Most Liked Prose Poems (416)

It is a murky evening;gloomy and dark;the sky is scattered-broken like a mirror.
Dear,please don't go out.Outside wanderer the demons,their eyes are glowing and flaring.A storm is rising up in the river,you see dear.
You see dear that I love you and I don't want to let you go
Outside amongst the evil-signs.You don't know dear,it's abstruse-the dusk is profound.
Look look dear somebody is knocking at the door-it must be some evil
Hush!please don't utter;keep your head on my chest.
Lye here.
Monsters are crawling up.The crazy-wind is knocking.
Adamant is it to realize
Please dear,don't go.Lye here.I am with you.
Dear they want to snap you up with their axe-like-teeth
you are so acute I know you understand
Don't be flattered by them.
Outside in the zephyr an evil is growing up
Dear,please,don't go out

This was a capitalist approach when I entered into you
Forcefully like a beast with a passion and bow
I know you were enjoying that
I know you got the pleasure
I enter into you like Julius Seizure.

You were screaming like a baby in the cradle
You were crying like a child
You were laughing,you were mild.

This was a capitalist approach,I entered into you
You know capitalism is the rule of thieves
You might be stolen,you might be scattered like the leaves.

what are you thinking? Please scream
I want to enter you like a dream

There is an old story and it's likely not true, but I am still going to share it with you.

You see the old story went that if you wanted to catch yourself a little birdie, and I know that this is probably going to sound pretty nerdy, but they showed you could sneak up behind him before he could bail, and if you were quick enough pour salt on his tail.

The salt did something to him and he would not be able to fly, believe me to the cupboard I went to grab a shaker and give this a try. Oh I tried for more than one summer, but I could never get close enough to a bird and so it was a real bummer.

Then one day I realized it was just a silly cartoon, well believe me I felt like a bit of a loon. I did stop trying to sneak up on birds and their tails, but the metaphor reminds me of how my life sometimes derails.

Problems we have can feel like that salt on our own behind, keeping us down and weighing heavy on our mind, but salt can't stop a birdie from flying, same as my problems can't stop me if I just keep on trying.

Don't be like me and chase after birds salt shaker in hand, the fact of it is you will never leave land, fly like a bird is another metaphor not real, for humans can't fly so we just have to deal.

Dealing with the everyday stuff, believe me I know that road can be rough, watch out for your derriere is what I always say, don't let a birdie put salt on your tail, no way.

It's just a poem but it has real meaning, stay true to yourself is where this one is leaning. The problems we face are like salt in our shakers, life has it's givers and definitely it's takers.

Do what you have to, to keep your behind free and be hasty, of the little white grains that can make some food more tasty, but salt of this life can ruin something good, how much you use be careful you should.

I know this all started by me watching television a long time ago, but the meaning is here and it's something you should know. Life and the things that are thrown right in our faces, are just the everyday things that happen in all the places.

Next time you think you have it the worst, think of this poem and let the laughter just burst, imagine a kid with a shaker in hand, running around on his parents own land. Looking for birds to shake on their tails, the grains of the earth, now those ships have sailed.

Don't let this poem stop you from trying, if I see this myself I will laugh until I am crying. Not laughing at you or your task at the time, just laughing my butt off thinking about this rhyme.

So a cartoon inspired the words written here, no more salt on my tail, at least not this year. I am going to try like the wind blows, to take all my problems and send them a rose.

I figure it like this at times when I am stressing, the salt on my past tail was merely a blessing, you see at least I still have a tail to watch out for, it's lucky for me since that thing has been chewed just about right off before.

The Fallen, by gsmonks

"Stand your ground!" their leader thundered,
As they bled in foreign land.
"Give your all, or Freedom's sundered!
"To the last we'll make our stand!"

Eerily the with doth sigh, now,
Through the grass upon the plain;
In their quiet graves they lie now,
Sullen is the falling rain.

Small, the child is, bright sou'westered,
In her hand a wilted flower;
Gone, her father's presence shielding,
There's no solace for this hour.

Still, the air, like angels list'ning,
Nor to speak, nor for to breathe,
Waiting vainly for an answer,
Yet no Word doth He bequeath.

Wordlessly the stricken girl-child
Takes her mother's nerveless hand.
Soon these flowers have departed,
Victims of this fallen land.

I am the son of fishermen,
Gnarl-fisted men of the sea,
Who throw their garbage overboard
And stand on the poop to pee.

I am descended of fishermen,
Who lie in the merciless deep;
Could be that they fell overboard
While drunk or half-asleep.

I am no more a fisherman,
They took my boat away!
They think the world is safer- HA!
I bought a plane today!

I thought I'd always be alone
back when I built this house of stone;
It was a still and empty place,
my life dragged at a weary pace:

A fateful urge came over me
to plant a sapling apple-tree;
My thought 'twas then to mark its climb;
a living thing to measure time:

For six long years that tree did grow
and ne'er did a blossom show,
But on the seventh, to the day,
blossoms opened early May:

'Twas then my love came passing by,
delighted with my tree, and I;
A year soon passed, then YOU were born,
one sunny, happy, hope-filled morn':

I thought I'd never be alone
as laughter filled this house of stone;
It was a happy, lively place,
where dwelt your eager, elfin face:

And every year the apple tree
grew hale and strong and fair to see;
We marked the time by harvests red;
with ropes and swings in branches spread:

For eighteen years that great tree grew,
and you, my dear child, so did you;
No more that happy child one day;
a woman now . . .

And gone away.

My wife untimely died last year;
my heart aches for her presence, dear;
A sight I can not bear to see
is that of our old apple tree.

The back yard's quite dishevelled now,
the old tree sags each weary bough;
Still marking time as e'er before
as though it could wait evermore . . .

I thought I'd end my days alone
inside this empty house of stone;
Until one eve in early May,
I heard your voice . . . raised in dismay!

'Twas then you came to live with me
and brought your brand-new family;
A bright-eyed, sunny, little elf,
the spitting image of yourself!

My time grows short, I can't walk far,
but seated `neath the apple tree,
I'll watch your daughter for a while,
I'll tarry with her for a while;

What joy to see your mother's smile,
if only for a little while . . .
In one so sweet as she
beneath our dear old apple tree.

a parody of Charles Lutwidge Dodgeson's (Lewis Carroll's) Jabberwocky

'Twas mid-day, and the Chinese wok
Did beckon from the store display;
Alluring was its nickel-sheen:
It was on sale today!

Beware the stir-fry world my son!
The oil that smokes and catches fire;
Beware the chicken breast that burns,
You are no chef for hire!

He heedless bought the deadly thing,
Long time the odd utensil sought;
And purchased, he, from a grocery,
Needed Szechuan stuff, new bought.

And as he fired his stove of gas,
The wok with smoke and tongues of flame
Did roar to life like some dread beast;
Hell on this Earth its name!

Braise one, blanch two, we're almost through,
His new chef's knife went "snicker-snack!"
With fresh-made bread, fire out, wok dead,
He kicked a cold one back.

"And hast thou lived through wok cuisine?
Come to my arms, my squeamish goy;
O use that wok no more again!"
He pleaded with the boy.

'Twas mid-day and the Chinese wok
Did beckon from the store display;
Alluring was its nickel sheen,
It was on sale today!

(yes, I done writed a song what goes with this)

McDonald's is the place for me, I wear a paper hat!
I wear a silly uniform and man the french-fry vat!
My face full of zits because the air is full of grease,
And the food they serve has made me very fat! Oh,

McDonald's is the place for me, I wear a cute name-tag!
I wear a silly hair-net and the girls think I'm a fag!
My plumbing's full of plaque, one day my heart it will explode,
And my manager's a geeky, four-eyed nag! Oh,

McDonald's is the place for me, it doesn't pay the rent!
I dropped out `cause of poverty that takes my every cent!
My nerves are shot because I see the writing on the wall,
And my rent's past due, I am about to lose my a-part-ment! Oh,

McDonald's is the place for me, I bought a frickin' gun,
With my rent money, ho-ho hee-hee, I'll kill `em every one!
It's kinda sad that in-no-cents will die in the cross-fire,
But how can you tell when life is hell who is the guilty one! Oh,

McDonald's is the place for me, I didn't fire a shot!
Some rat-faced spy was on to me, and now I'm frickin' caught!
They're carting me off in the white bus, but on the bright side . . .
The rent is free where they'll send me, and I like that a lot! Oh,

McDonalds was the place for me, until I went McNuts!
McNurses and McDoctors can't McFigure my McRuts!
But I don't care because McMeals are all McFree my friend,
Don't McGrieve for me, the rent is free, I am a McHappy Putz!

rusting statues coverd in barniccles
lined up in rows along the beach
tetherd not moving
some high some low coverd in sand

some standing tall where they stand
metal objects that stand and glare out to sea they watch
passing ships, passing bye, like floating snails on the sea
slowly going there on there way

Metal statues they are gaurding the beach night and day
many they are not sleeping , bye night or day
rusting metal statues standing tall and proud tetherd to where they stand
people passing saying hello

dog peeing on them as they go
people from far and wide visiting them as the stand and glare

Sunday, you caught me....no sleep, a cramp in my leg
A computer crick in my back
Yet the morns all the nicer for that nice trip
I just took through imagination
Along with YOU.