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Prose Poetry Relationship Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Relationship

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Rarely Spoken Words

Rarely Spoken Words 

Rarely Spoken Words
 
"Please forgive me, I was wrong" -- 
" when I thought I was right "....
 
If you ever hear those
rarely spoken words keep
them near your soul... 
 
If the person that spoke them without
coercing-stood strong against their ego- 
Liken to a rare jewel ,they are.
You can trust them to shine;

They have the fortitude of integrity
Which is the thread of friendship's lifeline
as they will be most unlikely to
deceive you in relationship's.
 
Those who be sprinkling fairy dust on their 
mistakes, are not really sorry,they will
wound you all over before you are-
recuperated they will injure you again. 
 
You need stay clear. 
 
Remove them like a dart in your heart.
 
From most you will never hear those 
 
"Rarely Spoken Words" 
 
I apologize"my fault- 
 
"My bad" - "You are right".

Unless spoken from a jail cell.

Copyright © Vicki Acquah

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Colorless Confessional

            Colorless Confessional


It was as if time had resisted capture
hid its most precious commodities
averted its eyes lest you see into its soul
withheld all but the extremes of color

Everything became a negative reflection
black on white, white on black
variations of both accounting for contrast
allowing the moment to be stolen

There would be future arguments
regarding what color the dress was,
why Mom always had on the same housecoat,
where was Dad when they took the pictures

Time’s reluctant moment would pierce the future
prick deeply the longings of our hearts,
elicit laughter – and tears – intermingling
remind us that we too had been young

The old camera, the canisters, the leather case
the eye that captured a moment of life
offering it to us - as a window
into our future.


John G. Lawless
3/1/2015

Copyright © John lawless

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Oh God When I die

                                                 Oh God When I Die

                                      Oh God when I die please let me,
                                      See the sin's from past reality,
                                      And if my deeds out wiegh bad,
                                      Then let my soul feel glad.

                                      And if I die from a lier's shame,
                                      Please allow my shameful name,
                                      To be among the forgiven with pride,
                                      Knowing your grace has given me a guide 

                                      From death to light le me see,
                                      That eternity is my reward from thee,
                                      And infinite love of peace from you,
                                      For your promise is eternaly true.

Copyright © Michael S. Johnson

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your My Dear Friend

We have been together
treasured joy now for many years
we trust each other with our
emotions, with affection, tears,

Any day when you are sick or hurting
I feel your pain - significant other,
when eighter-one needs attention
we help one another...

These mutual friendly feelings
for assistance, approval, support
form our tight bonds,
usually never broken

Sharing visions, time together
we respect each other,
regardless of shortcomings
I know you, "I love you anyway"

Copyright © Perry Campanella

Details | Prose Poetry | |

For you, My Love

“For you, My Love”

I watch you sleep
Dark limbs entwined in sheets
The strength you show even while asleep
Makes my heart skip a beat
You are the one I’ve come to love
The one who exhausts me in fiery passion
The one who knows how to make me purr

Bless the day we met
At the carnival two years prior
Avoiding the crowd 
I walked right into your arms
Spilling my chocolate milkshake 
Over the front of your white coat
As I looked up into your hazel eyes
Saw the sadness replaced with light
Time stood still
You said something 
But I could only hear the sound
Of your heart beating 
Getting hold of my senses 
I jumped back fumbling in my purse for tissues
With a “your coat is soiled, sir”
You replied velvet voice “you owe me for damages, miss”
My mouth still hanging open 
We exchanged business cards

Anyway, long story short
We found each other
Love found us
Our exchange of rings at the altar
Promise of a lifetime of love and understanding
Holding each other in the palm of our hands
Kissing me awake with your loving touch
It thrills me thinking about it
You are my shelter
My home

Copyright © Shining Bright

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Somewhere over the rainbow

I had heard this song by an obscure artist, with a twist as it played verses 
of 'Somewhere over the rainbow, with 'What a wonderful' world entwined. 
It's simply melody strummed on a ukalele mesmerized me as I listened on the radio 
in the car.
I remember saying to my wife, "I want this at my funeral." I was morbidly honest 
that way.
Several years later, I was watching an episode of E.R. in which our favorite 
character, Dr. Green discovers he has brain cancer, and a short time to live. He's 
basically given the advice we all wish to avoid. "You don't have long, retire, enjoy 
the time you have left."
 Dr Green, plans a vacation with his daughter, who's relationship has been strained 
since his divorce. For the next three or four episodes Dr. Green and his daughter 
spend his last days surfing in Hawaii. Mending the relationship slowly, to a degree 
of understanding only a father and daughter could know. He's still Dad, and she's a 
teen working on letting go of her resentments.
In the last episode of the story, he's not doing well. He keeps passing out and his 
strength is waning. He knows it's only a matter of days, possibly hours; but doesn't 
share this with his daughter, the scenary is of a bungalo on the beach, white sands 
surround the openness of the primitive bungalo, palm trees speckle the beach, and 
in the distance lies the royal blue waters of the Pacific Ocean.
A day of surfing is suddenly changed as he suggests that his daughter go ahead of 
him, he'll stay back and watch until his strength returns. So he sits in a hammock, 
and watches out in the water as she strolls off to surf, Background music grows to 
this song I'd so loved, by and artist named Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwo?ole and as the 
music is playing softly, the camera pans in on the face of Dr. Green for his death 
scene, and his last breath. The camera pulls back, from the back of his head, above 
the bungalo, above the beach as if we are Dr Green's soul departing this earth.
Yes, I cried like a little school girl as realized that my favorite character had just 
been erased from our show, with no chance to come back for a Cameo... What!? of 
course that's why I cried! OKAY! it was a tear jerker! and the saddest part, was the 
relationship with his daughter was still in repair . Moral of the story i guess-- You 
never know when its your time, so don't hold on to petty resentments, and love 
every minute of life.  

I later learned, Israel "IZ" Kamakawiwo?ole; had also died





Copyright © michael hornschuch

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Someone Clue Me In

Somebody clue me in
Why oh why must this women toy with my emotions,
Once again dear lord why oh why does the phone keep ringing
And chicks call and hang up, I have gutting to the point I can tell what type
Of day they had by the way the phone ringing’s and hit the dial to hang up

I don’t what to say anything blasphemy or even out of character but even
A man has his breaking point, this is not another teen movie or sequel or even prequel
But I did not know I knew so many woman in till I got on facebook took two and half years
To clear up clarification of what was said and what  was  facts and fact is we was just friends nothing 
More Right all right …

Last twenty days I have gotting calls from a colordo spring company, Burbank CA, Albant Or,
Hudson,Fl, Hartwell Ga and who in the world does a fund raiser an nine clock on a Sunday,
You Should name the fund raise the “Unity Front” I know I been told all woman hate me or was
You just flirty I cant tell so cruel and ususally, why call from 0-0-0-0 number and pick up the second time 
and keep call me madma then call the next fifteen mintues and then I get a recording “saying goodbye”
This is not “Shaun of the dead”
This is not another teen movie but” Jason is my nickname” so how far do you want go?
But please don’t bus out my window glad my mom sold my car she didn’t bus out the windows of my car
Is the music effecting your behavior?

If you don’t know now you know I got call id, call waiting, speed dial, and the call that pop up
On the tv. And if you seen the "Big Hit" I got the bust buster buster do you know what that even is?
I get it I’m a nice guy too nice most men first call they get they said the first thing that comes to mind I 
wonder what word that is?,

And for the record I am not a celeb yet I might of spoken to a few
 here and there don’t even know 
How they know me truth be told I don’t have a dime to my name don’t seem like I going break the 
Bank anytime soon but yet I keep getting twitter invites borgobaby- love don’t live here any more life goes on.

Yes Sir, but for the record my fare lady oh im sorry my fare ladies I am not a player, 
Gentlemen a tier.
But once again my nickname is Jason so game over, the wait is over
and I must say I adore woman to the 
Fullest extension but love don’t live here anymore once more and 
I don’t what to play games like most 20 something 30 is acoming and sound more cool then “not 
between but tween” “not alright but all right all right all right”
and “absolutely”, “ 4up 4 down tip top” don’t for get I came up with most this "clinches" in 09’
But I choice to stay anonymous speaking of anonymous FedEx call at twelve where is my packages? 
Woman I don’t understand someone clue me in?
"A Poet and Still Running"

Copyright © Louis Borgo

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Patiently Waiting For The Right Answer

A friend to her, for decades from the innocence of children to the adventures of teenagers and even the stupidity of best friends all well shared and enjoyed to a point the gods ask why the wait and beg for the next level. He sees all the possibilities to make her the care-taker of his heart. Thinking he's the only one with eyes open he made his confession attached with an honest recommendation to his amazement she looked at him and said "you are so nice, but like a brother to me'. Switching to the next damsel who's no where near cold but soft, tender, meek and charming. He allows her control the pace and lets her gentleness maintain the tempo. Feeds her with poems and makes her drunk with happiness with hopes going higher, reaching the moon she looked at him and said "sorry! I am not yet ready". He jumped into the next wagon having an available space for a beauty and meets a potential 'second half' pretty, quiet and an introvert. Worships her right from day one letting lose the net of affection, half in magnitude of his efforts will strike the tenderness of a millepede but it got her scared as she looked at him and said "I just had a heart break; I'm so sorry" Watering a fresh new flower growing in a familiar garden just close by, makes him grow in creativity as he engage in constant words exchange and creating wonderful serenity around her. Huge investments and time well spent coupled with passionate research in equipping his machinery of jokes and laughter sums up his passion and carefulness in his latest trial which seems worthy of the medal. Constant updates on his outlook and becoming the number one specimen for fashion were not enough as she looked at him and said "You still have no swag" So many disappointments made him stronger, wiser and smarter not even a forest of wild beast will make him turn his back to the beauty and escapades of life. The moment he tried to pause, the period he wanted to take a nap; the Queen bee passed by. A simple hi and a conversation led to series of memorable meetings, having in mind, the worst is a "no" and her welcoming countenance, a proof to nothing yet, he asked with no expectation in mind then she looked at him and said "Yes! Sweet heart. I want to be your girl"

Copyright © Funom Makama

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ANGELS AND DEMONS IN HER HEAD

ANGELS AND DEMONS IN HER HEAD "Abort it!! and from this day and on, no more us. NO. MORE. US.!" (These the earthshaking words she heard from him.) This was the man that made her feel she's pretty. She's nice. She's worth every care and touch, but this time, he denied her. He want her out from his life. Blues skies he promised flew fast like the wind, so are the smiles, moon and stars he vowed to share. The light and shades, they are painting nine months ago turned fast in a minute in an envelope-tinge of black. Liquid diamonds- a curtain flow from her eyes as that one test. Two red lines now change her life. Sponge soft are her knees. Gypsy are her shaking heels. Chilly sweats cascade to chaperon her tears. Alone. Scared. Frightened. Torn. Horror is the athlete running through her reverie for she knows... She knows the world she's in may stop and stare at her. No lax brows no smiling eyes rather arched brows and big eyes ready to claw. Lightning fingers and tidal palms may grace her face. Lashing monstrous words she will hear. All these plugs, churns... regurgitating to her nerves. Angels and demons knocking to her head-- they, she --all in a battle for life. Should she tell her parents about this? to her mama... who didn't even care to stop even for awhile just to ask how she is? Her mom who prefers going out with her friends rather than with her? To her papa, who like more to watch a television? who likes staying out 'til dawn more than paying attention to her talks. Yes,her phone is always new. Her room as big as her school's classroom. Her pocket like a walking bank. Her parents taught her to speak but when she wanted a talk no one there. She walks so well. They even tell her she could be a model. Yet, her parents refuse her for a stroll. Ah! She is hurting-- HURTING... Her hurt is cutting deep reaching further to her already broken soul... Her life-- like the leaning Tower of Pisa even a collapsed castle; a black hole but lo! some voice within tells her: "soon from your belly a new life will begin..." _____________________________________________ Sponsor Debbie Guzzi Contest Name Tam Lin Placed 3rd... O.E. Guillermo 11:49 pm, April 14, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo

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Unconditional Love

In the warmth of a massive cozy bed, I lie
Enjoying the freshness of a washed sheet
Lost in a make believe world
Lovely enough, I can’t wake

But while in the deep of my fantasies 
I am suddenly awakened by my little one’s silent echo!!!

Her turns and sucks, 
Her little hand-full tummy, rumbling
Yet again, wet diaper.

Oh no!!! Why now? 
Sleep never felt so lovely
But I just can’t ignore this growl
Am I not her supper-mom? 

Sleep-walking; I grab some warm milk and fresh diaper
For who came from me, same flesh and blood!!!

Copyright © chocho diva

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Waiting At Doctor's Office

Cody was questioning the lettering on the doctor's plaque on the wall..
He asked me to write letters in cursive which I did ...
He said that the plaque's lettering was not anything like cursive..
Then he wrote in cursive "Once upon a time"
I wrote: "there was"
He wrote: "a Granny"
I wrote: "Who had a Chihuahua named Princess"
He wrote: " They were so alike that they both even had the same spoiled look on their face.."
I wrote: " Princess wanted a new coat and a new harness so we went to PetSense to shop..Princess wanted a rhinestone studded harness and a sequined coat..Of course, she got what she wanted its no joke"..Ha!!!Ha!!!Ha!!

Cody came away empty handed..Ha!!!  

Just for fun...

Copyright © Sara Kendrick

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Smile

Kill a smile with a kiss
The demise of it will visit you in your dreams
Never will I let you
Drown in a pool of angry thoughts
I will be your unexpected smile
Every time I bring u roses b4 valentine
A wet poem I would recite for you

I would make you my 1st rhyme
your heart-beat will rhyme
Twist my beat box
Into a love song
A cartoon I would paint in your heart to keep you smiling
Your twin smiles I would define in vernacular
Though I speak no language from Peninsula
My parents will define your beauty as African splendor
Black mother nation
Smile please smile

Copyright © Raymond Ngomane

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Are You The First To Be An Ex

There are some colours that can never be repainted, marks that can never be removed and stains that can never be covered. Move on! My past loved one, don't hold unto my shoulders as though nature formed us together. We've once crossed that bridge but even before reaching its middle we had crashed into the river and were swallowed by the rocks of its depth. Do you remember, at first we built a garden coloured in trust and grassed with unbelievable care? But we converted it into an Oven where love and hate mix and our problems; I'm the only one trying to fix. Unfortunate episodes of our heated drama was already counting at thirty and six. The beautiful songs of our hearts we remix as sadness and anger feasts. Why shouldn't I leave and prevent my heart from an avoidable accident? But you stick around only to suffer from self torture. My new and bright countenance makes you wanna have sex with other male colleagues, I flex. It's barely two weeks that makes you perplexed well; it's your problem b'cos I'm not bothered if you're vexed. Are you the first to be an ex? Just move on, my dear past lover! It will be the height of folly and the worship of loneliness if you visit our world again.

Copyright © Funom Makama

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Happy Father's Day: Your Sweat Is My Increase

your left hand was hard, but your right, gracious putting me in the balance of Love of which its fulcrum is discipline and respect. Your weaknesses were classified just to ensure I see beyond mine Your chastisement was not without pain of which its appreciation is a strong indicator of my gradual maturity. You always guard the gates of my territory like a Centurion and fight against all antigens like a warlock. You taught me how to be complete and provided the staff and Ass as I journey across Life and appreciate. I initially thought of you differently when you gave me the partially made sandal, when you refused to help with the air-tight metal box, when you gave me bone while milk was still my best delicacy when you laughed at me while I'm confused and worst of all, stopping Mum to come to my rescue. I never knew they were task of Life I most needed, finishing off the sandal made me industrious, opening the box, made me determined and never relenting, chewing the annoying bone made me grow up; your scorn and laughter actually made me decisive and rescuing myself made me independent. All these sum up to making me a MAN! Which makes you my Hero and role model. Before I was, there was you; in fact, I am in existence because of you. I've always clinged unto you as my Life's support but you allow me make my mistakes so as to be the best gadget. Your regulation of Mum's affections only makes me be an unspoilt egg. I always increase when you sweat and your headaches are stepping stones to my zeniths. You are such an irreplaceable asset and your love, so refreshing as the evening air. What more can I say and how else can I show gratitude? As much as I know, you need none of these, One thing I must always say is, I LOVE YOU DAD!

Copyright © Funom Makama

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Familiarity

What is it about me
that I cannot place you
in the picture painted by the years
the life has already spent?
Do you merely lurk,
and leave at a much later time?
Or, 
maybe
you are staying
because 
    you 
        are 
           meant
                to 
                   stay.

Then,
stay.
If you may.
I pray.
While I find a place (for us)
in the picture of eternities,
the gods must be 
hiding, 
conspiring;
themselves amusing.


Ah, the grand scheme of things -
                            a forgetting.
A familiar spirit we feel -
                            a remembering.     


(Note) This piece was inspiredly written for the beautiful souls - even the 
strangers - I have met along the way and will still come upon in my lifetime. To 
each special one, you have stirred quite a familiar spirit within. A remembrance 
of forgotten past, I suppose. Thank you for letting me peak through your 
soul's window. The veil of forgetfulness has never been thin as now to me. You 
have so given me a gift I shall treasure in the moments I may tend to forget 
who I truly am - a being with a soul.


Copyright © Wendy Meyer

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I BEGGED YOU TO STOP

I BEGGED YOU TO STOP You see me already sitting at the corner heads down unto folded arms bent on knees When tears and cries, all that left to say still, your tongue sharp as a wooden axe you slowly cut me like that of a CT scan Sobs, groans rocked and rolled deep my bones I begged hard for you dear Ma to stop but you didn't... You didn't... Left to right you slashed me with shouts Your eyes like that of a mad lion ready to devour Frightened, the most I can do is to stare down to my two pained beaten bruised legs knees shaking despite hands holding them tight so are my fingertips dance in terror I begged hard for you dear Ma to stop but sad, you are there but you didn't listen... Same as the disturbed tidal waves of the sea Your palms non-stop lapping hard: thud! thud! even your digits keep on squeezing my skin Only a make-up colored red and black are scattered free all over my flesh except for a tiny purple sphere in my wrist I begged hard for you dear Ma to stop but all your eyes mirror is remorse... I begged you to stop! Stop! Please Please Stop! but you never stop only my breathing stopped. __________________________________________ O.E. Guillermo 10:01 pm , June 17, 2015

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Silence

Silence                              
 

You took my breath away
Words I cannot say
You silenced my voice
Gave me no choice
But to be silent!
Say nothing at all
If I slip I might fall
Into that cycle that
Causes me to whisper
Forces me to reveal
What I refuse to.
Silence is golden
Maybe not, but silence is all I got.


By PatriciaMitchell-Templeton





Copyright © Patricia Templeton

Details | Prose Poetry | |

his touch is a drug

his touch is a drug
he saunters through my mind
i fill my lungs
breathing in his smell
his legs
his wrists
his shoulders
his skin
are beautiful
his eyes like the sky
he hides beneath his hat
beneath eyebrows
behind glasses
behind beard
behind dry wit
as if to keep out the
unwelcome
world
his wild hair
tangled and tousled
tells the truth
that he covers
his touch is a drug
and i want him

Copyright © Brandi Elizabeth Brown

Details | Prose Poetry | |

An End to Aloneness

In my life I often feel I am alone; alone in my thoughts, alone in my musings, alone in my day-to-day movements and unsatisfying activities. I move like a ghost through hallways and down sidewalks, unnoticed and, at times, gratefully so. 
I do not wish to be eternally alone. I long for togetherness. But despite this desire for a real connection, I find myself regularly retreating from that temperamental beast that is human interaction. 

“Come on now, sweetheart. Don’t lower your head. Don’t look away. Look up! Smile at someone! No! Don’t go back into your bedroom. Don’t lock the door! Why are you doing this?” my brain will plea. 

I can’t help myself. Aloneness is comfortable. In being alone, I don’t have to worry about anyone but myself. I don’t have to please anyone else. I can think anything I want, wear anything I want, listen to anything I want, and laugh at anything I want. 

And still there remains that nagging desire to be loved and wanted and needed by somebody. I do not know the feeling of being truly desired. I do not know what it is like for someone to crave my company, my smile, my kiss, or my touch. 

                                                                              But I would like to…

I cannot make someone love me or like me or want me in some primal way. It may hurt, but I cannot make that handsome boy want to hold my hand or brush my hair back behind my ear. I can only struggle on. I can only work within myself. I can only try every God damn day to hold my head up, keep my eyes fixed ahead, a give the world the best smile I have. I and I alone can bring myself out of the safety of my bedroom and into the bright world that lies beyond that locked door. 
	
I often find myself alone with nothing more than my thoughts and the ever-strong glow of a computer screen. But no longer will aloneness be the constant in my life. It is true that never having known the caress of a man’s hand on my thigh doesn't make me any less of a woman, but I fear that if I stay confined within myself much longer I will begin to become less of a human. A flower cannot grow if it retracts its leaves and petals every time it feels the warmth of the sun or the kiss of a gentle spring rain.  
	
And I want to grow. I want to grow so tall and blossom so big and beautifully that every place on earth is touched by my shadow at some point in the day. And I will grow. I will push myself and share myself with the world, and finally
							                                 finally
								                                   finally
know the closeness and comfort of love and honest, unabashed companionship.

Copyright © Molly McCarthy

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Gator Bait Series 2nd Crossing the Line

It’s that time of year when I think of you....
And all the strange things we used to do...
We were young and cast our fate to the wind...                                                  
Regardless of the message that we might send..
Out to the world , cause we didn’t care...                                                                       
And that’s what brings me here to share....
You treated me just like a queen honey bee..                                                                
And I believed and worshiped thee...
We shared our ups and downs together...                                                                        
In thick and thin and stormy weather...
What was mine was mine and yours was mine.....                                                         
And we never ever crossed that line !
I assumed it would always be just you and me...                                                            
As no one else appealed you see....
My friends said you will break my heart...                                                                       
But I told them that, I was just too smart....
As I remembered , what I was taught....                                                                         
That no one could control my thought...
And then it happened I lost my heart....                                                                          
My bracelet, my watch and my college  ring...
And then you did that awful thing...                                                                               
You lied , you cheated , you  had stolen my bling...
And that’s why now you aren’t around....                                                                       
Plus no way... will you EVER.... be found....
Cause I live where the GATOR is king......                                                                        
And...like no one steals my BLING !






Copyright © kj force

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Determination makes the impossible possible


When I’m known, he’ll come knocking.
Left alone to cry for our children,
I wish for them to know, the truth
not become bitter, broken, or hopeless.
The choice to conceal, be honest,
My dilemma, want better for them.
If I can get ahead despite rejection,
Social issues, challenges, being ill equip,
So could they, I want them to know this.
Determination make the impossible possible.
Even if alone and unsupported.

Copyright © Ruth Garnes

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Listening Closer to Myself

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


 



Copyright © kj force

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Gerrymandering

Those spoken words that can't be taken back come back as incendiary 
attacks.  How many rough relationships must one go through before one 
finds smooth?  Is it me or you? Don't be fooled. We are the key ingredient 
that our kids feed on. Do they grow strong or limp along?  
Is there life out there? Is there hurt after mistakes?  
Is the Lord's day really all that great? What about the other days of the 
week?  The world continues spinning,  this concept of us is 
revolutionary.  Together we find balance in give and 
take, the reorientation of space so that the stars you look upon don't crumble 
and fall. Heaven is two feet from the ground.  A morning fog we walk through 
daily.  Good quickly dissipates and we're left wondering how heaven drifted so 
far away. What happened to Sunday?  How did the Sabbath move from 
Saturday?  How did we become disenchanted?  Separate but equal,  so 
political our lies are believable.  Can I count on your vote?  Sure (not really). 
Stop gerrymandering.  What's mine is ours. Erase the lines that divide. 
Come close to close.  Let me peer through you, stir that ocean inside of you. 
Let our problems fade in the distance like a pier five miles away.  
Rise above crosses and steeples above the morning mist that evaporates 
when the sun first kisses it. Let me hold you in my heaven till noon, 
lay with you in evening, give you that resurrective feeling at the first stroke of 
midnight.  Your dark knight with whispers of goodnight, choir preaching, have 
you heard a good word? Even after all that we see reaches oblivion,  
I got you. Going to ride it out until the waves become smooth. 
If still waters run deep, sit down so I can quench my thirst in your 
baptismal pool. Dive into your postrapedic positions and serenade you with 
what is coming next. Rain falling on violet painted window sills on the inside it 
sounds like a lullaby. We've mastered this concept so hard to come by. We 
can't do drive-bys,  can't duck and hide. Us and we go together the way 
summer follows spring. What you take away, give it back new. Be my 
solstice,  a day that separates and joins seasons. My soul sister,  soul mate 
and soul date: expiration of forever and a day. Together you and I with 
mountains to climb,  storms to soar beyond, and a heaven to get into, 
mornings to walk through.  No more gerrymandering.  A hope you can believe 
in. I am T.S. Lewis and I approve this blessing. Let's make it smooth.

Copyright © TS Lewis

Details | Prose Poetry | |

A silent song

I waved a silent song
past its strongest heights
For a sating revision
of a shy sound to ignite
Asks for melodic tense,
for its sequence of time 
heaves a better song
and lights up a star-deprived 
haze 
regardless of time,
Promises
to sign a sympathetic course 
for us in bloodless keys… 
and for the lost keys 
discarded,
to toe
the empty line
and reside 
in our unkempt places 

Yet reluctantly,
and 
in defeat,
invokes a right
to fill its 
self-declared silence 
with lasting doubt
And braises a cold heartfelt petal
of pain 
To open and fit
a rising reduction of triumph
in different keys

But till then
My best bequeaths to each
of us a silent song
Our second tries aim
a daunting recourse to pasts below
We signed off
in single file
In endless cells, 
walled in our own unforgiving pasts
As they
echo beneath
a soldered 
and silent core of song
While we wait
for the sympathy of 
a melodic distance..
that heaves 
and leaves 
a silent song to die
a second time

Copyright © Lebo Bopalamo

Details | Prose Poetry | |

True Love

When you put your hand in mine

It feels as through we stopped time

When I look into your eyes

I know where your heart lies

Even when you say my name

That alone means everything

The gentle touch of your lips

Takes my breath away as through it was our first kiss

When you got down on your knee

I thought my heart might flee

As you said those words to me

My heart felt as if it was meant to be.....

Copyright © Tiffany Flowers

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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Copyright © kj force

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Blind Man

Blind man
Feeling anothers thoughts by touching his hands;
Can you tell who I am by my darker shades that follow the cracked, dry lines of your palms? Do you see what I hide from everyone else like a silhouetted tattoo? Can you tell that a concrete kids game isn't the only thing that almost broke the back of my mothers heart once? Is it the sound of my voice that pierces through your senses that makes you silence the memories deep within the recesses of your past? 
I can see you'd rather forget about it; discouragement is written all over a face that you can't even read. Does that make me better than you? Truth is, I long to see like you. Heighten my senses, Mr. Sphere, so that I may see everything that my two small worlds can't. I want to read a book backward and forward a thousand times without being so anxious to flip forward, because I imagine you're more patient than I am. I want to know the adventures of your vivid dreaming, and how safety sounds like whenever God speaks to you. I want to be able to wrap my head around the concept of appearing to look good even when I know that my clothes, cologne, and character are wrapped around my ego like bandages I never changed; I never knew I was a walking, talking, mummified optimist until I saw the stench of the lies I told myself seeping through the eyes of loved ones. I never again want to make another cry from a false truth. 
Mr. Blind eyes, could you help me to believe that their are others who look like me who see more like yourself? I don't like who I'm becoming, and I want to know that my choices won't be just for show. I want to know that when I look at my wife in her lifelines, we'll both be able to see that death has no real place in the wounds that love has healed. Bandages have to come off and stay off at some point; you'll never be able to move onto greater things until you can live with the sight of scraped knees that made sidewalk scars of your past. I want to carry her in the voice of my care, like a musical note you hold two seconds too long just because you love music. I want to be just like you, so that my child will want to look up and see more than a father worried about his job. I want to see that my breaths can take shape in the form of a beautiful baby. I want to give back.
Are you listening to me?..
God shows himself in rare forms, and sees with his heart when we ask Him out of the honesty of ours. So, by the time we've finished talking, what we've been searching for is already inside of us. God is blind to the sin of those who seek to be saved. Their will always be a second chance if you ask in an honest tone.

Copyright © Spenser Jones

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope You Know I'll Always Love You

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

Copyright © Mark Ramon

Details | Prose Poetry | |

THE POWER OF YOU

When you laugh 
I will laugh with you
When you cry 
I will wipe away your tears
When you win the race 
I’m the one cheering the loudest
When you feeling down 
I will be there to cheer you up
When you’re ill
I will be your pill


The Power of You
How you love me, earnestly and sincerely
You in my life is my greatest achievement
I bless the day we met 
For you brought light to my life
Radiance on my face
The smile in my soul and depth of my heart 
The bounce in my step
The spin in my turn


The Power of you
Magnificent dynamic as you are
The coolness of my eyes 
Finally my King has arrived to meet
Magnificent dynamic as you are
The coolness of my eyes
More than just a name 
The strength of me in your palms
The moment we met I knew the truth
you are the sunshine on a rainy day
Neither of us will lead the way
Nor will either follow the other
Together we will lead the life we choose
Equal and complimenting the other
all because of the The Power of You 

© 2013 persiankhushi

Copyright © Shining Bright

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.

Copyright © Spenser Jones