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Prose Poetry Miracle Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Miracle

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |


“Peace” whispered a child. It was an arbitrary gust that carried the word to a 
young man who repeated it out loud in a very positive tone. “Peace” he said and 
the message caught the ear of a sprite old man.

Loudly he spoke into a fast moving breeze “Peace’ he declared and the air 
carried the communication miles dropping it into thousands of ears.

“Peace” roared the crowd and the word grew wings and flew into a hurricane 
that echoed in the ears of the masses.

Millions uttered “Peace” and in an irony of nature the moving wings of a tiny 
hummingbird sent the expression on a trip that encompassed the whole planet. 
The declaration fell on every ear and every person was sure their God had 
spoken to them.

Maybe he had because from that day on every human had the spirit of peace in 
the blood that flowed through their hearts. Peace was now the liquid that 
sustained them and with it they could explore the beauty that existed both 
within and outside of them.

“Love” whispered a child. 

Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

The MIracle of Life

Thoughts spun from rays of sunshine
Visions painted with a rainbow as a palette
Smells concocted from freshly cut pine trees
The gentle sound of a spring rain falling
The feel of a soft summer breeze upon one's face
The soft breathing of the loved one asleep at your side
These are but a few of the images, sights,
sounds and odors of life upon this earth
They are yours to discover and enjoy should
you only open your mind and your heart to
the miracles that surround you.

Copyright © Charles Gragg | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Helen Keller

 Helen Keller 
Helen Keller 

 This is what eye remember about the MOVIE of course eye never knoe her. She 
was moving constantly moving at least the actress who was portraying her but to 
a boy it WAS her it seemed so heart wrenching a thing to just be blind there is a 
SCHOOL for THEM they do not function in the real world and there she was big 
as life the boy in my had that CRUSH upon her from the instant eye saw her it 
was strang puppy love. Winner of the 1960 Tony Award for Best Play, “The Miracle 
Worker” tells the incredible story of Helen Keller, a young woman trapped in a 
world of silence and darkness. Deaf, blind, and mute, with no way to 
communicate, she fought anyone who tried to help her with an intense, furious 
desperation. Then Annie Sullivan came. A strong, determined, half-blind woman 
fueled by her troubled past, she began the daunting struggle to reach Helen and 
bring her into the world at last. She was so pretty in an odd sort of way swaying to 
the tune of musick only she could see and hear the idea that she tried to 
overcome her handicap and live was so nice to this little undergod. YThis semi-
sequel to William Gibson's The Miracle Worker recounts the early adult years of 
the profoundly handicapped but brilliant Helen Keller. Helen, played by Mare 
Winningham, enters college, with her friend and mentor Annie Sullivan Macy 
(Blythe Danner) by her side. As Helen's international fame grows, she must 
withstand the pressures of those who'd treat her as a freak rather than a human 
being as well as Annie's near-strident demands that she excel at everything. The 
multi-faceted Ms. Keller lived too much of a life to be squeezed into a mere two-
hour running time; the script betrays the strain of trying to show us more than it's 
able by wrapping up everything in a hurried, unsatisfying conclusion. see part two 

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry |

Helen Keller: The Miracle Continues

Helen Keller: The Miracle Continues was initially telecast as part of the 
syndicated Operation Prime Time package in 1984. ~ Hal Erickson As Annie 
Sullivan and Helen Keller, Anne Bancroft and Patty Duke could not have been 
better. The battle of wills and wits between the two is engrossing, becoming 
quite involved and very interesting. The lengthy dining room struggle alone would 
make any movie worth watching - it is worthwhile even beyond the interesting 
action itself, as it brings out aspects of human nature and human learning that 
go beyond even Helen's own trials. 

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry |


You’re walking near the run-down end of downtown
And you see an old woman selling flowers, hand-picked, maybe worthless weeds, 
Or rejects from an uptown florist’s, or stolen from a park someplace;  
And she offers some to you and you ignore her as if she didn’t exist - and keep walking.
Naturally enough.

Then ten  paces later you realise it was your own mother
Who you  haven’t seen for twenty years.
So you double back incredulously cos  last time you saw her  she and dad
Were living retired in a small apartment in a nice district and all was ok.
Without a word you put an arm around her and whisk her into the seat of your car
And drive her to your own home, sit her down  and give her some coffee,
And help her put her feet up on the sofa:
Arm around her grubby coat shoulder,  you listen as she tells you how dad died
And the pension fund collapsed and then she ended up on the street selling
Third rate flowers to pay the rent on some tiny damp squat in the projects.
You tell her her days in that squat are over, and her flower slave-business is finished, 
And that she will from now on live with you and you will look after her;
And how you are so horrified about what has happened to her since you last saw her.

She sleeps that night on clean sheets In a warm dry bedroom, 
After a late night supper with you.
And her  life begins again.

Wouldn’t   it be nice?  It’s the way it should be....absolutely.
Trouble is, that old flower seller isn’t your mother.
And you keep walking.  Naturally enough.
Her own son is drunk somewhere, or living it up in Vegas.
She’s his mother, but she isn’t going to be miraculously found. 

Wouldn’t  it be nice if you were her son?
Yes,  absolutely it would be  nice.

Copyright © Sidney Beck | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |


Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem:  Nucleus 
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: June/2014


                     N       T                 
                 E       •      E              
                     C      R

                    the nucleus 

                        being -           
                       the way

                          you -                          

Copyright © Ken Jordan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

was it easy or was it tough

Was it easy, was it tough 
Can't you see, can't you see 
I have tried to make it clear, but I guess you are too blind to see. 

Why is it so hard for me, but so easy for you to let go 
Was I so easy to just be forgotten or was I just a face in the crowd. 

I imagine me in your shoes and try to see things your way. 
I try to find out what went wrong which made it so easy for you to walk away. 

I wonder how much time you took and what things you must have asked yourself. 

Did you compare me or did you even give me enough thought. 
Did you think of all the time I have been there for you and the concern when sickness struck you or was it just one silly mistake which made it easy for you to decide everything. 
I wonder and wonder or was it just me. 

After hearing my story people say to just move on, as it was just something written on a paper which could easily be torn down. 
I just wanted to ask them is it so easy or is it just me. 

I start to think and try to make sense. I try to be my own hero and fight my fears and wipe away my tears. 
In the end I just ask myself WAS IT SO EASY OR WAS IT JUST ME

Copyright © nayantara george | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

My Medjugorje Miracle

My Medjugorje Miracle

I’d heard about Medjugorje before but it was a place 
I’d never been and would probably never go, I thought.
Surrounded then by people who had been, 
I listened as they shared their stories of miracles and healing.
It did my heart good to listen to one story in particular, 
A beautiful story involving the Holy Spirit and Vicka’s smile.
As I envisioned her smile I began to feel a joy and peace I’d never felt before.
Everything went quiet and as I raised my head my eyes settled upon the grey cloud that had appeared in the room.
I found out what a special place Medjugorje is that evening.
Truly it’s a place where Heaven touches Earth.
Truly it’s a place I know now I must go,
Because not only did Heaven touch Earth that night, 
Our Lady touched my heart.

by Jean McLoughlin

Copyright © Jean McLoughlin | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


The Tigris and Euphrates,
they flow like time, 
murmuring and sighing
and running their individual courses,
cradling Mesopotamia,
their land, 
in life, 
and flooding the plain in alluvial soil,
for cities to put down deep roots,
the wonder of humanity.

Copyright © Clifford Chapman | Year Posted 2017