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 Jun 2015
Sam Temple
realist, with a degree in sociology
looking at the world through macro glasses
fading empathy blending with budding apathy
watching, eagerly, the self-destruction of the masses –
expressing limited worldviews, and exploiting generalizations
keeping a firm grip on perceived reality, teaching free classes  
operating from a place of conscious co-creativity
helping friends and loved ones experience piece of mind, free passes –
guiding meditations, past-life regression
all the while getting brilliant psychic flashes
reaching deep within the recesses
beginning to tilt on a totally different axis –
envisioning my place as part of the all
knowing the truth will alter the facets
looking into the mirror of creation
recognizing the forest of trees as ***** eye-lashes –
 Jun 2015
poetessa diabolica
Her breath was
   poetically zoetic,
     so ethereal ~
        she could fly
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
Popular poets burn out quick
( from to much fame seeking)
Yet the unknown poet,

He shalt last forever....
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself - and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is.
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
Enginery creators
Create amare from plastic dolls and toys
Women turned girl
Man turned boy
(Hard to avoid)
Passing these kind daily!!!

Slathered in hateful jealously
Caressed in by hating

Hidden babies

Enjambments of traffic jam new era
Terror such the norm these days

Ennui is soo common,

They gam
Like dams overflooded
By falsehoods

Misunderstood seekers
Seeketh in all the wrong places

Guru's of pleasure and fame
Never to be remembered
Ever again!!!
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
I seeith soo many Wisemen here
Yet doth thou follow thine own teaching?

I seeith soo many lovers here
Yet doth thou showeth that other half love?

I seeith soo many hurt ones here
Yet doth thou not know somebody loveth thou?

I seeith soo much hate here
Yet doth thou knoweth loves the answer?

I seeith soo much cutting another down here
Yet doth thou even want to listen to one? Not just heareth!!!

I seeith soo many complaints here
Yet doth thou tryeth to do anything about it?

I seeith so much shame here
Doth  thou not knoweth God forgiveth all?

I seeith soo much guilt here
We only haveth today,
Not tommorrow reader of awee.

I seeith soo much
Yet soo little truthful love

I seeith
Through a prophetic crystal ball!!!
All truth of what I see... Everyone sais this or that.. But no proof to back their words up... Action without faith is naught!!! And faith without  action is nothing either...
 Jun 2015
brandon nagley
I don't hate the racist
I hate the racist theology,
Not the racist..
 Jun 2015
AK Bright
He passed in double yellow
Like he was heading to a fire
Really nothing to you
Yet it provoked your righteous ire

Would it make a difference
If you felt the fiery flames
Watched a simple man's dreams
Consumed in a flippant blaze

Would it make a difference
If you saw his baby trapped inside
Or counted the tormentous days
'til his agony would subside

That waitress was a little rude
Like she wasn't really there
She just found her husband cheating
And she's aware that no one cares

Her heart is shattered inside
But she tries to paint on a smile
The darkness is overcoming
Her future bleak and vile

Could it make a difference
To someone lonely, hurt, and lost
If we measured our words and actions
And we stopped to count the cost
You never know what people may be going through...
 Jun 2015
Estherzz21
In this time of midnight,
Overflow by the mights,
If my dreams were only right,
My world would then be a fright.
Words name like forever,
May just be a fever,
But as time past like river,
I will savour it like dinner.
Tick tock tick tock,
I heard the door knock,
Swiftly, it made me rock,
And soon I knew to lock.
Thoughts brought me in deeper,
So far, so strange, so much darker,
Soon I sway to the reign much colder,
Will I be forgotten in midst of laughter.
I'm drowning.
 Jun 2015
PaperclipPoems
I'm never scared
That's what I say
Because deep inside, I scream lies
And that's why I'm this way.
My soul holds all these secrets
While my heart silently cries
Everyday I try to let go of this chaos
That my better half tries to hide
I appear to be together
But inside I'm a mess
I blame my twisted thoughts and dreams
That bring me this distress..
I blame those hurtful memories
That gave me this despair
"How fortunate" you reply to me
When I say I'm never scared.
 Jun 2015
Joe Cole
I once wrote about the chrystal stream
Where poets wrote and young lovers dreamed
Of the beautiful years to come
But the chrystal stream became a fetid place
Of sewage and industrial waste
And so the poets no longer wrote
And young lovers no longer dreamed
Of beautiful years to come
But now I sit beside a chrystal bay
The sun forming diamonds on rippling waves
Bird song sounding in my ears
Peace washing away years of stress and fear
This now is the place where poets write
Now the place where young lovers can dream
Of beautiful years to come
Tranquil here is the early morn
With the rising sun reborn
This now the place to sit and think
Take up the pen make bold the ink
But I'll never forget that chrystal stream
Where poets once wrote and young lovers once dreamed
Of the beautiful years to come

Memories long past. Dreams yet to be fulfilled

(The original chrystal stream poem)

No More The Chrystal Stream

We search once more for the chrystal stream
Where poets once wrote and young lovers once dreamed
Of the beautiful years to come

But no more now is the chrystal stream
Where poets wrote and lovers dreamed
Of beautiful years to come

The chrystal stream now a fetid place
Of sewage and industrial waste
The hedgerows long ripped out and gone
Once green fields now barren ground
What legacy do we leave for our unborn sons
Now the beautiful years have gone

But we poets still can sit and dream
And write of things that might have been
In our minds we still see the chrystal stream
And dream of the beautiful years to come
No more is the chrystal stream

I added the original poem to give a better understanding of my latest write
 Jun 2015
Natalia mushara
Pepperoni
Fetta
Bring on the slice
Life kant get no betta!
example prose poem:

The world looks lovely in the setting darkness of time and as I gaze into the mysterious depths of my soul, I ask, Oh Lord let me linger a little time more. Whatever may be, will be, whatever I search for will be, with God's help, even with broken hearts, lots of soul searching, and heavenly intervention what will be, will be. There will be much distance to grow, sometimes we have to be prune to bloom, to grow in life. Yes I am ready to be better, a better person in the eyes of the Lord, I know I have my faults and I know I am a work in progress, for the Light shines brightly and holds our hearts in His hands... In the meantime the hurricanes of our lifes will fly on by, swirl us around and land us in a marvelous wonderful place that holds our very happiness. You see there is no easy walk to freedom, no matter which way we turn, we must work for it and many of us will have to pass through the valley shadow of death, and might not come out alive. But we still hope and pray and work to strive to be a better person. In fact, when God's light shines let it shine on us... and then we will reach the mountain tops of our desires....
The prose poem is a type of poetry characterized by its lack of line breaks. Although the prose poem resembles a short piece of prose, its allegiance to poetry can be seen in the use of rhythms, figures of speech, rhyme, internal rhyme, assonance (repetition of similar vowel sounds), consonance (repetition of similar consonant sounds), and images. Early poetry (such as the Iliad and the Odyssey, both written by Homer approximately 2,800 years ago) lacked conventional line breaks for the simple fact that these works were not written down for hundreds of years, instead being passed along (and presumably embellished) in the oral tradition. However, once poetry began to be written down, poets began to consider line breaks as another important element to the art. With the exception of slight pauses and inherent rhyme schemes, it is very hard for a listener of poetry to tell where a line actually breaks.

The length of prose poems vary, but usually range from half of a page to three or four pages (those much longer are often considered experimental prose or poetic prose). Aloysius Bertrand, who first published Gaspard de la nuit in 1842, is considered by many scholars as the father of the prose poem as a deliberate form. Despite the recognition given to Bertrand, as well as Maurice de Guerin, who wrote around 1835, the first deliberate prose poems appeared in France during the 18th Century as writers turned to prose in reaction to the strict rules of versification by the Academy.

Although dozens of French writers experimented with the prose poem in the 1700s, it was not until Baudelaire's work appeared in 1855 that the prose poem gained wide recognition. However, it was Rimbaud's book of prose poetry Illuminations, published in 1886, that would stand as his greatest work, and among the best examples of the prose poem. Additional practitioners of the prose poem (or a close relative) include Edgar Allen Poe, Max Jacob, James Joyce, Oscar Wilde, Amy Lowell, Gertrude Stein, and T.S. Eliot. Among contemporary practitioners of the prose poem are: Russell Edson, Robert Bly, Charles Simic, and Rosmarie Waldrop.
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