Prose

The No Idea Garden of Remembrance
The most popular steamboat spot for writers now is the No Idea Garden of Remembrance. It's an oversized lot. Every writer thinks it is his or hers exclusively, and none of their guests have known it before. The host forgets how they came to know about the garden in the first place, or that among the invited are other writers too.
By Huwaida Ishaaq2 years ago in Poets
pure love
In the quiet of dawn, where stars still linger, Two souls entwined, hearts beating in sync, Love blooms like a fragile blossom, tender and true,
By John Biz242 years ago in Poets
Heart of Steel
Author's note: This follows Turn of Fate. The echo of Naythan's defiant shout rang through the woods, a deep silence followed as Naythan saw Lor'kan studying him closely, hand gently resting on the pommel of his own blade, not in any aggressive stance, but clearly ready to draw if necessary. It was clear that the Brother, while surprised by Naythan's refusal, felt completely unthreatened by him.
By Tomos Jackson2 years ago in Poets
Some Time For You
Some time to you, some water to the trees Some wind for the crescent moon, something for the words. The rest is some lights gave to neon and fairy tales
By free man2 years ago in Poets
Journal Prose Chronicles: If Self-prioritization Were A Prescription… . Top Story - April 2024.
Entries from my journal are only shared with my closest of friends, so beginning this series was not a decision taken lightly. Concentrations of my anguish, toil, love, ecstasy, and more exist between these pages.
By The Dani Writer2 years ago in Poets
The magic and beauty of spring. Content Warning.
In the realm of angst, where shadows abide, I shall speak of spring, a season to confide. For even in nature's grandest display,
By John Biz242 years ago in Poets
Tittle and Tattle
Like two peas in a pod Always together Never apart Where one sees Tittle One was sure to see Tattle ********** Oh, what a pair
By Mother Combs2 years ago in Poets
Should I Die Before I Wake
Unless that gypsy psychic with the crystal ball you decided to visit that one time is spot on, there’s no telling when we step into eternity. It would be dope if we could replay our previous existence in a cinematic form, edited with a soundtrack, though that’s wishful thinking. For me, whatever the afterlife appears as makes no difference, I can face it knowing I did whatever I wanted and accomplished many of the goals I set for myself (published a book, released a lyrical album on Spotify, had photographs featured in foreign galleries, made it into a management position), which isn’t to say there aren’t more; I still need to eat peyote, take a trip to Boston to pay my respects to Anne Sexton, fly out to the UK and pay my respects to Sylvia Plath and a couple other things.
By Shortstop2 years ago in Poets
Love Unbound
I have written so many poems About our Love, that If I condensed them into one piece Romantics would consider it an Epic.
By Sofia Loren Perez2 years ago in Poets
gift-wrapped
When did you last hold your own needle, stitch up your own heart? When was the last time you searched the cabinet for antiseptic, not poison? The last time you peeled back a band-aid wrapper, rather than your own skin?
By Poppy 2 years ago in Poets
Judgment
Judgment Ultimately, we never make accurate judgments about each other, but rather are our judgments about how the other relates to the self.
By C. Rommial Butler2 years ago in Poets
Work Time
It’s all becoming clearer It’s all smoke and mirrors As everything draws nearer We pretend to do the right thing But life’s queerer than it seems
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets