Prose is writing that goes right across the page. It rolls on, sentence after sentence, usually about things mundane.
But Verse is where you yourself
Decide the length of
Line.

Or stanza indeed. Some call lines “verses”. They can be very long.
Or short.
Iambic metre may be used
And other metres too.
You can write anapaests if you wish.

Yet Poetry is neither prose nor verse
As such.
It is about skyscraper forests looming large,
Trees spiking though mysterious mists.
Poetry is sunshine, filling your heart
With radiant joy.
Black nights of deep depression
Give way to a golden dawn.
The lonely
Find Love.
That’s Poetry.

Paul Butters

reflects smiles
mirrors pains
its beauty beguiles
entertains

wakes up heart
opens door
transcends art
furthermore

swells in vein
its maddening flow
drops as rain
on parchment glow

once seeded within
grows deep root
makes you come clean
speak only truth

soul's inked beat
pearls dug from deep
in true spirit
have it worshipped.

Raining down from the frosted heaven's it is snow
Turning the green grass and black soil as white as the north pole
The school kids come with their sleds of pure gold
Looking for a nice hill or mountain to let it go
Snowballs fly like bullets fired on the battlefield
Snowmen rise like zombies during the apocalypse
Smiles are born from the endless laughter
As parents watch their children's happy ever after