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Prose Poetry Spiritual Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Spiritual

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Child's Peace

Tell me of your peace. 
Let it tell your story now
Of trials and tribulations, a tale not of dreams
Weary from a journey of self-discovery
My child, know the comfort in your peace
You feel hope in this familiar place 
As it gently sloughs the pain away 
Tell me of your peace 
In which we all are blessed and free
Search throughout your soul sweet child
Peer not within your cluttered mind 
Look out to rest your tired eyes but do not let them see
Solace found strewn upon daily thoughts is fleeting at it's best
Lasting merely moments, in untouched souls a true peace 
Oh yes! You'll know when you arrive but only you will know 
The world will melt away as a candle left under the blazing sun
Away away, until you feel home again, an unguided familiar scene
An innocence once lost is restored, all sins suddenly forgiven
Soaking this in with relucant ease, 
Breathe it deep with a slow release
Take it in, delight in details you discover
Be calm here child, please have no fear, I am here 
You are safe in this place of yours, no hurt no tears
We share not the same peace, no no
Unique to each of us, yet stranger to none
Trust in more than what you see, know beauty is within reach
We share this unspoken bond of freedom from ourselves
Please young one, listen closer now 
I say, leave it all behind you love, it will only weigh you down
Cleanse yourself of careless words and careful lies 
I know you're weary, let go of all you carry
Don't be afraid, here you are burden free 
Trust in you, blessed one, it's easier than you believe
Sweet child, tell me now if you see
Peace resting deep within 
Waiting for you
For you to let it be


Details | Prose Poetry | |

REINCARNATION THINKING

REINCARNATION THINKING?

Life is like a coloring book
with few or many pages
filled with complex 
outlined images.

We are given a box of crayons
and are asked to color in the 
background and spaces of the images

Sub-titles are allowed.

When the coloring book is finished
we are given a new one to complete.

C.A.K. 12-6-2012


REINCARNATION THINKING 2 -SOUL SEARCHING

Was I once before or never
Don’t know how or even whether

I was a firefly, a bird of prey 
a centipede, a fish fillet?

A baseball fan to keep the score
a mockingbird, a carnivore?

A blossom in the midst of spring
a sign of what the day might bring.

A germ grown in a Petri dish
a chicken bone an unmade wish

All things and species could I be,
even remnants of a tree.

Of all of these,  I leave this post,
I am for now what I am most.

CAK 7-23-2012



MORE QUESTIONS ON RE-INCARNATION

As 'core' beliefs thicken so, 
does it leave us room to grow?
As aging souls say we must, 
complete the cycle which was thrust
upon our bucolic living place 
turned upside down in whorling space
searching for a redemptive life.

But for you, dearest one, do you not remember 
before you arrived, you took this bucking horse of soul, 
tamed it, labeled it and proclaimed it. 
To become what you needed in order
that your ride be contained and controlled. 
It's name is 'balance' and it keeps you level in the saddle 
so you don't fall off. 

10-3-2012


REINCARNATION THINKING 3 -

If, we are on a soul journey,
then what must that soul become?

A better soul? A wiser soul?
A sad soul? A learned soul?
Until one reaches the end of time,

There are so many lives to live out
to fully experience all aspects of this world.
Animals, plants - more souls searching?

One can speculate, but from my perspective
none of it makes sense.

CAK 4-03-2012


REINCARNATION ENDING

Was the Phoenix reincarnated?
Or was its embers reignited?  
Perhaps before a lowly worm or soldier bee 
or brown turned leaf upon a tree? 
A  seahorse, a shark, which fish shall I be?  
In fisherman's net to be eaten by me?  
And when the cycle is complete 
and x equals x on our balance sheet.
Can we then rest in a celestial lair 
with memories gone and unaware
of trials by all things forgotten?
If choose I must or chosen by me,  
I'll remain in the stars and just wait to see.

6-2-2012


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Your My Dear Friend

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

That Which You Critcize Is That Which You Become #2

Judgment destroys our harmony. Judging corrupts our spiritual integrity. Being judged tears 
at our soul. All are simultaneous and instantaneous. At the moment judgment is passed upon 
another being or situation, the essence of our existence is diminished. We move from a 
higher to a lower spiritual plane in the universe as the attack is felt emotionally by all parties 
in the form of synchronized fear or shame. Each experience happens in varying degrees. It 
is through experiencing what we criticize that redemption is allowed to take place. Empathy 
replaces scrutiny and love transcends superiority. Such a phenomenon does not happen 
overnight and oftentimes numerous transgressions are employed before such states are 
reached. 
The fortunate learn to understand the cycles of karma and the parts they play by undergoing 
various levels of transformation. When we endure that which we judge, we identify with 
another’s plight and learn to sympathize with the condition that we damned. We move from 
feeling superior to a place of kinship. Once this is realized, judgment is made with more 
caution and our insights become more introspective. We become enlightened by the notion 
that it is more advantageous to look within ourselves and strive to be more conscientious of 
doing good works than to look outside of ourselves for fault. Others are oblivious to this 
notion and choose to ignore the opportunity to evolve, thereby stunting the cycling process. 
In these cases of stagnation, there is no remedy for the error of estimation. It’s not until we 
walk in another’s shoes that we appreciate the circumstance. If no correlation is recognized 
between the judgment and the similar experience, no awakening takes place and, therefore, 
no lesson is learned.

Continued


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Familiarity

What is it to 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.



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Blood on the Mirror

You prod at the sores of your heart
with a hemorrhaging pen, wishing it was 
a scalpel; so you could carve 
out the disease that keeps 
your rage alive. 
Basic instinct, I suppose.
To slay the demons,
that made you who you are. 
You thank them for your posture,
but scold the obsidian eyes in the 
mirror. What you have become:
Callous, and engulfed in the 
rotting theater you thought 
you controlled. The reigns 
have broken loose, your 
skull whips in the wind of 
chaos. It’s not really your 
sort of dance, you know…
                                      You don’t know the steps
              …you don’t even know the song. 
It drums against your flesh
as if you were already stripped 
and tanned, spread across 
the hallowed instruments 
                             of reckoning.
But you can’t hear the chant,
only the distant hum of the
butcher who said you could
call him “friend”.
That you were safe,
if only you would show him
what you promised you would
never show anyone.
It drips,
            thick,
                      coagulated,
                                           dirty.
Just like every part of you,
you wish you could burn;
As you dig the covenant,
into the flesh of your enemy;
                                          Your only true, enemy. 
The mirror cracks…
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Epiphany At Union Station


Union Station was littered and in disrepair, 'Out Of Order' signs bore witness. Discarded chewing gum and empty bottles, and the smells emanating from unemptied trash baskets... and in the midst of all this dislocation there he was... 
huddled in his wheelchair, his tray of trinkets proudly perched on a cardboard box, a makeshift table. Always cheerful, greeting commuters as they hurried past, but they never returned the smile forever gracing his weathered face. One day I stopped to say hello. His eyes brightened as he said, 

"Good day to you, good sir!" Can I interest you in any of my treasures?" 

I noticed he was shoeless, sockless, and made a mental note. 

"Right now I have to catch a train, 
but I'll return when I have more time, 
you have my word." 

"I'll be here, this is my world, you'll 
always be most welcome!" he explained, 

and I disappeared into the teeming crowd. Foregoing my schedule I returned the next day, anxious to peruse his wares, and continue our conversation. It turned out he was a Vet who'd fallen on hard times. I sat and listened while he told me his story. A man displaced by a society who would forever be in his debt. "I'll be right back," I said. I had a plan. Returning from the store, armed with sneakers, socks and a sponge, I cleaned his feet, pulled on his socks and laced up his brand new Nikes. He was overwhelmed, and by way of payment gave me a pendant bearing the inscription, 'Semper Fi.' 

"This will bring you good fortune, my friend, 
wear it, and your heart will be free of strife, 
and your days will be filled with sunshine! 
Remember me and treasure it, that is all I ask." 

Next day, as I was crossing the concourse, I saw he was no longer at his station, 
my friend, his wheelchair, and his tray of trinkets all were gone. I hoped that where he went he was cared for and comforted, and if he had shuffled off this mortal coil that he was in the arms of God. 

Was he seen by anyone but me? 

I believed with all my heart he was an Angel... 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Poem For You

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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 | |

Fire and Merlot

I remember the honeyed words,
and the
               ...anticipation
 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
                                                    ...fading
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
...no 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 | |

TRIALS & TRIBULATION

My ability to love
Is sometimes tested
Giving of myself without protection
Attracting the fundamental nature of people that are not forthcoming
I ask myself why?
Is it the yin and yang of the spiritual forces?
The wolf that eats the sheep
Maybe it’s the spirit of Christ that resonates in me
The enemy wanting to destroy GODS creation
Denying my predestination to come to full term
Fighting to align myself with my creator’s will for me
Praying that victory will be on my side
Milk no longer I require
Spiritual enrichment enables me to eat meat
Converting retained bones into spiritual arrows  
TARGETED STRAIGHT FOR MY ENEMIES


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dark Night

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

DANCE OF SOULS

Salty air breathed from crystalline peaks
I breathe in And catch a glimpse 
of the dancing, bowed bodies.

They perform a graceful ballet;
like arrows shot from an archer’s bow;
they leap, breach and roll.

Their eyes have seen ages of brine and shifting sands.
I wonder if they really are the “Watchers”; 
like the “Dogon” stories portray them.
Did they once have legs instead of fins 
and can we really be their children?

Perhaps that is why they are so quick to help us;
Why a child who can not speak can suddenly come to life?
He won’t be silenced again, 
after all, he swam with the dolphins.  
Could it be the magic of the dance that heals?

Odd, that they are always there when needed
And can transform a stagnating life 
into a miraculous moment of rebirth!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A light in the dark

You are a light in the dark

the shadows follow but Your

love stands inside to keep me holding

Your hand so wide.



You are a light in the dark

it's scary out here in the

deep wide world that's not my home,

but Your love holds onto my heart

deep inside we never depart.


Your a light in the dark

when I feel so alone

You take hold of the inner parts

deep in my soul.


Oh Lord, how I long to be home,

YOUR my true light in the dark.



Written By:©Betty Bolden


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 | |

As Simple as That

Impressive doesn't impress
Keep it simple 
My soul whispered
Touch the ground
Feel the dirt
As simple as that
Clap your hands
Slap your face
Hurt is the cost to wake
As simple as that
You can write big
Diamonds and pearls
For stones of words
I ask you my child
How genuine do you express
When you desire to impress
Write to express
Not just to impress
As simple as that


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 | |

Epiphany At Union Station


The Station was littered and in disrepair, 
'Out Of Order' signs bore witness. 
Discarded chewing gum and empty bottles, 
and the smells emanating from unemptied 
trash baskets... and in the midst 
of all this dislocation there he was,

huddled in his wheelchair, 
his tray of trinkets proudly perched 
on a cardboard box, a makeshift table. 
Always cheerful, greeting commuters 
as they hurried past, but they never returned 
the smile forever gracing his weathered face. 

One day I stopped to say hello. 
His eyes brightened as he said 
"Good day to you, good sir!" 
Can I interest you in any of my treasures?" 
I noticed he was shoeless, sockless, 
and made a mental note. 

"Right now I have to catch a train, 
but I'll return when I have more time, 
you have my word." 
"I'll be here, this is my world, you'll 
always be most welcome!" he explained, 
as I disappeared into the teeming crowd. 

Foregoing my schedule I returned the next day, 
anxious to peruse his wares, and continue 
our conversation. It turned out he was a Vet 
who'd fallen on hard times. I sat and listened 
while he told me his story. A man displaced 
by a society who would forever be in his debt. 

"I'll be right back," I said. I had a plan. 
Returning from the store, armed with sneakers, 
socks and a sponge, I cleaned his feet, 
pulled on his socks and laced up his 
brand new Nikes. He was overwhelmed, 
and by way of payment gave me a pendant 
bearing the inscription, 'Semper Fi.' 

"This will bring you good fortune, my friend, 
wear it, and your heart will be free of strife, 
and your days will be filled with sunshine! 
Remember me and treasure it, that is all I ask." 

Next day, as I was crossing the concourse, 
I saw he was no longer at his station, 
my friend, his wheelchair, and his tray of trinkets 
all were gone. I hoped that where he went 
he was cared for and comforted, and if he had shuffled 
off this mortal coil that he was in the arms of God. 

Was he seen by anyone but me? 

I believed with all my heart he was an Angel... 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Fire and the Warrior

Out of the fire,
Life grows.
The flames burn strong, 
Bold,
And sear my soul.
My heart grows faint,
Weary.
The pain,
The intolerable pain,
Burning.

Yea, though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil;
I will fear no evil in the flames,
Searing,
Searching,
To cleanse my soul;
To release the Light
In the dark night
of my soul.

In the fire,
Love brings forth life
Out of pain;
Darkness exposed;
Evil released;
My heart cleansed
Set free;
Life grows.

Shall I endure
For lessons to be learned
And freedom to obtain?
Shall I wait upon the Lord
To be set free?
Will I persevere?

The Warrior rises up;
To fight;
To endure;
For victory is sought.
Out of fire
New life grows.

The journey long
And narrow is the way.
The day becomes night
My heart weary
Loses might;
Becoming faint;
Despair.

The Warrior,
Champion of my soul
Rises up,
To fight,
To endure;
To persevere;
For victory to claim.
Out of the fire
New life grows
Giving rise to hope.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Doorway

I’ve cut my hands on the broken screen door
of dreams meant to be deserted;
I can feel the rush of inclusion in a state of decay
as it gasps open against tucked in eyelids.
Smiles caught in dim headlights,
before the empty sway of drunken iron
drips from my palms as
inertia drives it all to fruition,
abstract revelations come to life.
My eyes stutter, fighting to 
keep them alive. 
I press reddened palms against 
the dusty doorway, count in
cadence meant for a heartbeat,
and breath in harmonic patience 
with something I wish I could understand,
but my sort of muscles are too weak to make an 
impact, my palms have become imprinted with the wake 
of trembling foundation’s sorrow.
               ….I look at them
pruned by the sour chaste of possibility;
rivers of emptiness run through my 
own imperfections. 
I’ve mended nothing.
they’re still…
cold. 
These dreams are stone,
and I am only flesh;
Pounding my fists against a doorway
that has long forgotten I am here. 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Flight to My Voice

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Words Linger

You speak in a circus of symbols.
Perfection's presentation, alluring with the fact.
Mystery of minds, riddles set to toil in rhythm...
Yes, that's what you are.

You bare diversity, and lustful lore within your smile.
The sincerity of the captured moment adorns you when you laugh,
crinkle up your nose, and proclaim~ you're stoned.

Your quizzical genius is worn upon your brow.
The type that has to season to exist,
yet has been painted on your sculptured face since the age of innocents.
You are my timeless prodigy...
Yes, that's what you are.

You are clothed in sleeves of music above your most sacred instruments, my most sacred 
intruments~ your hands.
Your hands, O' how I could spend eternity kissing them without compromise.
For they create your love-craft, feeding the paper in verse and also creating my pleasures 
so precise.

Ah, your wine scented kisses.
Ever so softly they call to explore my wanton lips.
Tracing, tasting, devouring in feathered licks.
They too create lyric, lyric which sketches your script upon my skin.

The lyric which whispers through the trees and dances on the highest summit of open 
pastures.
The lyric which sways on the reflection of untamed waters.
The lyric which engulfs the illumination of a full phased moon,
and plays in the honey warmth of the sun.
Yes, this is the lyrics written within your kiss...
Yes, that's what you are.

The echo of your voice entwines the patterns of my thoughts,
weaving an eminent design when you are absent.
The air of your accent charms my perception when you recite to me.
O' sing me your symbols each eve before I dream, dreams of you in purest colors.

A spiritual child, you hold my hand to pray to the Master.
A peaceful dove whom will not cower, when against the wrath of darkness.
A singer of songs.
A creator of dreams.
The madman of my amorous tale.
You touch and taste me in poetry.
You obey my senses and bathe in my 'churchild' serenity.

You are my lover, of love.
You follow me to only be lost within my sanctuary of solitude.
You are the promise of our spiritual breeze, to gently exhale on summer's last wishing flower, 
together.

You are the gatekeeper of my heart's door, that opens the secrets of my spirit.
The true possessor of the mastered verse.
You are my autumn eyes, which blooms a rose eternal.
Forever, I shall feel the imprinted reason of your breath upon my flesh,
and when you whisper your vows to me~ words linger...
Yes, that's what you are.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Cognizant:

Poems By Vicki Acquah

Cognizant:

You have shown to me
my GREATNESS
- YOU
Having been discerning 
But were not always 
in agreement
You were there for me. 
AWARE OF ME.'

You have known me
in my weakest flesh
You have marveled 
at my strong spirit.

I will have to visit 
you when I transition. 
You will know it's me still.

Not like some" Duppie " 
in a third rate cinema ! 
When I Come to you,
I will whisper poetry 
loudly and crassly-
in your ear,
in my stern voice.

"Yes it tis I" -
I will say..
You know me.
So when the air is not stirring.
I will be as a gentle breeze
floating over 
your body,caressing you.

Whilst your perception 
reveals me to your conscious.
When OTHERS- don't get me-
CANNOT FEEL me ,
CANNOT SEE ME.

Cognizant you are -
of my existence.
Awake - you are 
in my dreams 
and my reality. 
WHILE others slept on me.

You were fascinated by all of me,
analyzing the 
" tic tic" of my clock" 
Too aware of my very being.

Alert, even to my batting lashes.
responding 
with that certain look -
You'd address my emotions,
my humor and my dread.

Conscious of each 
others existence
sometimes we'd clash.
Wittingly we'd exchange love taps. 
stimulating the intellectual.

I am your muse-for now 
You are my smile for today. 
Often times you'd 
relent -pretending to be
simple, soft and unassuming.
Allowing me to be Just where I am


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Still

Haven’t they seen where time stands still and the sun kisses the morning sky 
Running free from the break of day, laughter echoing for miles
Oh yes, it was easier then, when we were only 10
Spirit alive with tomorrows promise and innocence 
Watching sunsets disappear and then soon came the years

Innocence, memories from an easier time
Beauty fades, but not for you, I can see through
The soul never weathered and aged like your skin  
Spirit worn from facing each day without hope 
The soul renewed, found peace, stayed true 

Honesty is living life through your soul.
Life is more than meets the eye. 
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder 
And eyes are the gateway to the soul. 

Souls which have no color decend unharmed
Reality unmasked, the soul of compassion and forgiveness
Teach the young that they possess a power
To love each other past our cover.

When time is gone, the soul remains as the body decays
Before the end, slow down, enjoy the still
Give your soul to another who truly sees you
Taking only what you need to see truth
Be still and listen to what remains unspoken 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

SCRATCHED BUT NEVER BROKEN

Expression is being who you want to be
Not perpetrating someone you claim to be for ME
Trying to hold me hostage with your lies…
Thinking because you were between my thighs that you got me hook lined and sinked….
Getting me all vexed, tensed and unsure of my own emotional rationalization
Emotionally retarded LITTLE MAN you are….
Hiding in your private world filled with
DECEPTION, CAMOUFLAGE and over used ADJECTIVES….
I understand why you were drawn
To my VOLUPTUOUS, SEXUAL, SPIRITUAL ENERGY
You wanted to experience what is
REAL
TRUE 
PURE
You had your chance
You speaking in parables, emotionally crippled, insecure MAN…..
I can’t believe I let you get into my head let alone my BED….
But you could never penetrate my spiritual man…
I was before you CAME….
I will always BE the SAME….
G.O.P
GODS…. 
ORIGINAL…. 
PROPERTY

SCRATCHED BUT NEVER BROKEN


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A day of Rapture poem 2

  "To know wisdow and instruction, to perceive the words of
    obienced." "Throughout the [chapters]..the stories of our
    lifes", crimes, marriages breaking up, relationships from one
    to another one, all there seem to be no fun. You know..."like
    falling in love".....(fun)-you know...like wishing on a prayer..
    ..as you watch a falling star..then hurricanes and drugs like
    cocaine...for there is no one to blame.
    "How can I find.....Rejoice..(?)" "The bible detail truthfully..
    ..how to accheive this joice, and at what price...($) will
    it cost me..??  "Devise not evil against thy neighbor, seeing
    he dwelleth securely by thee. Rejoice is a superior yet pro-
    vocative exchange to the feeling of happiness. 
    "Wisdow is a high-reward that implicates a repentent for
     our saddness."  "A Day OF Rapture"...whom upon you will
     allow the crippelling sin's to be overtaken by a God (Holy-Spirit)
    who grabs-you up and you're now truly are..capture.
    "A day of Rapture."


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Be Still

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Mustard Seed

Potential full,
This tiny seed;
Encapsulated promises
Not fulfilled;
Unseen.

Watered by Love;
It’s hard shell softens;
Love beckons its release;
    grace extended;
    promises unfold;
    new life to behold,

Yet,
	but
		a
			glimpse
					of new beginning.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Quantum Traveler

I rode a cloud to kiss a star
and it embraced me with its love light.
The universal eye…smiled.

Echoing energy sang of brotherhood;
angels don’t have any restricted clubs.
One is all and all is one.

The atomic transporter
never charges for a ride.
Currency is a mortal failing.

Dancing across invisible strings; 
I hear the harmony of celestial song, 
as it, eternally resounds.

Quantum leaping through timeless black holes;
I met myself and sang a reunion duet.

Elemental celebrations, lend a soul wisdom;
timeless secrets reveal themselves,
to souls on quantum journeys.

Inside, eternity’s map,
read only by belief; 
shows the quantum interstates, leading home.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Battle Within

A battle rages on
     within my soul.
My flesh seeks its own desire
Though higher purpose 
Whispers quietly within.
This beast cries out,
In agonizing shout
To have its way
     without delay 
     despite the cost.
Will all be lost?

But higher purpose whispers quietly within,
Waiting to be heard;
Conquering the beast
And Love given to the least.
What master will I serve?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Creation, Curse and Promise

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Touch By His Hands

My world was touched
by His  healing hands, and
its loneliness was chased
away.

Into my world came such
spiritual happiness, and
much more, a deep need
for His love to always stay

He taught me to love
my fellow humans, and
to love His Father first
of all.

He promised me if I
would do all these things,
never hard would be
my fall.

He filled my heart with
an all believing faith,
that He promised I would
always keep

He told me never to
doubt again, for He
would always be on
call for me

He gave to me sweet
treasures, that with
others He allowed me
to  daily share

And He promised that
even when I would
sleep, that He would
always be so very near.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Surrender

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A day of Rapture poem 1

"Rejoice.....is of choice", "for even is there is the prove that say
 whether or not...there is a..Hheaven, of certainty one must
 know that before the twelve hour there's the Eleven. One hour
 that you may have one day..to make a choice." "How can I
 find....Rejoice."
 After the plight of man's innovocative way of the choices he
 chooses...the bad alway overshadow the good, because there
 where he finds himself at many times on the wrong roads, simply
 make a different at your next.....(???) Only the roads where light is
 found. Will you see...rejoice..but you must get it clearily understood.
 If God is in your life, it's there you'll find a way to be capture...."{with
 in the grip of his...Grace}" and you will dance a dance of rejoiceing..
 .."A Day Of Rapture"
 "A day of rapture, a need to refuse to be...Capture.."  Sister's and
 brother's...*christains and saints* mother's of those of the poor.
 We together makes-up the untruthfulness of life. "But (Jesus) the
 Holy-One....he-hee-heehe-comes to bring...."Redemption" and
 it just the beginning of the chapter. "I live in the darkness, show-me
 light my (lord) show me!!  "A day of Rapture."
 













Details | Prose Poetry | |

CONNECTION

I dreamt you
in golden threads of sunlight;
streaming, dancing, mingling with
azure waters...

dreamt you calling,
singing out my name in your regal orcan tongue...

dreamt you in each face that peered
from liquid silver seas...

dreamt your body's etheric touch
amidst cool tranquil waters...

dreamt our souls as one;
bound together; two spirit dreamers...

dream you now a foggy memory
since the whalers came...

but, as all dreams do;
you too soon…fade.

I awaken from this abysmal, astral realm…
reaching, stretching for your spirit.

Alone again, I will touch you again…
in another time.

Copyright, 2-20-14


Details | Prose Poetry | |

You and the spring breeze

I feel the warmth,  of  a pre summer -spring breeze
    gently, caressingly, ohhh it's so nice.
My hair,  a tingly feeling throught my spine.
      You and the spring breeze.
 I reminisce of a Happy time!  
    Of ice cream cones, a dripping,
  Sunlite beaches,
    with a babe, a playing.
That traffic noise,  is so distracting.
But,  at a stop,  engines humming.
There is an unknown energy, in the air
Summer is coming! 
Spring is Here!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sweet Surrender

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

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

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Seed of Faith

A tiny seed
born of need
Planted deep
     within the soil of my heart.
Will it not depart?

This seed of faith
Laid deep;
Solitary.
It’s sheath decays,
Lying prey
     to all that prowls
without its beckon;
Death to reckon.

This seed of faith;
It’s treasures now lay bare,
Deep below;
Darkness surrounds;
All hope is lost;
This tiny seed broken,
Laying bare
     the promises within.

With hope yet abandoned,
Evidence appears,
Though barely visible.
Out of death,
New life;
It’s journey to begin;
Delicate.
It’s purpose to fulfill.

Faith not forsaken
Begins its way;
To unfold,
     through darkness,
     it’s promises within.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

When silence seeps inside

When silence seeps inside me

When silence seeps inside me,
your countenance appears before my eyes.

When silence starts dancing in me,
you ooze in my heart
and caress my soul.

When silence transports me 
to the sky of consciousness,
you spring in my being.
Then we get merged 
not only in just each other,
rather we get merged 
with the whole cosmos,
pervading till 
the last threshold of the existence,
beyond the beyond,
within the within
of each and every bit of the existence.

The whole existence sparkles in eternity.
Fragrance of divinity evaporates
and fills the whole existence;
and we get established in 
nascent, ever fresh divinity.

Melody of silence culminates in bliss,
the divine, eternal and infinite bliss.


Thank You,
Swami Aaron
Email: swami.aaron@gmail.com
Website: www.UltimateBliss.org
Author of: 
•	Ultimate Ecstasy
•	Beyond the Beyond
•	Quantum Jump into God
•	Lunatic Monologue
•	In Love with Linda
•	In Love with All Beautiful Women
•	Dancing on the Last Threshold of the Universe


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Journey Through the Valley

Yea, though I walk through the valley
Of the shadow of death,
No evil will I fear;
For You, ABBA, 
     are here
     with me in this fire
where freedom may be sought
if these flames I will embrace
     with grace.

I feel the pain of grief;
     the desperation of control.
Despair clings tight
Choking delight;
But faith holds deep within my heart,
Its desire unyielding –
	the grip of control to depart,
        my fear to release,
        and find Your peace.

Yet, in the fire,
A thorn plunged deep within my heart-
A seed.

This seed of faith grows
As Love burns away the fear,
	Purged from my soul;
grief washed away by tears.

ABBA teaches me
In the valley of flames 
If my eyes will see
        Him.

Will I be broken bread
       and poured out wine
       while abiding in the vine?

Yea, though I walk through the valley,
Life springs forth from death 
In the ashes;
If I yield control;
If these flames I will embrace
	with grace;
        to cleanse my soul 
        and let Love grow.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The End

keep your eyes on the East
be prepared to see the Mark of the Beast
world peace, don't believe what you see
all hell break loose
persecution of the Christian and Jew
God or Satan
whose possession are you
Stock Market is through
corporations took advantage of you
retirement money is a thing of the past
republicans mad
leaders steady stacking their cash
voters know they've been had
end is coming
be prepared for the blast 

Copyright 2001. Bridget S. Martin


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Innocence and Ignorance

She was so simple
Yet her face had a glow
Her genuine and pure smile
That stuck to her lips every moment
And seemed dutiful to her 
Made her more beautiful
Every guy looked at her
With eyes full of desire
Wanted to feel her skin
How many of them approached her
What they got in response
Was just a genuine smile
How could she explain
The reason of her glow
Ignorance can never 
Understand innocence


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Morning Joy Comes Near

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

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Axis Mundi

This axis mundi,  rotates,    
   within and outside the veils
I remember walking with you  
 and how we manifested anything we agreed upon
leaving us both slackjawed and yet     
                            not completely surprised...
you called me “My Heart”...because yours,
you said...  could no longer feel...
So I felt for both of us   
 
I met you on the other side of the veils    
 where we were once enjoined....  that is a crisp trip      
    to release..  ... a burning ache
You were thunder and I, feral...
but we are imprisoned   
 in time.......  and this is not our time
...yet I feel you always      
within the veil....
because there
  we are two hearts sharing one soul...
 
I remember speaking with your tongue,
Hearing your whisper within an echo
Of a voice that could shatter the sky
Of any other world;
The beauty of our resonance
Created stars as the ancients
Broke apart.
And their light swam into eyes
That told our story.
Over, and over again;
They channeled the percussion
Of a singular, and yet harmonic
Carapace.
While we danced behind the veil.
 
It was lifetimes,
one incarnation after another
before I found you..
the other half of Us... entwined   
 inextricably as One...
We are  heart cells in the depth of the Creator..
 
In the corridors of time
flesh is the individuation   
that has separated us.
 
Hard to believe
     we chose this...  
   and all we have forgotten..
yet I remember always..
that I am the design  upon the fingerprint
   that is our essence
and you are the flesh and bone of Us
 
 This separateness is the ache,
I can only find solace within you
 
  and so I accept the emptiness of your absence  
  only assuaged in the knowing
that this hunger will be quenched
on the other side of the veils...    
where there is no division
 
  On this side, within time and space...we walk alone..,
 
“But with the power of epoch’s eclipse,
This flesh will rot, and the boundaries
Between us will break apart;
      The stars in our eyes will meet again.”
 
       “Our song, will be forever sung.”
 
-Katherine Wyatt and James Kelley 2013, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An Endless Time

Wish upon a falling star
And pray within a dream
For what your heart desires
To become the truest reality

Touch the clouds embracing heaven
Flying like a bird high in the sky
Cast a coin into a wishing well
Praying a loyal love you will find

Search the farthest horizons
Go to the most distant shores
Pray that you will find the one
Whose amazing love will endure

Be very patient in your Odyssey
And one day you will surely find
That love which was once elusive
Will be yours for an endless time.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

LISTEN

Be like waves which crash on the jetty

Washing all our impurities away

Waves like a crescent curtain dangling in its fringes

Unearthing sunken precious stones

Hurling them up above the elevation

Hanging on dear life right ahead

Waves that don't crush us because we wish it

Waves that surface and in turn are subdued

Waves we are in this depth of consciousness

Appeal to and unearth your Godly wisdom

Uphold and hang in the untimely crush

Be strong, be heard, be known and be well

For all will suffice at the end of the spray


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Monster and Marlboros in the Rain

I awake beneath the sink of sky,
the patter of raindrops collapsing 
against the breezeway of acrid dreams.
The light of the refrigerator blinks
against torrid eyes, shining impetuously
on the last can of Taurine's gestation.
I grab hold of clarity's false promises,
and crack open a ripened sip of morning,
walk outside to light its poison. 
Cold and fluid; the taste of inclement 
happiness seeks the buds of my repose. 
Tempting my lips to kiss the heart of 
fearless and youthful posture, as I 
pop the cherry of relevance with
the ever throbbing hands of mortality. 
Bones shiver beneath tepid flesh,
as the Earth soaks its tears into
its own bosom,
waiting for my blood to finally 
follow suit and go home. 
Not today; Today I ponder
with nature. Today we spin 
the yarn of metaphysical 
riddles in valid unison
because I seek,
and it begs to be found. 
For now, we have an understanding.
I am the fragile burden of this world;
stardust molded into a wicked grin,
born not to become a supernova,
but to bleed slowly and suffer
so that....
Well, I haven't figured that 
part out yet...
For now, I'll just inhale this 
existence, one sun fall and rise at a time,
and hope I can remember 
what it means to live,
when I do finally,
go home. 
-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

YOUR Signature Part 1 of 2


" YOUR  Signature  ... "

( Genesis 1: 1  /  Rev. 4: 11 )


YOUR  Signature ...
Scrolls On Each Wave of The Sea
As It Starts To Signal
With The Smallest, Written-Water-Ripple
YOUR Beautifully, Bold-Signed Name ...
Is In Each Crystal, Droplet Initial ...

YOUR  Signature ...
Reflects, Embossed Upon All Skies
Floating In Bright Cloud-Notes
and Brilliantly Arc'd Written-Rainbows
And In The Sun's Flourish-Omega-Flares
... YOUR  Radiant Calligraphy - - Glows ...

And YOUR  Signature ...
Has Atop Each Imprinted 'I' Or 'J' As Symbols
... A Capital, Comet-Dashed-Star
In The Consonant-Cosmos - - Rows & Rows
and In Each 'O' In Orbits & Global-Rings
...  YOUR  Silver-Lined, Signature Shows ...

YOUR  Signature ...
Is Written In Autumn Leaves and Winds
and Cyclone Summer Seasons
and The Softest, Articulate, Evening Breeze
and Inscribed In A Snowflake's Misty-Breath
& Each Author-Rised, Airful - -  We Breathe ...

YOUR  Signature ...
Is Written With Moonbeam-Pens
... Upon A Book of Life, It Is Plume-Penned ...
& YOUR  Pencil - Draws Golden, Treasure Maps
Upon All of Earth & World of Men
As Signed Images of  YOUR  Autographs ...

YOUR  Signature ...
Sometimes As A Title of Position & Authority
... Powerfully Appears ...
And YOUR  Signature Bears YOUR Glory-Fame
of GOD, LORD, Almighty, King, Father and  Love
All As: Character & Crests of  JEHOVAH's  Name ...

YOUR  Signature ...
Is On The Edges of Eons and Eternity
... It Cannot Be Erased
... Will Never Fade -- Nor Ever Brushed Over
When It Is Written - - It Is Written ...
and Authenticated - - As Owner ...

YOUR  Signature ...
Carved The Majestic Grand Canyon Gorge
... It Cannot Be Matched Nor Forged
YOUR  Signature Covers Now & What The Future Expects
It Is:  Its Own Distinct Style and Collateral Dialect
YOUR  Signature Signs All Wealth & Royalty's Checks ...

YOUR  Signature ...
... On Covenants; Contracts - - In or Outside Our Margins
... Is Written, Stamped and Sealed ...
Waxed In Vowels, In Cursive-Cure-Ink, That Bled
Signed On Dotted Lines of Horizons & Our Hopes ...
YOUR  Signature - - Is What We've Read ...

( Part One of Two)


       Written & Copyrighted © :  5/8/2014 
                    by:  MoonBee Canady



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Come To Me

 
Come To Me
Come to me, he said again, to my dismay and tired chagrin, I fought to tarry a while longer... As I grew weak, he grew much stronger— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ 'Tis just a melding of simple fate, a subject not for one's debate; and lo', this wretched creature beckoned I fought him off just as he'd reckoned— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ "Am I not worthy of your best? Have you not put me to to the test? I dare not wish eternal sleep..." He looked at me, blank sockets"- deep— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ His skinless masque, devoid of feature with feral grin, this wretched creature reached yon, His slender hands of bone beseeching, calling,- "I'll take you home— ...Come to me." † ~*~ "Where is this you and I must go? To heaven's gates, or fires below, Should you divulge our destination?" Yet, he looked on;- gaunt presentation— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ May I offer you some wine? perhaps, if you just took some time, You'll see, I do not wish to go. He smiled at me, and said... “I know” “...Come to me.” † ~*~ Wretched creature, scourge of nations You wrest me to your lost damnations Can I not reason with you a bit- Please, sir! There, do come and sit— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ "Away, I cry, you demon's seed I bear no illness, I have no need to follow you, please I implore Away! Away," come back no more..." yet, He went on, much as before— "...Come to me." † ~*~ "I must stay here, my work's not done! The battle wages, the war's, undone, 'Tis my fight not worth completing?" He only watched, and kept repeating— “...Come to me.” † ~*~ "Oh Death, I know your wretched grin, I've seen its reflection on my own sin; Have I no time to make amends? This can not be where my life ends..." “...Come to me.” † ~*~ "I refuse," said I, "I will not go!" His voice grew darker, his countenance, lo' 'til I arose, from tufted bed, then I turned 'round, so softly said, “good-bye” ...And went .
Come To Me © Dean Kuch™ 2013 All Rights Reserved


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Met Buddha

Make me your warrior , i pleaded
Buddha looked at me
Eyes rising like sun
Gifted me his sword
 smiled and said
Have faith in me
Walk my way
But if you happen to 
Meet me on the way
Kill me with my sword 
I would be delighted
To taste the sword 
 sharp enough to hit me
I want you to be
The first and last you




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Satisfied

My spirit is satisfied with with what it sees
Each day when I find myself to rise 
For my soul and spirit rise in harmony
Within the beautiful emotions I feel inside

For what I find to embrace each morning
Brings my heart to sing a song of praise
To the One who has blessed me with the gift
Of the life breath He has passed my way

Serene are the many lovely thoughts
Which daily brings soft smiles alive
When I feel the embrace of my Gods love
As his presence fills all aspects of my life

Tranquil are the thoughts and daydreams
That soothingly enter into my mind
Like water finding its way to a stream
While nourishing my spirit deep inside

For my heart will always be truly satisfied
Each day as I awaken my eyes to You
Because I find it to be a priceless blessing
As I breathe again embracing a love so true.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Price of Compassion

In Canada, a cop
Got caught in the crosshair 
of a madman.
Hazardous duty.
On the road, a squirrel
got his tail crunched
by a tire.
Hapless squirrel.

In the street lies a man,
the life smacked out of him
by a spray of bullets—
his price for the pain of a stranger’s grievance.

In the street a squirrel drags behind him
lifeless hind quarters 
crushed by traffic—
his price for our home in his forest.

I arrive at choir practice. 
Dark sightless eyes 
stop my breath.
Little feet whose romp is done
beat fast in my chest.
I pray the policeman 
opens his eyes and sees the face of God.
I pray the squirrel crosses 
into some heavenly stand of trees.

My heart hurts. 


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YOUR Signature Part 2 of 2

" YOUR  Signature  ... "

( Genesis 1: 1  /  Rev. 4: 11 )


(Part 2 of 2)

YOUR  Signature ...
Signs On All Existence's Account Ledgers
... Is A Literary, Moniker-Masterpiece
A Singularly, Most Stentorious-Stenography
As A Monogram-Monument That Documents
& Slants To Grammar-Mercy's Typed Guarrantee
(Yet Stands Upright In Justice & Audit-Identity)

YOUR  Signature ...
Each Letter Is Love and Luminosity ...
A Stencil & Substance-Mark of Perfect Symmetry
and Punctuality With A Written-Resource-Resonance
A Sacred-Sequence of Letters Wrote In Such Serenity
Signed In Stone and On Souls and Of Sovereignty
YOUR  Signature - - Reigns So Superlatively

YOUR  Signature ...
Signs & Emblazons The Promises & Prophecy-Fixtures
and Heavenly Holy Scriptures
and Is The Greatest Designation In All of Literature
Throughout Space & Spirits & Strenuous Storms & Seas Divesture
Yes - - We See YOUR Masterstroke-Signature ...

We See YOUR  Signature ...
( Rom. 1: 20 )

       Written & Copyrighted © :  5/8/2014 
                    by:  MoonBee Canady


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LIGHT OF UPANISHAD

No denial at all, let there be no denial at all
Om Shantih Shantih Shantih: KENOPONISHAD


LORD SAID
YOU LIVE IN ME
YOU SHOULD NOT LEAVE ME
YOU SHOULD REMAIN AT MY HEART
YOU ARE MY CHILD
LIVE AT ATMAN GREAT SELF
LIVE AT BRAHMAN THE ABSOLUTE
AUM, PEACE PEACE PEACE



LIGHT OF UPANISHAD

(C)RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
29th October,2014


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Starved Souls

I looked in the mirror
And my soul was stirring back at me
It looked distorted because I didn't feed it
It said to me "Why didn't you feed me?
And I said "What do you mean?
It repeated itself "Why didn't you feed me?
"Feed you" I said, I feed you everyday"
"I'm not talking about carnal food"
"I'm talking about about spiritual food"
"What is spiritual food?" I Replied
"The word, The word," my soul said
"what word" I asked
"Don't you know?" asked my soul
"I don't know what you're talking about," I said
"The word of truth," my soul replied
"Of what truth," I asked
"The word of God" my soul replied
Oh!, that," I said
"I'm so sorry, I didn't know"
"Read Matthew John 16" said my soul
"Give yourself over to the word
And you'll find life eternally
And I will no longer look destorted and messed up"
"Alright, I'll do that," I said to myself
And for that whole day my heart pondered
And I wondered about my life
So I listened to my soul
And my life haven't been the same since