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Prose Poetry Sister Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Sister

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

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Details | Prose Poetry |


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 |

Little Sister Do You Remember

Do you remember 
When the moon
Danced with sun
On an early spring morning
When we use to rise
Like eagles in the sky
When we skipped
Like an otter in the sea
When butterflies
Multiplied in the fields
As we walked
Hand in hand to school
Little sister do you remember

Copyright © Brian Kilpatrick | Year Posted 2011

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 |

Ghosts of South Dakota part 3

                     There were seven Indian Government schools.  All built alike.  The 
one I'm writing about is Spring Creek.  He Dog, Soldier Creek and White River, 
Grass Mountain, Two Kettle, and Black Pipe were the other schools.  The 
Headquarters for these schools was at Rosebud, South Dakota. 
	On some summer evenings we were able to talk our mothers into 
hiking to the lookout tower.  We followed the ankle deep sandy trail road to the 
cliff north of the school.,  A canyon lay at the foot of the tower but we climbed the 
bluff.  I don't know why we didn't explore the canyon unless it seemed dark and 
sinister.  The footing was better once we reached the summit.  The closer we got 
to the tower the taller it grew and standing at the foot of the steps looking up was 
easier than getting to the top and looking down.  My mother didn't usually make it 
to the top because she didn't like heights.  But she didn't mind being left behind 
this time.  We never could get into the building at the top because it was locked, 
but we could climb the steps to the very last one.  Even my little sister managed 
to elude mom and followed us to the top. 
	From the bluff we could look down on the garden.  My aunt grew a 
huge garden and canned the produce for the hot meals served the school 
children.  We kids didn't work in the garden very often, but we looked for the arrow 
heads and fossils.  Which, I suspect the adults probably considered the best 
place for us.
	At the end of the road, living in shack, was Old Lady Grease.  I have a 
vague recollection of seeing her.  Tiny, frail, wrinkled and gray headed is all I can 
	In spring and fall we were in school in Kansas.
	It's Christmas now.  Cold and usually snowy.  We were in a winter 
wonder land.
	I'm standing at the fire escape window.  The ghostly pale full moon is 
illuminating the naked arms of the trees as they shiver in the wind, swaying to 
and fro as if dancers in a ballet.  I listen to the winter sounds. The frigid air 
enhances their sharpness.  The ax's thud echoes up the canyon as one of the 
Indians across the river chops another supply of wood.  One of his peers beats 
on the drum.  It is one-thirty a. m.  but the thin walls of the tents do not keep the 
cold out.  Day or night this chore must be attended to for survival.

Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry |


Have you ever imagined the world we live without women?
It is like a lung without some oxygen, agonizing and inevitably dead,
A face never with a smile, boring and unfriendly.
A cup of tea without some grains of sugar, bitter and foul,
A pool without some water, dry and empty,
A good ride on a bad untilled road, rough and uninteresting,
The earth without some drops of rain, an inescapable famine,

But how come with the great number of women on planet earth?
We still live to cry as a reggae legend sang “no woman no cry”,
It is because they permit evil as much as they permit good,
Gullible and instrumental in the hand of the wicked ones,
Ugly and nice, beautiful and dangerous,
Cunning like serpents, deceitful like chameleon,
Holy but liars, having a form of godliness but highly ungodly,
Lovely like little puppies, sweet like bees honey,
Women, an invincible force in our our world today.

(c) 2010

Copyright © Joshua Akinwande | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |


Bhai Phonta is a Bengali Hindu festival, usually celebrated two days after the Kali Puja or Sakti Puja where the sisters mark the foreheads of their brothers with sandalwood paste and pray for their safety, well being and success. 
According to Rig Veda, Yama and Yamuna(or Yami) were twins (brother and sister) born to Surya. In their earthly incarnations, Yamuna(Yami) once longed to see her brother and invited Yama to her house. When Yama, the god of death visited his sister, his sister prayed for his well being.
However, according to folklorist and social historians, due to various societal changes with the advent of agriculture, the sisters began to pray for their brothers' safety, well being, and success. The Bhai Phonta festival is rooted in that social practice.According to the Bengali Hindu lunar calendar, the festival is celebrated on the second day of the Shukla paksha of the month of Kartik ( Oct-Nov) in late autumn. Sometimes it is also celebrated on the first day of the Shukla paksha.
The sister puts a mark of sandalwood paste mixed with curd on her brother's forehead with her left hand little finger thrice, while reciting a traditional rhyme:

"I dot my bother's forehead
Let there be thorns before the door of Yama, the death
My brother lives long, for ages
And be dotted by his sister
Let my bother be happy
Let my bother be safe
Let my brother be rich
Let my brother be pious
O Lord, make my brother divine
O Lord , make his life sweet"

The sister then offers sweet to her brother. Brother touches her feet if she is elder and gives blessings if sister is younger. The gifts are exchanged. The ritual ends with feast and special sweets as desserts.

The brother-sister relationship is considered one of the most sacred relationships in Hindu Culture. From ancient times down to the present day there are stories a legion where a bother sacrifices his life in the battlefield to defend honour of his sister.
We have observed this ritual today, 25th October. My sisters came and dotted me. They prayed for my well-being and health.

NOTE: On a special spot of forehead. The spot is at the root of the nose and between the eyebrows. In Yoga tradition it is called "Kutastha"" Kutastha Chaitanya". They are synonymous to Christ Consciousness. We feel the presence of Lord here first. Hence the ritual of Bhai Phonta is closely related to Yoga , the way of life.

(c) rajat kanti chakrabarty 25/10/2014

Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

Farewell Finale

Enjoy our parting day
the young girl child,
now full-grown wise Elder,
reminded me,
the brother she had taught to flex male muscle
without overbearing her Sister Gaia powers.

On this classic sun-baptizing fragrant May morning,
reflecting this same gently caressing day I was born
into earlier centuries of flowering cultures,
she prepares to leave me
perhaps forever
as the length of our pilgrimage together
grows long enough to tip more poignant hello
into operatic final exit goodbyes.

I remember what I might have felt at two,
when she joined me
inviting me into our special shared world,
loving our polycultural identities,
nondual twins since infant-fairy magic,
not having previously known
how lonely love is without her.

Now, to stare remaining years ahead
without seeing and feeling her morning through evening present voice,
facing my own ecology of each Ego identity dying alone,
inevitably without her, or anyone,
dying without incarnate memories
of unconditionally cooperative love.

I remember
at two or three,
toddling outdoors in my most terrifying wild ways
exploring gardens and barns
chickens and pigs and milkcow domesticated wildness,
and returning to your crib to report back
all these wonderful worlds we would welcome
if you could only learn to walk and talk
with me.

I need not say farewell
as I learn to see forward as dying
into these deep rich memories
of learning to walk and talk with Sister Gaia's Welcome,
yet sometimes tipping, Wagon.

Chauvinist anthro-elitism
disappears as we stop over-investing in dominant negative
Yang, outweighing Yin's more integrally inclusive flow powers,
politically and economically,
personally and as a species,
intergenerationally and cross-culturally
now under-invested in multiculturing mutual-equity cooperative investments.

What is our mutual time-investment balance on this farewell date?
Do our mutual equity values line up, match, balance, absorb any lifetime losses?
Sister Gaia's regenerative trends
grow ever deeper cooperative equity-reinvestment designs,
policies and procedures for further self and other development
through EarthTribe Revolutions,
PolyPathic EcoConsciousness,
WinWin Life as LoveGame Health Theory.

We give evil, dissonant farewells,
nondual negative Janus-faces of Yang/Yin imbalance,
by seeing these toxins and poisons
and personifications of DeviL,
as other than absence of good
Yang/Yin balanced nutritional Co-Creation Stories.

This Final Farewell Memory
eternally coarising
Earth's Embryonic UnFolding
of Love as stretching BiLateral Time's Black Hole
(0)Rigin Tipping MidWay ReVolutions
Yang(+) = Yin(-,-)
ThermoDynamic Prime Eulerian Co-ReGenerative Universal Function
Intelligent ZenZero Tao-Balanced fractal RNA-iconic-ionic enlightenment
as Time's bilaterally unfolding regenerate matters
of EarthTribe's healthy enculturating-revolving futures.

Final Farewell
remembering my original embryonically environmental Hello,
Here We Are
together again-still
incarnating in and out,
back and forth,
up as down,
Yang-out as Yin-in.

While Autumn farewell bears time's reputation for messy falls from grace,
this is prophesied in spring seedling beginnings
bearing message memories merging coarising births
of EarthTribe multigenerational,
His/Her Creation Story,
coarising nondual identities,
within Earth's ecology of regenerate-revolving design,
seasonal praxis,
culturally deep enriching outcomes,
by turning down RightFisted AnthroSupremacy
to balance Left/Right Zero-Centric EcoSystemic Investment
and divestment, double-negative equivalent
WinWin DiPolarity Outcomes
ReGenerate Network Game Theory Development
of Form
from BiLateral-Temporal Prime Relational (0)-FractalFunction.

Enjoy this parting day
I have so loved beginning again together,
our mutually co-invested Creation Story.

Enjoy our continuing 
final farewell day.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose Poetry |


Personally, we clash because we want to be different yet, this only brings indifference. We have a chip on our shoulders as individuals. We want to be innate in which one must be the greater person. Personally, we confront each other about dumb things when it is not business structured. Our conflict becomes that of jealousy. Non-bias to gender this is, which cause differentiation. We are the people of the cosmos. Our brotherly and sisterly love is what unites us. Let us learn from each other through the structure formed and join for a greater focus. The reality of today states life is a place in time. Formed by animal and by humankind, our living determines our destinies. Strength empowers! A common cause unites! We are all God’s people. We must bond in some shape, form, or fashion. This is for certain and ascertains a more meaningful existence. Our personality clashes should not stop us as individuals. The multitude is what matters and we are in that configuration. Inasmuch, integrity integrates. Amour-proper allows us to become more diverse. A greater determination brings forth application. Therefore, we must concentrate within these thoughts. Our single-mindedness plus our constructive efforts manifests destiny. This is our world our universe. Let us not asunder. MAY OUR WILL BE DONE! _____________________________| March 08, 2014!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

~ (~) ~ (Four Parts-Part #3) Dedicated in Love to My Little Sister ~ Tina Marie Haynes ~ (~) ~

My Sister when I was about 8 1/2, I am 38 now, passed away but before she did, she told 
everyone this... "I am going to be Ok, and will be with God... I will get a new pair of lungs and 
some wings to fly with Him in Heaven, and I will be His little princess..." On the day she 
passed, in the midst of the dust floating in the room. Rays of light shown through that morning 
right on her on her bed, covering her, and I truly believe that God came and picked her up 
personally Himself that day, and carried her off to Heaven with Him...

Precious on her last litter had a kitten that looked, and I mean looked dead on herself... So 
we named her Princes... She was the most crazy cat I have ever known... and had an air 
about her that said to all... "Hey!" Look at me!" "I am a Princess" ... She was so very proud of 
herself for this, but never neglected her Mother's way, and was never disloyal to the family... 
She always loved to play with us and her Mother (Chasing her around the house, daring her, 
and reminding her to play), because I believe this... She was just crazy about life... "Just 
crazy about it, and as grateful as her mother, and my SIster," because though my Sister, 
though she was very spirited about her condition. She still desired to live her life just like 
another child her age would, and would carry this burden from time to time, as it would come 
to the surface, and make her blue, the fact that in reality, she could not... So princes would 
just fly around the house like a whirlwind, and would always come to land in someone's lap, 
or arms or beside you in bed purring or at the foot of someone's bed at the end of the day, 
and would awaken as lively and in a dead run, to do it all again the next day... We loved her 
dearly too... because of her adoring for her life itself... and the energy that she put into 
enjoying it... Because she too, had lost her little brother, a few hours after he was born...

She too reminds me of my Sister Tina, in this way... That life is sometimes a struggle, but is 
always evolving and always comes back to itself in time, and is always turning full circle... 
and is forever advancing towards all in gratitude... and exists and moves abundantly, within 
itself and lives for this one passion...


Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

~ (~) ~ (Four Part-Part#4) Dedicated to My Little Sister ~ Tina Marie Haynes ~ (~) ~

It has been many years and I have had many struggles, and though I was sad when my Sister passed... because I love her, and missed her so. I always knew that it was going to be Ok... because she always moved and was eager to let me know this in the way that she lived her life faithfully, and in this one prominent way... and if you truly have the time, and slow down and are willing to look... You will see the example of my little Sister, and precious, and crazy little Princes. You will see, and come to find it to be this exact way... because God does always have us in His heart and in His mind and is always there offering us this truth... All we have to do, if we truly want to, is have faith, and believe it and then claim it as the truth... Then we will see it... I pray that you will never forget my little Sister, and that animals are the greatest... and that they never forget, just like a human does, being taken care of and accepted, and loved... They can sense this too in another, as they can also sense loss and loneliness and pain, and can actually feel it as much as we can... if not even more, and they bring it back, this care and love and acceptance and hope, in so many ways... and are faithful to it... As I believe that if they have went through a struggle themselves... that they never forget what it is like, and move to always bring another the promise that everything will be Ok... and move to prove this in all of their ways... God love you and your new kitten or animal... I know that it will bring you only love and peace, new hope and joy and add a new brilliance and dimension of faith and the proof of this truth to your life... . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kVpv8-5XWOI

Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

~ (~) ~ (Four Part-s-Part #2) Dedicated in Love to My Little Sister ~ Tina Marie Haynes ~ (~) ~

She reminded me of my Sister Tina... She had been adopted by a Christian Minister and her family, as we all eventually were, each separately adopted... who lived life to the fullest of faith. As they adopted so many children that had their own particular needs for love, and had had their struggle themselves with their own desire for it... Tina had a rare lung disorder, a form of Emphysema, and passed away at 6 1/2 years of age... But was as grateful for life as I feel a person could aspire to be... Every time she was asked "Tina" How are you feeling today?" She would fight, and I mean with all of her love for life to say... "I am just fine today, and how are you yourself today?" And she would talk with them for a time. She could barely even speak most of the time, and was in a wheel chair and on oxygen for the majority of her life, but she wanted people to know still that her life was wonderful... and was still concerned about another's day... She new that with God, she was well taken care of, and wanted the world to know this too... "I have always found this to be the most precious and endearing thing, among the very many things about her... and so the kitten that my daughter brought home for us could barely meow, and welcomed life and struggled to embrace it even though hers was distraught at the time... We kept her, and loved her greatly, and intently for this one reason... and every time someone was not feeling well, she would lay by their side or on there chest, upon their heart, and would stay there purring until they were well... A peculiar side note about her... My wife read the bible every day, and left it on our bed... and every time Precious was in labor, she would lay on that bible, and "I believe" Be praying to God for us and her new kittens that were on the way... That their life would bring a new life of this kind to another's, and so I find that she reminded me of my Sister Tina... in so many ways... because she was always grateful for life, and another's life, loved God, and moved to show it in all her ways, and I always found that the name that we gave her "Precious". Was the most fitting and adoring and endearing name that we could have given her... Because this is what she, like my little Sister, was to all of us, and to everyone she came in contact with, and who came in contact with her... . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=28yTkaR-q3Q&feature=related

Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |


Poet: Sparkle Jordan
Poem: Sister
written: May/2014

My sister remember there is
No Wasted Time.. All Of Our 
Time On Earth Affords Us The 
Opportunity To Grow.. To 
Thrive.. We Are Spirits On 
Earth Having A Human 
Experience.. Always Learning.. 
Always Loving.. Always 
Thanking God For Our Time.. I 
Love You.. God Loves You.. I 
Believe In You.. God Believes 
In You.. Believe In Yourself.. 
Forgive Others.. Forgive 
Yourself.. Be Happy & At 

Copyright © Sparkle Jordan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |


No one really knows 
The True Mr. Right or the true Mr. Wrong
They all come singing, the same sad song
Her dad once told her Mr. Right
Will choose the right path to God
Mr. Wrong would lie, cheat
Make your head go round and round
Mr. Right would have dignity and pride
Mr. Wrong, false promises then hide
Ever hear Trini Mr. right or a Trini Mr. Wrong?
Full ah ma-ma-guy, fake smile...man be gone
Remember, be careful choosing Mr. Right
Be fearful of Mr. Wrong
And analyze all, their sad songs...

©Copyright November 1, 2011 by Brian Pierre-Alexander 
© All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Brian Pierre-Alexander | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

~ (~) ~ (Four Parts-Part #1) Dedicated in Love to My Little Sister ~ Tina Marie Haynes ~ (~) ~

I was born into a family that had their own struggle, and struggled through my early years and the majority, of my adulthood... My mom, loving but fighting her own conditions passed away when I was 10, in 1980, and my father had his own struggle with the drink, but then I met these 3 wonderful people, and I got Married. Into this wonderful family when I was about 29... My wife had from a previous marriage, that had had its own struggles, 2 glorious and beautiful children... and we always thought and willed to embrace each other and God love and life... We are apart now, but are still open to this idea with one another... We had a kitten that eventually had 3 litters of kittens, that my daughter brought home for us one day... This little kitten, she was so adorable I felt, and I believed to be so truly precious and needy and lonely and vulnerable and weak, but she walked right up to me and gave me this gentle welcome of a weary meow... (She could barely walk up to me at the time, or even talk, but gave it her all to embrace me with her life just the same...). The people that owned her, we found out had had their own struggles, and just abandoned her, and a survivor, and one of Gods precious creations, she was brought to us, and we nursed her back to health, and she ended up giving us so much joy, and lessons of love... http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HjDpKeiYxOU&feature=related

Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

January's Wishes Spoken Through the Dishonesty of April.

Her eyes amused me, slices of January that held April tightly....

she could rain in snow, drop from upside-down skies, and we held tightly to the tears that
only appeared on the opposite side of closet doors as we marked our claim on unusual with
hand prints that never saw the sun.

Two days could have passed underneath us before we blinked, my windows whispered glorious
promises but we kept them closed for safety, for the opposition of who we could be, and
she knew the secret of every season, she knew how to laugh when bedroom doors...


I drew her behind the mirror and we created October across December stars, we became
disobedient underneath the glorious names we sang that night for lips speak magic when
they pretend to lie and dishonesty was but a kiss away from sunrise.

Time stung me come August, come March, come the age of thirty-two, her eyes had been shut
for years now and she sunk beneath flowers I am positive would be beautiful enough to
photograph had I the courage to glance, but my feet have never crossed the grass that
blankets her and roots her promises...

tangled beneath tomorrow with a tight grasp on yesterday, and I wonder if the days have
yet to fade the color of her hair.

It rained in January when I existed miles away, teardrops of memories that fell as softly
as the whispers of her name, I closed the bedroom door tightly and listened intensely for
the echoes of dishonesty, for she remained there, somewhere, behind mirrors that painted
her and the lies that bit my tongue, that reassured me...

our hand prints would hide from summer...

covered in ice-cream secrets that screamed her pain from a smile, from a foolish wish that
spoke us inseparable.

Her eyes, blue as October, slapped me, that day, as they painted themselves the secrets
girls are never supposed to witness, as they refused to allow April to fall but declared


with the beauty that she

could never see.

Copyright © JeanMarie Marchese | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry |

Blinding Snow

The man made his way through the deep underbrush
The snow pelted against his face and thick fur coat
The forest quickly turned from brown to white
Snow kept on at a steady pace and he had to move
Or be caught in the raging storm that blew
He knew that as long as he kept moving 
He would survive on his trek to the valley below
The snow mounted into banks quickly
Each step became more labored than the one before
The path became slippery on the downward slops
 the steady pace slowed to almost a crawl.
The once clearly laid out path now
became invisible, he must pick up the pace
It was no place to be caught on the mountain slopes
during a blowing snow storm.
As he continued his trek he only hoped
that he was headed in the right direction.
For the blinding snow hid all from his sight
As the cold began to seep into his body
his fingers and feet no longer could be felt
Yet, he pushed on knowing that if he stopped
he would be frozen or fall asleep.
He pushed on and came to the bottom of the 
mountain just before dusk.
His determination kept him going and thoughts
of his family remained clear in his mind.
He had made it home and counted himself lucky
to be alive for outside the storm still raged.
Early surprise snow storms can catch a person unaware
And he counted himself as one very lucky man.

Copyright © Phyllis Babcock | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |


like it  or not
we're one knot
same head
our bloods all red
no matter what corlor
tell all others

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry |

the loss of a sister

We weren't like friends,
We were like sisters;
Bonded in such a way
That my heart ached when we fought.

You were always there,
In your own peculiar way.
You were always there,
Making light of my problems.
You were always there,
Taking my mind off of everything...
You were always there.

You were never there,
Letting me cry on your shoulder.
You were never there,
When I needed help.
You were never there,
To help me ease my pain...
You were never there.

And yet,
Through all of my misery,
I miss you.
I miss my friend.
I miss my sister.
And we both made mistakes,
Because neither one of us was perfect;
But you made the ultimate mistake.
You doubted my loyalty,
You doubted our friendship,
You doubted me.
But it was you that you should have worried about.
You ruined us.
And yet,
You still blamed me.
You still made me believe
That it was somehow
My fault.
And I hate you for it.
But I hate myself even more;
Because even though I hate you,
And even though you aren't worth it,
I still miss you every second of every day.
I still wish that we could be friends again.
And I hate it;
Because even though I want to,
God I want to,
I can't let go.
I just can't...

Copyright © Aisha Abdelfatah | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


    (For My Mother, Her Sisters And Mine Too)

The have toiled 
In blood and pain:


They have labored
In sun and rain;
Their tears 
Have watered
Sunken graves:


They are the ebony loins
From which we sprung:


They are the guardians of our faith;
Surviving for our sake.

Without them, Precious Lord,
Where would we be?

Jesus!  I thank God for the Mothers
Who have Fathered me!

Copyright © millard lowe | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry |


S: stability
I : in
S: Social
T: transformation
E: engagement
R: recommendations.
Sister, a kind hearted and best supporter.
Always Faithful in crisis and brother’s devoter.
Unbreakable relationship a graceful matter,
A linking bridge, painful and happiness potter.

Copyright © Daljit Khankhana | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry |

~ (~) ~ Dedicated in Love to My Little Sister ~ Tina ~ My Songbird ~ (~) ~

Sissy little Sissy... you fought all your days as it were... . But grateful I am because what you left behind for me is the wealth of your heart so-open... precious... unconditional, pure. Yes Sissy with your broken lungs and all, watching the other children run... as they play. Faithful you were though even given the-burden of-this. You knew that in Heaven you'd be able finally yourself to do this, you knew with God everything carries the pleasure, of a brighter day... ! Now I know you are with Him, I honestly believe running like children will run come them in their glory by name, all their days, Monday through Sunday... ! God knows... it was my hope for you-you would be brought to know them in their freedom... joy... yes... their fun... ! You taught me the greatest thing as you sat talking with everyone through those tender moments given you, gasping for-air... ! Knowing, trying to offer them this truth... . Because being merely six and one half at the time still you knew, had been shown this yourself, were grateful, prayed to remain. You knew "Love is patient, kind and generous, heavenly, faithfully-and-eagerly; tenderly-aware... ." And Sissy-too... I believe now given that day you passed... beams of light shining strait on you in your bed in your room, dust gently drifting... . God He came down as the waterfalls do personally picked you up and carried you off to Heaven with Him... ! And I can't wait myself someday as well, yes I can only hope as I pray now to see you there... ! Signed forever grateful: Your brother ~ Jamie ~ Author notes http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eLRyYETnoIE&feature=related

Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

Deviating Sisters

One of my sisters believes I chose to be queer.

Did you remind her
you had no more choice about chasing guys
than she did?

But her favorite televangelist
says I must be mistaken,
or just lying,
because who wouldn't choose to be hated
by all the hetero homophobes
like televangelists,

That makes no sense.
She can't really believe
you would choose to belong
to any repressed and humiliated minority,
especially during early onset of puberty,
when every girl and boy in any culture
is terrified of becoming different,
or special,
or weeded out of the clickety-clak pack.

Well, as she sees it,
she is in a LoseLose double-bind.
Either I chose to be queer, and am thereby demented,
or God graces all forms of WinWin sexual expression,
which would be contrary to her homophobic enculturation,
so it is easier to believe I am nuts
to choose perversely
than to consider herself nuts
not to choose more graciously,
especially with regard to God's creative capacity for love,
rather than simplistic judgments
which look and smell and sound like patriarchal sexism
more than radical fertility of God's healthy wealth
of incarnating love for all children,
red and yellow,
black and white,
gay and straight
and shades of grey transgenderal,
each is precious in our multiculturing
MotherEarth's sight.

What about your other sister?

Oh, she agrees.

With what, or whom?

She agrees we're all nuts.

Copyright © Gerald Dillenbeck | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |

When All

When all is said and done
At the end of the day
Week, month and year
At the end
When the finish is near
Nay, at hand
One thing will hold true
When the last grain of sand
Has left the hour
And the seconds have ticked away
When the last word
Has been spoken
And there’s nothing left to say
One thing will hold true
Through whatever time
Life has left
Till heaven and earth pass away
And eternity rules
Bringing life a brand new day
One thing will hold true
It doesn’t matter where roads lead
Nor how paths may cross
Doesn’t matter if directions are found
Or ways are lost
Doesn’t matter if freedom comes
Or at what cost
One thing will hold true
For when all have fled
And there’s no more to be bled
All battles have been fought
All conquests sought
When all that’s left to do
Is look around to see
Who’s left standing with you
One thing will hold true
Standing there 
I will be 

Copyright © Mike Hamill | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |

Three Sisters Club

Sisters laugh together,
They love intensely,
and share sorrowful woes,
They help to keep each other
on their toes,
The eldest paves the way
that is less travelled,
While the middle child 
is a master at negotiating,
and soothes all hassles,
The youngest is full of humour
and doesn't take life seriously,
while the eldest protect her
Together they are a formidable force,
for good. bad, better or worse.

Copyright © Margeret Bailey | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry |














Copyright © Jerry Wells | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |


 You came first
with your dark saucer eyes
missing nothing.

Your were promised
a gift from Mom and Dad
on my birth.
You took one look at me
and asked,
"Where's my toothbrush?"

It was the last of
your selfishness concerning me.
You were generous with
your clothes,
your money,
your humor,
your support,
your love.

You were my first idol,
my lifelong friend,
laughing at my eccentricities,
eternally protecting me from
anyone who might laugh.

You came first,
but disavowed it in the end.
When I'd tease that you'd
always be older,
You quicklly quipped,
"Not any more."

You left first,
Too soon,
So missed.
Wait for me.
I'll bring a toothbrush.

Copyright © MARGO SINGALIESE | Year Posted 2017

Details | Prose Poetry |

for the childrens sake

Sep 4 2007 
Deep pain and misery
 Shuts among the little ones
 They cry for help
 No one to understand
 Mother is always out drinking 
Father is abusing them 
Big sister and brother are at school 
Just only wanting to be loved 
But the family does not want to
 As the children grew older 
The hate sunk in 
Their mother was dying
 Father was in jail 
Big sister lived on the streets
 Brother was following his father's steps 
The children did not care
 They grew up not knowing what a family was like 
When they finally became parents 
The cycle began

Copyright © nastoshia siedlecki | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

She is mine

I am the formula that brings her to ecstasy 
Her beauty as craved my fantasy 
As she lay upon my chest 
Through her blossom, I am truly blest.
She’s the rose of my life 
The one to be my wedded wife
She’s my help meet through the hardship and strife
Every morning as I woke up
She’ as been my corn syrup
As I go out through the crack of dawn 
I am the one to mow her lawn
In her fears 
Through her tears
She yield to my warming embrace
I love her at every moment from beginning to end 
She’s brilliantly wise
I tell you the truth 
God has given me the correct prize
She has allow me to grow 
None of a scare crow. 
She’s hundred percent 
She’s no less than a cent 
I crave for her increase 
Through Jesus Christ the one who paid the ultimate price.
‘Me n she’ trusty love will never decrease.

Copyright © STANLEY JACQUES | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry |


not about corlor
help other
pull one anuther
you see
you can

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry |

The Three

She sails on wings of the holy dove
He rides on a chariot of gold
The sun and the moon
Leading us on our way
But who shall they have to guide them
Through the three choices
But the one

Only one path on which we all tread
Which we all must pass
And this is the road that is so hard to follow
For with each step we take it hurts
For as we walk through life we love
And love, 
True love hurts the most
Hurts the greatest

And it is a good thing
Walking down the path without it
Walking down the road never knowing it
Never accepting it
Is never to have walked at all
And this is the road that is so hard to follow

Copyright © Neal Freeland | Year Posted 2008