Most Liked Prose Poems (416)

The magnet is a wonderful thing, as it is
made from iron extracted from the ground
becoming a magnet from it's magnetic
properties from the Earth, being buried over
centuries it has become vital to man.
with the abilities to attract metal and also
repell metal with a different polarity, as
like poles repell and unlike poles will attract
this amazing piece of iron can be used in
various products: generators, motors and
may even be the solution to anti-gravity
and propulsion of space vehicles that could
travel to distant planets and beyond, back
in earlier times people believed the magnet
may be a creation of the Devil, as being a
material capable of pointing North, a form of
scourcery or even witchcraft, where in actual
fact it was science, used in the creation of the
compass, something that every boy scout
would use in camping, and many uses today.

This is the strange tale of the Alligator Man
it all took place in the Amazon River, as a young
alligator is looking for food to satisfy his
needs. Above him a large storm was forming,
it had a very unusual red hue inside the clouds,
below the alligator was enjoying his find of a
large sea snake, when all of a sudden the
lightning bolts came crashing down in the jungle.
The alligator was very scared as he made for the
embankment, he tried to take refuge but was hit
by a powerful lightning bolt, he lay motionless as
if dead, within minutes he stirred, but noticed
something very strange, his body was stripped of
his protective armour, and he found the urge to
stand on his back feet, he noticed he was changed
somehow, his appearance no longer looked like
an alligator, his form was more human than before
as he walked through the jungle he found refuge
from the storm and his instinct now was to keep
warm, he lay down and fell asleep, after two hours
he woke up and had changed again, he was human
and found he could make noises through his mouth.
Leaving the cave he came across a group of campers,
he approached them and noticed the smell of food.
He approached the camp and tried to sneak away
with some hot meat that was cooking on a spit, he
went to pick it up but was stopped by a camper, the
Alligator Man looked in horror as they all got hold
of him, after a while they realised he did not
understand them, he suddenly collapsed on the
ground, he slept for an hour but when he awoke he
had become very old, the campers decided to take
him to the nearest hospital as they had not seen
anything like this, they gathered up their camping
gear and then went straight to the hospital, from
the rear of the vehicle they heard loud groans, they
stopped the vehicle and went quickly to the rear.
They saw the old man transform into pure energy.
What had caused this strange phenomena?, it seemed
that the lightning bolt had somehow mutated the
alligator's DNA and it cause an evolutionary change
making the creature evolve each time into a higher
form of life, the final change was pure energy and
thought, perfect in every way.

I rail against my feeble body that once was so swift
despair when tasks take three times longer now
it crept up on me seemly overnight, this thing they call age,
it pulls me down with it's agonising slowness

Always been the adventurer travelling the world
lived in some strange places with different rules
strived to live each minute to the max, exalt in life
taking no as no answer, digging under the surface

Many wondrous sights I have seen during my time
the miracle of birth, so fresh and new each time
so full of promise, a whole life yet to be lived
all that's before you is a blank sheet waiting patiently

I know for me that sheet is very full of doings
life is for living and boy, I have lived it in full
yet still I rail against age itself and the slowness
my mind can still take flight when it likes

Yet this shell in which I abide is crumbling
each year I seem to get slower and slower
such a pain, a burden and a strain on me
oh, to be young once more and be able to be fast

Back in the 19th century, the darkness was brought to life
by the gaslight, these lights were a softer option to the
brightly lit arc lamps which made the streets look like
daylight, if you looked at them too long it could make you
blind because of it's extreme brightness, they were later

removed in favour of the gaslight which became a romantic
light for lovers who would often meet at night under these
lights, they also looked spooky in the foggy streets of
London, were in the night, crimes were committed by the
likes of Jack the Ripper, and other criminals , and you

could hear the police whistle being blown while chasing
a criminal, in the distance you could hear the musical sound
of the barrel organ at a nearby pub. The gaslight was a part
of London's night life and a big part of British history. Once
the electric light was discovered the gaslight vanished forever.

In the 1900's to 1950's, it was amazing what you could
buy for a penny (1d), a bag of sweets was a popular buy
chewing gum, a trip on a bus, a newspaper, postage stamp,
lemonade and many other things, children would get a penny
for pocket money and the clever child would save it up until
there was enough to buy something of greater value, as most
children the money would burn a hole in their pockets, so then
they would ask their parents for more money, they would
say not till the following week, that is what it was like
back then, children respected their parents and were very
greatful for what they had done in raising them well.

What is Poetry ? It is a projection of the mind that
is created on paper in many forms and types we
may not know of yet. The poem form is like music
and mathematics, it has similar overtones as it works
by formula, a poem can be a great work like that
of William Shakespeare or simply written by either
you or I, it comes in many forms in a story, lyric
narrative and sometimes completely unknown.
It is how we conceive it, we are all capable of such
literature, everything we write is a form of poetry,
When a poem is written our critics sometimes say
'That is not a poem', how can we really say that as
it is up to the writer to decide, what is not a poem
may still qualify as a poem in one form or another,
the answer to this riddle is it is different to the rest
of poetry as we all know it, we all need to accept it
as we cannot discriminate against it.

FEAST OF THE SOUL
June 19, 2011

A feast of the soul I drink it in
Famished and supping these delights,
Succulent and sweet these meats of glory
Sating that which for a morsel,
Voraciously consumed is the pick of this harvest
Ripe and tender is the fruit at table
Heavy with the blessings of Gaya,
The aromas are subtle the flavors a mélange
Let there be no end to the banquet.

Visions of the Goddess have danced in my head
She writhed and twisted as if I had her abed
The shock of awe was nothing to dread
She has filled my dreams as water on the “bled”
Now her magic fills me in her stead
Leading me onward where cowards have fled
Lading me with verse no others have said
For the gift of her blessings my life I’ve plead
To share this bounty even after I’m dead.

"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"

I set off along the faint trail
it was one I had not noticed before
plunging me deep into unknown territory
stomach clenched in excitement as I strode on

Tall old Oaks, Aspens, Chestnuts and Beeches
cloaked the way ahead, I was aware of silence
rather a nervous paused silent as if holding it's breath
everything seemed to be waiting for something to happen

Deeper into the woods I went, admiring the new slightly odd
flora and fauna scattered about, beautiful flowers blooming
mushrooms two feet and more wide with red and yellow spots
sturdy enough to sit on while I took a rest

Slipping into sleep I travelled even deeper
until I came to the heart of these mysterious woods
a shout went up from elves, fairies and pixies
she is here at last, our soon to be crowned new queen

A magical glen with a throne in the middle
red carpet made from red flower petals strewn
jewels most wondrous glinting in the trees
birds so colourful that they dazzle as they fly

Clasping me by the hand, the pixies lead me to the throne
once I am seated, they serve me with golden nectar
tasty berries and cakes of flowers on leaves for plates
full of such excitement I gaze around the clearing

A place of tranquillity and majestical splendour
little houses in the trees and small fairy lights
standing sentinel was an ancient gnarled Oak
branches waving as it moved towards me

Shaking as it drew closer and stopped before me
an elf handed it a crown that glittered with gems
turning to me it said let the crowning commence
with great ceremony he uttered the words

"Has any here just cause as to why she shouldn't be crowned?"

A deathly silence prevailed not even a murmur
Then turning to me he placed it on my head
all around were now on bended knee, heads bowed
The oak said "Now you are our ordained queen"

As a great cheer went up I startled back awake
the clearing, throne and all the little people vanished
All that was left behind was a feather of wonderful hues
and the crashing of a startled stag fleeing into the trees