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Prose Poetry Friendship Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Friendship

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |

TO DARREN - SOME STARS SHINE BRIGHTER

SOME STARS SHINE BRIGHTER Some stars shine brighter Some waves crash stronger Some winds blow warmer Some days are lovelier Some friendships are eternal... During our lives we meet a lot of people But some will conquer a special place in our hearts They'll be the ones for whom We'll fight a little harder We'll cry a little stronger We'll cheer a little louder We'll worry a lot over They are the ones That will always be there for you Laughing with your happiness Holding you during your tears Some are in the same city Others on a continent away The distance doesn't matter For we carry them always In our minds and in our hearts So they're never really far away from our thoughts So my dear and sweet friend Thank you for allowing me in your life For always be there for me Thanks for being my rock You've a heart of gold The most beautiful soul Your light shine thru your poems Your care and attention thru your words I'll be always here for you too Cheering for you every step of your way... Take care of yourself and come back to us fast... And... never forget... To just be yourself Because you're simply perfect Just the way you are... ...and very much loved, my dear friend... Love you, Darren March 28th, 2017

Copyright © Claudia Polydoro | Year Posted 2017


Details | Prose Poetry |

Lucila

So I walked into my local supermarket
to buy my weekly shipment of Kit Kat bars,
Cinnamon Toast Crunch,
and Ovaltine powder mix.

As I shake off the snow on my fake Timberland boots,
my skin,
coated in frozen animation,
thaws into warmth’s teardrops from
the supermarket’s 75 degree vents.

This moist sense of happiness was quickly interrupted
when I heard Wilson Phillips, “Hold On”
over the PA system.

Thankfully, the cutlery isle was just to my left. 
So, now, I had plans!

But, before I could commit felony’s song,
I saw her.

A Portuguese goddess
with a strut that can ruin a man’s dignity.

She had Autobahn curves,
dark brown curls of hair & visuals,
and thick flesh meat that even Vegans would envy.

Her face lacked Maybelline coated misapprehension.
Thank God!
Cause I never did like clowns.

After staring longingly at her,
like a crack head with impulsive eyes upon a broken/unlabeled bag of baby powder,
she breezed past my stifled posture and clocked in to work.

She didn’t even get a chance to smell my $500 cologne called “Piece of Me”.

So with new-found urges to grab all my groceries,
like a burglar who really has to pee,
I rush to express checkout. 

There she is.

Her register beeps in coupon lady’s rhapsody,
while my register needs a cleanup on Isle 9.

Now it’s my turn.

With girlish inner-screams of boy-band intensity,
I say, “Hi”.

She scans my apples, while I scan her melons.
The melons that the customer ahead of me didn’t want…
…they were on sale.

Go fig.

As if she read my mind,
she asks,
“Are you feeling warm now?”

“All I want is to be the heat in your moment”,
which I almost said.

But, “Now I am”, is uttered.

As she smiled with seductive demure,
she handed me my receipt
with her phone number on back.

As I left the market,
I began to get cold again.

These winds of change
became gusts of numbness.

I locked myself out of my heart.

I turned around to go back inside.

Only to discover, 
she didn’t have the key.

© Drake J. Eszes

Copyright © Drake Eszes | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

My Best Friend

I had nowhere to turn, had nowhere to go, this is just something ,I think you need to know! I don't know what made me trust you, I still remember the day, when I told what I had been through! I thought, I should jump off, or go hide in a hole, but then I followed whatever you told!
As each day grew longer, my trust became stronger! Each time I wanted to cry, you stayed there right by my side!
Then I moved to the twelfth grade, I was really afraid, that my trust would slowly fade, But I was very wrong, the bond is still strong!
Even Though you don't have time, you at least ask me if I am fine! You are just seen for a while,with your contagious smile! And then you walk away and you are out of sight, I smile and then things are alright!
I am so glad,that you were there when I was sad! You are the one on whom I can always depend, And this is what makes you...MY BEST FRIEND

Copyright © sakshi sitoot | Year Posted 2014


Details | Prose Poetry |

Of True Friends - and Frank

True friends are kindred spirits. You know they are true friends When the barriers come down. . . when nothing that you say to them could make them like you less. And if they feel offended or let down by you, you only have to talk things through. Faults are forgiven; understanding prevails. My best friends (other than my four fantastic sisters) I’ve mostly met through poetry. Some of them, as my friend Frank would say, are unlikely. Frank is the first "guy" who welcomed me most warmly and encouragingly to PoetrySoup when I came here almost two years ago. I came to learn much about my new friend: Frank Herrerra was born ten years before me in an environment much different from my own. When I was a small child, quiet and withdrawn, Frank was out carousing, and when he was in school, he was strutting down its hallways like a king. I know this, for he told me. True friends let their conversations take them to any place at all. . . . and it’s all good. He’s told me things sometimes I couldn’t quite believe and later confessed he had been joking. I guess I’m gullible, but I don’t mind. I never had a teasing older brother, but if he’d been my brother, I’m sure that he’d have been the very best! Despite all Frank’s bravado, he’s compassionate and sensitive - those qualities of the poet with heart and soul. Best of all, he is sincere. Unlikely friends - maybe. True friends - I hope forevermore.
(inspired by the sweet poem Frank wrote for me today)

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

SCOFFING LOVE

2013
Vicki Acquah


                                 SCOFFING LOVE

 Which witty poem did you inspire in me, what sincere praise did you give my words when I thought enough of you send a poem your way. Which line did you write with my spirit surrounding you? 

What song did you sing when you thought of my name? Why did you say you love me? What have I done to make you smile, how did you get in my head anyhow? What part of me did you arouse. 

Why do I say I love you.?  Were you sincere when you said amen to the wisdom that I shared, were you one of those who thought your mocking, was more valuable than compliance. I have lived with the resentments of scoffers.
 I digest your response with a gulp. 

I thought so much better of you. I do not have a real clue, as to why you would be the one to undermine and scoff at love with snide remarks of false pride; I was called to this throne you seek to banishing me from. 
This cannot be done, no man can put asunder what was set in motion by the higher laws of nature.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       I speak of the ills in society, I speak of false realities.  What you didn't say holds fast inside.  
           
I saw what you didn't do, and wonder why. In-spite of your mockery I still have a love inside me, that adores the greatness in you!  Even if you choose to undermine; this only bothers me because of the effect it will have on you, only my friends who are genuine, will continue to ride on my cloud of joy. 

Receiving no threats, as human I be, human, with the attributes of goddesses. Take what you like and leave the rest of me. 
That's why I so perfectly ...tolerate you. 

Because of the worth I see in you. And of course, what is left of you need not be disturbed. One day you will figure things out, one day you will know why I shared a part of your life. 

One day you will see what they value in me, it’s not because you scoff love deliberately that I speak, it’s not because you will give in, but because you are better than this. Because the miracle of love and fate combined will one day comply with your finite mind. I know who I am even though you don't ride on my rhythm, or step to my drumbeat.  

I see you tweaking to my heartbeat. Yet more will be understood bye and bye.  
To those who feel, and appreciate each others poetry:  
Eventually the meaning of things will be revealed. 

Who knows why scoffers scoff whenever love speaks out. Just be patient and wait, sincerity and love never needs defending. All you less callous people, who seek understanding as opposed to malice, just wait at the top of the mountain. 

One day with open eyes the slackers shall join you there. No need to compare, we all need prayer, as long as we are not stuck on the slippery slope, of contempt, as long as we who hold the rope are willing to pull our brother up with our words, the poets words :
 
The message for the masses is hope...so, I live  for the poems you send my way. For, I grow strong in our relationship sailed by the winds of your encouragement, to my poets, my true friends; I truly know who you are, don't ever think I don’t!



Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2012



Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

My blessing, your curse

Where else do you want to mock me? That my Sister is a Whore? And she owns miserable men under her Lure? Or is it that I have intense body Odour? Maybe you will taunt the clothes I once wore which you already tore. So, what else is it? That I snore? Or that a drunkard is my Family's Core? Is there anything more? Or something laughable you really saw? Perhaps, you just realize I'm poor? Please anymore flaw? If you're bitter, it isn't my fault don't use me as the Salt on your wounds. I know, I stimulate the stretching of your Catapult and my smile makes you want to join a Cult Even with the Insult, never forget that I'm mere Human who can halt; despite not giving a damn just to make you understand that I'm simply a friend.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

BEAUTY IN THE EYES OF THE BEHOLDER

Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
It’s a common saying that is decoded from the look of a man
But of a truth, genuine and true beauty is beyond what the eyes can see
Only the heart can feel it
It glows with such power, even the ‘blind’ will perceive
Regardless of our status, rich or poor
Aboriginality, the language or cultural background
We all can see and perceive this inner beauty with the same view
One advice for my fellow brothers,
Always by pass the look go straight inward
And from the inward, outward appearance can be well appreciated
And advice for everyone
As you take time to make up the physical beauty
Create more time to nurture the inner one
For when you are inwardly ugly
The outward projection is nothing but a fake 

(c) 2010

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

Bell's Blues

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

Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry |

Burned

Hiss, Hiss, Snap goes the lighter
And he walks ahead
Just like a fighter
Click, Click, kaching goes the money
And he leaves with his poison
Why am I laughing? This isn't funny
But I can't help but laugh, laugh, laugh
My face hurts
My mind is starting to drift
And boom! Something bursts
I'm the boss of me
And I'm not so right
What do I do
I'm losing my own fight
Who is this?
This isn't me
I can't believe what I see
Hiss, hiss, snap goes the lighter
And he passes it round
Down, down, down, goes the fighter
We all make a sound
Crash, crash, crash
We are heading
Burn, burn, burn, we are burning
But, no one is learning
What did I do?
What was I thinking?
I can't believe I wanted to
I'm the boss of me
And I'm not so right
What do I do?
When I let myself lose sight
Who is this?
Who is she?
What did I do?
Is this me?

Copyright © Rebecca Berezin | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

FOR MY UKHT AL-KUBRA

MY UKHT AL-KUBRA I have one sister in my home Sweet, loving, with open arms and heart With dark brown eyes And an inviting laugh And a passion For life. I have a sister at Soup Sweet, loving, with open arms and heart Both my sisters are so different Yet one thing is the same: I love them both With all of my heart. My sister at home has her Arabic name. My sister at Soup stil hasn't. To me she is an inspiration. So, my dear inspirational sister, Below your name in my language: ILHAME - INSPIRATION The picture is Ilhame in Arabic calligraphy (pronunciation: eel-am) Your Kalakeolelo

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

You Haven't Left

You haven’t left my heart
You haven’t left my mind
I’m just trying
To give you some time
Something happened in your life
You don’t care to explain
Or just can’t talk about
Until you feel the time is right
It’s o.k. my friend
I can understand
Just don’t think of my silence
As coming from an uncaring heart
For I would freely give
All that I’ve got and am
To be by your side
To be your confidant
For you mean much more to me
Than a simple hello
Or kiss in the night
You’re the very hope
That brings light into everyday
And I’ll be there for you
In any way that you allow
You’re not just a hand to be held
A touch to be felt
Or a pleasure conquered 
You’re the very hope
Of what life could be
Were I to be the one
To win your heart
So while you take this walk
Know it doesn’t have to be
Or really isn’t alone
For you haven’t left my heart
You haven’t left my mind
And should you need or care to reach
My hand is always here

Copyright © Mike Hamill | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

Welcome To the Soup

Welcome, Ms. Valmer!!  Glad you are aboard- now you can comment on any 
poem, right after reading it....and try your hand at your own, should you choose.
Lotsa great people here.  PS- could not open greeting sent- comp. needs 
something installed - some file, I'll have to find out how to do it.  So glad you 
joined! Luv, tom

Copyright © johnathon bart | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry |

A Perfect Love

I never claimed to be perfect,
and yet she wished it so.

An unspoken promise
to which I never agreed;

And now she knows
that unrequited part of me
that took a lifetime to overcome;

And now she sees
with eyes wide open
that I chose to return;

An unspoken promise to her,
now realized:

I never claimed to be perfect,
and now she knows it’s true.

Copyright © Jacob Welch | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

7 Gifts of the Holy Spirit Prayer

Lord God,
Stretch our mind/s with deep understanding of Wisdom
To obtain positive understanding with every complications
Counsel us with guidelines in our work

Give us Fortitude, strength, Patience and Tolerance to finish in peace successfully
Deliver knowledge in our mind/s
For us to receive Piety, goodness and devoutness to get satisfaction
With Holy Fear of the Lord-God, I/we ask in the name of Father Christ Jesus to be with us now and forever.

Amen 
09122012

People can change the “our” to “their”, “him” or “his” when praying for others.

Copyright © Jacqueline R. Mendoza | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

Your My Dear Friend

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

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

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

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

Copyright © Perry Campanella | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

DRUNK AND IGNORANT

A noble story one that ought to be our good host laughed and swore the games begun. Come match the knights tale if you can sir monk. To bellow arms and blood and bones he swore. A noble one I'll pay off the knights tale lets do this right. You tell yours by and by either I'll speak or go on my own way. Everyone listen but first i will propound that i am drunk i know it by my sound. For I'll tell a golden legend and a lie. Forget your ignorant drunken bawdiness it is a sin and great foolishness. Tell us of other things you'll find to lack i see you are angry with my tale but why. cuz you are a fool your head is overpowered by the wine. If you are not enjoying yourselves then cut off my head but as i drink my wine and ale. Whoever won't accept what i decide will pay for everything we spend along the ride. So hold up your hand if you accept my speech reflect a little and don't hold me to blame if you choose wrong don't lay it on my head. And both of them had bawdy tales to tell theirs no sense making earnest out of game.

Copyright © craig schaber | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

Never make a perminent decision on temperory feelings

Never make a perminent decision on temperory feelings. I cant take back the words i never said. When me and you are together nothing is better . He was so easy to love , but i guess love wasn't enough .The past is ment to be left behind , the present is ment to be lived now and the future is ment to make you everything you are. Ending everything isnt as hard as it seems i guess it will just make everything ok for me. People don't change , they just become the person they were really supost to be .

Copyright © craig schaber | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

MOTHER TONGUE

We had a steel-coiled fence 
that kept us apart;  kept in purity,
spoke out in purity.

We played Barbies in a tree that
bordered each side, not knowing
it had a
zone.

Our Barbie world was created; 
dresses hung on branches
little mirrors for wee doll hands;
leaves assigned our closets.

I gibbered and you jabbered, and
the worst thing happened, I learnt
English, but what happened to your
French?

Language traveled through the holes
of our steel-coiled fence.

Copyright © Gisele Vincent-Page | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

Birthday

Birthday 

I am a citizen of that country
Today is her birthday
Surrounded by barbed wire,
Waiting for the command of firearms
I think that everyone has birthday
Somebody knows, somebody doesn't know
Sometime valuable, sometime worthless.

They have countries, they have rules
Mathematical formulas are known
They have birthdays, festivals
Then the red , black, white, how many countries
They have birthdays.

If give up all the barbed wire, discrimination
Mothers would be same with the smell of soil
Mother would be human being
Then birthday of the world, to me, your, everybody  
So today I feel 
My birthday has become one of the world's birthday.

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA

Copyright © Sandip Goswami | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

FRIEND IN YOU

(Tatyana Kasima)

Life is a journey of countless sub-destinations
It’s in stages and phases
Life is a function of time a subset of different season
Wet, dry, winter, spring, or summer
Each is experience one at a time
 
Life continues as a journey
When the journey is far
I am empowered to keep moving
When every thing seems locked up and become tiring
I received encouragement never to look down but keep focusing
 
When the sun is at its peak
I am hopeful there is a shade ahead to hide my head
When it’s stormy, heavily rainy or snowy
I know with an assurance
That the house ahead will take me in
 
Just in a land of different culture and lingual codes
I feel at home because I have a friend that knows, trusts, and believes in me
He is the reason I’m encouraged and the source of my strength
He is the house and home that take me in
He is my beautiful angel sent from above
I bless the heaven for the friend in you

© 2011

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

Desert Peace

           Desert Peace

Man's desire to live apart
   savage and unruly.
Hiding out among misfits;
   kindred spirits.
Entwining allegiances
   bask softly in the desert sun,
desperate to find a peace.
   Peace that blooms in every soul,
each one at his own pace.
   Growling and groveling until havoc is wracked
and there is nothing more left to bleed.
   Summon strength from the hearts weakness.
Commit thyself doubly, 
   as you would a passion pursuit. 
A lonely soul is one whose direction is misspent.
   Live as the lizards and mice and hawks do.
Quiet, peaceful-obedient to self.

Copyright © Erin C.C. | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Up in Smoke it's Reality

Fantasy like Reality can be a disappointment...
Clearing the Air........

He worshipped her from afar...
He had since he was three..
He hid it well , no one knew...
She was his heart’s desire...
With her big bright eyes and her winning smile..
He never thought she would beguile...
Then he turned ten and it was clear..
It had been she who did inspire...
this young man ,with his heart on fire... 
He arrived at seven in the morn...
To help prepare the feast de jour...
He stuffed the bird and chose to make..
Her favourite dessert...fresh Raspberry cake..
He feverishly cut and whipped and stirred..
Grandpa ‘s little helper was becoming quite the gourmet chef...
Then came the time to shower, and get dressed...
He chose his wardrobe carefully...
Making sure that he looked and smelled hmmm good....
She arrived and you could see him beaming proudly...
Everyone feasted on the bird and ate their fill...
He waited on her as I watched..
No one even blinked an eye..
They spoke for what seemed an eternity..
His face could be read for all to see...
Then out of the blue, she excused herself..
And went out on the patio to puff some stuff...
His face went white, I could see his plight..
She chose to be with others you see..
Who foolishly did an atrocity...
The one he worshiped from afar..
Went up in smoke...as she smoked her cigar...


 

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

I HAVE YOU

(Dedicated to Penny Wilcox)

Nice people, rear to come by without ulterior motive
 Good fellows tend to strain from doing what they do
Because of unpleasant surprises they sometimes get
Bad girls are everywhere pretending to be angels
Animals in human physique living “animalistic”
But you are different, of exceptional attitude
I believe that your virtues are divine
You are a fabulous creature that really exist
Radiant, full of happiness and love
You are sweeter than honey pie
Eagle –eyed with supersonic focus
My first love that saw the need to smile in me
And always encourage me to do smile
You are not too old to be my sister
Neither are you too young to be my mother
I am whatever you want in me
Very perfect to be my friend
The first to know by revelation that I’m blessed
I know I am a blessed man because I have you as my friend

© 2010 

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

About INDIA

Americans say that India is the largest democratic country .

Asians say that India is the country of spiritualism .

Australians say that India is the country of huge crowd . 

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

Europeans say that India is the country of philosophy . 

Politicians say that India is our strategic partner .

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

Communists say that India is the perfect soil for communism . 

Capitalists say that India is the market of products .

Historians say that India is the center of history .

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

Everybody says many many sentences about India !


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

SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA

Copyright © Sandip Goswami | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Riding in the Rain

Rode over to visit a friend today, she paints with colors in the most lovelest of ways. no 
charcoal or water with color, just oils on a canvas. she allows me to watch. word-less i stay 
for hours sitting in gaze.at a point she turns to say,what color should this be? look at the 
color of what you wish to paint,this is the color of it should be.she coolly turns away.
so a sun-shine rain begins it's windy spray upon this paint-able summers day.we cover the 
canvas in a most coveted way...to shelter we dash.
so i mount my bike from which i came cycling home,riding in the rain.
return i will another day,perhaps it won't rain,upon this other day...

Copyright © gary bechter | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

Evil Companion

Great it seems but constantly feeds you with bullshit gradually piles in deposit as the newly formed bad habit exhibit and remit. Its foul smelling spit is highly contagious and transmit then an innocent soul inherit with the good conscience gradually suffering a delete. Now the new creature almost reaching beyond an edit. Everything, it seems to permit even the abominable becomes legit the bad and the illicit constantly pay a visit. So far is the door to its exit an uphill task will be required to quit. Before such a line is crossed open your heavy eyes and know that the road may seem smooth in tar and tiles but its end is a large dark pit. Flee from its fleet of hungry soldiers or else, one day your throat, they will slit.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Happy Christmas Poetsoupers

                                                                           Join
                                                                          hands
                                                                        and pray,
                                                                       let there be 
                                                                   light where there 
                                                                is gloom, let there be 
                                                             love where  hatred stalks. 
                                                         Realise hope  when despair 
                                                      overtakes our day, walk in honesty 
                                                   and truth, carry the shadows of kindness 
                                                 and humility throughout your life. Be gentle 
                                             of heart to family and loved ones, be tolerant of 
                                           faith and thoughts of fellow man. Be akin with others
                                         less fortunate than ourselves, be humble in the eyes of
                                        your God. Hold the memories of those passed, distant or
                                     on duty dearly, on this birthday of all birthday's pray for the 
                                    infant child of all nations. Peace and your God be with you all.
                                                                            xxx 
                                                                           Love
                                                                          Peace
                                                                           Hope
                                                                           Faith
                                                  Happy Christmas and a brilliant New Year
                                                                          Daniel                                         
                                                                              xx 












                                    




Copyright © Daniel Cheeseman | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

An End to Aloneness

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

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

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

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

                                                                              But I would like to…

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

Copyright © Molly McCarthy | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Familiarity

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

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


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


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


Copyright © Wendy Meyer | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

YESTERDAY HAS GONE BY

I believe that yesternight has gone by,
And this is another day, 
A brand new day,
A very beautiful one.

All I could see is the rising of the sun,
with its beauty and energy,
Ready to beautify, 
And illuminate this day. 

All I wish is to be like this sun unto you,
lighten up your angelic face to a lovely smile,
And a source of encouragement to launch you, 
Higher unto greater achievement.

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande | Year Posted 2012