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Prose Poetry Pain Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Pain

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |


Voice: Jason Williams *** I danced! Whirling air around me, particles of sundust in tornadoes and hurricanes following me in awe I danced. Each night I wake and feel my legs The ones that once carried me and jumped so high The ones that took me away from a world I didn't want to be in Creating a dream, I danced. The music colouring a world with brushes and pencils With moves and muscle, practice and pirouette A world I thought no one could take away I danced. When my eyes are closed I dance My mind paints my body whole and healed A unicorn, a world of faeries, a galloping horse A world of dreams, veiled and away from hurt I live again I live I don't dance anymore But I write. My words, my lines, they carry me now My legs are useless, my arms and emotions Carry me So.... I dance again, in words I dance. *** 1st Place in contest: Practiced Passion Sponsor: Frank Herrera November 9, 2016

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

It's All About Me

I believe in lots of things I can't see 
My dreams are like a ship's consciousness 
drowned in the ocean 
I want to live for a reason 
How I wish I could resign 
from myself 

How I wish now I was wrapped 
on a bed neither to move my hands 
nor my feet 
I try to feel but I have no feelings 
My soul is rich my spirit feels poor 
I have a brain that feels unconscious 
I got married but was never in love 
I am alive yet I wish I was dead 

I wanted to stay but I had to leave 
I have tears but cannot weep 
I've got memories 
yet I crave to forget them 
I feel a storm coming 
without rain or thunder 
People die but I cannot mourn 

I am friendly but have no friends 
I think I am intelligent but I feel numb 
I thought I graduated 
but threw away my diploma 
I have a birthday with no wishes 
I dream yet I forget them 

I had a castle yet I feel I'm living in a hut 
I have courage but I cannot face it 
I am a body that looks like a skeleton 
My heart beats but I cannot hear it 
The sky is blue but I see gray 

My voice 
You dwell too much about the past 
that taught you to be so cruel 
I loved but nobody loved me 
The flowers were blooming 
but I saw them dead
I was a violin with broken strings 
when I could not hold my anger 

If I could only scream to listen to my echo 
I rode a horse without a saddle 
I was at the beach and I saw no ocean 
I walked on the land but felt 
only rocks 

My feet were bleeding I cut them off 
I wake up at dawn but I feel its dark 
I rang the bell nobody opened 
I was on the roof top and my soul fell down 
I watched a beginning it felt like the end 

Therese Bacha
14 November 2014.

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |


Being here is like being in the womb
Of the woman who carried you in this warm
Safe pool where all your worries were how to
Move your arm, how to not get entwined in that
                     Weird rope in the middle.

The water is cold, but not too, and if you close your eyes
You can imagine, you can JUST imagine what it feels like
To be so free again, and looked after and cared for
You can JUST hear voices quarrelling
And this very instant you realise this water is not
Your mother’s love just below her heart, her love
Is here all around you and she will worry if you float
                     On and on.

Most times this is how life is, trying to get a grip on it
But it evades like the little waves you can make with your hands
Little ripples in the surface that mean nothing
Like trying to get a grip on what people say around you
Words without meaning or at least it eludes you
As if swimming between fish with their own language
Forever trying to guess
                     And being rejected

Once you liked to swim,
Once you were a wee one
So with slow calculated strokes you move to safety
And sit shivering.
Not knowing how to live life and connect
Nor knowing how to stop life.
Once you loved to swim, hearing your mother
Sing to you from a distance. And that sound brings you
                     Back home again.


April 28, 2017
Copyright © Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |

My Farewell

                      If I forget you, would you remember me?
                       If I still love you, would you still love me?
                      If I fall when old, would you lift me up?
                       If I sleep, would you sleep by me?
                          If I run away, would you follow me?
                       But If I stay, would you stay with me?
                        If I see you, would you recognize me?
                               I know you would Not.
                           That is why, I wish I would whisper 
                               And not hear myself. 
                                   I wish I could cry 
                                   not feel my tears
                                    nor feel my fears.
                               Tonight, my final Farewell.
                                     Therese Bacha
                                     24 August 2014

Copyright © Therese Bacha | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |


Painting 7: FORBIDDEN

Before darkness steals the light of day,
entering as graceful as the morning mist
in the window ajar, the bitter breeze:
freezing me.

My light clothes short - dances with the curtain
but like the clouds, calm; I stand. My splayed
hands upon the glass condensation. 
I exhale in the cold, enduring dreams surge.
Over the years, my golden hair has grown 
an old rugged toy is my loyal company.
My eyes journey into the quiet of the world outside. 
I wonder what is beyond the sketch of towering trees
as each time the wind lullabies.
I behold their branches' dipping and bowing; 
I wish to smell the pines released, they tease.

I am a young girl and I am full of dreams.
Time races and I am forbidden; the limitless
horizon lures. Oh how long, I've wanted to reach, 
I've wanted to touch. I've wanted to fly, 
I even cried and shouted, I waited,
and waited but no one frees me.
~~Inspired by the painting: Child in a Red Apron 
(L’Enfant au tablier rouge)
Berthe Morisot
French, 1841-1895~~

__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__

Copyright © Olive Eloisa Guillermo - Fraser | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |

It Is A Sin

It is a sin for Gregory to be a miser even to himself accumulating infinite fortune with a half-bedroom to show for it It is a sin for miss Zane to gain special gratitude from her male mates. Coming late every night with a different driver, parading her flashy dividends as she becomes a model for fashion updates It is a sin for Sarah, not taking care of herself with her body becoming rounder but still feeds more than an entire Orphanage. Initially, a very attractive young lady but now looks like an Old sorcerer. It is a sin for Baker to be a clergy and at the same time a gambler lavishing in style and losing without remorse Hell will let loose if his sponsor is the Church's finance. Regardless of his anointing, he's still not beyond the people's wrath. It is a sin for Dawson to drive through many open legs as he jumps from skirt to skirt and acquainting himself with all forms of underwear, playing the bad guy who never gets caught. It is a sin to stay idle and observe them wrongly drawing conclusions from every action without minding their motives or reasons analyzing closely even while sitting from afar giving no consideration to the human Nature which exists in imperfection and faint stains. It is a sin castigating the weaknesses of others while overlooking mine thereby condemning the crimes I do not commit which does not make me better either. As much as they do not know where I faulter Judging them makes me worst than a sinner.

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

- Ass In Hole -

        This is the donkey; Alice

                 ... follows the rabbit into a hole in the ground

                 ... and this is;

             The beginning of a new fairytale

                    ~  I want to paint it yellow and blue

                               ... and send it to you  ~

           In short;

           All cultures have stories about how

           fairy tales

           come to the people

Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved


The Donkey
November 18, 2011

One day a donkey's ass fell into a well. The animal cried miserably for hours while the farmer tried to figure out what had to be done. In the end, he decided that the animal was old and the well needed to be filled again. It was not worth taking up the donkey.
He invited all his neighbors to help him. They got a shovel each and began to dig up soil and dump into the well. The donkey immediately understood what happened and used his last strength. Then it became absolutely silent to everyone's amazement.
A few shovels later, the farmer finally saw down the well. He was surprised at what he saw. For every spade of soil that landed on the back of the donkey, it made something amazing. The donkey shakes the soil of the back and took a step up
While the peasant's neighbors continued to fill up the well, the donkey did exactly the same and took another step up. Pretty soon, the donkey surprised everyone to step out of the well and run happily away.
There is a lot of dirt in life .... All sorts of dirt. The trick to get out of the well is to shake it off and take a step up. Every problem we have is a rock that we can continue on. We can get out of the deepest wells just by not stopping and never giving up. Shake it off and take a step up!

Remember five simple rules for happiness:
1. Free yourself from hate - forgive
2. Free the mind from worries - most never happen
3. Live easily and appreciate what you have
4. Give more
5. Expect less from people, but more from God

Filed under:
Inspiration, Wise words,
Life, Opportunities, 
Positivity, Problems, Cooperation,
Together, Stress, Strength, Success, 
Believe, Challenges, Options
- gold grains @

           *  ... watch out for holes in the ground :)

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |


What it is, this pain that kills my joints
This strange duvet of darkness while
I try to brush my teeth
What it is, the distance to my wheelchair
seems to have increased
in this small room
What it is, this self-inflicted isolation
This fear of seeing people
and of losing them

Swimming in a dark damp pool
Hearing people talking yet
Can't see them, here's the fool
That wants to dance but stays in bed

Splendid colours hurt instead
What is not the wish to block
While at the same time all is gone
And nothing stays in harmony
They speak and I hear their concern
It does not concern me, still it gnaws
My consciousness, my shame, my guilt
I better not be here, they better
off without me

Don't worry, I'm only showing you
The me I am when I'm depressed
But everyone is not going through
The same, we're different: at best

We share the overwhelming sadness
That has no words enough to describe
What it is. But this is what it always is:
Don't leave us please, for even at the
point of our deepest rejection of you,
it really is a cry to stay!
How contradictory we are

This is for me, it is for every person who
Is right now in dire need.....
Here are my hugging arms 'round you
Until you're back on your two feet.

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |

Accepting Pain.

She's sliding and if you look past, if you watch her.....

maybe you'll capture a glance of her yesterday.....

“Sunrise only falls when you don't believe tomorrow exists,” I explained, in my most
patient tone.

She bit her lip and shook her head, she followed me into my room and shut the door, she
locked us in, for an hour it seemed, and whispered in my ear....

“I can write pain better than anyone,” she informed me, “I'm brilliant at tears.”

And with this she tore pages out of my beloved sketch book, the one that no one is allowed
to touch, and just when my jaw fell with the shock of her brazenness, I shut my mouth as I
watched her pen turn letters into sobs....

I followed the words as they ran down, as ink turned into pretty swirls that screamed art
and I told her...

“Your angst belongs in a museum.”

I had never seen her smile before, I had never heard her grin, but her lips parted at that
moment as a single curl dropped down her previously wrinkled forehead and I saw the beauty
in eyes that cry and knew that she had realized I accepted it.

“Oh, but who would pay to hear me scream?” she asked, almost joking, as she crossed her
legs and sat forward a bit, as her teeth tugged on her bottom lip, as she looked more her
age and resembled a child instead of me....

“I would,” I replied, as I pushed back her hair and kissed her on the nose, “I would, if I
didn't hear you in my dreams almost every night.”

Copyright © JeanMarie Marchese | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry |


IMPLODING REALITY Silent scream wildly flapping of wings unseen around this crying head where eyes are no more and mouth a wide silence where ears hear only madness while mind is anywhere but sane Violence throws me out of bed every night on legs that collapse forgotten they don't work lugging, tug drag into that corner they fly around cursing me lashing out insane insane Eyes unsee, ears unhear, mouth unscream imploding reality If I am insane Why can I describe this so vividly? *** January 3, 2017

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |


When I closed my eyes they swirled before me, Like little atoms, protons in my hands, Little worlds of their own. The colours and the sounds, the smells. When I opened my eyes for the first time After, I could not see, But for those twirling coloured specs of light. Could not interpret, see what it was, Could not distinguish head or tail. Was scared when in the middle of These smithereens a voice appeared Saying things I couldn’t distinguish either. Life was frightening and complicated Back then. I am a little proton, Shining bright in the middle of the night, Opposing everything and everyone, Just because I am still around, am still here, Because I am who I am. I am a little proton, I am allowed to be here. I don’t need to be perfect, Don’t need to see, hear or walk faultlessly, I am allowed in your swarm of Dancing little colourful atoms, Me, your little proton. *** January 17, 2017 © Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |

Naked Truth

~~~ Naked Truth ~~~
We often feel
The society is filled with
Love, affection, adoration and romance.
But, the flabbergasting naked truth is something
It is not the apparent.
The world is full of turmoils,
Even a son parents spoil.
Conceit and complacency are everywhere.
Faith and trust are nowhere.
People treat their child as a 'wishing well',
In spite of intimate blood relations,
They are not wishing well!
Everybody is masked,
Full of false vanity and hypocrisy,
The world is the devil's place
Full of brutality,
At stake is the friendship,
In danger is the love,
In danger is the humanity!!
All rights reserved

Copyright © Arijit Bhattacharya | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |


Bitter Sister:

Don't want to leave
like this
want to pick you up
in my arms 
kiss you and tell
you - I have 
stored away and
this love I have for

Don't want to feel
like this,
Like the only way
into your 
heart is when it's
Making it seem as if
I hate you

When I just don't 
want you to hate me.
Never could 
I even dislike
you,snide remarks, 
I have endured-
Because I hoped,
and took the shots. 

Realizing that my 
defense was strong
my retaliation could

kick you into
I surrendered 
I Love you 
too much, to let 
you continue hurting

yourself, to hurt

You won't see me
As I aggravate 
your condition on
your guilty,trading 
places with
as I remind you of
well held onto

The truth is I want
hold you and tell
It's fine-
I want to clear your
let you see that 
the love is here 
It cannot be
I cannot complete 
the task;until you

Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |


Darkness all around, nothing visible,
All hopes down, nothing seemed feasible,
As i sat in an empty room full of thoughts,
Where actually i went wrong?
Answers for these questions i sought. 

I missed, i cared, i excessively loved you,
To the height of madness, obsessively adored you,
The beautiful eyes, the luscious thick black hair, 
Admired you so much, your softness so rare.

From the moment i woke to the time i slept,
Eat, smiled, laughed with you and even wept, 
All the time i wanted you with me,
Even if it is a little time i get free.

Initially u loved my maniac behavior,
All the time YOU, my madness never a failure,
Slowly you began to push me away, 
And started complaining about me in every way. 
''Possesive, angry, height of banishing freedom,
I feel like a princess imprisoned in a kingdom!
You dont understand me whatsoever,
My thoughts and views are nothing to you but haver. 
Don’t stick to me day and night please,
 I want my space for the stress to release. 

A gush of sorrow flowed through my heart,
In pieces it shattered and scattered apart,
Where was i wrong, i began to wonder?
Was loving too much, a point to ponder?
I only loved you with sky as the limit,
And wanted the best for you instead of cheap tricks and gimmicks, 
With a hope that you would be only mine,
As my wife and angel guarding me all life,
But your words don't show that your happy with me,
All the sacrifices i make are thus worthless indeed,
So whats the point of my loving you so crazy? 
When all you want is your space comfortable and easy? 
Am i a bot for romantic poems and care,
To cheer you up everytime and emotions to share? 
Or do you want me to love but in boundaries?
So that you have your own time and luxuries?
Or may be you want me to agree all what you say?
For your happiness each and every day, 
Because my love for you will always be infinte,
As no one can ever love you in the world as i might,
Or May be i am too dumb to know,
To love is to just bow down to the flow,
Because i want you in my life in failures and success,
Because only in you i will always see my princess.

Copyright © Suraj Grover | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |


The spring is coming in a slow pace,
But I can sense something in the air,
Something coming out of nowhere,

I stood in front of the elevator on the third
floor in a nice old hotel,
Going to a small diner with friends,
Some nice food and wine to fill my soul with

The door opened, and I saw a man inside,
Thinking how I must have lost my mind, after
so many years, it can’t be You,

And I stood frozen, and You stood frozen,
Until the grey metal doors closed and brought
me back from the Universe of lost souls,

I run downstairs to stop you leave,
Seeing unfamiliar faces, seeking for you - my
ghost from the past,
While You pushed the elevator button many
times, screaming loudly: go up, third floor,
now, go, move… Is it her, or I’m loosing my

And the doors opened, but nobody was there,
You couldn't find me- your lost love, your
ghost from the Universe of lost souls.

I screamed, You screamed,
We screamed in an erupting pain so the whole
Universe can hear us,
Could it be that we lost each other again?

I took the stairs and went up,
I could feel how our pain reunites,
I could feel that a lost soul is shouting three
floors above,

And I saw You on your knees staring in the
elevator doors,
And You felt my presence coming from
You felt my steps getting closer,
And You stood up,
Seeing tears coming from my eyes,
While I touched yours going through your

We didn't say a word,
But our minds were talking,
We didn't say a word,
But our eyes were walking us through our
history together,

We didn't say a word,
But our hands....
Our hands united,
Our souls united breaking these cold hotel
Breaking the ice around our harts,
Breaking the past,
Amusing the whole Universe of lost souls!

Copyright © Jelena Krasic | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

African cross

I made up my mind to live or die by faith,
Not through faith, nor justice, nor second hope
My hope is that justice and happiness comes,
Not through fear or through blood aspirations
I hope Makelele will stay milky, not bloody

African cross, the wood of my ebony tears
African cross, the limitation of my ideas
African cross, the mortification of my past
African cross, the slaughter of my generation
Africa cross, I decided to carry it to the forest

I made up my mind to lead twelve disciples,
To knowledge than through ignorance,
My son said, Master, focus in sowing your seed
I said, as long as there will be rain and water,
Seed shall be planted and Lukunga will water me

African cross, the riot of the poor angry
African cross, the revolver of the weak
African cross, the massacre of the no name
African cross, the policies of the lost winner
African cross, the darkness of wisdom

I made up my mind to love and speak life,
Not lies, no, truth, no minutes, no report
Where most of our lonely desk, teach us to run
I believe in seeking and walking the lonely Calvary 
Carry my wood heavy, black African cross

African cross, the helper that reached out to my king
African cross, the nurse that was near on my birthday
African cross, the editor of my prophetical papyrus
African cross, the politics of emotion motionless 
African cross: football of goalkeeping not reaching 

Copyright © ISAAC KINZAMBI | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

What is life to you: Pain

What is life to you??
What does it matter when you fall down?
What does it matter when you can’t stand back up? 
Your knees are broken, and no one wants to help you.
What then is life to you?
Why can’t you cry? 
Why can’t you cry when your tongue is tied?
Why can’t you cry when your jaw is locked?
What then is life to you?
Why can’t you stand?
Why won’t you try to swim? 
See the water is calm atop its surface;
See the underlying issue with it.
Can you see why your knees are broken?
Can you see why no one wants to help you?
You attempt to command authority;
Do your words go anywhere when you’re on your knees?
You try to control everything; how can you, with a locked jaw?
Why can’t you see that if you swim… You’ll sink…
Can’t you see that the bubble you’ve created will implode?
Why is it… Why is it that you can’t you use your illusion…
Can’t you see that anything you use it for is selfish?
Can’t you see that this is why your knees were broken?
It doesn’t quite matter why, but now you still try;
try to command authority you don’t have anymore.
Your everything will fall; a trip down an ascending escalator.
Can’t you see? This will hurt,
be ready,
it happens?

Copyright © me Me | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

An Affair with Death

I knew I was gone when I went into the sleep..
There was no guilt or pain insight..
I’ve never had an affair of the heart.. of mind, body and soul..
The comfort I felt was beyond words from my mind...
And I was destined to fall under his spell...
The fire I felt on my skin began to rage..
 I became like an animal in a cage..
Every time I drew back, he pushed me forward..
I could feel his arms embrace me like no other,
His strength overpowered me and breathing became a necessity..
I gasped each time we danced the dance..
I could feel life’s breath leaving my body..
As he held me tighter and tighter..
I have never known such ecstasy as I drew each breath as the last..
Don’t know why I gave in so easy, temptation is not one of my virtues..
I’ve always weighed the pro’s and cons..
Who is this man of many tricks that I would succumb to him ?
I am smarter than this I thought in one lucid moment..
Be gone I said.. leave me alone I do not want to follow you..
All you want is my soul... and I am not ready...
When I am I will call you....

PS. This was a recent experience I had in the ICU...

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |


As Both human and fox, she knows the pains of life that belong to each.

Her cunning, wit, and charm serve her well. her life has been harrowing 
Outcast from both her kith and kin she is too human for the fox, too fox for the humans.
But she at last found a place where she belonged thanks to the one human who  can still accept her For what she is, both human and fox

Your welcome Kitsune

you have made my life peacefull whilst you are near
and for that i thank you

Copyright © Wolf Lief | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |



injustice runs wild
where liberty once bloomed
sweet flowers of liberty.

rogue life hawkers
like famished vampires
roam child filled streets
seeking desserts of red velvet
blood of sable fruit
to satisfy their fascistic appetite.

we march to the sound
of the death bells of justice---
oblivious that once tolled
it cannot be undone:

another strange fruit
has been nipped in the bud;

the tongue
of the freedom bell
has been eviscerated.

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

Death is Kind

To my grieving friend....

Tell me—
What is death, oh grieving friend?

As we plummet in the midst of perversion and strife
Energy drained from the hardships of life
We lose our sense of being—we subside
We gaze upon the peace of graves—death is kind

Engraved upon the oldest stones we read “Rest in Peace”
And as the days go by it seems the pain will never cease
And as those days Die
For the living—death is kind

Why then, Life, do you torture us so?
Are you waiting for the day when we’ll let you go?
Fleeting…fading…see us unwind
Time and Life seem so unkind
As if—they have left our souls behind

Tell me—what is death?
And what of Life, oh doubtful friend?

Our souls shimmer upon the stones
With all the deceased we can’t feel alone
Freedom seeps through these eternal beds
For the gift of life will find its end

Meanwhile, we’ll just wait for the day
When pain will subside and peace will stay
And rotting centuries later—you will surely find
That—yes! Death is truly, sincerely kind

So—I implore you, my shady friend
Allow this life to find its end
Don’t lose yourself—the grieving must cease
Just let him Rest in Peace

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Pain of Your Love

The pain of your love, pricks me to the bone
Like a pissed off praying mantis, I plead with tentacles
The pedigree of your love, powers me to a craze
Pumps my heart to a refill, primes my soul for a play

Painstakingly I peel back, promises in sync
Perilous is my denial, for you poisoned me with love
Where my past dwells, and the present relishes
A bowl of wet rose petals, a morning petit four

The palms of your hands, with a petal soft pat
Your name puts me in a party spirit, oh poetic darkly
Having your love down pat, a huge payload there is
Would you pay me back, for I am a parrot not

You ply in my veins, you keep my password
Your prowl a peachy keen, peek-a-boo it poses
I placate you with praise, I pledge my loyalty to you
Oh poetic darkly, I pledge my soul for your love

Copyright © Hassan Haji | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Adultery- The Pain

Is life fair?
It seems like no-one cares

How far would you go?
For the things you love so?

We had love for each other
I became a mother

We said till death do us part
Did I misunderstand, am I not smart?

You said she was nothing to you
But when she enters the room, we became two

What went wrong?
Wasn’t our love strong?

I blame her for everything, especially the sorrow
Because of her there is no tomorrow

God must forgive me for what I’m gonna do
But if I cannot have you, she will never have you too

Copyright © Shanon Jacobs | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Gator Bait Series 2nd Crossing the Line

It’s that time of year when I think of you....
And all the strange things we used to do...
We were young and cast our fate to the wind...                                                  
Regardless of the message that we might send..
Out to the world , cause we didn’t care...                                                                       
And that’s what brings me here to share....
You treated me just like a queen honey bee..                                                                
And I believed and worshiped thee...
We shared our ups and downs together...                                                                        
In thick and thin and stormy weather...
What was mine was mine and yours was mine.....                                                         
And we never ever crossed that line !
I assumed it would always be just you and me...                                                            
As no one else appealed you see....
My friends said you will break my heart...                                                                       
But I told them that, I was just too smart....
As I remembered , what I was taught....                                                                         
That no one could control my thought...
And then it happened I lost my heart....                                                                          
My bracelet, my watch and my college  ring...
And then you did that awful thing...                                                                               
You lied , you cheated , you  had stolen my bling...
And that’s why now you aren’t around....                                                                       
Plus no way... will you EVER.... be found....
Cause I live where the GATOR is king......                                                                        
And...like no one steals my BLING !

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

You enjoy on my pain

Am football,
You kick me I move;
To the direction 
you choose;
Harder you kick 
farther I reach
Yet under your feet;
Made of hide 
Of unfortunate sheep,  
Children stitch,
Then I come in play ground, 
In branded name;
A modern day slave,
Made of slaves,
Have no voice
To raise loudly;
You enjoy on my pain;

© sadashivan nair

Copyright © sadashivan nair | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |

Forever I am You

You believe me to be an altruistic man as I smile with sneering reluctance. 
You may think me gentle as I extend my hand in goodwill, but degraded am I as I wistfully watch my hand recoil from your filthy phalanges with its foul clutch. 
You wave me off poised as I stand here in this field laden with perennial flowers as they stir aloft, but unbeknownst to you I berate you as you retreat afoot and go forth from my company into the night. 
You deliver beautiful words in my image unto your friends, but I carry your name with seething indiscretion into the fire.
You entitle me as a "friend", but I explicitly fornicate your secrets as I spitefully scathe and scoff unto you.
You divulge your mysteries but I deprecate them and take exception to your standing as I plunge you within rueful nether worlds foreboding in treachery and wretchedness...
Why? For I have no pride unto you.
You place your life you into my palm and recite proverbs appealing for my heart unto yours, but guileful am I and in wicked glee do I carry unto the grave your beauty with its secrets. 
You inscribe me as a "fiancée" into forever without recognising the falsifier whose witness bears mistaken. 
You smile as your recite dreams aforementioned in times bygone, but I chastise you, and your children do I condemn into hell for their fondling fledgling and fornicated perversions.  

You call me a "friend", but I am forever you

Copyright © Benjamin David | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |

Forgotten Clothes and Stolen Whiskey

She left me cold, like a forgotten sweater.

Walked right out the door, without even checking the weather.

Now I’m crumpled up by the fireplace, frayed by the rough

edges of ashen bricks that smell of burnt flowers and sun tan lotion:

That stuff she always seemed to smell like, even in the harsh depths of winter. 

But coconut oil and rose petals aren’t enough to regulate body temperature;

So, I guess it was the whiskey that kept her flush that night,

because in the heart pocket of my jacket that she stole  

was a flask of absolution.

Each block she rounded, she doused her frigid organs with

another shot to warm the notion of shattering the path we built.

Fueling a new engine, to carry her blur past the life we once thought

was forged by two souls meant to keep each other warm.

But now this existence is kindled by abandoned perrineals 

and bloodshot revelation. 

I watch fire kissed petals curl up into themselves and gasp

for love’s last embrace until there’s nothing left for the 

fire to feed upon. 

It’s 3 A.M. 

The smoke is beginning to dissipate;

her throat is dry, her legs are tired. 

…We’re both so tired. 

I pull her sweater from the bricks,

feel the wool tear and clench my ribs. 


I fold her warmth gently as if tending

to a wounded animal and tuck it

beneath my skull; hoping for dreams 

of summer nights, but sleep won’t come.

It left with her. 

She has reached her apartment.

Staggering toward the door, 

she thrusts shaking hands into

my jacket in search of keys.

The flask falls onto the concrete,

the last drops spill out. 

There is nothing left.

The door opens, and she falls to the bed,

cold in the leather too uncomfortable to return. 

-James Kelley 2014, All rights reserved

Copyright © James Kelley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

My Bleeding Heart

My heart is bleeding and I don't know why

My heart is beating can't you hear it cry

My heart is broken can't you see it split

My heart is torn, torn to bits

My heart is vengeful and it has no regrets

My heart is soulless and it needs to be put to rest

My heart is useless cause you choose somebody else

My heart is frozen from everyone else

My heart is black

My heart is cold 

My heart can't let you go

My heart will wave goodbye 

My heart sank for the last time.....

Copyright © Tiffany Flowers | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry |



Jaundiced eyes peered
from skeletal sockets
reflecting the daily fear:

Not of inevitable death;
but the agony of life another day.

The permanent stoop
of the frail body---aping
                           a living trophy of submission,
had long prepared its self
to endure the daily scavenge
of the garbage heap:

What a pity;
even a dying man must eat!

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Call

The Call…

Pain answered the call
you never returned;
Happiness took a dive—fell 
into a junkyard of despair—leaving;
Left a broken heart behind
Streaming threads of tears through eyes
of rusty needles of grief
to mend itself—

And you have the audacity:
(to ask)
What’s love got to do with you and me!

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2016