Long Prose poem Poems

~ We Need  A  Savior  ~ 
( Prose Poem  ) 
 

~O~


Sometimes when we think so much about tomorrow we get so concerned n stressed about it. In minutes or in...

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Prose Poems II
by Michael R. Burch

These are prose poems (is that an oxymoron?) and experimental poems...



briefling
by Michael R. Burch

manishatched, hopsintotheMix, cavorts, hassex (quick!, spawnanewBrood!); then, likeamayfly, he’s suddenly gone: plantfood.



bachelorhoodwinked
by Michael R. Burch

u are charming...

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Prose Poems

Something
by Michael R. Burch

Something inescapable is lost?lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight, vanishing in a gust of wind toward an expanse of stars immeasurable and void. Something uncapturable is...

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*** In the Dream Foretold *** A Devotion Series Poem

I am getting over paralysis from nerves twisted along my spine.  The agonies are
passing, but not gone, so I am standing, leaning over the kitchen...

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If the day dawns, at last, ‘Men’s Group’ (1) wants to address ‘loss’
(most feel in retirement), I’d jump at the chance! Let’s be fans!
I am loath to leave ‘Men’s Group,’ but moved too, to let...

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In Response To My First Poem
( Contest )

My prose poem, "A Can Of Coffee", was far from the first, but one of the most personal that I have ever written. Not only was it the...

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When Laughter Falls on Gods Ears

Today I was reminded that “GOD still happens”
Despite it all “God still happens” No dogs barking –
On this still solemn Monday –
No birds tweeting,
No motor cars passing. Just a stillness.
And...

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Rise up  child, 
Rise high.
It is time to ignore the existence of racism  discrimination , antagonism,  tribalism and  xenophobia on earth. 
As It is hard for you to change some people who hate the truth....

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He tried to smother her spirit, because he was afraid her voice would carry
He wanted to own her, so he asked her to marry
He thought I'll manipulate her, convince her my way is the only...

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Your time has come like the rising sun.  Stand up for life created by God’s love as 
the dove descends from above.  He has a plan for you to be one with Him...

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MOON  DANCER

A  prose  poem  by

ROBERT  DAVIDSON


Tonight  I  walk  the  beach  to  the  stone  jetty  where  my  boat  is...

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I never thought I’d see the day
 Where our love would ebb and go away

I always thought we would be one
 I never thought we’d be undone

I always imagined a storybook ending
 I never knew...

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I have bad teeth. Always have since birth.  I had braces as a child and hated it.  Hated going to the dentist.  Put it off too long, too often.  Ended up...

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(a prose-poem)

He was very young, he knew that he relied on others to think, 
live and survive, although survival was an unknown planet in an 
as yet, unread comic book.

He spent much of his time...

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She was taken by bears;
that was the unlikely consensus -
dragged off in her sleeping bag, 
tracks confirmed.

She lodged with the grizzlies, 
growing sturdy, unusually hirsute
for a human girl, 
but pretty in a wide-bottomed way.
Eventually she...

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He carried the old man into the woods, and watched the body 
slowly decay. In the end, after the sun had prepared the corpse
it seemed that the moon had consumed it. The trees did not...

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No windows in my small house where the birds had been made of faint shadow and the rivers are laughing with tears. Our windy December has destroyed everything even my soul so I am now...

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LOVE AND ROMANCE                                ...

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Glasses tinkle and there's a steady murmur of 
conversation as the club slowly fills to near capacity. 
He sits nursing his vodka tonic, waiting for the show 
to begin. 

The house lights dim and the...

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It is hard to walk in the sand especially with boots and a heavy rifle. 
Manuel and I would sit on a rock and watch the moon give birth to 
a distant blue Africa.
Franco's Guardia...

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He leads me through East London, docks, pubs and stray dogs, the 
Thames lapping at low clouds.
We find the second-hand player in a street where the shops
are dusty holes under viaducts.
Carrying the Dansette portable record...

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...a prose poem


Glasses tinkle and there's a steady murmur of 
conversation as the club slowly fills to near capacity. 
He sits nursing his vodka tonic, waiting for the show to begin. 
The house lights dim...

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...a prose poem


Glasses tinkle and there's a steady murmur of 
conversation as the club slowly fills to near capacity. 
He sits nursing his vodka tonic, waiting for the show to begin. 
The house lights dim...

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...a prose poem


Glasses tinkle and there's a steady murmur of 
conversation as the club slowly fills to near capacity. 
He sits nursing his vodka tonic, waiting for the show to begin. 
The house lights dim...

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I've been driving for decades.
A yellow Buick, deluxe convertible circa '51',
the model with the three-speed manual transmission -
8 cylinder.

A deserted desert diner. The door creaks.
I'm a doppelganger of myself.

Tomatoes fry on a skillet.
I throw my...

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