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Prose Poetry Wife Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Wife

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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 | |

A Kis

A Kis



 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 | |

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 | |


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 | |


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 | |

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 | |


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 | |

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 | |


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 | |

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 | |


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 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 | |

Fable Five

 Fable Five 
Fable Five 
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 | |

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 | |

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 | |

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 | |


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 
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 

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 
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




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... !"

Details | Prose Poetry | |



 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 | |

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
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
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 | |

Nothing but Ashes

He left today... fell-down-the-stares-hitting-his-head- my wife kids had just left me-was trying to talk with him... . We were arguing the phone went dead. I said "oh screw-you whatever then man-you go strait to hell", my final words... ." He's ashes like my life with them, they'll be no more days with either. His daughter found him bandaged him up, "I'll be just fine be fine... I'll-be just-fine- just-go see your friends" is what he said. Must have laid there for a time after... came back home she found him dead... . No-no more-laughter; oh I know the pride that he-always carried for her- the joy to know him-being mine... ! She won't have the chance-to have Daddy give her away, to-help her with her baby's as they come-yes-to sense him- watching her, as she watches-them-grow. Just like with my wife and kids, this pain remains... always-will I believe... . Her dreams for her and him are like mine with them; nothing-but-ashes now... yes these ashes all written down, friend; all of them were given for my Brother... her; and-yes for them; it-was my birthday then; like-today; Didn't have the chance to go to his funeral... but-I'll-always remember. Like to-day...!

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Lost Love Found by WLM on March 29, 2011

I need not scream
For the return of my dream
I feel so much better
For from her I received a letter
Her feelings were not of being mad
But of making me feel glad
She still wants me
And that is the way it should be
There was never a great cost
Nor even a feeling of being lost
When I heard from my love
All was still sent from heaven above
She finally did show
And my face had such a great glow
For me she does still need
So for now I will not concede
She still loves me so
In my heart I will always know
To me she will still marry
Now my head is not in a flurry
And a family we will still start
In mine heart I will sing like a lark
As God meant us to see
Together we will always be
In the simple breeze
I will hold her in my arms to squeeze
Now that I have my dear
I will lose all my fear
I have my best friend back
Oh God thank you for that
For with her I have no doubt
Thank you God I will never be without
She has made me so happy I still cry
For in my heart I do not want to die
All the feelings of dread
Have been put out of my head
To her I have so much to give
And for all of that we will always live
We must always treat each so well
My heart can only swell
I feel so young again
And that is where she will begin

Details | Prose Poetry | |

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…

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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 | |

Eleventh Fable

 Eleventh Fable     
Author Message 

Age : 53
Joined : 13 Jun 2007
Posts : 719

 Subject: Eleventh Fable   Today at 18:26      

Eleventh Fable 

Eleventh Fable 

The Millionth Dollar 

Charlaxes Fables 

Some people live in misery afraid to spend a dollar bill is one a friend but he just 
won't let it go. The man walks or rides his bike even in the snow not using public 
transportation anywhere he goes. A Child is young too young to knoe just what 
money's for. She takes the dollar in her hand and keeps it never spending it and 
never letting go. 
Song 1001 
Aern't ewe the one that eye love 
Aern't ewe the love the only love that eye have 
Aern't ewe the one that eye love 
Aern't ewe the reason this man gets up 
Aren't ewe the love that eye have 
Aern't ewe the purple cloud 
Aern't ewe the heart of the rain 
Aren't ewe the name in the sky? 
Aren't you the song 1001? 
Aern't eye the one? 
The millionth dollar has been spent the millionth tear eye cried the millionth time 
eye tried to make a song was this one number one thousand one. Time will wait 
for no one let us rule the time with love. 
 Eleventh Fable 

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Neuvième Fable

 Neuvième Fable 
Neuvième Fable 
Tragic Love 
Internet Love 
L'amour pour les brebis ont des yeux est la même que iff nous wed. 
Les sentiments qu'elle me donne ne sont jamais remplis d'effroi. 
Mais rien ne peut rosée, elle me ferait jamais vouloir liquidation morts, mais la 
vie à l'amour qu'ils font le temps de vie au lieu. Eye pourrait marcher les couloirs 
de la mémoire et de vous déprimé ou des yeux pourrait devenir une religieuse 
coupable dans le plaisir et repos dans le couvent jusqu'à ce que la mort peut 
nous part de rosée de la mort peut donner mais ce qui me reste de l'amour. 
Comment un homme peut obtenir si excitée un peu au point vert en quelques 
clics de souris, puis une zone de chat blanc froid. L'encre n'est jamais humide 
sur papier mye frisolée encore là, il est son amour. Quand elle me sourit oeil 
sourire quand elle fronce les sourcils yeux pleurent une rivière de la stuffins 
conservés dans tout repose autochtones découlant de faire une faute de la mort 
semblent quelque peu à écrire les mots à la mandé coeur s'écarter de 
s'inquiéter et de malheur et de prendre le tout nouveau départ Et bientôt tout ça 
fonctionne pour l'amour. Blanche-Neige, elle a mangé la pomme, puis est 
tombé à s'endormir rapidement mais Charlax venu à l'embrasser et à vivre son 
éveil. Prince Charlax bons baisers. 
En direct sur le ruisseau la pêche de libellules dans une maison de l'amour. 
Mending coeur de charme. Faire l'amour dans le coeur. Mye neige blanche tortue 
pookie pochoucntous amour mon amour mon internet thrall. Nous pouvons avoir 
tout juste à tenir sur mes namme et de l'amour. 
Les chercheurs ont maintenant prouvé que l'amour peut réparer un cœur brisé.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I'm The Phoenix

I'm The Phoenix
  *     *    *
Perhaps I'm meant to carry
these burdens alone; 
to struggle to a new level
of achievement
only to find it's all been an illusion; 
to have my load 
come crashing in around me, 
only to have it lifted again. 
If that’s so let it be. 
For I only lose to those who 
not enjoy my labor, 
perhaps I'm the Phoenix 
that's meant to have many love’s 
within me as this world go 
though it’s cycles as 
I grow more common then 
to self-destruct with 
flames of slow desires and excess, 
if this is true so be it. 
For then how I can still lose 
when I fail to rise again, 
when I'm meant to have you 
put before me to gaze and crave upon and to share 
even but for a fraction before having you wrenched 
away without even a smile 
when I reach out touching you?
If that's truth so be it. for I only lose when 
I fail trying to stretch out for you 
at the end of my life! 
Steven L. Siegel
December 6, 2009

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My Sweet

My Sweet
William Lewis Moore
My sweet
You make me feel neat
My heart skips a beat
On the day we will Meet
You brighten my life
Remove all the strife
Always be mine
Like an age old wine
For me I will Marry
I can not wait to carry
Over the threshold
I feel so so bold
You are my only love
Hear the cooing of the dove
Sitting in the tree
Just like You and me
The day will be bright
As the starry starry night
The sun will shine 
For I know you are mine
I will always love you
It will always be new
I give you my will
For my name is sweet Bill
For you will leave the mark
Deep within my heart

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Antiquity Of Love

They sit together after supper, two forks, two plates -dishes cleared, put away. She, with her tiny spectacles perched a little crooked on her face -  he, with his favorite pipe. Her withered hands lay peacefully in her lap…he reaches out, gently touching them - not speaking any words. 

No words needed between the two of them-having been together for so many years. Memorable words, touching phrases spoken ore’ the years spent together as one. One heart - one mind. Not always a life of sunshine and roses, but devotions never ceased between these two old lovers, these two best friends. 

They held on to one another through each new day, each new tomorrow - catching one another’s loving gaze, uttering a graceful word now and then. Wrinkled faces beautifully bestow them now - yet to him…she’s just as lovely as the day they wed -his lovely bride - his cherished, sweet wife of many years. A smile creeps across his lips in remembering their cherished wedding vows. 

“Will you take this women to be your wife”? He did then, he still does now.

The words sweet and strong - like the fragrance of orchids… everlasting, forever long.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Honesty And Woman

I learned my lesson the last time 
Only answering the questions 
That I knew would be safe 

Viewing herself in the mirror 
She said, how old do I look 
It was a trick question 

I kept remembering 
The last time she asked me 
If she looked fat in a dress

Details | Prose Poetry | |

since i have been here

since i have been here
i have seen a bunch of useless people
look at that guy sitting against the counter
he does that all the time
he disturbs the cashiers
he is never here when my store manager is here
he knows nothing
he does not even help the cashiers and the manager with the tills calculations when they 
knock off
ladies fall for him like he knows something
i do not know why
i am beggining to believe that we pay him for doing nothing
my wife seems to like him
she likes store packers
that one is only a trolley pusher
i asked my wife why he likes him so much
hey you
come over here
i am going to fire him on the spot just wait and see
you are fired
i told you he is useless
he even cries in front of girls

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Corner Shop 1919 The Great War

Walking into a small shop a little bell rang loudly as the door was opened wide,
In the back shop there was shuffling a cough some wheezing coming from inside,
A young man came over to the counter leaning heavily on a stout walking stick,
His eyes were so bright and sunk deep into his scull his voice slow and thick,
He tried to smile his breath rasped and rattled he stopped and turned his head,
On his bright clean waistcoat he wore the Mons medal it's lucky he is not dead,
Understanding what was wrong he'd been a victim of mustard gas in the Great War,
Pretending not to notice I asked for some snuff he turned and coughed some more,
A child ran in and bought a pennyworth of sweets she popped them into his bag,
The mans wife took the penny and put in the till, she looked so tired and sad,
Another fit of coughing seized him suddenly he waved his hand and walked away,
Back to his rear room his wife looked with tears she didn't know what to say.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ The Things of These ~ (~) ~(Part #5 of 6) ~ (~) ~

Still being drank all throughout whatever heat of the day. Like the boxcar Children Daniel Boon and Nancy Drew being read to the little ones, Credences' Have You Ever Seen the Rain, and Fleetwood Mack's Songbird, along with a little Fernando Ortega Nearer My God To Thee, the Braveheart theme along with Eric Clapton's Tears in Heaven God bless him and warm prayers for Him and his wife playing in the background to tuck us and all into bed in the evening. As my wife and I and children laugh yes their smiles filling Her and me with joy riding high under the moonlight as the new soft evening breezes blowing away teary eyes... sniffling noses. The stars ascending high up in their joy I know rest even higher in their hearts. The Sun lying down in the sky auburn clouds rising up to be kissing it floating by as the many fowl fly touch down again only to climb to new heights to do it all again, the next day. And as the Mantis does have the heart to pray and as gentle winds provide the earth just enough hope to blow the leaves each fall off the trees, shrubs pines and vines. Taken in by the light, as I think of the Sun... . As the little honey humble bumble be bumbles on by-here-along-beside-me ... . The mere fact is even as I try I know, purple flowers ocean tides in-there-fullest of sway... and gravity - in the brevity as I write... and as though I may try... and can spin a yarn of lines, I guess, as they are far greater these things - being of God I cannot paint such beauty nor reality, truth... what goodness He radiates such as this, the very wonder of these-things. Yes, these are His things I believe of the many, benignity ... .

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Beauty Is In the Eye of the Beholder

Oh, was it really possible that we’d ever pen, or 
is it necessary to debate our in-sensitivities, 
the ups and downs of life, being sandwiched between
our likes and dislikes of a certain form in writing?

To a degree, of versifying, we have the so-called 
“To each his own” ability
and power to attract the readers of the mind,
to fully enjoy us, in our chosen form. 

Some would profess they dislike haiku
...’cos of its shortness and simplicity
and most likely, many would prefer free verse,
than to listen to the enchanted soul of rhyme

...’Cos of its un-metered style and absolute freedom;  
yet I, the handsome I (ahem!) do love, not prefer 
the beholder of my beauty, my beautiful wife (ahem!)---
a thousand times over, and greater than those few.

Ahh, the exquisite beauty of poetry, 
the subtle meaning half hidden 
in ones’ lines, and totally not seen in its form
but most certainly, lies in the eye of the reader.

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Our Love

Our Love It’s Love Your Love Our Love (Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love) 
We are love……, 
You are love……, 
Together we love……, 
Forever and always……, 
We love…….., 
Our Love It’s Love Your Love Our Love (Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love) 
We are love……, 
You are love……, 
Together we love……, 
Forever and always……, 
We love…….., 
Our Love It’s Love Your Love Our Love (Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love) 
We are love……, 
You are love……, 
Together we love……, 
Forever and always……, 
We love…….., 
Our Love It’s Love Your Love Our Love (Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love Love) 
We are love……, 
You are love……, 
Together we love……, 
Forever and always……, 
We love…….., 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

August Eighth

Chapter One 
Boy into the West 

Dawn upon my cloak 
Urged and so converged were the guns 
Seeding myself with the rest 

I broke in the eye of the Sun 
Settling my mind on the heartless rapist. Time 
Rasterize the faces 

So thumb through the annals 
Purged and so emerged fleshy etchings of this child
Breast wheels churn uncertainly 

Moistened embers dance to the deafening drum 
Tidal ducts offer piquant waters of the Pacific coffer 
I arrive on the sands 

Chapter Two 
Hole in the Wall 

Deserted in this mind 
Hover in and now behind 
Stare blank up through the ceiling stucco 

Gathering in the stench of ghastly breath of wine 
The New Year clothes itself topside 
Unfashionable walls crush youthful spirit I drink alone, until morning 

Demons of mine in lethargy 
Gnawed and sluggish slivers bond my illness
Horizons of hues of shapes the girl knowing 

Waking sweat cools slyly treats itself to my tongue 
Warmth of girl takes my breath save the end of I prepare 
God, are you there? 

Chapter Three

All in the deflection 
Though his reflection isn't mine 
Blood in kind of brotherly loving spiteful me 
We close our doors of aid restraining love I have

For angry boys reject the angry drudge 
Slave to a toilsome loving grudge 
It is raining erosion 

Blinding contortion 
Why in my hands I can't see you yet 
My rock there I can’t see her stand 

These matters wash away too comfortably 
I the destined rock 
To erode on as grain of sand 

Chapter Four 
Facing the Crow 

Give to the death 
Long confronting his road 
Gurge open those words she once clung on 

Hung from the rope he dove to the end 
I die decay per diem death 
Metaling her heart on his mindless last breath 

I survive only by his hand... 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

When You Push You Fall

Overstepping boundaries,
clinging onto an empty marriage,
carrying the family alone.
Husband fighting war with 
General dreams, of glory, in his head.
Carrying myself alone.
Knowing alone is lonely, lonelier every day.

We are carrying bodies, buddies and homeboys home to their families.
Poor mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers,
longing for a glimpse of their boy or girl, dead to this world.
They grow lonely, lonelier day by day and night by night.
Carrying on, pushing harder and harder
to make it through with all their fight.
Smiling the smile, greeting the greetings, and saying I'm okay.

Falling apart from the very start, 
until you push too hard and the wound is now a scar,
and you say I can't go on 
and the loneliness is gone.
You are gone when you push, you fall.

Take it easy, easier everyday.
Company comes by and then they go away.
Easy, easier, easily they say it takes time and the pain will not stay,
so they say, so they say.

Please I cry to the wind and the sea I want to play, I want to play..with my love.
Too many soldiers died today, died today, died today.
When I push I fall, when we push we fall, when they push they fall.
We all fall down.
Marla Stone

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fouad Abbas

He was steering us somewhere
This Fouad Abbas
Having given up the world as unreachable
Now took hold the yellow disc
and wrested what was left
into some sort of plan.

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The Mind Of GOD

 He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out 
and pleaded with him. 
He said to his father in reply, 'Look, all these years I served you and not once did I 
disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my 
But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for 
him you slaughter the fattened calf.' 
He said to him, 'My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. 
But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has 
come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'" the certainty of days is lost 
in aggravations and in misdirected thinking abilities are missed in dreaming and 
wishing colors were not true the sky is always blue in some peoples world the 
clouds don't move in true reality the clouds fly screaming across the sky to take 
kisses from mye eye to deliver them all to ewe from the kissing place its true oh 
ewe there is many of them there still hanging from my lipps to kiss the lipps of 
ewe. The moral of the story don't get thy dandruff up until the wind blows. WAIT. 
Bulliten: This is just inn hot off the iron. Love lasts forever and yes it forgives so iff 
ewe aer just lately starting to hate me lets nip it now in the bud and snip all the 
hate away and please keep the love thorns are okay when the rose is on vine but 
when picked all the thorns do is cry. Add mee quickly back unto thy eye am 
pleading for mye heart seems to be gone when ewe linger in the ether and do 
not even come just try to find forgiveness in your heart for me today. The concrete 
where eye tried to spend the nite was stiff to muscles used to better beds the dirt 
eye finally found in a corner of the church was fine and warmer out of wind the 
sadness that eye feel is never hate but only love not found and wasted time. The 
anger comes from being left alone.
Eye would not change the way eye am eye would not want it any other way to love 
someone is to miss them when away. My time is spent in vain pursuits of 
happiness continuous searching for food and circuses the hour is almost upon 
the masses no more time to love. Please add me to your list of love as number 
one again mye friend and love the man that eye become is jealous of your love 
and time still searching for your heart and certain ewe aer there in mine and we 
aer both there inside the mind of god. LOVE.


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Night Time

As darkness covers our piece of the world what goes on that we cannot see,
A milkman delivering his milk for us to get out of bed and have a pot of tea,
A madman drunk stalks lone victims these people never heard nor seen again,
News papers printed and delivered with the yesterday's headlines despite heavy rain.
Thieves break into houses and the owners never feel safe in their homes no more
Fights outside clubs and pubs, drunken men brawl, fallen men are kicked on the floor,
In families the husband beats his wife and his children but is scared of strong men,
It makes him feel he is a god and has everything under control so he beats them up again
The nation’s letters are sorted by postmen getting the mail ready for this morning’s post,
A wife shouting for a husband to get up for work, drunk last night she gives up the ghost,
Two men staggering home drunk singing old songs that remind them of their youth
Dogs howl at shadows or somebody creeping around up to no good is nearer the truth,
A house with lights on spills screaming and shouting arguments out onto street,
Some lay in our beds our consciences takes away our tiredness and we cannot sleep,
A husband sneaks downstairs quiet as a door mouse to have a good drink plenty of liquor,
Swigs a bottle of whisky it’s strong and it burns he feels sick but he gets the hit quicker,
Alarms begin to sound as the country wakes up there are soft boiled eggs and toast,
Looking forward to the day sipping hot tea, it’s so quiet around here as we wait for the post.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


There is no darkenness in the LORD my GOD he is perfect and forever more the 
creation He has made a little less than perfectly but some things he made to 
warm our hearts in spring are nearly formed as close to GOD he loves them all 
the dragonflies is one of those they meet all the requirements for our love. 
Four wings so delicately made to fly. A faces only mothers could have loved. NO 
reason much to live except just to exist existence then is love. They fly and have 
ewe noticed them at night how they like to lite near open water near a waterfall 
ewe find them mostly brown but there aer read ones and some blue ones and 
some good ones no they are only good ones and they spy on lovers in the night 
One heart lonesome thinking of her man one heart yearning to be a man they 
find each other in the dragon fly again. Water drowns a man he wants to swim 
into the underwater dragonfly the lair of all the mermaid wishes she is there oh 
mye Ianthe. You are terribly adorable! mon ange. 
Soon the dragonflies will come back again 
L()()K at this it seems that love has blinded her to mye reality she waits and 
searches for our love amid the gleaming pearls of water searching for the wings 
the spotted owl no the raven quoted no the flying serpent there no it is the yellow 
tail the golden flyer there the portent of mye heart turned into love. 

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The sun glistened on her emerald eyes...

This beauty an angel bestowed...
Her look...this silence...

beyond compare...

my answer as I prepared...

All the grains of sand from all the shores
add to that another more...

for this the pearl you placed in my heart...

this love for you...

I adore...

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Picture

She sees her older kids off to the school bus 
Then takes her little one to preschool 
She then comes home and spends the whole day in bed
Until her kids and husband return home
And they ask "mommy how was your day?"

She says "it was a good. I did this and that. I had so much accomplished today"

She then warms up quick frozen meal for the family

And the cycle continued for years

She says adderral saved her life
She couldn't function
Of all the medications she tried, this one brought sun and rain back to her life
She can now wear her make-up, look good and get out of the house
She can now dance in the rain as her bundles of joy sprout

But she has a divorce coming, soon
And, she looks at it with a positive eye

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Navriss and Rhane

What is this that I feel sighing within my breast?
What is this that I feel breathing within my chest?
What is this that I feel whispering up from my heart?
What is this that I feel murmuring in the seas of my soul?

These are the questions I hear calling out to me in the sunlight
When the waves lingering in twilight glimmer like flames of red
In the sighing of day giving way to the stars and night
I hear these questions whisper across my face as your eyes have done

I have come to believe in the night sky, because I saw you there
I have come to believe in the twilight rain, because I heard you there
I have come to believe in the swaying trees, because I felt you there
I have come to believe in the quiet clouds, because they speak of you there

There beside the light of the silent fire burning in the echoes of yesteryear
I laid down by that failing light and basked within the eyes of heaven 
Watching down over you as they watch over me and they answered me too
In the wind that came to wash away my doubts through these leaves

Where do you go when dreams take hold of you and into slumber you fall
Where do you go when dawn brushes across your skin and into day you wake
Where do you go when noontide washes the world and your eyes you close to rest
Where do you go when night returns with her shimmering veil sweeping you along 

Those are the wandering tides breaking over my heart this night
As I sit on this sacred ground listening to the music only I can hear
When it sings in soft murmurs to me of you in the memories of my life 
The day I first heard your laughter in that smile that breathes again in my soul

Will you welcome me with open arms and eyes when I return to you
Will you welcome me with a smile and glance to still my striding heart
Will you welcome me with a grasping hug and tear when I stand before you
Will you welcome me with silence everywhere except in your kiss because I am home

Details | Prose Poetry | |

My solid point

She is my solid point
the nothingness from which the universe was created
I am an Architect
and she is the zero from which I draw my line.

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Christian Wine

 Christian Wine 
Christian Wine 
Fifteen Fabel 
Christian Wine 
CharlaX Fabels 
Most men reiterate the infirmities of flesh the scars so proud to show so scary 
but so worthwhile like Tom Sawyers Toe. The boys eye meet on the street hold 
up they shirts and say look so neat the knife came all the way across and then 
they brag so braggart the facts and get another illegal drink for most of them use 
the alley they are too young to sit the bar stool anyway. The seldom used door 
long locked against the thief they lean upon each other's arm in misery for one 
so young to fall prey to john barely corn. 
The eye used to drink it down convinced it was the best thing in town and let me 
tell you all it was hard to put it down but the punch line of my story is the sobriety. 
Jesus saves in different ways each person is not the same. He never changes 
but the person changes to fit the mold of HIS direction. The soups cold and the 
meat is not too hot and the butter never melts but eye am so happy not to drink. 
The wet rain falls upon my brow and makes me frown but somehow the son 
always shines for me as well and love is just around. 
The edges of my mind are filled with happiness her name is love she is ewe my 
loneliness is gone my loveliness has come. 
Rules for English words stop me from making rhymes and so the words come 
out so strang and yet she thinks she loves she moves the mountains between 
us and GOD is in my heart and love is also there from her to make me live just 
until it is time to die and leave her to carry on in Heaven to build a place to stay a 
picnic ready to be eaten in the grass of Heaven just inside the doorway. 
There were many people stories in my bible to read there was a Nazarene who 
never cut his hair it is said they never drink wine? 
He is drinking wine in Heaven with his JESUS now. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Covenant of Belief

I believe
I believe in hope
And I believe it’s a good thing to share my soul
And I believe it’s a good thing to scream and shout
I believe in tears
I believe
I believe in the possibilities of joy
I believe in confession
And I believe it’s a good thing to purge your mind
And I believe it’s a good thing to unwind on another
I believe in commitment
I believe
And I believe that there’s someone who cares to listen
And I believe that there’s nothing wrong in trusting another
I believe
I believe in sacrifice
And I believe in the sharing of our burdens with another
And I believe in the understanding of another
I believer in redemption
I believe
I believe in aid
And I believe in asking for it when I need it the most
And I believe in asking for it when I cannot understand it all
I believe in chance
I believe
I believe in the minds of others to see that which I cannot
I believe
These are things I believe in
I believe
I’m still here because I believe in the fairy tale love
I’m still here because I believe in life and the future
I believe
So must you

Details | Prose Poetry | |




Charlexes Fabels 




This poem is about me the JesusFreak Charlaxandroidoneseven. 

Homeless scrounge a little better than a thief my legacy is poetry as eye leave 
this world behind to go on to JESUS Heaven eye write and leave behind some 
thoughtful insights of this life. Snail mail was nice. She afforded me the bus ride 
that makes the life so much better than the walking endless walking always late 
no one is talking anymore of sending me my latter day relief. All my websites is 
always free my poetry is added in the hopes that gentile readers everywhere can 
see the JESUS freak in mee.   

As eye ride the bus eye see into the futyre it is bleak there is nothing saved no 
money towers castles laundered pines nothing will outlast the fire. 

Money is not god only in this lifetime did the eye even afford to use some eye 
cannot repay my source it all comes to me from GOD. You and yew and ewe and 
even eue too cannot repay the LORD. Bread and corn and silver too no he did not 
ever promise all of that to you but Abraham my father had some GOLD and so 
does the Charlax told a heart is given me in love she knoes just how much eye 
try to endeavor in my eye to give her love. Food Reported just TODAY there is 
some popped corn in a bag and eye am wearing brand new jeans again that 
makes THREE pants for layers but BOZO iz not jealous eye look just okay and 
very nice today I'm eating bread no wine sober is the man in love iff she is 
reading this one see her smile it is enought for love to win the time to return to 
heart to make her remember love. We have the same heart in the same place in 
the same body and when she smiles at me the world turns right side up and 
upside down. Nothing is perfect and nothing is without problems but ewe she is 
perfectly in mine. 
eye am cutting all my fabels in the halve this is part one

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Kingdom Of Love

 The Kingdom Of Love 
The Kingdom Of Love 
  in the kingdom of GOD where eye now dwell, 

               eye would live in her dreams, 

                 being her secrets, 

                    The love she has borne inside of me. 


                         in the river of love, 

                   eye would only hang on, 

                 going on to the truth, 

                        on our way to the sky. 


                 to the end of our journey, 

              we would never ever hurry,           

              and all the loves graces, 

                 from the heart of one woman. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |


The eye decided on a love sonata or an enchilada of a fable made in love.
Eye have a girl she rocks my world she makes me think of beans and things she 
loves so fine she listens so well she does it all the live in tells me what is means 
to love and eye will answer ewe with this tell me what is means to live with 
someone has a love inside a heart and eye depart for worlds unknown when my 
babay calls me on the internet eye positively moan in some sort of whimper that 
she must never here for she will love too much and mabe even disappear. If she 
could see the purple ecstasy my gragon wings leave upon the scars of a 
forgotten past she could not last another day. Someday we will kiss and help me 
then for let me not get much too elder than eye am now for the old man that eye 
become wants to kisss his love and never stop. Someday comes in the movies 
there is love. Most people show out showing out is fine when one is young but 
there is time when a man gets too old to show out much. The weight begins to 
sag and the hanging gardens of Babylon become the south of Franco buttered in 
rum and left in cold too long. Later comes to me most every night most every time 
eye love. Myopia is a universe of ewe.
AS eye am loving ewe eye am loving myself amid the fantasies of youth the 
vagarities of aged mage as the wonderful heart she it is that loves me gives to 
this myself me and eye and all of mee eye cry if left too long upon the shelf 
please add mee to your mix for love is meant to be taken in self graduated doses 
earning kisses we imagine the hearts so kept in tune.
My love is enchilada and love sonata so hotta for mye ewe.
Ewe oph please drink JIMBEAN whiskey make coffee in a plastic jug and learn to 
drink it cold. Hold both hands and kiss them melt the CharlaX meet the man reap 
the love be mye ewe keep the heart what would life be without the love.

Details | Prose Poetry | |


St.Charles Parish 
When René Robert Cavelier sieur de La Salle claimed this vast country of 
Louisiana for King Louis XIV on April 9, 1682, the French Empire in North 
America extended from Hudson Bay in Canada to the Gulf of Mexico. During the 
next five decades, attempts were made to colonize the land and to integrate 
Louisiana into the military, political, religious, and economic fabric of the 
monarchy's New World holdings lover. Lonesome Charles has said he loves her 
more for all of this. 

St.Charles River 
The Charles River is one of the most beautiful urban rivers in the country. In 
cooperation with the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, the US Army Corps of 
Engineers has implemented a program that not only protects the urbanized 
watershed from flooding, but also safeguards valuable wetlands and provides 
areas for wildlife and recreation lover. Listen to me early in the day the love has 
grown and far outweighed the sad. 

Saint Charles INFO 
Much of the information used to create this web site was found at the St. Charles 
Public Library. The resources found in the Local History Files and Reference 
area of the library contain information that can be valuable when researching 
local historical buildings and people lover. Please keep me ici and ewe will 
never lack for bliss. 

Commonwealth of Virginia 
County of Charles City 

As Virginia invites the nation to come home to its birthplace in 2007, Charles City 
County invites you to visit a place where you can discover it all - Four Centuries 
that made a nation, Three Cultures that formed a union, Two Rivers that 
embraced the land - all in One County, founded on the idea of representative 
government - the idea that made America ewe lover . This secret poem is being 
read by ewe this secret poem is stating this. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Fabel Sixteen

 Fabel Sixteen 
Fabel Sixteen 
CharlaX Fables 
Famous Charles' 
Historic “Charles” 
WE now explore the the Charles of HIStory or HiSTORY LOLZX. 
The History of Charles County 
Where can you find great seafood, enough history to fill several books, top-flight 
golf, first-class fishing and acres and acres of some of the most beautiful forest 
land on the East Coast?? The answer can be found just eighteen miles south of 
Washington, DC, in Charles County, Maryland -- an area that has become a 
Mecca for heaters and anglers, and a magnet for history buffs and seafood-
lovers .ed.note. This is a love poem of some propulsion to see iff she is looking 
closely at the mee. 
Saint Charles Inn 
The Inn, formerly known as the St. Charles Hotel, was built in 1913 by Mr. and 
Mrs. Charles Barthle. It was widely known for its' hospitality to commuters on the 
Orange Belt Railroad, which came through San Antonio. Many visitors came and 
stayed for the winter season. Word soon spread about the family atmosphere 
and delicious meals prepared from their garden lover. She is so faithful and so 
blessed and gives my heart a rest she loves me best. 
          Charles Demuth (1883-1935) 

"Deem" as some of his friends called him, was born in a Lancaster house on 
North Lime Street. At age 7, he and his family moved to the King Street home 
where he spent most of his lifetime. Demuth's health was frail; from an early age 
he suffered from lameness and as an adult from severe diabetes. He graduated 
from Franklin and Marshall Academy and studied at Drexel Institute and the 
Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts in Philadelpia.P.A. Lover. She travels hard 
and she has to work too much she needs to rest. 

Details | Prose Poetry | |

31Fabel Part two

31fabel this is part two please read part one first

All Hail the Power of JESUS name a  song on you tube a great refrain the ewe is 
so sublime she loves my lord she loves the SON as much as eye. Healthy is a 
term designed to fool the masses in a hopeless mess of ashes a world 
destroyed by fire imagine holding on to preconceived ideas and religious 
gnashes biting thorns of crackers smallish pieces of the breaded JESUS come 
and ruin all decay in me today and fill my love with healthy life and let her live and 
bless herself amen and take all my nerves and mend them without whiskey let 
me win the battle is now mine the end in sight the day is come the walls of 
Jericho are falling all around. 

We both like Fogarty the singer of the creedence song. 

We both like dandelions' how they come apart. We both like dragonflies the 
wings so far apart. Rain in the summer love in the winter life in the spring. 

The little silver color in the box. The happy that we do when we talk man and wife. 
The prayers that come to the mind unbidden as we talk yearning just for kisses 
yearning just for time to love. A robot heart hidden in a real love an android one 
charlax seven molded in the form of a CREEDENCE song. Without an ending a 
poem never stops in side of heaven is my love she it is that rules me lets me 
love. A wonderful purple flower hidden in a tall tree it is she. This is charlax seven 
android one.