#prosepoem poems on Hello Poetry

Jasper Sep 22

Poetry should console one with the many tortures of existence. One should feel understood by a poem. A poem should say, "It's okay, so long as I'm here." Pain and death: The black ink and the white space of our letters, and the language: It is with this language that we write life, beauty, and joy. Love. Through poetry. Poetry shouldn't be to show off, or to make money, to get views, it shouldn't even be for itself. It should be for whoever the poem itself is for. For humanity. This doesn't mean all poetry has to be sad poetry. Happy poetry is okay as well. But there's something so utterly impermanent about a brief moment of happiness. The sweetest touch has never left a scar. But the sweetest pain - that
Is poetry.

#poetry #prose #proem #prosepoem #aphorism #thought #insightful #note #art #philosophy

Kayla Burke Sep 10

Too Ugly to Stay, Too Beautiful to Ignore

To be born into a world so lackluster, so intent on stripping away dreams, individuality, and creativity — it should be criminal to tell those who fall victim that they are not normal. To encourage them to hold onto those very things — dreams, individuality, and creativity. Is it not hypocritical to tell those born with such gifts that they must use them to the fullest, while existing within a society built to ***** out those gifts and holders of such? Calling upon such people as too emotional, weird, out of touch, and or eccentric, in a way that offends, is a hypocrisy often ignored.

I am offensive, in the ways that rain is offensive on a hot day; some breathe a sigh of relief, others curse the timing of my arrival. I come to offer a refreshing view, a clean slate, a new beginning. But I can be strong — strong enough to sweep away the things I love. I remind you to cherish what stands, before the world swallows it whole. And though once gone, I will dig a hole, and I will fill it with myself, offering a new life to those who come next.

I am as offensive as a puppy jumping at the legs of a passerby; some smile and pet me, while others shrug me off, annoyed by my lack of control and my lack of boundaries. But the childlike wonder carried by those who have been touched by the darkest entities — that wonder is one of the most beautiful things on Earth. Having seen the darkness in this life, and perhaps the lives before, I will always remain a puppy.

The beauty of life would not be beautiful without the ugly.

I am too ugly.
I am the mud beneath your shoe.
I am the wasp buzzing too near.
I am the coffee stain on your work pants — always noticed, yet never welcomed to stay.

And yet I am the wind that blows the yellow, orange, and red leaves across your yard after a long day — reminding you to breathe.

Through the chaos, there are beautiful moments to be held.
Those who carry chaos offer the most peaceful moments, unbeknownst to most.

I am deep and vast as the Pacific Ocean — crashing upon the rocks one day,
Sitting idle on the sand, the next,
A being of stagnancy, yet a being of ever-changing and constantly in motion.
I can swallow things whole, keep them hidden within me for lifetimes.
Or I can choose to unearth them — share them with the shore.
Let myself be seen by those I once feared, of polluting me.

or, the burden of being deeply felt

#prose #prosepoem #rawemotion #metaphorical

Anwer Ghani1 Feb 18

THE PURE FRIEND

He is the old friend who plays with children and sits in front of passersby with all gentleness. He is the shepherd of the field and a great cattle player. He came down to us with warmth full of love to teach the stony hearts the meaning of loyalty. Even the deserts and forests know how pure a dog can be, so when hands touch his pure soul, it becomes softer and cleaner. He carries love on his back, greetings in his eyes and a very expressive tail. He is a forgotten and persecuted painting, but those who knew him wrote on their pages the most beautiful stories in which he was the hero and the pure friend.

A PROSE POEM ABOUT DOG

#prosepoem

Parker Vance Feb 2021

Hiraeth

Birds of a feather flock together in the sultry atmosphere, whirring in and out of crepuscular clouds as if it were nothing special. feathers more like needles blacked under the godless face of the wind. The cliff's voice clings to their sun-smeared backs, reminds them of his own position on an empty, red planet and they sing back that gravity lament. The sky goes on about the lovely morning air and sunlight marches when all birds want is a place to lie down from that brittle flight, to rest their hollow bones filled with a lost longing.

I wonder what it would be like for birds under a red sun.

#birds #prosepoem #prose #gravity #globalwarming #otherworlds #poetry #poem

Haley Harrison Jan 2021

Drowning

I'm drowning.
The waves crash around me
And the storm rages,
The rabid sea pulls me under,
Foaming in its fury.
.
And in the darkness, I cling to a lone rock,
A coral reef? A whisper of an island?
I'm deaf to whispers of comfort -
The wind and waves howl and crash,
Outside of me, and in.
.
Diamonds are also rocks.
This could be one, but I'm blind to see.
The night is black and the current strong,
I gasp for breath and clench my fingers,
Cutting myself, but I can't let go.
It's all that keeps me afloat,
This bit of stone, a lone companion.
.
I'm still drowning.
The feel of a small salvation,
The solice of solidity
Under my fingers,
Isn't actually a rescue.
The waves are merciless;
I breath in salt,
Gasp, and cough and heave,
And my rock can't stop that.
There's no defeating the storm.
.
It crumbles under my fingers,
Weathered by the ocean,
As am I.
The deep dark blue
Whips against us both,
But is it not my hands that break it faster?
.
I'm beyond saving,
Yet I cling, selfishly, taking it with me as I sink.
For the small comfort,
The solice of solidity under my fingers.
As I cough, and heave, and gasp,
Losing sensation in my limbs.
.
It's too much effort, holding on,
And I am tired, faded, worn.
Cold, and numb,
I feel the thrum through me now:
I'm one with the sea.
As I let go, and silence covers me,
Like a blanket against the water,
Lulling me, slowly,
To the deep dark blue embrace.
.
There’s peace in giving up,
Relinquishing the fight.
The ocean hums now,
So far beneath the surface,
It's quiet here, away from thoughts.
.

02.01.2021.
(for P.)

#metaphor #storm #prosepoem #mentalillness #mental #issues #sea #comfort #dysfuntional #relationship

Blackenedfigs Dec 2020

Drugstore Cowboys

The local convenience store dealers lean on glass windows with ****** pupils scanning the parking lot for any takers. I pump my gas on station four and spy from afar. Don’t make eye contact or that means you’re interested. No buyers yet. What do you suppose is on the menu for today? Judging from the amount of zombies I’ve seen pushing stolen shopping carts a block away from here, I’d say smack. Tar. Black. ******. Whatever they call it where you’re from. Welfare bodies withered down to just flesh hanging from bone, wandering around aimlessly for their next fix. I’ve only ever tried it once; I was curious and sad and it was there—in Violet’s hand and then in my lungs. Do you think my mother would cry out in those disgusting sobs of snot and heaves of not-being-able-to-breathe-tears if she knew? Do you think my sister would look at me with that glare of judgmental disapproval because yet again, here’s an example of why I’m the family ****-up? Do you think my father would smack me upside the head and call me a *******? Probably. And do you think my third and sixth grade teachers who told me I should one day do something with my writing would be gasping in disappointment? Definitely. The gas pump clicks off. A potential customer staggers across asphalt to meet his makers and I am no better than he is at this very moment.

A lesson in prose poems.

#prose #****** #drugs #blacksheep #prosepoem #addiction #addict #black #welfare #poverty

adalicia Nov 2020

❝ love and coffee ❞

coffee may taste bitter and sweet. sometimes it's a combination of both, bittersweet. just like love, there are days that we would find it sweet, filled with joy and times we could feel these butterflies in our stomach. sometimes it's bitter, feeling pain, getting hurt, and tired eyes because of crying.

but often times with our coffee, we tend to get our tongues burned by its heat. sometimes we have tasted the unpleasant flavor of it. but have you thought of it? it takes time in getting the coffee's perfect taste, the perfect mixture and blend. just like love again, we pass through bitter pasts and heartaches. we experience different situations and hurdles when it comes to love. these matters that nurtures and guides us until we could finally meet our perfect one. the perfect mix. that blend that we would always come to love.

#coffee #poetry #love #prosepoem #prosepoetry #poem #prose

adalicia Nov 2020

counting numbers

i’ve done count back from 10, remembering how we used to spend all of our times together. in 9, which you always whisper that loving me was the best thing you’ve ever made in your life. 8 in the morning where you cuddle me first before getting up from our little love nest. in 7, i saw those gorgeous pair of blue eyes staring back at me. when i’ve counted back at 6, we shared the common goals and dreams at life. for 5, that i was already standing five meters away from you. with 4, i heard that someone was calling your name. in 3, that wrecked and ripped my heart into three then into bits of tiny pieces. within 2, warm liquids fell and roll down my cheeks— i was already crying because of you. and lastly i stopped at 1, and realized that everything doesn’t lasts if you’re still not the person that was meant for me. with there, 𝘪 𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦.

#poetry #prose #prosepoem

adalicia Nov 2020

random entry 1

"i can't have her close so i become a ghost." he said.

with him and his words i never imagined i would perhaps find a way, scribbling my pen wishing to write him a letter with my thoughts and heart's content.

he said that he became a ghost and now i want to fulfill him with my words, words that'll make his soul come back to his body.

i wished for him to be whole, put those shattered pieces of him as i want him to know that even if she was the reason why he has become to what he is right now, i am more than willing enough to take her part and share my soul and flesh to him. more than willing enough to risk pieces of me and share the love i've built for myself through words and poetry when he hasn't came back to his own.

and maybe, i hoped that at the very least, i could make him feel whole again.

#love #poetry #poems #prose #prosepoem

adalicia Nov 2020

differences

like yesterday you told me that you were a fan of books and stories. with there i tried to write a book about us.

lately i have realized that even if the book is about us, it's like the whole book is just dedicated for you.

i read almost every page of my creation and you on the other hand was reading a book about two people who fell in love with each other because of their fondness in reading books and writing.

i conclude that with the book that you read is you think about us. but i saw no thrill in your eyes after you've read it.

and then a thought dawned over my head, i assumed too much. i thought we were on the same page. but then it hits me and i remembered.

i remembered that both of us were reading different books.

#unrequitedlove #unrequited #poems #poetry #prose #prosepoem