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Prose Poetry Heaven Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Heaven

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |

Love Is My Heaven

~“Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her,
But Romeo may not."
- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 3.3

~Blind am I to be of love? Here be mortal eyes, seeing with mine heart. Whereupon earth, I behold her at all times. There in deep pools, from pebble tossed, the rippling flow of her hair. There, where lies the dew upon the buds. Her moist red lips awaiting my favor. In the courtyard fountain's purl, tis the beauty of her laughter. All about me is her visage, from waking morn, to deep twilight. Even the moon does look upon me. Gently caressing my face and does kiss me with her light. Blind to love I cannot be. Not when her love is my world, my eyes, my heart, my very being.~
For the contest, Romeo And Juliet; How Tragic Love Is

Copyright © Paula Swanson | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

A Brand New Year

My Heavenly Father it's a brand new year and I'm still here by your Heavenly Grace and that's perfectly clear. But there's fear, I'm stuck in first gear so in 2017 with so much unseen, on you I'll have to lean in order to stay clean. So I'm asking for your blessings, for strength to preserve and a change of atmosphere.

Yes Lord I want to spread my wings, grab the golden rings, there's songs to sing, here comes spring. Thus I want to stay on board, keep traveling upward, if to you I keep coming toward there's a great and beautiful reward.

But I'm all mixed up and it's a bitter cup for this stage in my life is new, which keeps me wondering what to say, what to do? I want my mind to stop churning, to become discerning, to obtain understanding while learning. So in Lord Jesus name I do pray, but HEY, I'm already headed the right way.

Although I'm in a world that's totally material where  what you have makes you imperial while boarding on insanity because it's all vanity, like trying to apprehend the wind. Without you Lord the world's success is hollow many loose their way trying to follow and finding it's a very bitter pill to swollow.

Still, we kill ourselves for Earthly treasures, trying to aquire them by any means, any measure cause the flesh is all about pleasure. After living the way of the world and constantly stumbling, hard lessons I've learned which have been humbling and I thank you Lord for under the circumstances you gave me a second chance.

I'm tired of going wrong, it's time to live right so in Lord Jesus name I pray for insight, to make my life complete, standing on solid concrete and to be discrete. For you are my Heavenly Father and the best of friends who is with me until the very end.

So I thank you again for being so kind, coming right on time and giving me my rapid fire rhymes, for making things clear and giving me another Blessed Year. In Lord Jesus name which I do acclaim, you deserve all the fame and may you forever rein...  AMEN

Copyright © Milton Robertson | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |

Love so amazing,so divine

The world  needs amazing love,
The world needs surpassing love,
The world needs redeeming love,
A love that can bring healing,
A love that can bring support,
A love  that can give solace,
The love that was shown by Christ,
A love that gives it's all,
To make a better place for all,
A love that can move mountains,
A love that works wonders,
A love that is infectious,
That brings innumerable followers,
To bring heavenly joy.

Copyright © Jesudason Atputharajah | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |

Where I Come From

Where I’m from
Would you like to know
Where I was born
From whose seeds I sow
Not from the hill country
Where beautiful flowers bloom
Not by the river
Where brides marry in June
But I’m from a place
You’ve never been
I’m from the depths of hearts so true
I’m from the soul of hearts once blue
I’m from the joy of what’s meant to be
I’m from a place you dream to see
I am an angel
I’m from above
I was born in a city
I come from love.

By Patricia Templeton

Copyright © Patricia Mitchell-Nunn | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Healthy Conversations

Life as active love evolves toward more polycultural communication,
across both species and time,
within Earth’s Solar EcoSystemic Universe.

While this conversation includes human natured communicators,
we suboptimize our ecological balance
if endo-human discourse monopolizes our lifetime learning dialogue.

A life devoid of communicating with Earth’s diverse languages and dialects,
rhythms and patterns of development and decay,
consumption and root systemic production,
cannot optimally support sustained mental and physical health
of humane mindbodies.

Over-investing in our internal human natural and racing anthro-centric communicating systems
may have both caused and resulted in our atrophied RightBrain “yin” enculturation potential,
perhaps more richly rooted in temporal-neural norms 
of RNA nature-therapeutic cousins,
reverse-hierarchical nutrient fold-flow root-systemic
Elder Tree and Plant Forms with Organically Sustainable DiPolar Balance Function.

When we give thanks and praise
we already often remember to include our namastes and Amens!
for these our more inclusive nutritional conversations,
for Earth’s cooperative economic evolutionary transactions,
for our Open Solar EcoSystem’s sustainable climate Creation Stories,
for interdependent Great Transitions,
for crises co-arising courage to turn down our LeftBrain AnthroAlpha-language enculturation,
to tune back into our wider dialectal capacities
within Earth’s diurnal and perennial,
polycultural praxis,
as read thru (0)-EgoEco Balance
as Yang/Yin Prime Octave Temporal Frequency Harmonic Balance,
as Left/RightBrain BiCameral EcoPolitical Balance of EcoLogical Elders,
speaking DNA fractal-development fold-function open frequencies,
within octave primal 4D equivalent PolyNomial SpaceTime,
Prime-BiLateral CoOperative DiPolar CoArising NonDual ReLovingship
of Earth’s dualdark compost voices
singing Sun’s solar-elational multisystemic octave frequencies
thru HumaneEarth’s evolving ecologic-dialectic 
reiteratively autonomic temporal-neural communication network,
WinWin self enlightenment,
self-perpetuating eco-polypathic.

Perhaps the difference between Positive Psychology mental health
and Earth-perpetuating regenerative evolution
is nothing, 
Zeroism self-tautologically dipolar appositional-soul humane-structural defined,
as more cooperative political and economic dialogue networks,
now co-evolving,
CoArising CoOperative WinWin Networks
following digital syntax-fractal rhythms
of reverse-nested octave-byte flow patterns
of healthy nutrient-social-political, and, soon, 
even more cooperative WinWin economic digital languages
of PolyCultural ReGenesis REVolutions
as resolutions of multi-paradigmatic (0)-autonomic temporal/neural associated dissonance,
appositional dipolar with primal Tao-natured confluence.

Now, if you, like me, have yet to finish your first and last cup of decaffeined
quasi-guilty pleasure,

Allah knows that even ants consider this stuff, taken straight,
without any chaser, 
what kind of conversation with Earth’s Day am I starting
with this cup of decaf, skimmed milk and refined honey?
Tasty, but probably not self-optimizing mindbody behavior,
stirring up some dissonant caffeine grounds
for further anti-resonant lack of fluent conversations
if only due to my unceasing need to pee.

anyway, I'm back,
I think,
therefore we are,
this is a lot to take in through our eyes and ears
about our tastes and feels and smells
as Earth’s endosymbiotically evolving conversation
about how to Great Transition
from LeftBrain cultured imbalance,
back to those brief Golden Elixir Moments
in blissful primal EgoMemory,
of knowing love with Earth
as peaceful light and root communication
thru some primally nutritional health system,
possibly dualdark or “notnot” or dipolar yin-rooted
in Earth’s TransParent BlackHole BiLateral CoArising Future-as-Past Memory,
YinYin = WinWin Balancing Universal DiPolar DiaStatic Yang CoOperative ReGenerativity,
(0)RiginalMega Point
of Time’s YangForm with Yin-FractalFunction-Squared
Prime (0) PolyNomial CoArising Frequencies.

For me,
it seems more ego-therapeutic,
and hopefully ecotherapeutic,
to listen to the stars,
the crickets, birds, frogs,
rivers, surf, wind, fire, rain
about this climatic dis-ecological pain we share
than to read the morning paper.

Sometimes I hear more about what my humane Ego truly craves
to see and feel and smell and taste
by listening to music
singing love
sometimes also speaking of love
as food for mutual enrichment,
life’s open dialectal gestalt,
rather than listening to Presidential non-dialogues,
competing rather than Both-And cooperative conversating,
rapacious word-weapons
rather than rhapsodies with harmonic,
even operatic,
CoArising Original Design Intent.

And, should mental health
Both-And Positive Psychology
have anything at all to do with steering clear of
LoseLose hierarchical-monoculture-exclusive power structures
of mutual competition, 
each EgoPlayer
must reiteratively choose to speak either Win or Lose
and is prohibited by Ego’s LeftBrain bicamerally self-blinding investments
to BusinessAsUsual repress,
become sad,
suffer from LeftBrain dissonant enculturation loss,
chronic stress unlikely to notice slower Win to CoWin BothAnd options,
regenerating revolving Eco-RNA/DNA-Centric Solidarity,
political with eco-normic and logically rational LeftRight bicameral balance,
love as synergetic life
in RealTime co-incarnating healthy conversations
on co-vegetating EarthBound matters.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

One Pair Of Hands

"Make it your ambition...to work with your hands".  1 Thessalonians 4:11

My dad was a coal miner,
Worked with his hands all day.
As evening came, he took time,
To fold those hands and pray.

A pick  and shovel were the tools,
16 tons for his pay.
Calloused hands gave this service,
It is the miner's way.

A family to feed, clothe and guide,
A home where we gathered with love.
That's how it is in Windber, PA,
With guidance from above.

He taught me how to prune a tree,
To mow the lawn and such.
Landscaping and trim the hedge,
It really was not much.

Your hands, he would say,
Are guided by God's Son.
He healed the sick, raised the dead,
Christ is the special one.

He raised His hands in prayer,
Loaves and fishes He did serve.
Broke bread and served the wine,
More than we deserve.

These hands nailed to a tree,
An innocent man condemned.
They bled as He asked His Father,
Please bring it to an end.

One day we will be with Him,
In glorious heaven lands.
Please find a place for your servant,
Look at these working hands.


Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


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?
you are staying

If you may.
I pray.
While I find a place (for us)
in the picture of eternities,
the gods must be 
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 |

Sacred Secular Identity

We all have emerged from one nutritiously multicultural heart,
one sunlight into
one DNA patterned and structuring rhythm compliance 
with resonant RNA.

Predestined to remain within harmonic restraint limits,
yet free within these interdependent limits
to play ecopolitical WinWin healthywealth all day
every day and night
each in our own sacredly native nature way.

Utopia is polypathically multicultural.
We all know what Paradise dreams look and smell and taste and feel like 
to a girl baby in Africa
as to an old gringo in the Americas. 
These are the opposite of Hell,
ubiquitous monocultural excesses melting into LoseLose ecopolitical climates,
regardless of where and when you land and plant and grow on Earth.

What, then, are the ecopolitical merits and demerits
of a social justice,
much less an entire Earth Justice,
that we intentionally take off the scales of value-balance
when blindly thinking and speaking of criminal/victimization justice?

For which of us has never lived in both landscapes,
that of utopian benign intent
and that of environmental terrorist outcomes?

And when do we most need and long for justice,
when we are well fed and among healthy social friendships,
or when we are incarcerated, without family and friends,
without good nutritional food, 
shared meals feeding fertile listening and speaking?

If we seek ecopolitical wisdom,
if we can remember what it is to be homeless,
to become hungry for food and love,
to be ostracized and humiliated for poverty of positive social resources,
all of us remembering our moments with and among and as
economic and political non-elites 
struggling together,
like twins for evil and good,
then we can co-empathically trust
that our best optimal criminal/victim justice
is discerned through ecological, 
ecopolitically balancing,
peace-filling mutually mentored climates of graceful co-arising mercy.

Ecopolitical justice
always begins with (0)-sum Mercy!
I know we're all doing the best we can
but this is not yet regenerative enough!
Not yet healthy enough!
in-between sustainable climates for elites within all us non-elites.

More explicated Interdependent polypathic regenerators
are already empowering cooperatively with multicultural others,
others yet implicately wending our metaphysical way
toward Earth Rights
as Golden Maturing PostMillennial Empty/Interdependent Regenerative Norms.

Norms and rules and laws and values and climates and landscapes for healthier nutrition
for elite victims of our collective pathological subclimates
and non-elite self+other-victimizing criminals 
defying internal/external climate health's opportunities and risks,
appositionally-interdependent as holonically (0) sum bicameral polypathic,
co-arisingly dipolar,
multiculturally eco-criminal and ego-victim alike.

While it remains difficult to define both paradise and pornography,
we know them both when we interdependent/empty
sense them.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

The generous mother Earth

How generous you are the mother Earth
It is from thee that man was made
You have made man un-thirsty
And your benevolent in giving out of nothing is inexplicable
You feed the worthy and the unworthy
We are till forever indebted to you
To return what thy have taken from thee!
The heaven can never be ungrateful
For the inexplicable water supply
That has made the heaven glamour
That has made the birds of the air gorgeous and flamboyant
They can never fail to pay thee, the last tribute
As to return the expedients taken from thee!
You have continued to bring out valuables
That prompted the regalia of men
That necessitated the pride of plants and flamboyant flowers
That yielded the live of insects and man
 They wouldn’t hesitate to vomit explicitly what they have savored
To the generous mother Earth!

Copyright © Nnachetam Stanislaus | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Birds Of A Feather


We The poets, and songsters, 
with pure hearts; Revolutionaries,
whom have lived and died for truth 
will sit among us there.

Birds of a feather flock together;
Red ants go where red ants go.
Giraffes don't hang with the water Buffalo.

When you die, there will be no room where I am.
You have lived your life and worked your plans.
Now you want to be in the room with me.!
There will be no room in the room I am in.
We be the people of the lesser sins.
Oh, ye of pernicious deeds:

“Opprobrium” be the name posted 
on the room's door that you'll share.
So, go inside and join your kind there.
This time will not be separated by Kin or skin.
But by the state of mind you kept your soul in.
So now go sit in a room named “OPPROBRIUM”.
You all there are of like minds, 
and have committed archaic crimes.

Child molesters, murderers, thieves, and the like.
You shall smell each other’s stench forever. 
And never sit among the righteous.

Surely you shan't find me, 
because I am not your kind; 
So, there is no room, 
in our room for you.
Your mind and deeds, 
dwell with the deleterious, 
that's where you belong.

We be birds of the same feathers 
shall sing a familiar song; 
Water Buffalo shall roam with
Water Buffalo’s. 
Red ants will go, where Red ants go; 
Giraffes will water themselves 
in different watering holes.

Me and my like-minded poets shall dwell 
with righteous, like-minds and pure hearts, 
laughing, reading, and enjoying 
each other’s thoughts.
We who have intentionally done no harm; 
Will continue to speak truth and 
defy the reprehensible. 
We will all cross over to the other 
side, and seek our own kind.
Poets, truth-seekers, and 
scholars shall exchange stories.
We will laugh, reminisce, and write.

This room be filled with us of the lesser 
crimes, enjoying, adoring one another 
for we all are of one mind. 
At one, with one another and the 
Creator; We are the Poets, 
Storytellers, songsters, 
chanting out our rhymes. 

There is no room in our room, 
for we are not your kind. 
Birds of a feather flock together:
Like minds go where like minds go.
“Giraffes don't hang with the Water Buffalo”.
Take heed from the simple life, forget about equality. 
The Creator then made man in his own image
designed by his own mind,
and placed each with their own Kind.

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |



King of Kings,
And Lord of Lords.
And He shall reign,
Forever and ever.

Are these not the words of Christmas?
Did Jesus lose Sovereignty after His birth?
Do we just forget this through the year,
Does the Son of God lose His worth?

The Christian Faith lives in a Person,
Not just an accepted creed.
He was born, lived, died and arose from the dead,
This is the Christianity we need.

Christ is the personal, Living Center,
Of all things we believe.
He remains the Church's Sovereign,
His resurrection saved you and me.

We know the enjoyments of this life,
The pleasures that come our way.
But the Christian belief within us,
Helps us make it through the day.

Christianity is more than a history,
Of ancient writings told.
It is the very source of truth,
That comforts when we are old.

We are different Christians than our parents,
Who lived a life so true.
They gave the love and knowledge,
That would guide and comfort you.

We are challenged to pass this message,
A belief in God and His son.
So that our children may know and learn,
He truly is the one.

This Easter is a reminder,
Of the Christmas message brought to all.
It took His Death and Resurrection,
To save us from the Fall.


Copyright © Raymond Morgan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

A Trip to Heaven

Sitting working in my private room a grandfather clock ticks and tocks so very loudly,
Like a metronome tuned into my mind my eyes become heavy my lids slowly begin to close,
My mind drifts into very dark places, jet black places with a tiny white dot way off,
I walk towards the dot and after miles and miles it started to grow so much brighter.

Looking behind to see where I started there was nothing just the darkest of dark black,
I have no choice but to keep on walking towards the white dot now confused and scared,
After hours and hours I reach the dot but it is not a dot now it is a new bright world,
There were green fields greener than I have ever seen the trees had heavy velvet leaves.

People walked towards me they were smiling they were happy I wanted to shake their hands,
But they hugged me and held me and talked so kindly my troubles and worries disappeared,
Young children skipping, my new friends laughing it seemed I had known them all my life,
Being with these people was pure happiness we walked up to a white mansion we went inside.

A beautiful girl came running out to meet us she stood in front of me and gave me a rose,
It was the reddest rose I have ever seen it was frosted and gilded and drops of dew fell,
A man with grey hair and a white suit sat by a piano and began to play the sweetest tune,
I leaned on it's shiny surface and could feel the beat of soft hammers on wire, pure music.

All smiled and clapped when this maestro had finished my friends giggled as they saw my joy,
They asked lovely questions nice questions I enjoyed answering as they made me feel good,
We got up and began to walk back to the place where I had first met my wonderful friends,
We talked we laughed everything was about nice things I could feel the smile on my face.

Then the man with grey hair and the white suit said it was time that I made my way home,
Still smiling I desperately wanted to stay forever he saw this and said to have patience,
They stood in line by the entrance each person hugged and kissed me tears ran down my face,
The next thing I knew I was in my private room the grandfather clock still going tick tock.

I thought about my wonderful dream those wonderful people and still felt very warm inside,
It was all so very real and was very disappointed knowing it was just a lovely sweet dream,
Those people in that beautiful garden blessed with such loveliness they seemed so very real,
Standing up and stretching I saw something by the door it was a beautiful rose frosted and dewy,
It was the reddest rose I have ever seen.

Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Finding Faith in my own Library

Finding Faith
What happens to those who lose their way..
And don't understand to whom they should even pray..
To something that they believe is or is not real..
Although right now are confused because of how to feel..
Loss and so much of suffering to those who are so good..
And we are  supposed to believe it's just a test and still should..
Believe in God's plan for all that happens in our lives and that..
Questioning our maker is not what is right and so as I thought about it and I sat..
I thought of all the bad things that have come into our friends and  family's life and then..
My thoughts turned to how much love surrounded us with each of these horrible things and started to ponder once again..
I may not have faith for myself yet but I do see...
There must be something better for all of us and one day we..
Will either meet our maker or turn to dust and then...
There will still be no pain whether or not there is nothing or really is a heaven..
I pray for others and now for the answers I seek...
To get faith back into my life and my heart and to keep strong rather than weak..
So dear God I would like you to know I do believe you are there in some sense..
Because in a few cases I have found that without love that surrounds me I would already be in the past tense..
I promise to try and bring back my passion for life and believe in you once again..
It may take some time but when my faith comes to full tuition I will probably be in front of you then..
Praying that you forgive my sins of the past..
To be reuinted with my family and loved ones at last..
Buffy Sammons..

Copyright © Buffy Sammons | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


Pharisee went into the Temple to pray
Sure of his goodness and love for God
He prayed confidently about his deeds
Fasting, tithing, praying, He did faithfully
This man was glad when the sinner came
Into the Temple with eyes downcast.
For it gave a perfect contrast to himself.
So he thanked God he wasn't like this sinner.
Sinner was bowed so very low before God.
"God have mercy on me a sinner." he whispered.
No list of good uttered, as he could see none.
Jesus said Sinner not Pharisee was justified.
Simon the Pharisee invited Jesus over to eat.
Simon didn't have servants wash Jesus feet
He didn't kiss Jesus or draw near for fear,
Fear of what others Pharisees would think.
In came a sinful woman with unkempt hair.
She wept at Jesus feet without looking up.
Carefully she wiped these feet with her hair.
Simon was now sure Jesus was no prophet
A prophet could surely tell she was a sinner.
How could he let her touch him that way?
Reading Simon's thoughts Jesus taught.
Using this contrast in real life as a lesson.
He asked Simon if there were two debts
One greater, one lesser and both forgiven.
Who would feel greater love and gratitude?
Simon replied, "The one whose debt was greater"
"Correct" said the One who would pay all debts.
Those who know their debt to God is great.
Are filled with greater love toward the Savior.
Simon showed he had little need for the Christ.
But to the woman. Jesus said, "You sins are forgiven."
"Go and sin no more." She stood free and esteemed
Precious are those who come humbly to the Lord
He will forgive and welcome them to His Family forever.
Humility. Pride. Contrast. Mixed in all of us.
People who come to God feeling worthless, Christ lifts up.
People striding in proudly, Jesus humbles to allow entry.
For the Lord's Kingdom's door is incredibly low.
So low that we enter only through true confession
From the heart to Jesus as Savior who humbled Himself
Coming down from glory to earth's mess to make a Way.
By humbling Himself on a Cross – Universe's God tortured.
Jesus contrast makes ours seem small – so why wait?
May we take the humble road to Life, risen Christ made.
Joining God's family of forgiven, freed, joyful sinners.
New life's contrast with old will grow as we follow Him.
By a thankful sinner now saint by Jesus' grace

Copyright © Scott Bronner | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Chocolate Heaven

Happiness surged within her
As she slowly kiss his finger tips
He whisper and sighs!

“Make me hard with your eyes.
My chocolate heavenly prize
Grant a dying man his wish”
“ all I need is you”

Copyright © Annie Lander | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Letter that made it to Heaven

( Ripley believe it or not) This occurrence I wrote happened a few hours ago, these are actual facts, deep emotions, listen to the emotions
{Comments are vital if felt}
I'm remarkably beatified, glorious augmentation, God your child is appreciative for the commendation, I (THANK) my relative Brandon Presley for the pickup, a unusual feeling about the ride, intelligence battling hardworking and vacationing, praying while a magnificent vibe of hip hop melodies is temporarily blasted, on the other hand God in no way comes last, finally the decision was final, no mystery I accepted hardwork, this brand-new meditation that plunders in my brain lets out," Your Grown, No one else can do this for you." I recognize its the humbling tongue of Lord God, God has been so good to me, and this indicates when can't is being necessarily used, I (CAN'T) over express God has been good to me, for the sake of its the truth, I believe in God, no shames a stern truth.
- Loverboi

Copyright © Kenneth Melvin | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Pleasure in Possibilities

Writing my prose,
Sometimes I try poesy,
another pleasure.
Untrained. Unskilled.
But, what a joy!
to freedom,
my thoughts I find.
And so, as day by weeks
would turn into a lifetime, could be
the possibilities concocted by gods
may be.

Copyright © Wendy Meyer | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |


Can ewe balance out those two final hits against the lives saved those that would have 
continued WAR on Asian Soil those days of hell of hurting men caught by bullits and the 
bayonets? Can just two bombs blasting death be counted as salvation won for all those 
young boys girls old men women who died instantly in two Atomic Blasts over those two 
cities of Japan. Nagasaki Heroshima eye have seen the END of time the BOOKS of GOD are 
open when the Dead Arrive. Arise all sleepers in those Graves can GOD usher in those 
SOULS into new places now to stay is there a place for JAPAN in Jesus Heaven? For those of 
us who sinned and suffered radiation burns lost our skins and mortal coils gone some died 
just screaming out in pain all normal living gone perhaps no time to say your HOLY NAMME 
of Jesus. Can they live there inside your heaven is it still possible that you forgive them for 
once upon the time it came to me today that a Just and Perfect GOD adjudges perfectly 
those in suffering words can not describe no time to utter words of salve; but deeds looked 
at made right by YOU salvation won given now to all. Eventide has come today to those 
whom tomb decay whom die threw no fault of there own. Just hit twice dumped down on 
Killed with anguish very slow. A special place in heaven for all those special people of Japan. 

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2009

Details | Prose Poetry |

Changing Directions

	I was driving on Confused Avenue, only to find a T section at the end of the Avenue, I had to turn left, turn right, or simply just turn around.
	I sat in my car, to read the street signs.  The street sign to the left was Hell Street, the sign to the right was Heaven Highway.
	Quite naturally, I turned right onto Heaven Highway.  I drove 10 miles only to find Heaven Highway was blocked, so I had no choice but to turn around.
	Instead of turning back on Confused Avenue, I decided to drive down Hell Street because I was curious about what I would find.  I drove 5 miles and didn’t like what I saw.  I tried to turn around, but, I realized I was trapped, so I continue driving on Hell Street, oh and to my surprise.
	As I drove, I past intersections titled Judgmental Court, Temptation Avenue, Backsliding Lane, Gossip Corner and Devil’s Plain.  I said to myself, these are the same streets I’ve traveled on before, no need to stop, I need to drive on. 
	I continue driving on Hell Street looking for a way to turn around, lo and behold, I saw a bright light shining in the middle of the road.
	I drove as close as I could to the bright light, I stopped the car and got out for a closer look.  I walked into the light and was greeted by a man who was kind and wise.
	I was so scared, but he assured me I would be fine.  He said I saw you driving on Heaven Highway….child, you can’t get to heaven driving that way.
	He said, In order to get to heaven you need to know about  Judgmental Court, Temptation Avenue, Backsliding Lane, Gossip Corner and Devil’s Plain.  
	I told the man I once lived on some of those streets, so I wanted to see where Heaven Highway would take me.  It was blocked, so I couldn’t drive through.
	He said Heaven Highway was blocked for a reason. You forgot to repent and ask the Father, through His Son Jesus, for forgiveness.
	I closed my eyes, feel to my knees and I started to pray, when I finished praying, I  opened my eyes, the man, and, the bright light had disappeared.
	I got back in my car and turned it around, that’s when I realized I had been driving on Heaven Highway the entire time.
	The Highway to Heaven is not a straight forward drive, there are so many detours along the way, that force many to turn their life around.

Copyright © ROSALYN LAMPKIN | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

Leah's Angel

The stale and dusty, lead filled air
Began to stir in widening breaths.
Pinpoints of light, ionic particles charged with power,
Picked up momentum, as reality stretched.

Excitedly, they began to spin in quickening orbits
Leaving sparkling tactile meteor showers.
Then flashed a brilliant light, so pure and white, 
It tossed me, crumbled, to the quaking floor,
For seemingly raw and unconscious hours.

Dazed, and disorientated, I feared the worst.
Was Death about to open Its ever-ending door?
But, around me grew a radiant hum, louder still it rumbled,
Until at last I braved to slit my eyes
To see, if only for a moment, what marvelous
Spectral filled the space, causing my life to tumble,
Twixt heaven and earth, twixt heart and soul.

There, mighty, glorious, beautiful
Beyond words or understanding
Suspended in the ether between heaven and earth
Was an Angel of Light, illumined by immense beauty and power.
Hand outstretched, She beckoned me, to rise and closer come.

I dared not breathe or blink my eyes, lest She disappear from sight.
But more than sight, or sound, or touch
Her proof was in the mighty waves;
Waves of Energy, radiating frequencies so high, they lifted me to 
Resonance; enough to see Her shape, Her robe of light,
Her all knowing piercing eyes.

Then She spoke to me in pictures, revealing in simpicity the very foundations 
of the earth, the moon and stars, and far flung universes.
She shared the truth of Power and Light, comforting me with the mere slight
Movement of her illumined, translucent hand.
She dismissed the dense lie of my earthbound body, and commanded forth
My own radiant, pulsing Body of Light, too beautiful to comprehend.

Then a voice so powerful, so filled with Love and Grace, 
Neither male nor female, without form or face,
Spoke to me from all directions and all dimensions of space.
As if to confirm my personal divinity, It said, “You are immortal, eternal, and 
Nothing can truly hurt you.  Remember always Who You are.”

At once, I feared yet dared to see. 
I felt release, expansive joy sublime;  
For there was I, a matching Light, 
An entity of Divine Peace and Love;
My spirit one with Her grace and poise,
One with all creatures; as below so above.

Her mission now complete, 
Her image slowly faded into everyday surroundings,
Yet Her Presence lingered still; the energy of the space She filled
Still crackled with power and beauty; the very thought of Her still thrilled. 

Copyright © Chula Fleming | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

Juliet's Plea

~“Tis torture, and not mercy. Heaven is here
Where Juliet lives, and every cat and dog
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,
Live here in heaven and may look on her,
But Romeo may not."
- William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, 3.3

Juliet's Plea

Dost thou deem, heav'n only rises with the corpse
upon the last sweet breathe of virgin light
as face dost pale to pearl and roses leave my lips tonight
Romeo, my living eyes knew naught your purpose.

In sooth, I thought thee dead on that black night
and so, no other earthly joy could stay my heart
but heav'ns had we all, before this sorry plight
pray pardon love, I would nay have thee depart.

Abide, abide my love, my Romeo, alas...
by your leave, I hold St. Peter’s gate op’ for thee
And verily, I wait for time is naught in death 
and thee, my love, my Lord, are all to me. 

*Their love and their deaths were a scandel.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

Heaven rain

The sea is drying fast
The fishes are gasping to breathe
There is no hope anywhere
Oh! Sea how will be fishes survived

The last portion of the sea is crowded
Every fish wanting to live
This portion can’t contain all
O’ god at creation you did the usual

Every fish remembered God ability
Heaven sent immediate rain
The ocean, rivers and sea are fill 
Now the fishes can live again

Copyright © Olivia Nimley | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Drops From Heaven

Dizzy with heat, 
A city prayed for shield, 
Against boiling temperatures
Sun, the scoundrel
Stood up to its ill-repute
Of burning with fury
And played a prominent role
In this celestial display
Towering above all characters… 

Then enter clouds, 
So many of them, 
In all forms, 
Spread across the sky, 
Bright at first, 
Then growing dark…

Birds sing a special alarm, 
I could see the clouds pride slowly swell, 
As multitudes seek its benevolence…
In presence of the angry sun, 

Green grass charred brown…

Monsoon in her good graces keeps away, 
Till the winds garner strength, 
The atmosphere is all charged up
And the sky is overcast
And wandering clouds embrace each other
Their bosoms filled with the milk of love, 
In a swift turn of events, 
The clouds decides to shower 
Her affections on parched earth…

Slowly the sun turns pale and staggers behind, 
And lo, I see drops from heaven…

Finally rain arrives, 
Accompanied by thundershowers
Man’s holy and unholy desires
All gets washed away, 
Stems with weak roots gets ripped apart, 
Heat fades away and sickness disappears
And my surroundings teem with fresh greens
And bright new life…
Thank you God
For the healing drops... 

Copyright © Vinaya Joseph | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Healing Sanctuary

Poet:  Ken Jordan
Poem:  Healing Sanctuary 
Edited by:  Sparkle Jordan
written:  January/2014

A   sacred

Great Spirit,
resides -

dwells inside 
me -

I imagine,
is what

must be......

A sanctuary,
soundless -

Where voices
mute -

angelic souls

on clouds -

I live
Holistic Serenity.

my peaceful 


abode -

Healing Sanctuary

A place

dwells inside

 mind, body
and soul -

Copyright © Ken Jordan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


The world beyond
Holds mysteries unbound
Shrouded in dreams
Translucent figures gleam
Where ghosts and ghouls
And peace-loving souls
Reside in the domains
Of another dimension......

Can they feel, can they love
Are their lives different from ours
Do they live
In harmony and peace
No anger, no torment
Without resentment and discontent.
Smiles on their faces
Sweet and sincere, not pasted
Holding hands together
Unhampered by creed or colour.
A perfect haven for the weary
After a long, tiring journey?

Copyright © Helen Yeo | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Moon Shiniest Bright

The full moon shiniest bright inside its double ringed circle as I hoped to see the blood moon meteorologist talked about all week. 
Sad to say I missed the moment so many gazed with their telescopes and cameras. 

I pulled back the white sheer curtain to see the full moon shining its soft shine into my dark room. 
A brown curtain is all that keeps prying eyes from peeping in the sliding glass door at midnight. 

The wooded area so close behind my house hides much. 
No animals roaming, vertical or upright, can see me sitting, watching TV or on my iPad late into the wee hours of the morning. 

October 8 2014 sees another blood moon, but I missed it all. 
Maybe the next one will grace my eyes with its beauty. 

Copyright © Barbara Washington | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |


Times are changing
This time is strange
If I could give you the love my God once gave
I never want to put roses on your grave
It's too much to think
This time we shared
I wasn't a millionaire but I was on top of the world
You gave me that kiss
And I reminisce on a love once bliss
Cherished, the memory
Love doesn't stay
It goes away
I know you moved on and that was fine
You were splendor in my mind
This time it changes
And times are strange
What is love in these days of hate
Do you relate in a God that is dying and a a God that reigns
I feel too cold to explain
Just know heaven was never far away

Copyright © Clay Ward | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


I found myself, a lifeless corpse, finally, at the end of the line ~ mocking humanity
The warmth of the sun drawing my days to a close, once more ~ from, such, this great length of TIME
I perceived in some distance, far off from this naked human eye ~ the girl i loved
it simply must be
There was, indeed, little doubt of the presence of this ingenue’
No other way, but that, she, this daughter of aristotle had taken to form
And from the vestige of seas foam risen to shore ~ if only, so that I might believe
The sinking of my heart sang that i had dreamt this nymph before, up from the ocean’s floor, earlier upon that perfect morn
and She would have born of this prescience left upon humanity, her own sacred mark, by Horus’ primal witness
I felt as the falling petal of this saddened flower of life , now fallen to the blinding wind 
and some supreme voice opened her song, alongside the lilt of this setting sun  ~ and she smiled her dream down blessing me 
and The full release of the tides of her love  washed me clean
my body tempered for the rush of her beauteous breath, for it was my search to find this gift in each of these passing days, i savored the joy ~ and wished no more
even as her dream now found me, here, the fisherman upon this edge of this sacred shore

Copyright © Robin Little | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

an ancient love for another time

i have seen venus lingering in my dreams. she swarms me and warns me, of all the things you'd like to do. with a gental grip, she pulls me into august. the cicadas are back with the steady chirp of timeless memories. our love is vegetating in the basement of my old apartment. i am taken again by hand; so familiar and powerful. it is you, telling me what i want to hear, again. asking to hold my hand when nobody looks. kissing me just out of the public eye. how could something so wrong feel so divine? you are not mine and i will never be yours, but what we both share is common knowledge. in some universe, far from here, we are together and we are happy. we are in love and we understand this. maybe this isnt our universe or our time or our lives. maybe us meeting was a sick prank played by the gods. "fools! this kind of love is unearthly! you'd have to be a god yourself to deserve such divinity between souls!" and i will laugh and say yes it is crazy and so arent we. is it possible for two humans to share a soul? to be able to know what the other is thinking just by the part of their hair? what a silly game they've made us out to be. so rotten and manic, we don't belong in this humanity. we belong in the stars, with venus and cupid and all the lovers that met in the wrong universe. we are that of ancestry. no matter how slow, we will make it in the end. with unspoken promises and curious hands, our bond grows thicker than any god's plans.

Copyright © Evelyn Rose | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

Heaven and Hell

Life has no guarantees 
Death is no different 
Heaven is not up 
Hell is not down 
They are both achievable on Earth. 
Verily, an evil man can live a heavenly life 
As a good man can live in hell 
Paradise is a state of mind. 
Where everything falls into place 
And there is peace and tranquility 
Do not waste your love on a deity 
Made up by men of the past 
Give your heart to a human 
Pour your soul into theirs 
Become one 
Face your future's together 
Do not speed your way through this wonderful gift 
Rushing towards the promise of 
And paradise 
For nothing is guaranteed in life 
And death is no different

Copyright © cheryle sanders | Year Posted 2012