Prose Poems

Inside my prose poem is happiness, happiness for all. Even the juicy parts don’t lack think material. I have it on good authority. My autistic Aunt says I should stop writing. Where are the beans? I was told in my

May the ink that flows From the nib of my pen Forever entertain you With words of love And life and wonder Lick beams of light Through clouds of thunder May the blood that flows Through the hand that writes

I will end up at the sky gates, as a thirsty spike, roving around in valleys, looking for a crippled dream. I am an almond tree, a stolen joy for a feast of phantoms. I bend to the mornings’ face,

It’s a happy day! After hundreds of submissions, days of reviews and a month full of happy poems, we finally bring to you the 5 lucky winners of Happiness Happens contest who have won prizes amounting to 100$ (each winning

10 ways to write a poem! No sentence in the glory of English language has hit me as hard as this one did. I started writing poetry when I was in class 7th. I still remember the day when this

Hello! Chester here… Missing you so, A bookworm am I, Oh, yesss, today just sliding by… With spectacles on my nose, I do both poetry and prose. Want to hear more about me … And my family…? So awfully lovely

“Lock up your libraries if you like; but there is no gate, no lock, no bolt that you can set upon the freedom of my mind”, so said Virginia Woolf and you have truly embodied her thoughts in actions by

A word on a line joined with many and more, a story to tell from behind a closed door. A line on a page and a paragraph to make, from a thoughtful sage to the ones who forsake. A page

He was the first man your eyes opened to.. The shivering hand that touched your tiny nose.. The strong arm you cuddled on.. His love that kept brimming but never spilled.. Those eyes that made everything seem within reach.. That

You know, I just write as it flows Sometimes poetry Sometimes prose Who knows… What this life brings Who knows… When the nightingale sings Yesterday is history Tomorrow is a mystery Today is the truth Now is the reality I

She shakes it, spreading the exuberance, gushing out of its folds ’n Crevices of long-ago, like a perennial stream of jubilant euphoria- Converting matter into emotions, from the tangible to the intangible, Embodying an idyllic confluence around, fervently fluttering to

If a picture paints a thousand words Then where does that leave me A pen for a brush and ink as my paint And the words are what you all see If the pen is mightier than the sword Then

The Pen And The Page If a picture paints a thousand words Then where does that leave me A pen for a brush and ink as my paint And the words are what you all see If the pen is

In Biblical times there was a youngster name David who killed a lion and a bear. Later on, he also killed a terrorizing giant and became the second king of Israel. My oldest brother never became a king, but he

Sitting in this beautiful dark night , Framing the tale of life. When time runs out and heart needs to say so much more, And you are left with a raw nagging sore. Then reach for your paper and pen,

(1) My grandmother, may God have his mercy on her, still keeps the role of the hero; her face wrinkles are a leather book open to all interpretations; the falling of her teeth are the lost evidence on present time;

I’ve fallen in love with the poet In all its dimensions rippling across the pool of time, incarnate in its everything the rosy cheeked and wet lipped girl rattling existential verse over the clamor of a twelve car train, barreling

Nothing I shall do, to be a wisher; No wishes to make. Never mind,my friends, The”Making Wishes” prose won’t run so long. A wish precisely persists as a wish all along, Until I’m propelled by the blowing wind of wish

The Pen And The Page If a picture paints a thousand words Then where does that leave me A pen for a brush and ink as my paint And the words are what you all see If the pen is

Hours before the birth of the gem, There was an affectionate argument between them; Her father said, ”Watch my child change the state as a minister”, To which her mom quipped, ”No she’ll deliver unbiased justice as a barrister.” When

One night, one day Two different kisses One Sun, one sky Two galaxies No door from one to another No pathway through space Yet, in a daze I travel, From one to the other In this twin exit maze Days

Physically abused, Mentally accused, Emotionally scared For the ones she held dear. Her burning flesh And the positive tests Her leaking face Would always make my heart race The looks of disgrace would show on their face Without a clue,

O; happy folk, poetry is the fingers of light, descending at evening like an old farmer with eyes cut from azure. It told me that the sun has two long braids, and goes out at dawn to her grandfather’s flourishing

When I die, Bury me in those pages, Which failed to become My identity, my stages. Let me lie close To those verses, Those prose, Which never truly dealt With the emotions I felt. In my death Let me be

The Pen And The Page If a picture paints a thousand words Then where does that leave me A pen for a brush and ink as my paint And the words are what you all see If the pen is

The cough syrup and amphetamine Don’t seem to mix, in nineteen-ninety Six, and I throw up in the Communal showers, from Impurities. The sight Of the silver fish helped. Tony, in room eight, no longer Around. Dragged his corpse From

The Pen And The Page If a picture paints a thousand words Then where does that leave me A pen for a brush and ink as my paint And the words are what you all see If the pen is

I am a word, the word that came from God, careful how you use me. The creation spoke through ages with so much wisdom, and till today I am alive and live among you, I am not afraid of anyone,

lamplight reflection sits in the trees gives eyes to the leaves they watch without blinking there is beauty everywhere an old couple reworking their wills to include their new granddaughter a lay preacher sober since last Sunday enthralled with the

I’ve become aware I can time-travel, particle-physics has long posited this, Stephen Hawking admits it’s possible, even likely. It starts out this way, drowsing on my front room sofa TV tuned down, & in just a moment an hour and

Skies of bright blue Seas of Emerald Green All the colours of the rainbow in between Blue and White upon their flag Bright purple flowers on sandstone coloured walls The sands are white and dark in places The fields are

He said it was not easy, Not that easy, writing poetry. But I didn’t think so. (Yeah! I thought of it though.) I sent him my blueprint, He laughed and laughed… It’s not that easy, you see Your’s all wilderness.

As I sit across and gaze into those beautiful eyes, Its all so pure, no pretense without any guise. A faithful alliance I see, A dedication that never deserted me. An individual who loved without reasons, A person who did

I do like to listening to voters and then breathing legislator’s air listening to the staff array and consultants demonstrate due diligence for you carry the deptt. we have incurred at the man’s behest… lifting up our degradedness with pretend

An indecipherable cause brought us here may as well blame the overwhelming stink of bacon in the building lobby, that day I decided, my future didn’t contain forty years of accountancy unquiet stomach, unquiet mind Thus all ships sail, even

Whole world hides in your liquid eyes, I need to return to my consciousness, to change my verse. The dry air has wiped out the beautiful words sitting on the edge, of a meaning I write a new song. Discovering

When I, the passing night would now review, When you were in my arms, of love replete, And which by such, I could only construe, No other night transpired by half as sweet; The moon may have wasted its beams

To go beyond global suffering, find death in blue glacier of frozen physical. Greed of elements, and attached commentary on the burning, anonymously, when you were in dock. The unfolding of the negation starts softly down the blissful oblivion. False

Because of too many nightmares I’m visited by the dead those familiar persons with ordinary words with hobbies and bad habits so homy , we ride together on the horse or in the small car we fall asleep in the

I was in a deep silence Without knowing what happens around. My eyes were closed My body was stiff I realized, I am weightless and flying to some where. I was floating through a narrow tunnel between two different worlds

When I was born you were right there, You raised me with true love and care. You fed me, clothed me and loved me dear. Too young to realize, hard to bear… I’ve grown up without you here, Mom. Even

Nothing like you I had ever met… The crowning star after sunset… Like unsung silence of wood… Crushed through dove hood… Love is not happiness to survive… It is more than sweet realities of bee hive… Sting is poisonous only