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,

It is full dark before 2:00 PM every day. temple bells ring in the streets for the dead the high chimes disturb the windless fall of ash. the planet had bellowed now it crouches still expecting another lash. we are

Two score years down the ages, the day was just like the one before; the Sun rose in a solemn brilliance just like the day before, but with a peculiar aura: beaming with an infectious brilliance Thus attracting everyone and

Staring out of the upper window in the broad daylight, starched in a broad collar and a long flowing dress of black, it is as cold as an icy January morning you just know something is in the room with

Behold, a new world awaits, With promises of a better future…! But the road is not so easy, With turbulent seas as a gift from nature…!! You’ll either learn to survive, Even in the harshest of conditions…! Or will perish

A mob rapes a moon under the blue sky. Then parades her half-naked body on the streets of clouds. Arousal of anger devours the mate in a nocturnal rendezvous with a sea horse; cuts off the head to shake out

Well you will not hurt me now anymore You will not make me cry over you again I ain’t your woman no more read my lips When I say that this is the end I mean This is the end

The life of all companies starts with an idea, much like planting a seed that begins the life of a single tree. The tree slowly develops and occasionally produces a leaf, while all alone primarily a leafless tree. The tree

A golden bullet will bite the adolescence for the sake of prudence. Inebriated everybody wanted to go in a state of bliss. It was a targeted killing of a dream. Redolent of a prophet who will not answer the call

Relieve me of this cruel Subterranean passion Or douse dispiriting reason Cast out the angst Heart distressed Regain your soothing rhythm Return to me Resilience Revoke this grim oppression Please recall Lost resolve Compel its requisition Don’t consign me to

Yesterday I took a trip, I flew across the stars and galaxies and landed on a planet just like ours- Felt the waves wash me as I woke up, Sunshine and bright happy clouds – Grassy pastures, Tall trees swaying

There I was. Loitering in the lobby of her heart, after a long flight the only thing on my mind was rest. The aroma was nice, stepping in through the double doors. Following the stretch of carpet to the front

A heart become hardened by life’s painful knocks Can melt in the warmth of a smile And tender emotions locked tight in a box Awaken to brave a new trial A hope rendered fragile, extinguished by pain Can strengthen at

The canvas in front of me is painted shimmering green and bright orange It looks kinda joyful very different from the usual black and grey Maybe life has more colors than the greys in my brain Or maybe what is

Even when the night air is calm and still you can hear the wailing of women from the past that flung themselves off of WIDOW’S HILL to the cold, cold ocean below and legend has it at Collinwood they’re waiting