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Prose Poetry Uplifting Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Uplifting

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Language Barrier

I couldn’t understand the language she spoke,

at least not all of it,

but the emotion pouring past her lips, 

the tears in her eyes, her clenched and shaking fists

enunciated more clearly,

than any piece of English Poetry I had ever read,

and grabbed me, held me still.

                   …In that moment, her soul was in my arms.

In that finite, tender breath of our lives,

she was my mother, my best friend…

but I could not console her. 

I didn’t have the words;

and my heart sank into the 

concrete between us,

wet with the pain of God’s rain

and her tears. 

                  …Were my tears

So, I simply opened my palms

toward her crouched form and 

spoke the only words I could 

fathom, that would be accepted

by a stranger on a dangerous street. 

"I am sorry, It will be okay. God will bless you."

I knew she did not understand…

"Lo siento" 

                  “que va a estar bien”    

                            “Dios te bendecira’ “ 

the words were as messy as the overturned

duffle bag at her feet…and fumbled, slowly

from my lips, as my knees hit the street.

Two strangers, cried in the rain,

knowing nothing of each other’s suffering,

and yet we shared the weight,

together, for those few moments;

the barrier of language was broken.

Love spoke for us.  

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved.

…Love transcends any language

               


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 | |

The Fallen Prince has Risen - Michael

Burning so bright
With new found life
Released from his ball and chain
Out of the dark
And into the light
Flying… on wings of freedom again.

As he writes his life
His soul ignites
In flames of wisdom and sight
Brilliantly claiming 
His God given right
As his truth kills the evil ‘Black Knight’.




Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Book of Soul for The Heartwarmer

One individual called "she" stepped into the sheets of a life story
Sheets that used to be occupied
She walked back and stopped at a chapter which tell the story of an obsolete chamber
A space which stands for behalf of the memory and wounds

A diorama played by shadow
A story with no beginning nor end
They've been there with decent backgrounds and decent light spectrum but called gray
The view was frozen, the chatter was muted, and that feels fell into the melancholy

Those with the outstretched hands which too high to be reached
Those with the self existence but too blind to be seen 
They abandoned as a figure of reserves without knowing the essence of a solace

And that individual creature went on her way back to the labyrinth of time

This time someone seized by the story of a root baste
Those roots were heart in shape and the hue carved a warmth, but once howled a bitterness
This chapter tells the story of a lush tree with the fruit of love
Fruits that contain the complexity of love, passion and a place to berth

And the fruit of love revealed its story to someone

Those who hide behind their false mannerism had carved their name on her shoulder
Those who have offered their hearts and bent on their knees 
Those who play fire in a lust, fell into a seek
But the love that she wants still unable to cover the part of this story

From the fruit of love to the sheet's of light

This chapter tells the story of an old house with extensive bed of flowers
This house represented the aesthetics, peace and harmony
A house which brings relief, spaciousness and joy
In that house she knelt, release all her mess
To the house the journey was anchored

In every sketches that have been through
None could live without the presence of others too

Obsolete chamber, lush love tree, beautiful bed flowered old house
Those who were involved in each story of the bulkhead of life
Those who were crawling along and came from different angles of infinity
Those who were instantly filled the pieces of shoot and became the shoot

They are the perfect gift for the imperfect souls
Not as a complement nor as a reserves
Yet as the major part of the heartwarming life story


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Show me the way Home (He's coming back) pt.1

      My Bros.' & Sister's the [Book] tell us that we are made in the image of God, made
in the likeness of him.  So why is the World suffering much to much idiosyncricie's whe-
ther you're fat or slim ?  Do you know!! Do Ya!!...  long and many year's ago, Noah
is assign an important task, that being! to build a ship (the Ark) for the purpose that
(GOD) seen the supplication of his creation.  He is sadden that sin enter into evil thought's
of mankind, and the collaboration of their choices brings no satisfaction to the reasonable
reason for Noah being choosen to finished the Ark {no satisfaction}....  My guess is
that Noah prayer's was like, "Show Me the Way Home", Lord, thou reason that the rain 
shall come, makes a consorted effort to save a generation, I am so along.  "Show me the 
way Home".  This-thiss generation ignore's the preaching for a 120-years, now water is
around their necks and the door is (slam!!) shut.  "Slam-Shut".  My Brothers ' Sister's
do you wonder why the likeness is impossible to live up too.  We choose to live to do
our own thing - our own way.  That's O'K from a selfish standpoint.  But for a spiritual
analyzationable lovepoint, sometimes the seperation is somewhat confrontationable.
     So-so my brother, the long way home is a fight that the "Anti-Christ commit to the 
principalitie's warfare against the conscience of your mind and you become blind and
you heed to the warning and now he see's (The Anti-Christ) that you are not strong:
(I'm so all along) Now my sisters that implie's to you also, your fight is a battle the ene-
my approaches from your blindside, and if you're not carefull, "you will believe in all the 
lie's.  (Be Strong)  
"Show Me the Way Home", LORD-show me.  Me and the tall and short one's and the cre-
ated of all children's whether large or small.  When we have fought against the file's of
the enemy, and we all are along.  Before the gap get wider (and ?)  "Show Me the
Way Home".

P.S....This Poem is the first of a two-part initative in God's awsume plan to regenerate a
society of any culture, that we as his children must ask him to "Show me the way Home".


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Crying eyes

Could a sadder face there be?

Oh Crying eyes,

melancholy.

Please, don't drip
those salty drops.

So many kisses I'd give to stop!

I am yours
you are mine
we will get threw in little time.

For what is life?
A little race?
We set the gaols
we make the pace.

So with me run.
We will get threw.

You help me, I'll help you

Sure and keen
eye's on the mark

Let's give this course 
a little spark.

Slow to see a river glide
forest green, country side.

Drink in scent of hewy blooms,
pause to touch in cedar rooms

Give this chase a pinch of spice
A season spent to melt the ice,

that grips us when,
we do fear,
of wasted steps, 
passing years.










Details | Prose Poetry | |

Bell's Blues

Staring, vapor locked, at my Hammond B-3 console organ, which dominates my 
kitchen.  Surely a symbol of my madness.  I can't help, but think, if the keys were 
the days of my life, and the black ones represented the bad days, are there 
enough black keys??  Fighting petulance, self-pity...losing...
     Wondering if I can stand another minute alone.  Atop my organ, music books, 
and the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe, another mad poet.
     Plagued by physical agonies that merely complete a perfect circle of anguish 
and distress.  Even to worrying of misspelling a word again.  Pure lunacy.
     Remembrance of my 1863 death at Missionary Ridge, something I became 
aware of as a young child before I'd ever heard of reincarnation.  Or just an early 
sign of the madness to come??
     I am lost in a befouling miasma of deep despair.  My life's hopes down to 2 
desires;  one last music band, and taking my son to Disneyworld.  Money is 
meaningless to me.
     I am well aware that death is as natural as life.  And I would venture to guess 
that the loss of my father, my young cousin Billy, my dear friend Mark Trotiner, and 
too many others, are "Business As Usual" in this universe.  But not for me.
     Being terminally ill myself is something I have long since come to terms with.  
And what a reunion it will be!!  But I must continue to go on surviving as though I 
cherish this long and barren life.
     My writing, especially my poetry, my poet friends, my music, my musician 
friends, and a few relatives and others; these are the meds that work for me; not 
the 30 or so pills I must deal with everyday.  So thank you all.
And now an addendum, one which brightened my day:
     Mark Trotiner long maintained that he gave Mark Knoffler (Dire Straights) the 
idea for his hit song "Money For Nothing", when Mark Knoffler came into the 
appliance chain store he worked in way back then, where he bought, and drove 
off with several T.V.s, singing the prototype words he'd gotten from Mark Trotiner.  
Over the years, I tested him repeatedly, looking for the tale-tell deviation in the 
story one finds in a false tale.  He never faltered, he never failed.
    Continued.....


Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Gift To You

My gift to you your heart can hold
wouldn't be made of precious diamonds, 
nor formed in the purest gold.  

The gift that I'd present to you,  
would be safe in everyway; 
For friendship is the kind of gift 
no one can take away. 
 
I'll share your happy moments, 
 help you bear your deepest pain  
I'll be here when you stumble, 
 only to pick you up again.  

Doing everything I can to make your dreams come true  
I'll always wish God's best for you  
Your a true blessing 
My best friend  
That is why this gift I present to you.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Bell's Blues (Conclusion)

     Today, I had a chance to ask his widow, Laurie, about this story.  She 
confirmed that it did happen, and he came home from work that day excited, and 
told her and their 3 daughters about the event.
     And sure enough, shortly thereafter, the song became a hit on the radio, and 
M.T.V., in those ancient days when they actually played music.
     This news brightened my day considerably, and I'm happy to share it with you; 
so when you next hear that song, remember my good buddy, Mark Trotiner, the 
uncredited genius behind it.
                                          tom bell


Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Will Carry Your Burden

Unnecessary anguish that keeps you withdrawn heartache and heartbreak 
continues to weight heavy for your sake you come undone and in an instant your 
gone excuses are enough to justify when times get rough. So complicated and 
jaded misunderstood swept away unexplained limbo in eternities irrevocable 
flame, your not satisfied hollow reinsurance shows when you cry your personal 
prison grows accustom to screams of loathing. My obsession to surround your 
sorrow with calm and paint a prefect picture of stimulated reason to ease your 
instability, breathe with me rest your frustration and regret break this darkness 
and confess precious time will wait while your captivated in change I will carry 
your burden.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Shape of Our Kindled Past

You promised me anticipation
Of a fantasy future upon introduction
Happily ever after, you offered
But don't ask questions until info conferred.

Tentative and with inward questions afire
But with soft love in my heart for what I admire
I turn aside others' attacks and doubts
Until I can find out what you're about.

Slowly, you begin to unravel as I share
Myself, my heart, my sensitivities I bare
Wrapped up in you and your story
Though the tales are scary, I'm not wary.

Over time, I see the warning signs 
And often times would run and hide
Knowing what I see cannot succumb
To what you had promised our life to become.

Flipping back and forth, as fear abounds
Like I'd come face to face with bloodsucking hounds
I retreat and attack and cry to myself
Knowing without you my life will be put on a shelf.

So, I learn that my lesson to be learned
Is to face the pain that my actions have earned
Not to bring on needless sorrow or strife
Because for you it only cuts like a knife.

Learning to love another beside me
Has been the elusive mystery
That I've never been brought to
Until sensitivity showed blossoming in you.

Many months of sharing laughter 
And lifting each others' spirits after
Pain is inflicted on one or another
Which our strength we've developed endures together.

Being apart now hurts sometimes
But always now I realize
That our hearts are one as one can be
Reaching through the distance happily.

For when I see you, I know
You will always continue to grow
As long as you are shown love
And remain open to gifts from above.

Never let your feet get stuck
Where negativity is all amuck
For you are meant to blossom full
A rose that the sun does upwardly pull.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Money Or Value

Money is a Asset but to the demeanor can it be that of accessories

Money define days declined,

 Value raise quality potential of wanted items or is that of itch of 

 A better quality of life

Money define days declined,

But the question that tanks is the demonor of the structure of a social 

 Class-

To much of a demeanor what is the current of a dollar from where you    

 Are from-

Money define days declined,

Today i read a interesting artical about "basic income" or

  Universal income is it a lost voyage to mention 

  But of today as of fine wine of a barrel it was something to a less 

Mention

Money or value-

To insulted my intellgience is to insulted your intrigued

  Why much you feel so inferior-


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Day the Doctor Told Me

On the day
When the doctor told me 
My whole heart crushed 
Melting like snow in summertime
Leaving me to wonder 
Was this moment 
My realty 
A fantasy 
Cause even though I don’t go to church 
Every Sunday 
I knew God wouldn’t plague me 
With a curse such as this 
I was too young to die 
Carry an illness which could 
Define me 
Would I make it 
Is there a cure 
Cause the way he was telling me 
My diagnosis and deterioration 
I wasn’t so sure 
So instead of making this a life sentence 
My death penalty 
I chose to live another day 
Not allowing this moment to end my dignity
I knew my life wasn’t destined to end this way 

The day the doctor told me 
I was a victim to Cancer
I gave the message to God 
Allowing him to solve the problem
Provide the answer
Only he could to clear my vision 
Cause at this time
Everything was a blur
I couldn’t stop, wouldn’t stop 
I knew he wasn’t done with me yet
I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel 
Take a seat, swivel away
Let my coffin bow down a whole 6 feet

The day the doctor told me 
Not only did I take heed to what he said
I believed in what wasn’t note
Understanding I had a chance 
It wouldn’t be circumstances
Used to close the book to my story 
But the reason to live and be loved 
To achieve all I ever dreamed of 

The day the doctor told me 
I had Cancer 
I simply replied, “No, I do not” 
I have life 
A life not complete, nor finished 
And after 7 years of living 
I am wiser, smarter, healthier and determined 
Not to let this Cancer make me a victim 
But claim my place in David’s army
Nothing will happen to he who believes
And guess what
I’m a Survivor, I’m Here, and until My God is ready
I am not going anywhere!!!!!


 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Patience

PATIENCE

We hear that patience is a virtue 
Is this true, or simply virtual reality 
When leaders are teaching our youth; 
do as I say, not as I do 
Regression to a version of the American 
truth

Impatience is becoming intolerance 
But to be patient is viewed as ignorance 
In a blind world conforming to violence 
Very few see need for benevolence

Many view crime as way of life 
Government fuels fires, causing strife 
Committing true crime with their lack of 
pride 
Our country torn by those who lied

Promoting bigotry and distaste for the 
unknown
 But these days color and homosexuality 
are lactose free 
Intolerant of equality, it’s a problem, 
clearly 
Love is love, embrace the hate 
Hold it tightly until it sees the light

Peace pushed just beyond our reach 
We realize that “hope and change” was 
just a speech 
Wars raging through the land we call 
home 
In God we trust, not this powerful regime

Speak out now with virtuous impatience 
Change is change no matter how small 
the feat
Restore hope with unfaltering acceptance 
and grace 
Serve what you stand for, no time left to 
waste


Details | Prose Poetry | |

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

I
change my name 
like 
underwear...
fairly often, I suppose

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

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

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

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

YET...
if  only poets would 
unleash the fury 
instead of 
holding back
what's really 
on their mind...

I must say...
the library, 
the internet, 
the etc. etc...
would be a less stinky place...
AND, maybe 
I'd keep my name, and sever ties with 
underwear's elastic,
and just go 
APE-Spit Spastic!~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Do You Want to Hear My Voice for Real

Hey Everyone!!!! 

I know you don't all check out the blogs, so I have to give the information 
here:

Great news! Drake's show, Stand as One, is back this Sunday! Guess 
what???? I'm going to be his guest!  YEAH!

I've really really missed this show. If you want to hear me read a few of my 
poems, if you want to read a few of yours, and if you want to hear Drake's 
AWESOME radio voice...and a few of HIS poems, CALL IN! Here is the info:

It goes down THIS SUNDAY, August 3...8am PST / 11am EST / 4pm London 
time. You can listen to us here: 

http://www.blogtalkradio.com/standas1/2014/08/03/stand-as-1-returns-
wspecial-guest-eileen-ghali-from-lebanon

To call in: 1-646-716-4762
Or call through Skype and it's free. :) 

I'm so so excited about this show! Let's DO THIS!!! If you have a preference 
of what you want me to read...Comment on this blog! Call in! Waiting to light 
up your day!

Hugs,

Eileen

PS...I'm sorry I haven't been visiting or replying to posts....My laptop is dying 
and keeps switching off. I'm here in the office between classes and decided to 
get this message out. I also have a blog about it. Had to borrow my 
daughter's laptop to post that. Hugs, everyone. Make sure you listen or call in.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mother Nature And Me

I don't know why 
I am writing 
I don't know what 
will come out of it
 I don't know how 
this has happened
I feel like it's me
   my good luck

Mother nature begged
to dictate my now
during that long walk 
towards my new path
the sun burned 
my negativity 
asked me to start having 
    a healthy attitude 
towards life and death

Mother nature urged me
    to remember
life was good to you
you are not the owner here
you are just passing 
       through
  
She transmitted in her own way
telling me we all live with 
     uncertainties
    once in a while
there are reasons to life
just add a meaning to it
make it real enjoyable 
visible full of life
     and love

She projected her light under
 extraordinary circumstances
where are you when you're thinking
a lifetime has gone by in a glimpse
          remember
 a person can't live two lives 
tonight pick up an option
everything you will do has to be
       worth living for

It's your decision 
your responsibility
having faith without hope
    you will not live 
        in peace

This is real what's next in your life
    whatever it might be 
  you would always want 
      that next minute
 make it count don't see weakness 
           everywhere
             I will try
               Terry


Details | Prose Poetry | |

You Race Though My Veins

you race though my veins
like a manic fire truck
my eyes smodering from the engine
of your torrid passion
fire hoses squirting out my skin
let me in sweet darlin'
fling the ladder from your pounding heart
climb into my vacant mind
strip me naked and fling me
into your bubbling inferno
your liquid lava seething
every sweet cell breathing me in
as I slowly rise,
and dive into your
silky undulations 
microscopic penetrations
wrap yourself around me
and catapult me deep 
into your long forgotten sleep
let me in sweet darlin'
envelop me completely
my senses scintillating
corpuscles palpitating
drown me with your magic potion
breathe me like a dragon
soak me with your moist emotion
and lift my heart
high
into the tranquil eye 
of your whirling swirling hurricane
please
let me in sweet darlin'


http://lovestruehome.com/


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WOMAN

Day by day we pray to stay alive, ladies, the face of this world is slowly changing, no longer do we need to hold our heads in disgrace, and it’s about time we take our place. No longer let us be connived, nor let us forget the silent cries in trees that our sista’s souls are still hangin’, see the true in others denies rather waistin’ yourself complaining. Nor keep us from strength to stand by man, strength to leave if struck by hand, no more bruises upon our face for we also help to make this race. No more scars upon our souls for only marked with beauty moles and let our stories be fortold for we are women who behold, a key to inspiration and moral pride, coming out of our hide, Gods rules are to which one should only apply, but most chose pain to keep inside, left alone and died. Your elimination of God’s creation, we are but faith to this nation. Men of ignorance we are sick of belligerence, cuz we prove intelligence, cuz where there’s no woman there is no man strong and on this land we belong as distinct and separate persons walk along. Before your ignorance get the respect that you so vainly seek, practice what you claim til' all things you do or speak shall in reality be the same, nor let us be so eased to blame and give us our well earned past due fame, all musical and sorrowful stories contained. My people, make me proud to know your name and I’ll return the favour by doing the same.
For all men whom think us fast, remember the good ones always finish last, we women are still raped future and past so personally you can kiss my ... In us your babies wombs all your life fluids we consume, to mothers growing up too soon, to those mommas babies and daddy’s maybes.....REMEMBER, when your round to actin' shady, we are the ladies of this land, women with pride we stand, I am a WOMAN and for equal respect, I would do it again!!!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Liquid azure sky

In a dream, I walked naked through a shimmering valley, high in the sacred mountains of a
distant world. The air was warm and moist; the ice I trod upon sparkled like precious
jewels. As I neared the precipice, I became intoxicated with joy. Suspended high above me
in a liquid azure sky, three golden suns drenched my perfect body with benevolent rays of
pure liquid love. I am the sun, the prism, and the rainbow. I am soul, child of God,
resplendent, perfect and free.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

YOU ARE THE ONE

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

About INDIA

Americans say that India is the largest democratic country .

Asians say that India is the country of spiritualism .

Australians say that India is the country of huge crowd . 

Africans say that India is the country of great M . K . Gandhi .

Europeans say that India is the country of philosophy . 

Politicians say that India is our strategic partner .

Economists say that India is one of the best place for investment .

Communists say that India is the perfect soil for communism . 

Capitalists say that India is the market of products .

Historians say that India is the center of history .

Poets say that India is the country of Rabindranath Tagore and lovers

Everybody says many many sentences about India !


Although soul of India says to her people
"You are citizens of India but residents in the world .
And the World is your original mother land ." 

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Grandad's Missing

There's a void, now
Where once a steadfast heart beat time
The soul in perfect harmony with life's uncertain pulse
With those who clambered eagerly in solace or in joy
To scale that mighty pinnacle
The Rock, within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
But marvel at the structure, the firmness of the ground beneath
The strata richly layered with wisdom of generations past
A fault free seam constructing firm foundations
Binding those within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
A hollow cavern 
echoing the anger and the pain
Trust time; it has no fear of finite elements
The source of unremitting pain
Within the bosom of the family

There's a void, now
So fill the emptiness and catalogue the memories
Harvesting the richness of their meaning
The fullness of the seed sown long ago
To bloom forever within the bosom of the family


Details | Prose Poetry | |

RISING WITH THE GLORY OF THE SUN

Rising with the glory of the sun,
But never to go down with it,
I'll fly higher and higher,
Side by side with eagles among the clouds,
I'll tarry until the day is done,
I'll soar waiting patiently to reign,
With the moon among the stars all through the night,
And eager to rise and shine with the sun again.

(c) 2010


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Bird in Flight

Sitting there late last night! 
I took everything in with my deepest breath about me.
I could quiver feeling the warmth sinking slowly in, 
I was covered over distances which I could now see.
I had left myself. 
I was gone again.
I was above and beyond the clouds,  
Soaring deeply with every one of my though,
Higher and higher I rose, 
Reaching loftiness’ I have never once felt. 
I was a bird in flight! 
Stunning with privilege I had brought.
Feeling myself from deep within!
Standing there that night, 
The radiance beamed all around me so I took this in.
And lo and behold, there I went again.
I could feel myself while locked deep with my thoughts.
I was absorbed inside by everything surrounding me.
I felt the depth that my eyes could never ever once see.
Loosing all truth of myself, every sensation my soul had caught.
Further and further I rose, reaching capacities I had never felt.
I’m a feather in the air, 
Gathering sensations inside of myself.
I lay there that night, mind, body, and soul with me.
I was calm with the breeze, 
Inside of myself,
Feeling myself!
And once again I was a bird in flight soaring so high and much too free.
I was locked sound with my deepest thoughts.
More and more I rose and impact for impact I felt.
Feathers of a bird in flight and one of me I have surely got.
Ever since that night, many, many things have come to me.
One by one, gathered by the sensations carried all over me.
Touching inside of myself, again, again, and again!
Higher and higher I climb to reach the very tipsy top.
Gathering it all, I am more of me when more of me can be felt.
I am the breeze in the air touching the many feathers these birds have brought.
Many feathers just from sitting here, but each the soar of the wind has surely caught.
I’m a bird in flight gathering all that is real or not and all that is captured in of my-self.
I am surely the feather that fell from the very top, 
Because I am now what then I surely was not!
I am simply that feather in the air falling loose and free inside of myself.

®Registered: 1997 Ann Rich


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost into a deep black hole

I was trapped
and bemused
feeling sad
and confused
a subatomic particle
lost into a deep black hole
and suddenly
you stuck in your magic telescope
and I opened up
like a flower
I shot out like a periscope
a mystical kaleidoscope
like a solar flare 
without a care
my heart exploded into a supernova
and then, 
I woke up in your constellation
a phantasmagorical revelation
so ecstatic
and divine
orgasmic 
and sublime
I'm staying here forever, 
until the end of time.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

All About A Red Saturday

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Who i am

Who i am

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


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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

An End to Aloneness

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

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

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

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

                                                                              But I would like to…

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Slowly fear, and sweet

Dear God,

You've probably heard this prayer
a thousand times over, and yet
I feel like I need to say it everyday
even if it's just for me

each day I realize how scary 
this world really is
and even more how frightening 
it is inside myself 

if only it were so easy to let go
as if there is something 
I want to keep inside
like if I truly to let go
I'd lose something

even though my mind is a war zone
but there is just 
a little something that 
hangs onto the notion of You

help me to love people
outside of myself
please guide me to walk,
slowly fear, and sweet