Most Commented Prose Poems (416)

There is a heaviness that falls upon the soul
Demanding a precise and exacting toll
Measured in endless nothingness day and night
Obscuring the distant horizon of glimmering light

What is this innervated feeling of hopelessness
Banishing the mind in degrees of dispossess
Emotions fading and falling to the barren ground
Sunken depression pushes deep and profound

Time moves slowly in a grand progression
Devoid of voice affecting definitive expression
Anticipating soaring on whirlwinds of change
Replacing the darkness in a swift light exchange

Feelings evaporate into undusted thought
Oppression laden in full anxious fraught
Lift up the lucid burden of minds unchained
Live a life in union with peace unrestrained

Glance back on memories in cloyed reflection
A mission of freedom in adjunct projection
The misty sunrise of breaking new days
Washes over heaviness like simple nosegays

Visions reflect a new dawning to apprise
Carrying thoughts to accelerated highs
Contemplate the emotion of passionate elation
And emerge like a butterfly a most unique creation

© Jade Anjoun

Shakey needed out, out from the soft motor cul-de-sacs of the consoled.
18 and agile, he yearned to play the margin, walk the thin line.
Adopting the heady North Korean hairstyle of the self-assured he exited the leafy vanilla streets and joined the gaunt bus terminals of the fugitive.
Penning his travels, he became a one man poet of the moment delivering sonorous polyrhythmic exercises in moral decline from a leather attache case in the jazz basements of the avant-garde.
Too caustic to be urban chic, this enfant terrible of the leisure set came to the notice of Fancy Nancy, one-time darling of Eurocommunist sambuca parties, a veteran go-go girl of the atomic age.
Donning a neptune blue necktie a la Pierre Cardin, a licence for larceny in the swing set of the political elite, he toured with Fancy Nancy in a lizard suited carnival of the extreme. Public moral outrage circuited the exercise extraordinaire and the duo were consigned to a life of tortuous childcare, parent teacher encounters, and a passion for home entertainment system upgrades.

A man who is romantic
With a sense of humor that is fantastic
He is too honest
To admit he is no modest
He is loyal and faithful
He is pleasant and delightful
He is considerate and thoughtful
However, he is slightly poor
For him material things are unimportant for sure
He has one last chance
To enjoy the magic of romance
A woman of substance, could it be you?
Who would make both your dreams come true

Eyes that don't lie ...
feel their sensitivity.
Mouth that shut up, in the silence of a while.
Heart that feels pain, cries a fate.
Tramp being, lives in the inertia of a world,
where the images that surround you! ..
they are pure in heart, naive in feeling.
Your feeling is the eyes that speak, spring in a tear.
Beautiful nature to the eyes that close,
decode you with a simple smile,
I do not let this impossible desire escape the instant.
Heart, your beat accelerates.
Thought that you make me wish ...
hope your eyes live in the springs of tears,
I don't see you but I feel you in a chest.
Dreams that live with the wind touching my dry face.
Frosted from the look or mist of nature,
hide passion for a plural.
Disown me or bless me,
behind a look, my being.

once I opened doors
That stood in pairs.
I blazed trails that were not there.
Roamed where never man had been,
Round the world and back again.
But there dwelt within my soul
An unobtrusive valour then.
I touched the stars on bended knee
And swam, with grace, the raging Sea.
Then came the waiting season,
A time that valour found its way
To other realms
And I could not find a
Door and travelled well worn paths
And swam in lakes instead of Sea,
Waiting, searching till valour found me.



i

He fancied himself a Garden King
But seeds were sown long before his arrival.
He tried enticing growth with tools of past plantings
That he horded hanging on the nails in his soul.
He teased the white coned lily
And smirked at the Red Velvet Rose.
He never felt the growing tool of tragedy that
Seduces the tears necessary to quench the thirst of seeds.
Arrogance reared its head as he danced in the streets shouting
"I am the Garden King".
He fever carried the tool of voice,
With tender tone, to nurture.
He never hefted the tool of silence
Needed for selfhood.
His soul ached,
To stir,
To caress
but empty souls produce no touch,
That prompting tickle that induces a zest for life.
And the seedlings of the white coned Lily
And the Red Velvet Rose, with her message of love,
Wait,
For the rustle of growing tools,
Humble steps from the Garden King.

Twenty days since the pall bearers passed
twenty days she wore the hat.
It sat on her head lie a mushroom on stem.
And all who glimpsed could readily see
the hat was smaller than ought to be.
The man in the market hollered "ship ahoy",
remembering the smile of the little boy
wo saluted him daily in the grocery store.

Like theatre curtain raised with a tragedy
below her eyelids raised in a sad hello
like ancient parchment ready to crumble in unversed hands
her face, once warmed by the laughter of a child
Now shivered in pain, loosing what expression of life that remained'.
The hat so engored with the glutton of pain,
so weighed her head that her eyes did rain.
on the arrival of fdusk on the twenty first day
that time that seduces the darkness to stay
her heart, loosing rhythm shed layers of hurt,
And her spirit gave way to the hungers of earth.

His cradle was hewn from English trees
And all his roughneck days made time for heir adoration.
His backyard was a playground f0r loud dreams
And remembrances.
Now well worn shoes track through fields, That lend their way to hills rooted in his soul.
Thoughts of when he wore a warrior's shield making
Battlefields proud, invade.
Remembered are secrets buried long ago with his armor\

sits easy at the hearth of the Warrior in his smile.
His strength is renewed when in the presences of the talking stones
That spoke of Wisdom before His first cry
Ipon a resting hill, lakes appear water, once red from
The screams of desired Freedom.
and Battle sowards dipped in hopful Baptism.
He sees now that battlefields have returned to the green of their youth,free now from planed chos,Today his battlefields made proud are growing seeds of life.
A nd now he no longer steps through slaughtered bone and flesh.












upon a hillside

Breaking Camp

Hell's terain was smoother than the soil when breaking camp.
The cauldron of a thousand meals lies empty.
A tent once risen to hold a world of laughter
now collapsed, shreaded from the tines of pain,
flaps in winter winds, cripling fingers scrawling
good-bys in the bitter snow.
The warmth of campfire is lost to memory
too far to be reached.
One dweller triped on seduction,
stumbling into pipe dreams.
The young one, with the sweet and smiliing face,
with eyes that watched the deer and squirrel run,
has become the ash of dying embers.
No love to feel.
No feel to love.
The remaining one walks round the camp
as though it were like it was.
Stakes stab heart instead of ground.
The only smoke, from dying embers.
And the cauldron's still empty lying sideways
frozen in the ground.

"The Masked Avenger"

Lamont and his men seemed badly outnumbered as the soldiers

burst through the barricades, shooting and killing indiscriminately.

Norrington realising the situation is desperate and decides to leave

the battle zone so he could once again become the Black Dove.

By now Garcia's men had captured the remaining survivors and

marshal them to a temporary enclosure until they can arrange

to move them back to Mexico for trial. In the dead of night the

Black Dove attempts to rescue the men from the enclosure. There

are three guards present making it impossible for the Dove to

rescue them, so the Dove sneaks past the guards and into Garcia's

tent. Sword in hand, He now forces Garcia to sign a declaration of a

new bill to be passed by the Mexican government, stating that

Monterey is to be withdrawn from Mexico now under the control

of the North America government, meaning the Mexicans have no

rights to the farmers' and landowners' wealth. The Dove now has

this declaration stipulating the Mexicans are now on foreign soil

and will be imprisoned if they do not leave. Garcia and the

Black Dove step out of the tent to give the order for his men to

free the prisoners and remove themselves from their lands.

Lamont and the prisoners cheer as the Black Dove finally has the

whip hand over the Mexicans. Lamont asks the Dove to reveal his

identity, who responds by saying he stands for justice and his identity

must remain a secret, and rides off into the distance. Making a Circle

and riding back he becomes John Norrington again and rejoins Bill Jenkins

on the journey back home. Boarding a coach they travel to Monterey

harbour, where they board the ship 'Columbia' making it's maiden

voyage, it's destination being England. The ship leaves the pier and is

finally at sea. The weather is cold and the sea is calm as the 'Columbia'

goes out to sea. Norrington and Jenkins fall asleep in their cabin at last

after there exhausting ordeal. Up on the deck the captain senses something

is wrong with the ship. As the weather picks up to a squall the ship gains

amazing speed and then a strange mist engulfs her. By this time the

ship is travelling at an amazing speed of 2000 knots, and then she slows

down to almost dead stop. Once again they are in a harbour, but where are

they? It is daylight again, it only having been night just for an hour before they left.

Where are they now ?

What alien force controlled the ship?

Make the discovery in Part 9...."Voyage To Where"