Prose

January 7th: Celebrate Bobblehead Day
Way back in 1964, there was an invasion by the Brits! Well, at least four of them. These invaders had long hair and all the old timers were having a hard time with that. It was about the same time they were having a bad time with their own: American Elvis and his gyrating hips. Sorry, it would be long hair in and crewcuts out from now on. The Beatles would not be stopped!
By Shirley Belk2 years ago in Poets
"CARICATURE OF LIFE"
Not sure what to say, So, I will say what I want to say to express today. I lament a caricature of life. People love. People hate.
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 years ago in Poets
A glossy haze
You wander from coast to coast tired, limping and hungry You jump on flights you can’t afford for a mere moment of fervor and no one can ever know what you want
By Ella Valentine2 years ago in Poets
Odysseus’s Plea
A weary wine-dark sea, stirred By our ship’s restless keel and prow Were it not for a journey deterred It’d live and die to never be ashore
By Octovo Libra 2 years ago in Poets
Sirens of the Celestial Citadel
One of my favorite singer's is Sarah Brightman. I had the chance to see her live when she was in Phantom Of The Opera. One of her songs was my muse for this free verse poem.
By Daphsam2 years ago in Poets
The Hummingbird
Are you that little hummingbird? The one with the hazel colored plumage and the energy of youth. Wouldn’t it be nice to know that when you shuffled off your mortal coil, your story was not yet done. Reincarnation, yes, surely that’s right, right? If not for you, then for me. So that when I find myself on a dusty path on a beautiful blue sky day , and up ahead I spot the captivating dance of a hummingbird sipping from the red and purple wildflowers, darting to and fro and in and out of the foliage around me, but never straying too far; can I assume that it’s you? Always moving forward, often times guiding, sometimes forging her own path. Yes that seems like you. Although the vessel that carries you has transformed, I have to believe I would still sense your soul.
By NJ Reed2 years ago in Poets
Lost
Oh, where did you go Are you beneath the bed Or in the pillow Where are you strange fellow Lost to eternity How did you ever enter me
By Atomic Historian2 years ago in Poets
Shadows Within: A Journey Through Depression
In shadows deep, where light recedes,Lies a soul in which despair breeds.A tempest rages, unseen and vast,A haunting silence, echoes cast.A weight, an anchor, within the mind,Chains of gloom, so intertwined.The sun's bright rays seem far away,In the clutches of a muted gray.A void within, an endless sea,A labyrinth where one cannot flee.Whispers drown in this cavernous space,Lost in the maze, no guiding trace.The heart, a drum, in somber beat,A symphony of sorrow, incomplete.Each step, a mountain to ascend,In shadows where hope and light suspend.Yet in this labyrinth, faint and stark,A flicker lingers in the dark.A beacon glows, a hand to lend,In kindness found, a path to mend.For in this journey of pain untold,Resilience blooms, a hand to hold.From depths emerge a newfound might,A gradual dawn, a flicker of light.
By Reena Nauriyal 2 years ago in Poets
"Wuthering Heights" Sent to Publisher on this Day
Okay, so there were no specific prompts for January 4th, so I googled, 'What went on January 4th?' and there were a plethora to choose from from centuries past to present. And this one caught my eye:
By Shirley Belk2 years ago in Poets
LONE WOLF
In the moonlit shadows where silence grows, A lone wolf roams, ancient trees in repose. Once part of a pack, now stands alone,
By simran sadangi2 years ago in Poets
"IN MY DREAMS". Content Warning.
In my dreams, I lay here in my bed, in my room. I listen to music. I watch TV in my room, the movies, the candles, the sage,
By Vicki Lawana Trusselli 2 years ago in Poets
Wrung Me Dry
I would have never chosen anyone over you. Despite the fact that you never gave me grace. You said you waited for me but we both know you were born without patience, you did no waiting. You borrowed my time, used me and wrung me dry, and once I became tattered and didn't bend back fluffy and new from the drying line, you found me ugly, stiffened, not realizing you did the using. Told me to sort it out, foot the dry cleaning bill and return new or as close to it as I could. Even though I had been the one used to clean up all your messes. Losing bits of myself all along the way. Sopping and soaking up, cushioning and cleansing, wash, rinse, and repeating with you. Allowing whatever cycle you were in to run it's full course. Again
By Hayley Matto2 years ago in Poets