Here is a list of Newest Prose Poems written by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
Briefs or Boxers?
So which is best?
Briefs or boxers?
It's the ultimate question really...
Briefs - lightweight, cool in summer...
never get a wedgie
and generally cheaper.
Boxers - close fit, not loose,
still plenty of support,
warmer, yet cooler?
I've given it 45 years...
well 35 really...
ten years of M&S Superman Y-Fronts preceded...
OK, so black lycra boxers
for now
but later maybe back to briefs.
Ahhh the eternal dilema.
why can't there just be...
one choice?
Briefs or boxers?
It's the ultimate question really...
Briefs - lightweight, cool in summer...
never get a wedgie
and generally cheaper.
Boxers - close fit, not loose,
still plenty of support,
warmer, yet cooler?
I've given it 45 years...
well 35 really...
ten years of M&S Superman Y-Fronts preceded...
OK, so black lycra boxers
for now
but later maybe back to briefs.
Ahhh the eternal dilema.
why can't there just be...
one choice?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2012
About this poem:
Just a bit of fun so you don't all think I'm some deep dark melancholic freak... Oh - your opinions on the dilema would be appreciated :o)The Poisoned Chalice - To be read aloud
BROKEN, BURNED, SHATTERED
TORN, SCARRED AND TWISTED
ASHEN, GREY, DARK
BLEAK, HOLLOW, VOID
CRYING, ASHAMED, HIDING
RUNNING, SHOUTING, SCREAMING!
DEATHLY, LIFELESS, SORROWFUL
PAINED, BLEEDING, DYING
TERRIFYING, REFLECTIVE, INSIDIOUS
POROUS, INTROSPECTIVE MIND!
TORN, SCARRED AND TWISTED
ASHEN, GREY, DARK
BLEAK, HOLLOW, VOID
CRYING, ASHAMED, HIDING
RUNNING, SHOUTING, SCREAMING!
DEATHLY, LIFELESS, SORROWFUL
PAINED, BLEEDING, DYING
TERRIFYING, REFLECTIVE, INSIDIOUS
POROUS, INTROSPECTIVE MIND!
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2012
About this poem:
This is a poem about something that is equally a curse and a gift and should be read aloud. When I read it to myself I still shiver on the last word.Memory
I remember a sermon
about good intention paving
the priest raving
soul saving
money craving
I remember words that fell
from my fathers mouth
wasted on youth
obviously truth
all gone south
I remember my first love
a new way to see life
so I got me a wife
and tried to survive
but it was too much strife
So there are many memories
abiding in my head
friends long dead
children fed
relationships dry bled
Glancing back now I see
the mistakes I made
in the plans I laid
but now they fade
they never really stayed
about good intention paving
the priest raving
soul saving
money craving
I remember words that fell
from my fathers mouth
wasted on youth
obviously truth
all gone south
I remember my first love
a new way to see life
so I got me a wife
and tried to survive
but it was too much strife
So there are many memories
abiding in my head
friends long dead
children fed
relationships dry bled
Glancing back now I see
the mistakes I made
in the plans I laid
but now they fade
they never really stayed
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2012
Post CommentThe best and worst of Being, Broken
One day I woke up
and I was broken
was it words spoken?
in anger?
in jest?
for the worst?
for the best?
One day I woke up
and I was broken
was it the things I did or didn't?
those I took?
those I left?
believing them worst?
or believing them best?
One day I woke up
and I was broken
was it the loves I have had?
or have?
or have lost?
or never wanted?
the best loves?
the worst loves?
One day I woke up
and I was broken
You can fix me you know
but should you?
would you?
could you?
would it be for the best?
or would it be worse?
and I was broken
was it words spoken?
in anger?
in jest?
for the worst?
for the best?
One day I woke up
and I was broken
was it the things I did or didn't?
those I took?
those I left?
believing them worst?
or believing them best?
One day I woke up
and I was broken
was it the loves I have had?
or have?
or have lost?
or never wanted?
the best loves?
the worst loves?
One day I woke up
and I was broken
You can fix me you know
but should you?
would you?
could you?
would it be for the best?
or would it be worse?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2012
About this poem:
...I guess everyone has low moments...A New Love
A soft warm hand brushed across my heart
one cold and moonlit night,
the frost fresh in the tips of blue grey grass.
The cold and distant/ tiny points of light -
of stars that fail to bright the night
my only campanions for a long and lonely life.
A turn to face the source of the touch and a
warm glow fills my soul
It's gentle heat stirring me and bringing my heart alive.
And time races as you take me in your arms and
hold me in your mind
your love for me the only focus needed from my eyes
And yet I turn to see how your beauty
lights the world
and with open eyes see beauty shout where once was only murmur
Yet for all the beauty about me
I turn again to you
And hold you tight.
one cold and moonlit night,
the frost fresh in the tips of blue grey grass.
The cold and distant/ tiny points of light -
of stars that fail to bright the night
my only campanions for a long and lonely life.
A turn to face the source of the touch and a
warm glow fills my soul
It's gentle heat stirring me and bringing my heart alive.
And time races as you take me in your arms and
hold me in your mind
your love for me the only focus needed from my eyes
And yet I turn to see how your beauty
lights the world
and with open eyes see beauty shout where once was only murmur
Yet for all the beauty about me
I turn again to you
And hold you tight.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2012
Post CommentA Misty Morning
It all just comes to a stop.
Smoke blown in to the moisture laden morning air...
Hanging there before my eyes...
It's message not lost to me, but perhaps ignored.
The sun never quite giving the feeling
of a day begun in earnest.
No stirring from brittle branches
moistened and heavy from the morning mist.
But still birdsong falls like rainbow rain
the small lives hidden from view but there.
A persistant primrose refusing to give ground to the season
- still fighting to flower – a droplet of colour in the grey
Are these a message to me?
Did I miss something when I cast my eye over the world?
Perhaps I didn't,
but did I really see?
Smoke blown in to the moisture laden morning air...
Hanging there before my eyes...
It's message not lost to me, but perhaps ignored.
The sun never quite giving the feeling
of a day begun in earnest.
No stirring from brittle branches
moistened and heavy from the morning mist.
But still birdsong falls like rainbow rain
the small lives hidden from view but there.
A persistant primrose refusing to give ground to the season
- still fighting to flower – a droplet of colour in the grey
Are these a message to me?
Did I miss something when I cast my eye over the world?
Perhaps I didn't,
but did I really see?
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2012
Post Comment
Seven roses
Mondays rose I left on
your doorstep hoping to
make you smile
The white rose of Tuesday
I pinned to your blouse for
purity in times of trial
Wednesdays black rose tokened
warning for ominous skys so
bleak
Thursdays yellow peddles were
for the love we dearly seek
Fridays blue rose is your
phoenix rising again
Saturdays pink rose is for
love we need to mend
And Sundays rose of eclectic
colours merge all the roses
by fire..
Yes, it's Sundays rose refining
the heart..a rose that can soar
no higher~
your doorstep hoping to
make you smile
The white rose of Tuesday
I pinned to your blouse for
purity in times of trial
Wednesdays black rose tokened
warning for ominous skys so
bleak
Thursdays yellow peddles were
for the love we dearly seek
Fridays blue rose is your
phoenix rising again
Saturdays pink rose is for
love we need to mend
And Sundays rose of eclectic
colours merge all the roses
by fire..
Yes, it's Sundays rose refining
the heart..a rose that can soar
no higher~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2012
About this poem:
Roses of love and trial~Bad hair day..
I had four hairs
left on my head
When I awoke, three
were dead
Now all that remains
is one lil' strand
fighting for life
trying to stand
I had no choice but
to nurse this hair
combing every which
way to give it some
flair
But alas, it too had
laid down and died
Leaving me a shiney
new head with nothing
to hide~
left on my head
When I awoke, three
were dead
Now all that remains
is one lil' strand
fighting for life
trying to stand
I had no choice but
to nurse this hair
combing every which
way to give it some
flair
But alas, it too had
laid down and died
Leaving me a shiney
new head with nothing
to hide~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2012
About this poem:
Where's my freaking hair? lolYou could be..
You could be a poem beaming
into my life as I face this
rainy day
You might be the one that
can ease the strife holding
my hand along the way
You could be the moon on a
starlit night that makes the
night air sing
You could be the one with the
magic touch with all that love
can bring~
into my life as I face this
rainy day
You might be the one that
can ease the strife holding
my hand along the way
You could be the moon on a
starlit night that makes the
night air sing
You could be the one with the
magic touch with all that love
can bring~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2012
About this poem:
A lil' romantic~Doped up Cluckers
A couple of chickens
on old Browns farm
found a bag of pills
which caused some alarm
There were blue pills, and
red pills and green ones
galore
These clucking cluckers
gobbled til four
Wasen't long til the cows
and the horses joined in,
all staggering and laughing
in the old pig pen
Those crazy cluckers had
plucked themselves clean
A feather fest they had
in this barnyard scream
Old farmer Brown broke out
in rash when he discovered
the cluckers had gobbled
his stash
Those clean plucked cluckers
were picking and pecking
Wild eyed and wacked out did
they all go stepping
These freaked out featherless
friends of the coup
Is why we all stand in line
for farmer Browns soup~
on old Browns farm
found a bag of pills
which caused some alarm
There were blue pills, and
red pills and green ones
galore
These clucking cluckers
gobbled til four
Wasen't long til the cows
and the horses joined in,
all staggering and laughing
in the old pig pen
Those crazy cluckers had
plucked themselves clean
A feather fest they had
in this barnyard scream
Old farmer Brown broke out
in rash when he discovered
the cluckers had gobbled
his stash
Those clean plucked cluckers
were picking and pecking
Wild eyed and wacked out did
they all go stepping
These freaked out featherless
friends of the coup
Is why we all stand in line
for farmer Browns soup~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2012
About this poem:
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