
do you smile and say put it on a shelf, or does indigination rise up in you?
Do you struggle with yourself when it comes to read and pray
so when you venture out your door your ready for the day?
My friend I tell you of a truth, take others cares your way
Work hard with tears and sweat and love, and from it do not sway.
For in this dark and barren land you'll shine forth as a star.
All the world can then see, How You Care Is Who You Are.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Untitled

When you are sleeping in the bed, with the bible god be my witness
I don't know if I can love every again.
I mean I try to date but something just keep hold me back hold me back, 
self confident is not even the worth trying found words,
word, this type love could bring a grown man to their needs- 

I never reallie got it when they said but your had on the bible,
and swore the oath for better or worst,
or when you hear music at a wedding and you dance the night away,
what are school proms for?
I though I better night would be resident evil and game cube
only if so one would clue me in-
 
Self consciously years later you question your action in school,
why was she the first I ask if she would buy a key chain from fbla 
and the first time she said uh and then maybe the sentence 
didn't even make sense so natural like
natural selection like we was sync- 

Why in the world am I going to a baseball game another county over she was their,
and I did not realize I
was good at baseball in till I got older a simple sport I sware but I am part puerto rican it come natural
what am im saying it is to early for this like five in the morning-

but oh my god that dream a dream dream,
I don't even think I was on earth and 
then two year later on mother day at western sizzle before
they shut down she came out no where like a ghost 
and was sitting behind me with her family,
but why aren't you eating but texting-

but the real question is because im like slow is did they 
reallie write me straight out of high school, 
I mean I am like a street fighter the alpha type,
but a vibe like that 
you gone have ask her because im shock when she took my sit in first period 
like what are you doing?-

I don't know if im lost my mind or if she playing mind games? 
They say it is the end of the world I say so what is she doing?
I guest the world will never know-

I got the chills and it not because of the weather all I want to know did he cry 
when he walk you down the ally,
people always say you know when know but,
what am I saying I have never experience love like this before-

and im usually shy and word on the bird is uh right cause you took my breath away- 
I don't think any one going get this
what was she doing at that ice cream store 
I didn't even know that was a ice cream store 
I did but I never notice it in till it was gone-
 
dream a dream dream still shaking up,
first thing I did was hit speaker on the phone 
and hit every number it was it was scary but it beautiful,
a beautiful nighmare it was indeed,
I can not catch my breath let me go get the bible
this would be a reason to go back to church every 
Monday Wednesday and Sunday-

All I can say is A-m-e-n , A-m-e-n, A-m-e-n
Cause world felt like it  has already ending,
Friday thirteen J-a-s-o-n!!! and "Jason is my nickname"-


Details | Prose Poetry | |

RAINFALL

Whenever rain falls,
It is an answered prayer for the fruitfulness of the earth
The earth buried seeds spring up in freedom
To give expression to their potential
It is the glory of the trees in the forest
That after their death, they live on
It is joy of animals in the jungle
For they have more and fresh food to eat
Only the earth prayed for rain
The seeds buried down in the earth,
The trees of the forest, the animals in the jungle
And more benefited from the earth’s prayer
A word of prayer in faith according to His will from you
Could affect millions just at that point you are standing

(c) 2007


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Take Off the Mask and Be Yourself

Take off the mask and be yourself:
Be honest; be true and strong.
Stop trying so hard to fit in a crowd where you really don't belong.

Don't side-step your calling
To HIM, you should only remain true
Don't push HIM aside because you need HIM as Guide in all that you think, say 
and do.

He is the only One who does possess the Power to the success you are looking 
for.

So take off the mask; simply be yourself; accept His plans for you.
Rekindle His Love through repentance, prayer and faith within your heart-
And true success will scoop you up and elevate you high;
And wealth will be yours unendlessly with love; with  peace you can not deny.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

MY SOUL OR MY SANITY

I woke up this morning 
Heard a whisper in my ear. 
Said "Go back up the mountain 
Something more you need to hear." 

Looked out the window 
At the mountain I did stare 
Something then came over me 
Got on my knees in prayer 

The voice kept on haunting me 
Till no longer I could sleep. 
Is it my Soul or my Sanity? 
The mountain wants to keep? 

Is there such a mountain? 
Or is it only in my mind? 
Seems it keeps on telling me 
There's something I need to find 

Last time there He told me 
Of all the things He's done 
But I forgot to ask Him 
Why he took my son? 

Was there any reason? 
That I'll always question why. 
He's no longer with us. 
Why, was he the one to die? 

Said I should take His hand, 
Put my trust in Him. 
But I must be honest now 
My faith in Him is rather dim. 

Last time on that mountain 
His words went right into my heart, 
But the more I kept on thinking 
It started to tear my heart apart. 

Why is it so hard for me 
To believe in what You say? 
That there is a better place 
And You will show the way 

Did I lose my sanity? 
Did I lose my soul. 
Only this damn mountain knows 
If there's more stories to be told


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Contrast

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Spirit of Christmas

John and Bath, short for Bathsheba Adams, were quite a pair.  Nothing ever got them down, except maybe an occasional cold.  Even then she would take hers out into the cold winter day of the back parking lot of the slum tenement building.  Where, there, she would nudge three of the fifteen cats trying to climb her double tattered blue jeans, out of the way, in order to stand and offer her cold up to God, seeing that it was all she had to offer Him and really she would be grateful, as well as giving up her only possession.   She often asked God why He didn’t seem inclined to come and keep them company, because she believed in Him heart, body and soul and talked to him constantly because John just got tired of listening.  She and John loved each other and no other.  She hadn’t worked steadily in Lord knows when.  John on the other hand got hurt on the job just before he was vested in company rights and the pitiful settlement he received was long gone.  He was left as barely good company for Bath, telling her over and over to just wait ‘til “he gets back on his feet” literally.  But that is not an option any longer, so Bath feels the need to keep him company. They really only had what you might call one vice.  That being because you might say they were wasting good money for no good reason.  They religiously bought two, one dollar lottery tickets every day that passed.  Well, there it was, the day before Christmas and Bath didn’t have money but for one ticket.  Well, she hotfooted down through Chinatown because there were still barbers there who would buy hair and she wanted to give John a special lottery ticket for Christmas.  The deal done she was cold as the mischief and begging God not to let her sinus get worse as she headed through the light rain for those lottery tickets.  John, meanwhile was hobbling down to get his ticket.  She always insisted that he walk to the corner himself so if he won he would feel like he had bought the ticket.  The rascal stopped and sold his crutch.  Can you belive, for $1 he sold his crutch.  Well, to cut to the chase, some friends carried him home after he bought the ticket.  Beth came in and after a bowl of soup, they had a prayer and wished each other merry Christmas and exchanged the two tickets which were the gifts.  Well, my story ends here.  I'm not going to tell you one or both won the lottery.  But in the spirit of Christmas I will say they lived quite long, and they were very happy while they lived. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

1one2two9nine

 1one2two9nine 
1one2two9nine 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
 
WiseorFoolish 

 DOING WHAT THE JESUS SAID 
Eye am risking the loss of some merits to at least prove to some of you that to do 
the works of JESUS is the right and lawful thing to do the man was just like me 
he seems to be a homeless and eye asked him to share my food he said no he 
was taken care of a food card from the service. Eye wound up giving nothing but 
a courtesy yet my blessing is unending the words that JESUS speaks are meant 
to be the life we breathe and giving is so certainly the thing to do. Not bragging 
unnecessarily just letting people knoe to do the works he says to do. Offer 
someone food if they can take it it will help you if they refuse it you can eat it 
seems to me there is nothing there to lose. Now the food eye have to eat is better 
for the act of sharing even the man is not eating with me the food it's doubly 
better in proportions. Show me the house that's built on stilts that's built on sand. 
There is a temporary church that meets inside the main church building they 
usually start the service at nine thirty today they went out on a run away there was 
no church service even eye usually go just to knell down near the table and thank 
Jesus for the offering there there is Coffee and some coffee cake and other 
things as well but today eye am on mye own attempting more than one thing at a 
time it seems beyond the eye trying to stay hooked into the wonder of this life for 
it seems like GOD is just like Santa Clause to me when we have it in our heart to 
do he sees it just the same. 
Eye still carry my raincoat my umbrella even though it has not rained for many 
weeks I'm ready. The place eye like to visit has been pulled out from under me 
the preacher needs to visit his own prayer room just to see how dark his heart is 
to become without his love. He warned me not to trespass and so far eye have 
not been back but the wonder of it all is that the place still seems to stand a 
monument to decadence a monument to disgrace. They knoe that eye am 
homeless eye still walk the street without a place. The blankets in the dump 
seem so nice when eye am cold. Foolishness or wisdom tell me preacher what 
would you do when the sky was falling would you stick your turkey neck up to the 
rain and then just drown or would you find a church with a poor doorway to get 
dry. The path is narrow the climb is steep and harrow the preacher fast asleep. 
Eye cry a homeless to the end of time. 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

For this instant of time

For this very instant of time
I held reality within my hand
I read the meaning beneath the eyes
And just began to understand

So many feelings are still mysterious
For this very instant of time
Yet motionless I know. I'm not alone
The boundary is crusty, still not define

In this humanity just passing through
Another branch in the tree line
For this very instant of time
I hope my clouds will live as blue

And when the heart of life will forever pause
I'll still remember love so kind
In position of prayer on knees I crash
For this very instant of time
From this very instant of time!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Define yourself

Through the wings of breath 
Descending to the blue framed
Mirror of the mind,
To project the desire 
Of being an instrument of peace:
Suddenly, the blue frame changes
Into a white oscillating wave

Questioning:
Do you think I am very far from you?
No
If so, why is this rare visit?
It's urgent; I need to fulfill my task
What's your task?
To be an instrument of your peace

Questioning stops, the voice 
Of wave almost inaudible,
Your task is to define yourself:
Who you are
Where you are and 
Where are you going,
Can you define yourself?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

train ride

Riding on the train 
Trying to make it to my destination 
Getting on board with different people 
Feel like a replacement, 
Each stop gives you a sense of direction 
If you miss yours,its a hint of rejection 
Its a blessing 
You get there on time 
You may not have a seat 
But you.dont look behind 
For your not blind 
Or you clearly dont want to see 
That you could be next to someone who are going through misery 
They feel as if life couldnt  get  any more tears to be set free 
Is it me, the only one who notices, 
Have we honestly lost all our focuses 
All we have left is hope and its 
Seem like its slowly fading 
Somedays awaiting 
People on the train asking for help 
We never reach.out a hand because we stuck on self 
Id rather.have wealth in my heart than in my mind 
Id rather make make someone smile anytime 
Talking talking in the spirit 
Helping being a change i can feel it 
Crowds and crowds of people getting off and getting on 
Carrying loads of heavy luggage 
God youve made,them strong 
Youve given them strength 
Their lifes not so drinched 
The strong are able to survive 
they start appreciating you and praising u 
For granting them a,gift of staying,alive 
People so lost in their,eyes 
Tired of trying to make away 
The,passengers go up and down 
The bounds so freely 
To clear their minds 
Know that its fine 
Remember those asking for help 
Whether its a prayer or some change 
What would jesus have done 
In his fathers name 
He wouldnt complain 
He would help 
Turn frowns upside down 
Help you climb those steps 
Help you up the elevator 
Hes here for us now or even later He will never leave our side 
And ive had a great experience of the,train ride 
By: Concetta Hardnett 
     
 
 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Praying Under the Gravity of Apples ~ (~) ~ (Part #1 of 2) ~ (~) ~

"Fate in the hands of God always beholds a greater future I'm finding. As- its opportunity reflects this... His- devotion for all of us I believe honestly telling of this... . Here-in the reflection- of the tender waters of-this humble- stream. And as I cast- away my hopes to- Him, my faith sighs, and my joy runs freely- behind me there- over yonder to- greet me- skipping- across the- meadow. Because I- know that- perfect like- an apple falling from a tree upon all of us, His goodness can be- found cascading down rustling up the leaves- slip drop too and fro slip drop bop bop thunk thunk- crying look out below thunk, ouch. Barreling down faster and faster through the air running along with it past the- proposal of each on every branch. Dancing through-time laughing hysterically. And as a small breeze blows my heart beats-eagerly, and with all that we've been through together, my soul lies down- chuckling, confidingly, knowing now that He's in complete- control. Grace weeps willingly for me knowing it has always been- with me, this perfect way with Him ever greater in the- respect. Concentrated and open my patient prayer having- been my only reprieve securing my repose. While with a rustle rustle slip drop bop slip drop bop, thunk- thunk. Leaning back up under it letting go of my fishing pole- with closed eyes I reach out catch an apple and then another. Snatching two up out of the air in the palm of my hands while sitting up, I laugh a ha... ! Finally I got you! Open my eyes drop one, swipe my pole back up again bob my head as to say you go boy. Chomp down on the other and rather cockily and over confidently laugh louder, then louder. Swallow hard, real hard, slowly, suddenly. As another falls quietly slip drop thunk smack then I'm caught again, "shouting ouch". As it lands and whacks me hard right on the top of my head! God snickering loudly, as I know He must surely be as I know I most certainly am. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=llRcVHPBLRs


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The River

Love is the land found within the heart, simple offering of peace, mercy, and opportunity. Denial is the raging river running through it! Hope remains, is gracious to all those standing beside it fumbling around within themselves with the idea of jumping in. Hope open to the ones who hunger for love- yes offering of these greater things is grateful, honestly... to-provide the opportunity. Rains fall they lye open surrendered their hearts and as my need is fulfilled, this revelation can be found carrying me all my days. What is sorrow? What is annoying? What is denial? Is it anymore or less blinding than fear? No... I believe now no... ! Always gives me at its best a headache, but I've come to learn, at its most merciful-it could always get much worse than just this... you know... ? In the absence of suggestion, there is confusion, in the absence of confusion there's peace, a joyous appreciation, honest love. Acceptance fulfills upholds the eyes all of the above if able I am willing to let it... ! Unable to know it as such, at times... I've always found it if I'm open to looking further within, to get far-worse. Even greater than just a mere headache! So sorrow-annoyance, denial their dust I shake it all away through prayer and faith, and so I believe the joyous rains of love come falling down washing them to the ground, and as they fall they are swept up by the river carried far away... . Peace comes-breaks through the clouds shines its brilliance on me; and so enlightened, I find the world and life to open up to me. As I evolve graciously within I begin to see them as a glorious gift, of a brighter day... ! Author notes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VskUOPrkPqM


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Only the Good
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Easily and surely it's not a problem for a judge such as you to
find fault in from my perspective what is simply an observation 
Ok then I'll flip the script for you, can you handle only one side of 
of the story about our time shared together, it's a simple situation
Quite the looker you were, this much I can say for sure, such a body
you have possibly the world’s most beautiful breast
Kept me turned on night and day, kept me craving and lusting for you 
in so many ways twenty four seven 
My mind was never able to escape that desire and rest
Kind you were, sexy and sweet when you wanted to be and had a 
compassionate warm and giving heart of gold
My prayer for you theses days is that you recover the beauty which is 
yours by right of birth, and the light of your immortal soul
Find fault with my logic if you will; look for insult or poke your holes 
I really don't care what you choose to do but this time only the good 
was told.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Know This

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YqUsAHTUPTU&feature=related ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "First time I ever recognized Bipolar for what it is; I found-yes, it was me. Writing... precious-gift-honorable... the-antidote-fate; my-advocate" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Bipolar--rushing-a trip, trip tripping-along-trip-trip tripping along-grappling whispering yea grumbling--gambling- groaning-the sounds; echoing--unholy banter. "Snickering-liar hell bent on-you-yea-ha; with- eager-intention-you yes, for-the duping... disaster, friend-yes--your-very-marrow!" Mollycoddler grieving-boisterous- gleaned, so-well-willing; eyes- yes-thieving-golden... resigned. Defined-Sunshine shining; quiet-by then-welcomed- clarity--then-yes-one- more-a day-of- relevance; revelation- equality, certain, a-peace; abiding. Lying-down on the- other-side-light-faith; coupling-how-then-the- drama grows-how... to- be patience. Arriving moments-visions- yes-sepia-tone-often-times- stricken-still yes-moreover; smitten, those-dying-days-- prayers... and so it exists to be filled- honor-chivalry, are-not-a farce never were-will; be! Wasted time-kills; opportunity, is but a jest; only one-moon, many- stages; time befriends-the-hand of grace- faith is willing-love, is open-hope, is honest. A newborns' freedom cries-as laughter-fills the- air-one hand affirms the other, washes it spotless. Good humor-always, brings the heart to tears; my only prayer for all of us, to-live in peace. "Imperfect was I, when God made me-incapable- without the Lord myself-yes... to-know-this, is to- love this-life, is all-it-was-intended to be!" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qujfdzLJPyU 'Indifference-yes time welcomes the journey, dancing shadows so they-jest, welcomed-the- provision-long wayside beaches-bumbling- bees-'round them buzzing-light; upon-the dawn-beyond... dancing shadows... !" 'Weakest-honesty open willing at best- wouldn't-dare daring, ever test them, time low is a journey-either way- I know; an-offering sweet... !" "So as well the way mid the ball; so as well it-is with-learning... ." http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZTKu-L1b--o


Details | Prose Poetry | |

the games of our mouths are but forest darkness.

Come to me with the Shadows of Doves and spilt papers.

The sharp dampness of well acquainted sheets, Swells,

Like God puffing Life and kisses up from the End of the Bed.

This room is crowded in Vanished Smiles.

I Want them Back.

I Want the sight of your Teeth biting down into your Wrists, 

To be There Forever.

I Want The Sounds that you Never imagined Would involuntarily 

Slip out of your Lips,

To Be memorized by these Walls

And Repeated to me. Over. 

And over.

…

Death is in the Folding of Sheets.

… 

The Idea that Happiness

Is Simply the Prayer 

that Tomorrow Never Comes.

…

I Don’t Want to Accept That.

But… 

Tomorrows been coming just the Same.

…

Where is my Measureless Night?

Time… cruel efficiency, Written out in Ashes….

How much of the darkness of my Soul, I Would Give,

To have you Back.


You had eyes 

That no one could look at without Dying.

But this After…

Has become a Never-After,

And somehow Life has stopped coming with the Breeze…

Now… there are no freshly Cut Lawns… no sky above…

No Green. No Blue.

Just You.

And You.

And You…


Into the Shelter of the Months I fly.

I Wanted the Impossible…

And Somehow… everything… has become It.


Even Breathing, now, Lifting my Voice to Speak, 

All of it, Is beyond Me.

You are out Of Reach

And Apparently 

So is Life.


From substance to substance, water to water,

Love to Love,

I Died into You.

And as much as I’d like to regret It. 

I Can’t.

That Is why 

You are Endless,

So Please… Gather me up 

As If you Were.





-thend-


Details | Prose Poetry | |

the games of our mouths are but forest darkness.

Come to me with the Shadows of Doves and spilt papers.

The sharp dampness of well acquainted sheets, Swells,

Like God puffing Life and kisses up from the End of the Bed.

This room is crowded in Vanished Smiles.

I Want them Back.

I Want the sight of your Teeth biting down into your Wrists, 

To be There Forever.

I Want The Sounds that you Never imagined Would involuntarily 

Slip out of your Lips,

To Be memorized by these Walls

And Repeated to me. Over. 

And over.

…

Death is in the Folding of Sheets.

… 

The Idea that Happiness

Is Simply the Prayer 

that Tomorrow Never Comes.

…

I Don’t Want to Accept That.

But… 

Tomorrows been coming just the Same.

…

Where is my Measureless Night?

Time… cruel efficiency, Written out in Ashes….

How much of the darkness of my Soul, I Would Give,

To have you Back.


You had eyes 

That no one could look at without Dying.

But this After…

Has become a Never-After,

And somehow Life has stopped coming with the Breeze…

Now… there are no freshly Cut Lawns… no sky above…

No Green. No Blue.

Just You.

And You.

And You…


Into the Shelter of the Months I fly.

I Wanted the Impossible…

And Somehow… everything… has become It.


Even Breathing, now, Lifting my Voice to Speak, 

All of it, Is beyond Me.

You are out Of Reach

And Apparently 

So is Life.


From substance to substance, water to water,

Love to Love,

I Died into You.

And as much as I’d like to regret It. 

I Can’t.

That Is why 

You are Endless,

So Please… Gather me up 

As If you Were.





-thend-


Details | Prose Poetry | |

All About A Red Saturday

At last time has brought me to this day yet again on another Saturday night things forever will end sweet flowers with petals in need For me it is nothing more than a day my life will begin the pain I feel will forever remain yet to others it is merely a Saturday Here I stand at the path of yesterday and today for tomorrow there will be nothing more to say in so many demanding ways I thank God it is Saturday The last day in a week seen as play but as for me it is such a lonesome day tomorrow is day number one the day life begins has yet begun Peace floods me in my solace this day knowing it is final, done, ended, this 5th day in May the day I was finally told to give up and walk away I am no longer trapped by my fears or waiting for he to cause me pain I am the one who won on this Saturday At last I do not care to be played or hurt to the extreme, a lovers old tired game I want to thank you for moving on to another's sweet way This will forever be known as Red's blessed Saturday and with this release back into the wild game I find my heart pure for those locked deeply away thank you for letting me be and not trying to keep hurting me SATURDAY is officially my lucky day! enjoy the date that you made, love her deeply, cherish her face for I will forever remain ever-so grateful for this Saturday To you both I thank you, and send a prayer of passionate love your way! At last I can be happy all because of one Saturday in May! To me a new anniversary I have now made, with God's amazing grace.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Answering Hate (Part #4 of 5) ~ (~) ~

I searched for Him inside my heart through my experiences. That I have always known
without Him. And He is still healing me today just as the message states in the very
message contained in the Bible and in the one that was written and offered to you and all
here that made you feel the way that you said. Yes I know that it seemed hurtful, but I
still feel for myself today, it was not truly hateful. It was just how it was offered to
me, and sometimes it appeared to me the same way back then as well, as hateful. I believe
that in both ways God was loving me. Because the more I keep searching within myself for
the truth of my own hate and all their many forms. His ways of loving me I am finding are
far far more! I ran to my idea of Him that I believe we all were given within. I ran to
God through His promise of peace with Him and ourselves and one another an the world
around us through Jesus. I'm truly sorry to have hurt you through this. I hope the other
part of this two sided message will help you. I hope it will. I know it has with me. 

Happy Hanuka friend and again I am sorry. To help another find out the same thing that I
am still coming to find out myself a little more of today and every day, was my intention.
Because my only ambition truly as I fight within myself with the pains that I have caused
everyone that I have known, by living this way, I'm-truly-sorry. I was only trying to
help. Peace be with you friend and come to bless you, and carry you through the pain and
keep you. And so as honestly as I can I am offering this prayer and hoping this as well
for you. That if when you find that you cannot stop yourself from being this way too, and
are able to see it as honestly as this for what it is. You would be open to Him and would
be hopeful, and even more eager in your need for this, and would be willing and be able to
come to accept Him in His greater love. As I feel and am finding out more of today myself
that He is always open to all of us. As I am still eager and willing to find out about
more of Him and about the even more broader idea of this today in all of it's certain
ramifications. He is still open as I feel He is always willing in His simple offering of
this. And as we all are I feel as well growing away from Him in this way from time to
time. I feel He is just as much in His way offering His greater love like this for all of
us... .






http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keIvA2wSPZc&feature=related


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ Bobbing for Apples' Beneath the Branches ~

Fate in the hands of God always beholds- a greater future I'm finding ... . As its opportunity mirrors this ... . His devotion for-all of us I believe gently reflecting this ... . Here- in-the-tender-waters of- this humble stream. And as-I cast away- my thoughts to- Him, love sighs, and-joy-runs- free-behind- me-there- over-yonder- to-greet me- across-the- meadow. Because I- know-that- perfect-like- an apple-falling from a tree upon all-of-us. His goodness can- be-found cascading down-rustling-the leaves- blip-bop too and fro blip-blip-bop-thunk thunk-bling. Crying-look-out-ouch barreling down faster and faster- through-the-air-running along-with-it past the-proposal- of each-apple on every-branch dancing-through-time- laughing-hysterically. And as a small breeze blows my heart beats-eagerly, and with all that we've been through together, my-soul- lies-down-chuckling, confidingly, knowing now that He's- in complete control. As grace-weeps-willingly for me-knowing-it has always- been-with me, this perfect way with Him. Concentrated- and-open my patient prayer having been my only refuge-securing-its reprieve. While with a rustle rustle blip-bling-bop-bling- bling blip-bop thunk, thunk. Leaning-back-up- under it-letting go of my fishing pole. With- closed eyes I-reach-out-catch-one-and- another snatching two-up-in-the-palm- of-my-hands. Sit up and-laugh-a-ha I- got you! Open-my-eyes swipe my- pole-up back-again. Bob my head- as-to say-you-go boy! Chomp-on- one-and-rather-cockily-quickly- laugh-louder. Then swallow- hard and slowly, suddenly, as-another-falls-quietly- bling-thunk-smack I'm- caught-again saying-ouch-as- it-lands-and-whacks-me-hard, right on the top-of-my-head. God snickering loudly, as I know He- must-surely-be as I most certainly am. As-the thunder-rolls-above-and beyond- the-hills-there-over-yonder with the fish jumping now black birds-above me hackling. So with this you could say I'm feeling rather- humbled-just like Newton-I assume. All giddy- and-enlightened and-evermore-heartened- I'm sure-and a little-dizzy-yet-knowing- this. That with-Him, given-whatever- the situation-or-circumstance, whether-with-my eyes- opened-or closed. Still, with-my-good Friend- I'm learning, though- hard myself, I am- secured. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author notes The poem forms a reflection of itself ... God and all of us in the eyes of the stream.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thank You For Lesser Blessings

I pray to The Lord to thank Him,
for gifts He provides each day.
A prayer of thanksgiving to Jesus,
for the blessings He sends my way.

I thank you Lord for the lesser things,
and not think it so odd,
for I know that even the smallest,
is given by The Grace of God.

Thank you for a stove and a pantry...
for a blanket, pillow, and bed...
for clean sheets, warm covers, and pajamas,
and sending my daily bread.

Thank you for washcloth and towels...
for soap, a tub, and sink...
for tube of toothpaste and toothbrush,
and a faucet of cold water to drink.

I have taken so much for granted,
hardly given it much thought,
but from now on I will pray to thank you Lord,
for these lesser blessings wrought.

I have prayed a prayer of thanksgiving,
for provisions The Lord has given;
may we promise and always remember,
to be grateful thankful children!


Milton L. Delgado
February 19, 2008


Details | Prose Poetry | |

To Know This

And so it exists, to be filled. Honor, chivalry, are not a farce. Wasted time, kills. Opportunity, is but a jest. Only one moon, many stages. Time befriends, the hand of grace. Faith is willing love is open hope, is honest. A newborns' freedom cries, as laughter fills the air. One hand affirms the other, washes it spotless. Good humor, always brings the heart to tears. My only prayer for all of us, to live in peace. Imperfect was I, when God made me. Incapable without the lord myself. Yes to know this, is to love this. Life, is all it was intended, to be.
Author notes This is written In the form of a shape or "Concrete" form of poetry: Shape or concrete poetry is not as of yet contained within the glossary of the lulu.com or poetry.com poetry site. I have heard it is to be considered as some considerable form of poetry in itself. This being the reasoning of mine in the creation of this poem. I believe the words of the poem form in part as part of the main theme of the poem a shape or picture that sums up usually in a concrete relatable form or relation or some reference as to visual sight to this expression. What the main theme of the poem is speaking of or is stating in the way in and of itself to add to the poem imagery wise. Metaphorically as a whole. The picture the words for is an open vessel ...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Many Things

I can do a lot of things and do them well, always have. 
This what I have been asked I fear I cannot do . . . 
What’s more important in this is how I no longer wish to. 

I can do many things and do them well, always have. 
These are my feelings and they run deeply across my soul. 
Woe to me I say because I know its over and drawing near. 
There lies before me a future full of agony of longing unrelenting. 

I can do many things and do them well, always have. 
There is one thing left for me to do and I cannot. 
Will I continue on I have been asked, 
Continue going I’m asked and I cannot do it anymore! 
I can’t keep going for much longer, if at all . . . 
How long am I supposed to go without hope, without anything at all . . ? 

I can do many things and do them well, always have. 
This what I have been asked to do I cannot do . . .
Will you understand when I’m gone and I know you wouldn’t 
For the blame you would place across your shoulders and why . ? 
It’s my life, this is my life and that’s the joke . . right? 
Yeah, as if this is living, as if this is even a pale reflection of life at all!! 
I don’t want this life anymore, I’m sick of it . . . 
No more do I pray for happiness that will never come, 
Instead I pray to close my eyes and never awaken again. 

I can do many things and do them well, always have. 
Please God spare me from growing older, from living at all, 
Please take my soul for I am done with this life without . . . 
Just let me sleep forever, for there is nothing left for me . . . 
Life is empty, meaningless, hollow and all faded away, 
There is no colour left in my eyes anymore, ever again! 
Just agony, just agony . . . 
God won’t give me this prayer I know, instead 
God will grant me an eternity of suffering, 
For she’s never done anything to answer my prayers before. 
Save fill my life with pain, suffering 
And horrible oceans of misery that I drown in every waking moment of this . . . 

I can do many things and do them well, always have. 
I cannot live without . . . I just can’t . . . I . . .


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ Poem the 1st Chap. Inspired Bye ~ Part #15

~ ~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~ ~ ~   ~ ~ ~ Perfect beauty rests within- ~ ~ diligent prayer brings hope ... ~  ~ new faith ... modesty worked ~ ~ brings answers answers found ~ ~~ within, through searching- ~~ true satisfaction achieved, ~~ ~~ ponders contently ... ~~ all possibilities, revealed through life's ever advancing- epiphany ... chances encountered, become realized ... boldly  taken, never wasted-enchanted boldly time works clay,  work  accepted before times beginning ... tenderly molding ambition  envisioned-amid-hate lives absence-honesty embraces light  knowing only love, aware- truth knows, nothing evolves ...  exercising impatience, bitterness merely inherits hate- lesson proposed ... accepting Gods intended virtue ...  welcoming grace. Followers-honest, move openly ...  willing- living life able-clay worked faithfully,  becomes goodwill realized ... for life's pains  grow greater giving birth, grateful- humble maker remains open,  willing throughout knowing- true patience worked, moves  always mindful ... always able.  Knows nothing ~more beautiful- ~~nor better, than the work. ~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~    Sitting here mid the stillness, in this moment calm, quiet and  connected;- my-time-alone to-play-with-God, has come. As I dance  with Him through tender-woods-and-fields of green. Pondering-new  days joys beheld those of cool winds awakened visions of things unseen.  Cradled in His-arms of love waltzing-away as one amid-our-fond ascension,  and euphoric, cachinnation. Catching-leaves-together-with-pen in-hand,  as-they fall, while to the thrill-of my-minds-contentment, days of my  youth return to me, as the true goodness of their nature, I recall,  while scales of worry's slip-away and my-heart soars-free. Yes  amid-this simple beauty-I find-God, through the patient art,  of poetry. As His love and hope, and-peace-fulfill-me, ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ covering me;- ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ protecting me;- ~  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ teaching me;- ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ advancing me;- ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ directing me;- ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ holding me;- ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ carrying me;- ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ molding me- ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ honing me;- ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~ completing me;- ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~ when I-am writing! ~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Angel

My Angel
~~~~~~~~
All doubts for me are now erased
Sending thanks and prayer to our Sky father
His angels do indeed still tread this earth
She is nothing less, those impossible eyes
Shining through to my soul, returning what was taken
By men and women of earth oh so very long ago
Returning trust, a thing every being needs
A heartbeat I feel steady and strong inside
Where not too long ago there was none
Sleeping a sound contentment under her guardian wings
Can a creature such as she be real for a mortal to love?
Yes, and my heart now soars on these zephyr winds
Born of this nascent and untainted love