"prosy" poems
How dull the wretch, whose philosophic mind
Disdains the pleasures of fantastic kind;
Whose prosy thoughts the joys of life exclude,
And wreck the solace of the poet's mood!
Young Zeno, practis'd in the Stoic's art,
Rejects the language of the glowing heart;
Dissolves sweet Nature to a mess of laws;
Condemns th' effect whilst looking for the cause;
Freezes poor Ovid in an iced review,
And sneers because his fables are untrue!
In search of hope the hopeful zealot goes,
But all the sadder tums, the more he knows!
Stay! Vandal sophist, whose deep lore would blast
The grateful legends of the storied past;
Whose tongue in censure flays th' embellish'd page,
And scorns the comforts of a dreary age:
Wouldst strip the foliage from the vital bough
Till all men grow as wisely dull as thou?
Happy the man whose fresh, untainted eye
Discerns a Pantheon in the spangled sky;
Finds sylphs and dryads in the waving trees,
And spies soft Notus in the southern breeze
For whom the stream a cheering carol sings,
While reedy music by the fountain rings;
To whom the waves a Nereid tale confide
Till friendly presence fills the rising tide.
Happy is he, who void of learning's woes,
Th' ethereal life of bodied Nature knows;
I scorn the sage that tells me it but seems,
And flout his gravity in sunlight dreams!
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Poem of prosy
I am so sorry
to relay this story
of ending glory
knowing
your suspenseful stories
await my attentions.
Your suspenseful showy
purposefulness I feel,
I do!
I read and write and breathe
and cry!
Just as you.
I slay dragons daily,
carry princesses away,
I live in castles
like you!
I walk every word wearily,
or crawl away , but always go forward.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
(the hours in between)
It is the morning after reuniting, wining and talking...the stirring of the curtains transparent, become slow moving hands and calming whispers of a hypnotist, blending perfectly with the gentle whiff of a breeze...and the soft sounds of one who has just woken...a hint of a breath of life...there is much gratitude.....these early morning whispers could still be heard...quietude is a swaying hammock, but sleepy eyes peep through the window, gazing far, enthralled by the horizon...red, orange, purple.....merging.....against green and brown of the mountains...and from all these mix of colors, finally emerges a sky so blue...a new day is born, the Almighty is most kind...but something else unsettles the mind of one who has gone through many arduous journeys...asking:
"How did I fare"? Can I still...? Will I...?"
Now shining bright is a list of
Things yet to happen...intentions---
Disguised as questions.
Though this has long been conceptualized,
There's this pressing feeling, they must now be prioritized
Pray they soon be realized
Before exit from this world has materialized.
Can I still -
Be brave enough to swim? drive a car? ride a bike?
Meet with distant friends? learn new languages?
Write with more depth, even when I turn 80... and older?
Fly in a plane with my son as the pilot in command?
See my granddaughters finish college?
Will I still be able -
To satisfy this wanderlust endlessly stirring within me?
To ride a camel in the deserts of Morocco?
To feel the sun, the air, even the rain, while walking the cobbled streets in Tuscany?
To spend an evening in Florence?
To visit Greece, Spain, Ireland, Wales, and relive stories read?
To feel and breathe the air there, brimming with adventure?
We walk through various labyrinths in life, so absorbed in our own worlds...hours, days, become prosy, they move oh, so slowly.......still, when the dark is upon us, we sit and reflect...wondering:
Will we see another day unfold before us?
Do we get to witness
The Blue Hours of another sunrise and sunset,
And further be enchanted by the day's breath-taking
A L P E N G L O W ?
How many more
A L P E N G L O W S ?
Sally
Copyright August 2014
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 7:39 PM UTC
245
I held a Jewel in my fingers—
And went to sleep—
The day was warm, and winds were prosy—
I said “’Twill keep”—
I woke—and chid my honest fingers,
The Gem was gone—
And now, an Amethyst remembrance
Is all I own—
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I went to SLEEP with a Diadem -
Upon my hand;
The Valley of Serenity held Prosy,
During that wedding grand.
I awoke from Sleep -
When the Gem was Gone from my hand;
And now I weep,
With Sorrow at my command.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 9:12 PM UTC
Breathing unconscious the air permeating
an oxygen right into lungs finely formed fed
waters so carelessly drunk quenching thirsts,
revitalizing with hydrogens exact innards all.
blood red coursing true from vital forces aplenty
Terra firm formed so right for me to walk straight
finely tilted earth enough for my days and nights
turning over for summers and my springs bright.
Now fine bodies and limbs,a heart pulsing sound,
minds capable bestowed by a time eternity bound
given lovely comrades, mothers, sisters, lovers and
brothers, friends, angels all for me destined especial.
the universe cosmic pandering to me, kind totally,
creating never a God,a cast,creed or a religion sole
but all and everything to survive as a man whole.
why then did I fragment,divide and multiply false?
and How! the mind shut first and then did heart too
geniuses both, discriminating unholy, inventing evils
dividing colors,crazed gods,cruel prophets,races divine
religions irrational unmeant for me but claiming us all
in a class uncaring obscene,a kid now just dead hungry!
what purpose is then of us,the grand senates and fiscals,
our temples,mosques and churches shining,vaults monied.
claiming then minds,hearts,honor, integrity and the self
stating grandly, survive you shall as you are the meek!
and so shall you be starved.raped,killed,burnt! Hell I am,
meek no longer! survive I shall as a king, a queen free!
I reclaim all now,taken from me in false names dastardly
show just my finger mid,for where I was led unwilling
the whole creed sole human,the religion only just humanity.
my will is what i make of my consciousness eternal revealed,
slowly peeling off layers and burdens yolked,reemerging now.
to freedoms anew today, and soon to that day of Armageddon.
I just wanted to count and write a small poem on the numerous natural blessings of Universe and time,but then realized all these are taken for granted and turned to horrible human made curses...now this is neither a prosy poem nor poetic prose. a state of mind?..so here I am..with what ever it is..
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 7:13 AM UTC
Five. A simple number. Not so simple getting here. But it seems like my whole life was lived up until we began - so that we could begin - and make it this far- and even farther...i just don't know how far...and more than anything i wish i knew.. i wishwe'd get to see each other more than every two or three weeks... we've been talking all the time - mostly about nothing at all. And i miss you like crazy baby... I feel far from you...and it worries me...I hate feeling far from you...when you're the one I'm closest to. It isn't a pretty place, and I don't know what to do, but I've had this line of a song stuck in my head for like a day or two..."If you don't like how this place is, then take yourself to higher places". That's what we'll do. We've been in high places together. And we've been low. We've been places we shouldn't go. But I'm where I want to be whenever I'm with you...and today is special so I want you to know...while feelings go up and down and we do too, my love for you will always be atleast this big.
Codybear, your very own STR
(<3)
May 10, 2012
May 10, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC
Our love was a BATTLE;
Between our two hearts
Swords clashed together
Of clanging steel
I refused to bow,
To your royal seal
My sword raised
And cut our love in two;
The battle ceased,
Victory rang prosy
And all I feel
Pain -
Of what I had to undo
Sep 7, 2020
Sep 7, 2020 at 9:32 PM UTC
While you live, shine
Have no grief at all
Life exists for a short while
And Time demands its due
Walk above sacred paths
Touch all the hearts yonder
Youth withers as a black garden
And Death lingers like storms
Play about flower fields
Sing of stories and melancholy
Elysium awaits our perfect unity
And Serenity rests all eternity
Ride along lonely carriages
Romance shall ring faux prosy
Heaven yields a warm immortality
And Love awaits above - for you and I.
Mar 9, 2019
Mar 9, 2019 at 10:24 AM UTC
Dance with me;
Under this moonlight -
A song hangs prosy,
Through the January air ~
Give me your heart,
Send it to the angels -
Ut benedicta cor meum
Ut novus dominus est scriptor;
Up into the air,
Of our divine night
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 2:58 AM UTC
When you feel happy, contended & delight
...Write!
When the world doesn't seem alright and you're going through an inside fight,
...Write!
When you've a lot in your head,
But your mouth can't speak of that sight,
....Write.
Don't let those emotions,
Clutter inside.
For some of them,
Are better set to fly,
The best escape therefore,
Is to
...Write & Write!
Writing needs not a 'trained writer' always
But a someone,
Who can explode, everything with eloquence
through a paper & pen
And everything that's so incrusted in them.
...And if that writing flows like a fountain,
Of spontaneous emotions,
Seperated by stanzas, adorned with punctuations
Accompanied with certain rhymes & rhythm,
That's exactly what is called a Poem!
..And if what you write,
Is enriched with eloquence,
Makes the reader feel your emotions,
But it lacks the exact rhyme an rhythm,
That's indeed a piece
Called 'Prose/ a Prosy poem'
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 3:12 AM UTC
The night fall, like a predator,
Scares me to stay awake,
Not a blink of sleep,
But abundant tears,
Most of which are reluctant,
To fall, to escape,
Like me they too are afraid.
The dawn however,
Lures me back to sleep,
Like a sweet melodious lullaby,
Taking away all my worries,
Like my mom who sings it,
The nightmares that follow,
Rob me off my trust.
The rude awakening of,
Phone calls from my parents,
Every mid-afternoon,
Leaves me with a blinding headache,
A churning stomach,
A racing heart, a breaking soul,
Snatching my innocence.
The hungry calls of my sister,
Drags me into every evening,
Cooking for dinner, the following,
Day’s breakfast and lunch,
Chop and cooking urging me
To cut my fingers or burn my palms,
Leaving me too weak to go through.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 9:39 PM UTC
There is a Golden ABYSS
Among the maple trees
Past the flowers that rang prosy;
In the rains of Spring
There is an Ever-longing Abyss
Among the serenity of the forest;
Past the flowing streams
Down into Serenity Lake
There is a Blackened Abyss
Filled with Mania
Past the fabric of my heart
Decaying like bones
Forgotten in a shallow grave
Aug 24, 2025
Aug 24, 2025 at 1:38 PM UTC
Ominous winds circled above,
And I laid my claims to rest;
Hooves trotted about
Upon the moonlit Eve
To entreat forth upon the darkened quarter,
A haze lingering in their hearts;
"Parley, hold the roses,
The daffodils and tulips
The rosemary and thyme
Gather o'er the courtyard,
And let my ballad be at peace -"
"Pardon all further suitors
Amidst this incessant masquerade
Hearts and Souls swirl in angst,
Amidst this ominous parade;
The well of hearts hath run dry
Remaining as bloodlust; misery;
Just younger for the courtyard ground -
Give a prayer, par the bouquet,
To each suitor, that may arrive,
May their destiny prosy -
Through tender clouds
Before they meet the graveyard mound."
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 5:08 PM UTC
Who digs the depths of rhyme
and succumbs to words of steel?
wanders lines of acid dreams
every line and prosy feel?
Deep the depths of angst
grasping reins of horses wild
holding on for epiphanies
that won't or haven't
gone out of
style
Wander me in days to come
and know beyond mere thought
don't give up, or succumb
in your mind
it's poetry
you've
got
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 11:00 PM UTC