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Prose Poetry Wife Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Wife

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

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

A Kis

A Kis

RICHsTgPOOR



CharlaXFabels

1one7three3
 Do eye need a kis. Eye need a girl to kis. Eye have a girl that eye can kis. 
Eye have kis her in the rain. Eye have kis her in mye heart. Eye have kis her in 
mye start of every day for years of love. Eye have only to the kis to go to read more 
into kis to find the place she dwells in this old mortal frame of yearning 
dwelling place. The kis is purple bliss of alarm blazing love waking me from 
death like a Snow White Charmed young man a captive smith to Pocahontas 
fame. A dandelion flower lost in the caverns of the depths Ianthe drowning mee 
in sea ward tufts of left and right bouts of beating on the air to keep from sliding 
to the depths of drowning in her arms of love. A leap at faith a death reprieved 
from Grounded Grave a leaping portent making waves of Gragon wings. An 
attitude of love refrained in every tuft of wind again the sound of love the beating 
of the water on the roof of tin the sound of kis inside the wind and rain. A younger 
man and woman would have hardware in the way the nose and yes the nose gay 
and the corners of the vampyrific fangs. The center of the tongue is one the belly 
button too. The snooker table has a cue it’s called the ball extender bridge it's a 
cheater it’s made to let the basest man to reach her in the wind. There is so 
many problems with people the gas is oughta sight at the pumps this country is 
no longer prominent but a third world country going south. The end of time has 
come and arrived the ruthless and worthless rule in the name of god money and 
time. Take a number wait in line what’s your name please fill this out and wait. 
The number of his namme. Have you got a credit card or payment of any kind iff 
you can give me seven dollars for an office visit eye will help you the doctor is inn. 
The man was lighting a candle in front of the computer and the lieberrian asked 
him what do you think you are doing he said eye cannot see the screen. There is 
not very many rich people in all those cars on the highway whizzing by the most of 
them is middle class or less the plastic hose on the back seat is a siphon they 
use it to get gas. Eye had too many problems at home growing up to ever be a 
father. The age factor plus the drug indicator keeps me from trying to further my 
benefactor with fodder or with mudder. The morality of this hurried fable of 
dividing documents is this a kis. 

 
  
  


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Myth Uncovered

To love another more than life itself...

Is sweet bereavement...Sealed within
loves kiss...

...A love so deep...fathomed in oceans...
only truth can find...

A myth uncovered - discovered over time...

...To relish in this beauty...way beyond compare...

...To look into the eyes of an angel...
...Mornings first light...

...We feel with hearts despair...

...For we nurture this...

...This love we believe has found its way here...

...We cherish everyday...
...this love beyond compare...

...Immortal wish bestow...

....For we love in tomorrows tomorrow...

...This life this love we celebrate...

these two souls love has found...

...this life - this love...

...this love itself creates...


Details | Prose Poetry | |

That Which Is Real

Oh to be just a friend
To laugh, joke and play with you
Is not something
I know how to do
Oh how I wish it were
For it’d sure eliminate
All this pain I feel
Sometimes it happens
That starting off fun
Turns into something real
And what was meant to make you laugh
Turns into tears
That seem to take
Life’s  breath away
Leaving you to feel
Like there’s so much left to say
If only this, if only that
If I only could, if you only would
So many tricks of the mind
As we try to find
Justification for holding on
To what should be freed
So we can move on
Yet we hold out hope
In each accidental hello
That tides will turn
Though they have long washed away
It’s just the way of life
And how love burns
Until we learn
The difference in what we feel
And that which is real


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Another man's wife

In love I was lost
I plunged headlong
Oblivious of the consequences
For she was fair to behold
E’en fairer than the lily of the garden

She took me by my hand
And together we strolled
We explored the new frontiers of love
My company she greatly adored
Until she couldn’t break free 
From the spell of love
Cast on her by fate
Uhm! It’s amazing what love can do

Damning the consequences
I forged ahead with my newfound love
Paradise was unraveled before me
An adventure of some sort it seemed
“Give it a try,” I urged myself
Shutting my mind deliberately to the odds


For if she had known
Then she wouldn’t have allowed me
Entry into her life
But her actions defies all explanation
Void envelopes her being in my absence
What had suddenly come over her?
In so short a while

When she laughed, I laughed
When I cried, she cried as well
The blissful times we shared were dear
Held close to my heart like a testament
“Could anything be this cherished?” I thought
Life definitely seemed very good

She withdrew at certain times
Not because she was through with me, nay!
But she remembers her Man-the Man
“You cannot understand,” she tells me
“You cannot understand,” she affirms
I am another Man’s wife

Like a thief in the night 
Her man came
The show he stole
For he had cut short his journey
Unannounced he strolled into the scene
After all he owned the show
He assumes his manly duties once again
Giving her love and succor as it were
He was the man, I was a villain

I was soon relegated to the rear
Despondency and dejection became my theme song
Jealousy I spat out like bile
No one would empathize my shattered heart
For I was warned before hand
Not to fall in love with
Another Man’s wife.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Controlling Men: Physically, Mentally, and Verbally Abusive Men

All men (the loser boyfriends/husbands) think that it's their right to be physically, mentally, and verbally abusive toward their female companions (girlfriends/wives), well they're wrong. Most guys are always beating their girlfriends/wives up every single day just because they didn't make their men dinner, do chores around the house, or whatever. It seems that these womanizing losers are way better than their women. Actually, they're not; they're idiots. Controlling these women and being physically, mentally, and verbally abusive toward them don't make these Neanderthals men; they're like childish cowards. All guys think that they're the only breadwinners in their families and the women aren't. But guess what--they're not; some of them don't have jobs. And does anyone knows what gets on my nerves? Men always cheating on their girlfriends/wives with other women, getting them pregnant, and not taking care of the children they already have. And those controlling, abusive men, they're always telling their female spouses/lovers what to do, what to eat, where to look, and who to talk to. I mean, who are these womanizing losers to judge other men and to boss these women around? I mean, who does that? Everybody doesn't even know why they'd bother spending the rest of their lives with those abusive idiots. This whole saying by these controlling abusive men have been getting on everybody's nerves and my nerves, as well: "You're-not-to-speak-unless-spoken-to," this "You're-not-to-talk-to-your-family" ordeal, this whole "You're-not-to-have-guy-friends," and this whole "You need me! You're nothing without me! You have no money! You have no friends! Everything's in my name: the house, the cars, clothes, everything I own! You're useless! You're worthless! I own you for life! And you will respect me!" Where I come from, the rest of us nicer guys, we treat our women with the respect they rightfully deserve. The last time I checked, the mothers have raised their sons to treat women and other people with respect, but they now know where they've gone wrong with those womanizing clowns. My suggestion for the women is for them to leave their abusive husbands/boyfriends before it's too late because if they don't, they'll end up in the hospital or the morgue. To be honest, these women, they never should've met, let alone dated or married those abusive men to begin with. And if these abusive men think that they can control those women forever, they've got another coming.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Coming home to you everyday

My best friend is just a few yards away
not feeling well she’s had a long day.
 
Right now in our bedroom watching a cooking show
I don’t under stand it, she knows all there is to know.

As with every thing else she always wants to do better
she gives it her best even when she’s under the weather. 

My best friend is my most loving wife
She has given me the best years of her life.

It’s been thirty nine years since I took her as my bride
That’s thirty nine years with my best friend by my side.	

A lot has happened since our day in September
some things forgotten but the best I still remember.

I remember the warmth and passion of our youth
I still feel it when I think of you and that’s the truth.

I remember worrying that my job would call me away
all I ever wanted was to come home to you everyday.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WORLD WITHOUT WOMEN www

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


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

(c) 2010


Details | Prose Poetry | |

DAMAGED MY TRUE LOVE

written 17th Sept 2013



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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




Details | Prose Poetry | |

Smile

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

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

POVERTY MY WIFE

This is a rat infested; flea bitten, trash seeking, concrete hardened, Winter frozen, nose closing stench I call life. Poverty my wife: Ash my nourishment; paper my blanket; disorder my order; Sewage my water; concrete my mattress; streets my room No-one is who I am Living to see another day my plan Been all over the place but still the same street Cracked the hardest sole by the greater feet, Which though winter or summer bring the strongest cold? BUT YET SO BOLD To crack a smile of serenity, freeing me, peacefully Un-comprehended but well complemented But can’t dare to share it With my enemies: the rich; the government; the wealthy I salute you poverty, there were not supposed to be Don’t they know the richer they are the poorer I become I know that I’m black but poverty is where I’m from They may get richer in rand but I’ve got more in cent Common and the ones jingling in my pants That’s why I say: “This is a rat infested; flea bitten, trash seeking, concrete hardened, Winter frozen, nose closing stench I call LIFE.” POVERTY MY WIFE


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Red Hot Snapper


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

This kind of marriage is for
the movie screen.

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

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

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









Details | Prose Poetry | |

Waking up

I remember thinking to myself, you can get a  good night's sleep even after a bad day.

It was 3 years ago today when I woke up, packed my belongings and left for good.
You were standing there at the bus stop and asked me how my day was.
I wasn't sure if I could respond....But I knew I should. 
Reply to Her that is.... Not many people ever care, but she does I thought.
I knew where I was standing but deep down I felt lost.
You stood there and I felt a little less lost.
A block away from my home....from my old home, I realized.
I felt found standing next to you.
I replied. "Couldn't be better"
But I was never good at lying.
And you were good at poker.
My bluff was called.

I wake up every now and then and think of the moment you lifted me.
With your words. 
You didn't even know my name. You didn't even know what you were doing.
You did it.

Now 4 years later happily married, I still wake up in the middle of the night.
I visualize the shoe's I was wearing, the dirty white laces that seemed to me not to be tied. Like a loose stage of my life. 
But you tied them. I was the left lace, you the right.
And every now and then when I look up in this dream I see my wife's beautiful eyes standing next to me, other time's its an angel. One and the same they are.

My bluff was called.
She said "You have the same look I had not but a few weeks ago. But your tone of voice is a lot more obvious."
"Were still out there" She says and looks up at the clouds.
She meant women you can love. I knew what she meant.
"Are you out there?" I replied.
"No." She says.
"I'm right here".







Details | Prose Poetry | |

LOVELAND

I can’t wait to have a love match

With you in a love nest 

Surrounded by love-lies-bleeding

Sitting on the love seat 

Where we hold a love knot together

And with love beads around your neck

After which we’ll travel down to Love-land 

Where we will be joined in a love-in

(c) 2010


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Wash Away My Tears

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



Details | Prose Poetry | |

For Them For Me Written in the Loss of My Wife and Children

~ (~) ~ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jqTLlHkfSC4&feature=related http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E7xUZkKd58c http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fXJWkB8ODAQ . .. ... .. . . . ......... ........ ....... ............... ............... .............. ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ....... ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ If I were to have my way; the welcome of-those bygone days, then I'd be sure they would know. My hopes the fairest dreams of all; were all I wanted to share - the ones held so dear that I couldn't let go of for anyone - but them. As plane rides come to mind jet setting daily qualms God's buried grace the quiet suicides, was all that came of those-days, and because I have come to find, parachutes are an option-not only for those that are living... but are expressly offered for the worn walking alone and weary within themselves already reeling from their regrets - and so it is I believe God being the catalyst for my life, a show- of His greater eminence and Sovereignty - mercy - because I too exist myself in a free fall over this valley of the- dead - and-so it has become for me my own personal, peculiar- quirk of twisted providence, the evidence of my fate that all circles are not the same or brand entirely, nor an entity- within themselves... completely whole - because my- experience has shown that they too, given the-proper-vexing, like me - can be broken... . ................... ................. ;;;;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;; ............. ;;;;;;;;;;;;;; .................. ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; ........................................................ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nePSpOlLfYY http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RTzDAMf33Jo http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1F2zl4LqSlg http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lDQc6SMNwgY ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~ (~) ~


Details | Prose Poetry | |

TRUE MR RIGHT OR MR WRONG

No one really knows 
The True Mr. Right or the true Mr. Wrong
They all come singing, the same sad song
Her dad once told her Mr. Right
Will choose the right path to God
Mr. Wrong would lie, cheat
Make your head go round and round
Mr. Right would have dignity and pride
Mr. Wrong, false promises then hide
Ever hear Trini Mr. right or a Trini Mr. Wrong?
Full ah ma-ma-guy, fake smile...man be gone
Remember, be careful choosing Mr. Right
Be fearful of Mr. Wrong
And analyze all, their sad songs...

©Copyright November 1, 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander 
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A poem in Labor

Fingers crossed spread wide open 
my brain is in pain/ a gift so pure 
baby rhymes crawl backwards in 
stains/ wrapped repertoires come in 
venomous rap pains/ chemical 
messengers ship signals from one 
cell to mythical metaphoric chains / 
It’s the birth of new chapters/ 
Hormones walk tall through walls 
when summer reveals winter’s 
offspring lyrical babies captured/ 
Guilty are biters cheaters pledging 
the word spread of poetic 
descendents/ dippers snap when dirt
is packed overflowing flows the 
nation is watching the sexiest figures 
of speech/ push push push harder 
the rupture of the membrane 
dropped long before the poem 
started/ push push push harder with 
no worries sleepy awesome tongues 
lay low on Africa’s bosom/ little 
cough drop poems the bladder 
carries only few graceful mothers/ 
the birth of my poems


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fable Five

 Fable Five 
Fable Five 
 
IN THREE PARTS 
 
Part One: The DOVE 

eye picked up the dove now dead creature clasped him to my bosom brest 
no sorrow feeling only life within my chest 
eye enabled faith eye tossed the dove 
upward into tree for landscaping seems to me a more decent burial rest 
one word escaped my lipps eye just said JESUS 
eye wish that eye could tell ewe that the dove it flew away 
eye did not tempt the LORD this day 
the bird went further on my throw 
eye expected just to here the branches crashing at his fall 
eye expected him to make a lot of noises there was none 
no it did not fall 
there is hope inside of mee still and yet that yes it flew 
this dove to Heaven when it left. 

Part Two: Dandylion 
 
when the gardeners of the palace make the grass a certain size 
they run the mowers side by side 
to make the power gasses cut the grasses 
every one of the now chopped to pieces dandelions gone 
except mye one 
in a state of childlike fate eye ran to edge of lawn and placed some of my 
baggage down long enough to kick the dandelion down 
a man my age just having certain fun 
and smile remembering a childhood never found 

Part Three: New Blue Jeans 
 
the shortest part of fable five is this the three part not contrived 
the jeans are long on legs so short and waisted wide to hide the layers eye 
needed to survive a cold and cheerless night 
eye tore the tags from pockets soon to hold my treasures of a man long old and 
finding love in one dear place mye ewe she loves the way eye dress she loves 
my look upon my face when eye just smile embrace 
she must be smiling now at FABLE FIVE. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Though Long and dreadful, the darkness has now become Light

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


Details | Prose Poetry | |

9904

 9904 
9904 
 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
Ninenintyfour 
 
Autofixation 
 
A Dialog Fabel 
 Mrs. Smithster: BOSS let me help you clean up your computor today the new 
auto program disc is arrived in my snail mail box. 
BOSS: OK just don't lose any of my contacts on the list the accounts are way too 
important. 
JUNE: to her self: an aside: GET HIM who does he THINK he is giving me that 
guff so early in the mourning. 
BOSS: Poor June is my secretary and eye love her like my sister but she is so 
dense the bullits bounce off her like she is Superman, or wait no Supergirl 
mabe. 

Narrator Ed.Note: This is the twilight zoned for the next five minutiae you can not 
understand anything but this fable you have been transported to the twilight 
zone.   This Lady Bosses Secretary one Mrs. June Smithster has been the 
receiver of a program sent to her inside her snail mail marked as a FIXIT 
program disc the entire story is now centered around what comes next let's 
watch what happens… 

Charlax the Narrator: June reached into the envelope slowly and opened the disc 
cover reluctantly she was wondering now just where it had come from it was 
compelling her to use it she could feel its message somewhere near her left toe 
and the eye her left eye was twitching like a nervous wrecked her whole face was 
letting go she had to she had to over and over like a ROBOT compulsion she 
HAD to place the disc in the BOSSES computor NOW. 
June: something is almost forcing me to use this new hardware it's an alien tech 
rippoff of an image of the MOON it makes me want to dress up and wear my 
cape out. 
Charlax the Narrator: The Bosses Computor is slowly being eaten up by the disc 
all the contacts on the every list are gone the moral of the CharlaXFabel number 
9904 poor gentle reader ewe is never use a disc program to enable accounts not 
meant to be edited by ewe. The computor is now gone the disc dropped to the 
floor lets go back and see what happens now… 
BOSS: walking in to his office to check on his computor and June Smithster: well 
that is not funny did the android charlock pick up my computor for cleaning 
again? 
Charlax the Narrator:  but there is only silence from the corner of the room where 
June is laying down curled up in a ball of Supergirl costume her cape lay furled 
around her like a hobo blanket cover… 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Embrace Me

EMBRACE ME…
IN MY MIND I TRACE BACK THE TIME
DAY BY DAY AND WEEK TO WEEK
ONE MONTH TO THE NEXT AND SLOWLY
ALL OF THE YEARS THAT HAVE PASSED; EMBRACE ME

SO MUCH TO CAPTURE IN A SINGLE VERSE
SO MUCH FOR THE BETTER THAN FOR THE WORSE
THINKING BACK TO OUR VOWS TO EACH OTHER
AND HOW FOREVER HAS REMAINED WITHIN OUR REACH
SO MANY DREAMS, SO MANY DESIRES
THAT THROUGH THE YEARS HAVE NEVER FADED
AND ALL OF OUR PROMISES AND ALL OF OUR WISHES
CONTINUE EACH DAY TO EMBRACE US
AND HOLD US FIRMLY SIDE BY SIDE…

IN MY HEART I TRACE BACK THE TIME
DAY BY DAY AND WEEK BY WEEK
ONE MONTH TO THE NEXT AND EVER SO SLOWLY
ALL OF THE YEARS THAT HAVE PASSED; EMBRACE ME
AND EVERY ONE OF OUR MEMORIES
AS WITH EVERY EMOTION THAT FLOWS THROUGH ME 
PART OF THE PATH TO OUR ETERNITY..


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Ninth Fable

 Ninth Fable 
Ninth Fable 
 
Tragic Love 
 
Internet Love 
 
The Love eye have for ewe is just the same as iff we wed. 
The feelings that she gives me are never filled with dread. 
But nothing she can dew would make me ever want to wind up dead but the 
living do the love they do the life time instead. Eye could walk the halls of memory 
and get depressed or eye could become a nun in convicted pleasure and rest in 
convent until death can dew us part death can give me rest but what of love. How 
can a man get so excited at a little green dot a few mouse clicks and then a cold 
white chat box. The ink is never wet upon mye crinkle paper yet there it is its love. 
When she smiles at me eye smile when she frowns eye weep a river of the 
stuffins kept inside it all comes flowing out to make a wrongful death seem 
somehow write the words upon the mended heart depart from worry and from 
woe and take the brand new start and soon it all works for love. Snow White she 
ate the apple and then fell to fast asleep but Charlax came to kiss her and 
awakened her to live. Prince Charlax kisses good. 
Live upon the creek bank fishing for dragonflies in a house of love. Mending heart 
of Charming. Making love in heart. Mye snow white turtle love my pookie 
pochoucntous love my internet thrall. We can have it all just hold on to my 
namme and love. 
Researchers have now proven that love can mend a broken heart. 



Details | Prose Poetry | |

128

 128 
128 
 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
UnderwaterLover 

 I do love you Charlie Blue My brown eyed merman I kiss your hand Down by the 
sea Turn into me Eye love ewe fairest Ianthe just come there and drown me We 
live in caves Awash with waves Anemones our flowers We pass the hours 
Chasing turtle and fish Finding a lost kiss the hours at the sea make me weak in 
my human form my fins allow me to swim but only to your arms the legs eye use 
to walk allow me to be free but only fins can bring my back to ewe to kiss to 
drown the underwater lover there she is my mermaid playing me I do love you 
like the fish eye am used to better days sometimes sick and needing help yet I 
do love you the merman is so far away When eye drown in the desert cactus 
between the city and the mountain my mermaid kisses save me from the cretins 
she is fighting for my life eye can feel her call my namme Charlie Blue I do love 
you. Woman in the foamy waves 
swimming near to me, my love it comes. It is a heart, a mermaids heart. My 
brown eyed merman I do love you eye love to watch the shrim:Pe crawl across 
the ocean sea she feeds them to her strang pelican and water can be breathed 
by a Knight of drownded love. This was harder to do than it looks adding verses 
sent to me from she who loves the eye then reaching somewhere south to find 
the love to add the words to add our mixed and many feelings making this into 
this fabel. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Making Love ~ (~) ~

"Rolled over one night, punched my wife right in the nose-yes... ." "Woke up in the morning grateful as it were, as yes I was... ." "Seeing blood on her pillow, immediately scared-being freaked-the hell-out yes I ran- stumbling down the stairs to-find her, worried yelling oh-my God!" "Found her she looked sore, angry she was by then started crying-yes... ." "I said baby hun-dear oh my-humming-bird-sweet cello mi-cielo little-queen what-happened... ?" "She said you punched me in your sleep, broke my nose!" ""I said hun ah what?" screaming, falling to my knees in front of her... !" "She said what the hell did I do, I'm undeserving of this abuse... !" "I said yea I know, can't think of anything either-yes-dear-heart... ?" "Hun I'm-so sorry, I love-you would-never intently I hope-you know — no I'd-never do something-anything yes... anything — so fragile-yes so-flagrantly insensitive even-if you did so... ?" "You know I have bad dreams-yes, dear-heart... ?" "You often hold me from picking on my face and eyes when I do-right... ?" Shaking her head yes, me wiping her tears-tasting them... . "Saying, hun as much as I can't blame you for crying over this, hope you don't blame me for what I cannot control as well... ?" Then she pulled me close, looking at me; began kissing wiping the tears poring as well by then out from my eyes-tasting them... . And as I tell it now as it is how it happened as such — then she took my hand walked me upstairs to bed — pushing the bloody pillow aside onto the floor, then we again began making love; to our song we gave each one for the other... ! Means your love is good for me... ! ""Makes me chuckle now still because this is just the exact ways my wife and me treat each other-today just like-little baby's when one-hurts the other-you-know... . As it should be with good friends-I-feel now-because she was-always-trying just-like this and in-every way-that she-could to prove-this principal-too, yes-to yes-teach-such a big old-baby- like me... and-yea; and as I try-as I do, me her-too... !"" "And as I tell you as-it is just how-it happened-she accepted my amiable; stirring-ever- growing and menial-apology, after we-both were spent as-it turned-out; we-continued right-on over to-the hospital... !" http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EPEDqeKXD3M


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Final Wishes of a Poet

Final Wishes of a Poet 
Arabic poem By: Rukn-al-Din Yunus
Translated into English By: 
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
========================
(Part 1 of 3)

Lend me a handful of earth
So that I may make you a statue 
You have not seen the like before
In your dreams.
Lend me a breath of spring
I’ll paint you cities, seashores 
And passionate rendezvous.
Lend me some of your crazy letters 
And I will dispatch couriers
To deliver them to gardens
And send elegantly dressed devotees
With a touch of sadness 
To receive them from the gardens
And read them to the river.
Lend me some of the words
Escaping from under your hat, 
Which has no resemblance to Pablo Neruda’s,
To write you an epic 
Spelled out by tyrants
Every night 
To cry their own fates in the morning.
Lend me an evening you could spare
To romp through virtual streets 
Named after living poets 
From different generations
Wherein a river of music goes over the heads of passersby
Drowning all in ageless glamour. 
Lend me the rest of the golden letters
In your pocket
To disperse them over the outskirts of my words
And the lanterns of my dreams
To light up what’s left of the opaque sentences 
In the imagination of the painter
And the wisdom of the poet 
Who is crazed about the clay
On the banks of the Hilla River.



(Part 2 of 3)
--------------

I'll die tonight...
O my dear wife!
I’ve never liked farewell ceremonies
In my life
So let things be normal and quiet.
Forgive me! I will not kiss you tonight
Just lie down beside me on the bed
For now.
Don’t tell the boys about my no-return journey 
Don’t let the girls cry with you
Especially the married one
And the little one
The middle one as well.
Let everything be as ordained for me
By those I don’t know
All I know for sure
I will die tonight.
How? ..... I do not know!
How? ..... I do not know!
At what time? …. The mind of the poet is unable to tell.
I will die my dear wife
But....
Don’t forget to feed the dog “Yoyo” early in the morning.
Don’t neglect spraying the garden 
First in the morning
Even if it was time for the funeral.
And don’t forget the seven o'clock news
Listen to it for the sake of your love for me
They always mention news of the lost homeland.
Don’t forget ever....
The chicken feed
I’d like to hear 
The cock’s crow every morning in my grave.
And hide the empty wine bottles
Out of the sight of mourners...
I don’t want them to accuse poets of infidelity.
And if they ask you 
What was with him before he died?
Just tell them:
He forgot to live!


(Part 3 of 3)
--------------

Before I died
My wife made me a clay statue 
And cried at it
She and her five daughters did.
But my two sons took no notice
Of their mother crying
Nor of their sisters wearing black 
But, rather,  
They seized the opportunity
And went out to join their peers
In a football game!

Before I died
My friends vied 
And jostled in front of  
Mercenary and non-mercenary newspapers’ buildings
Led by “Riyadh Alghareeb”
To provide their elegies for my immortal soul
Which reminds them of their own
As they greet death.

And since that day
I am holding on to my soul
Lest it slips away 
In a moment 
Of inattention
From me
The poet
Rukn al-Din Yunus
***
Translated by: Em. Prof. Inaam Al-Hashimi
USA
November 2013

* Rukn-al-Din Yunus is a poet from Iraq



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mom's Death

I will always recall the day
my mom died.

She was in recovery for 
congestive heart surgery.
The work itself had gone well 
but brought on massive clots 
to the lungs.

I was an hour and a half away
and when I arrived, 
Mom was talking to the doctor.
He had tears in his eyes,
apologizing for getting hopes up 
where there was no hope now.
She looked him straight in the eye
and told him that she didn’t want to die.
But, if the Lord was ready 
the doctor didn’t need to cry.
“I know you did everything in your power 
to make me well”, she said. “So don’t you feel bad, 
don’t apologize for trying to help me.  
God is the one to have the final say.
I will resist going until my absolutely final breath. 
Because, I think that is what he expects of me.  
When I know it’s time I will be with him.”
The doctor left, I don’t know if he felt better. 
Probably not. He had promised her five more years.

I stayed and talked to mom for a while, 
before my brother came back in.
“Now Bunky, you know your brothers
are not as strong as you.  
You will have to help them through this.  
That is what I know you will do.”  
I said “yes Momma,” 
no longer fighting the wetness profusely rolling down my cheeks.
“Where’s Carolyn” she said of my wife. 
“I called her and she is on the way shortly. 
She will get here as soon as she can.” 
My brother came back in 
and I went out to the doctor again.

He said her lungs were completely clogged 
and she would slowly suffocate.  
But, it would be painless because she could breathe.  
She just couldn’t process the air.
She would simply go to sleep.
And that is the way the next four hours went,
with Mom going little by little.  
She napped, 
and woke up once in a while 
to ask about my younger brother 
and his wife and my wife. 
Telling all how much she loved them. 
She slept a little longer each
time she closed her eyes
and finally the only one not 
there was my wife.  
We thought a couple of times she had passed.  
But the nurse said she just wouldn’t give up. 
She sunk so low they couldn't find a pulse
or read blood pressure. 
I don’t remember how they knew she was not gone.  
Finally just before my wife
came in they actually didn’t know 
if she was still alive.
My wife came in and Mom spoke.
“Carolyn, Carolyn", very weakly and 
they talked softly for a while and Mom died. 
She had held on beyond a readable pulse.  
Beyond blood pressure. 
To tell my wife good bye. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

So Much To Live For

SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR…

Night has fallen on us again
The light of the sun has faded for the stars
Against the dark sky
The moon now in its glory
Reflecting through the trees
And every picture tells a story
Depending on who sees

I gaze into infinity
Never reaching an end on the horizon
What goes around will come around
We carry the circle with us through time
Never knowing where to start or to finish
I carry on getting lost in the rhyme
Waiting for the idea to grow or diminish
I’m so in love with life
So deeply in love with you, Adrianne
Sometimes I’m lost, not knowing what to do
Because I want so much for us that up until now
I wasn’t sure we could have
But now, after fulfilling this sacrifice to each other
I know, I truly believe
Everything that seemed out of reach is now within our grasp

You; Adrianne are my strength when I’m weak
And I yours…
You are my anchor when I need stability
And I yours…
You; above all are my life and my love
And with you I can finally begin to live this dream
A dream that begins and ends with you by my side
And I by yours...
Now we can truly live, to make the most of life
The most of ourselves, for each other and our future
That on this night looks so bright and full of promise
Like the moon this night reflecting on the water
My eyes are focused on us, on our tomorrow
There is so much to live for…



Details | Prose Poetry | |

9904 the ending

Narrator Ed.Note: CharlaXAndroidoneseven is now flying to the moon to save 
Supergirl he has to disable the program that sent the disc… 
Stay tuned to find out more about the MOON in the new twilighted zoned series 
on CharlaXFabels@ 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

When All

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


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THE ARCHAEOLOGISTS WIFE

THE ARCHAEOLOGIST’S WIFE
Sorry I cannot say her name, you all know her well
She was my brother’s wife at the Kimmerdale
My brother was an archaeologist
He found a pot in Egypt
In Tutankhamen’s chamber
Believe me it was made of amber.

And my brother’s wife, Karen
Her dad came from Ely Arden
Mom from Billy Budd
Brother Tim from Barracks quad
They all are family Barracuda
They pounced on the pot
Sadly, it smelled the rot
In September, 2004
I was on India tour.


What did my brother do?
He crewed on a ship
Crossed the Mediterranean 
And reached Egypt
Met Mr. Hippit
A biologist by profession
After close inspection
He found a predator
Inside the amber
His wife Karen Barracuda Pamber

I heard the story on coming back from India
I gave my brother a Cashmere shawl given by Mr. Scindia 
You all know in the year 2013
He married the daughter of Cruise Martin
Sorry, I cannot say her name you know her well
She was from the family of Rapunzel
Her eyes were amber
Elizabeth Rapunzel Pamber.


Copyright: RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
7th November,2014