Prayer Fiction Poems

Bold as the lie that says –
Authenticity isn’t blessed by the truth,
Who exists in reasoning, thinking…
Outside the box, beyond the echo of light,
Despite the shadows...

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Surrounded by four walls.	
I feel disgust and despair.
Why can’t I snap out of it?
For listen: The city hums with listless life.
Hospitals thrive with dying patients,
oft...

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...But now that the truth of all was revealed,
and no future was awaiting our kind,
I looked on my life’s work, now meaningless,
and a notion entered...

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There was a belief that the gods of old
received all their great power from our prayers,
that out sacrifices, supplications
made them so strong we’d look on...

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All long the wind swept streets 
vacant windows stare 
like absent eyes of statues 
Shuttered an abandon
standing there 
in their sites 
their hollow façades

Vacant faces...

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Metal, blood, and mascara 

Half sunk a shattered visage lies,
A wrinkled lip, a sneer of cold command,
Of boundless and bare
Along the level, sands stretch far...

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Embers twinkle 
In distance orbit 
Planets tilt  
In the Cold of Space
Stars Blaze
Singing a distance song
Of ancient Spheres
Music of the heavens
Spin solemnly through
The Darkness...

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Loose Magic

Pee-a-boo, I see you...
Got your nose, 
and not your toes. 
Skipping rocks, 
and bubbles in the park. 

Eye contact from across the room, 
notes...

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Spaghetti

The meat, 
the cheese,
the sauce.

The smiles,
the laughs,
the wine.

The music, 
the song, 
the moment... 

The vow of forever!

Then...

You and I, 
and the garlic bread!



A. Foster, Ann...

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The Cat

It is late, 
nearly half-past nine. 
You are asleep beside me.
The clock on the wall is too loud. 
I need to buy another. 
This...

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Questions

What defines... success?
Is it how many people you know. 
Is it where you have been, 
or where you will go? 

Is it who you talk...

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U

It is cool here. 
Is it hot there?
You have not written. 
I have not received...
a letter.

Do you think of me?
I remember you. 
I can not...

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I knelt amidst the mountain's rise, beneath the weeping opal skies,
      There to measure Io's swoon - the envy of...

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An angel all in white with a red handbag
Seven priests all in black clasp their hands in prayer 
A girl sits on a stool with...

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Written by Gail DeBole
on July 2, 2020
Updated on July 4, 2020

Yet another Coronavirus poem...

Songwriters are composing original tunes.
Poets are writing to cope with the gloom.
Masks...

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