#prosepoem

It seeps into my bone on days i feel rather ungrateful for being alive. Days like today, where nothing seems to matter. In my seat, in church, the chants of the other members around me doing nothing than

Find the prompt here: A reputation. A reputation. She's got a reputation, that one. Everyone knows what that means. I don't. It means she's a troublemaker. I don't. It means she sleeps around. I don't.

Hello, fellow scribers! It's been 2 weeks since I post in the community, and I didn't write more because I was having a holiday in an Island visiting a friend. I didn't have the opportunity to write there

Snow is all melting away (flood season), and I'm driving by the lake at night. Cool Victorian London-esqe lamp posts throwing out eerie, smokey light rays onto the shed husks of snowbanks. I'm thinking

Image by Maxssx from Pixabay I went over to Manchester to see a friend. He was in love, a new lady, long story, but, at that time at least, a happy ending. I was going to meet her for the first time. I

Source Dorothy Parker, painted by Neysa McMein, circa 1922 She was in a restaurant, ordering another glass of wine and wondering how many she could drink before going out into the sub-zero temperatures

How Women Propose source In my last life I was a man And I held it down like the bogeyman. True to my time and true to the fashion of my days, I stayed false to the haste and false to the passion of my

Have I been good to you? Treated you fairly? Listened to your worries? Have I given you some of my time? Made you feel like you are a beautiful being? Have I been decent and respectful to your pain? Taken

Image Source CW (Content Warning): this prose poem may contain the following triggers - mention of violence, implied sexual assault, harassment me too do they remember me? do they recall my hesitation

The rabid bunnies are in every niche. They believe to be mighty paladins of chic but end up with hands in acid, promoting vitriol, adding gasoline to the madness, while all the time believing their fluffy

This poem original appeared on Sumayyah Said So as part of the "30 Poems in 30 Days Challenge in 2014. i am i will not apologize for the lies you told yourself about me i didn’t write the books or

1st of spring Photo Source today is the first day of spring. the sun is warm, but the air is cold, and both feel like my heart, at war with itself, afraid to choose a side, because it might be wrong. who

Photo Source is/is not this was supposed to be a poem. this rambling, incoherent mess of half-formed thoughts and muted emotions that wind ‘round me like a snake ‘round its prey. this isn’t what i expected

She Couldn't Move Water drips down window pane. She called out to you, diligently raising a family. Selling chemical software. The brain lightly. And in the morning, her solitary nature came back. Electronic

Book I — The Law Geometrically, a perfect house. It could support itself at the most. And would need the mercy of this world, and to be allowed to stand in its shelter. But a house supposed to stand for

Maybe you don’t actually like the stars – maybe not as much as I do. Maybe you don’t realize how beautiful and sad they are. How people fall in love with something that is actually dead. I didn’t mean

If — as Ibn Kaldoun once paraphrased it — the earth was a grape floating in the water, then a bundle of grapes is … and, here, the catapult of the metaphor, the kid jumping down hard on one end of the

Humphrey Yogart made his way through the background of Humphrey Bogart films on the hunt for fresh berries to add to his face / crab claw grasping at tables as Sam turned the mood as thick as piano waltz

2001 Subaru Forester for sale. Everything is in fine working condition but the driver’s seat has been turned one hundred-eighty degrees away from the steering wheel and there’s a bird’s nest where the

Someone proposed in a restaurant the same time a team scored a goal. The resultant hands applauded so fiercely that many flew into the street and began making fierce shadow puppets upon the walls, which