Woman prose poem

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When I was a young man I chased them by the score.
They were fast, young and lean.
Conquest was my aim, seduction was the game.
Procreation, I was playing with biology’s rules.
I cared very little about much more.
They were young soft and smooth yet firm all the same.
No wrinkles could be found on these young goddesses.
My hormones run amok, logic and caring little found.
Notches in the belt was all that mattered.

As I grew older my demeanour changed, became seasoned with age.
The shallowness of hormone drenched youth was replaced.
The women slowed down and wrinkles could now be found.
But I saw something different now, something I did not see before.
The eyes, it was in the eyes that I knew.
Like me getting old, mortality taking hold.
We are all on the same path leading to an end.
The journey was the same, the fear and the pain all the same, in fact kindred spirits were we.
The sexes no different in this respect.
The beauty that can now be found in the eyes, the smile and the sound.
The beauty inside is what my maturity found,
I grew to appreciate a woman, for all the universe is in her heart.

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John Prophet is considered by many in the literary world to be the Salvador Dalí of poetry. His rough-hewn unfettered style mimics the artist’s unconventional view of perceived reality. Prophet encourages (through the skeletal approach of his writings) the reader to focus on the individual meaning of each word, thus allowing its message to be front and center. Meaning that can be muted within sentences and paragraphs. This creates vividness otherwise hidden. The skeletal nature of his efforts also allows the reader to flesh out meaning based on the readers personal worldview. Thus no two observers are reading the exact same creation.Wordsmith Association
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7 Comments on "Woman"

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Raghavendran Ramachandra Rao

A poem truly depicting the change of mind and attitude as one grows old. The poem reveals the activities of the writer in all clarity leading to the mature outlook with age catching up. A nice poem indeed.

Randall Smith

So very well done. I saw myself in the first part, the conquest was the fun part. The second part of your life was well spoken but I did not hear any of the guilt of what you had done.
There has to be some remorse of what you were.

William Wordsworth

A poem for Trump ? : )
Good one !



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