Most Liked Prose Poems (416)

Should I drop U a note
naturally again l am eating alone
waiting on a bowl of gumbo.
Ur a no-show
likely doing the three famous maestros
Larry, Curly and I hope
U choke
on Moe.
I'm sorry but feeling pretty low
losing my Piedmont pillow.
I remember U long ago
U tried to corner the market playing the blues on a banjo
Made sense nobody knows
Maybe since lock in cellar sits a dusty jazz piano
Then Lock jaw denied U fame and fortune blowing the piccolo
always known for Ur solos
this was before wearing out Ur welcome on the cello,
Started as a joke
writings odes
to The Twilight Zone
staring the fallen saint, Billie Joe
who had an episode
when she lost her halo
when rain turned to snow
It slipped from her dome
while dipping her bent toe
into the dark cosmos
but caught the eye of fire breathing hippo
in mid-pounce on a giant translucent minnow
So the story goes
like a Viking's fine paid thru the nose.
Plunging halo
now traveling at speed of light heads for ground zero
was caught on film in slow mo
oddly snatched up by a swooping sparrow,
but dropped like a dirty ho
on seeing a dancing scarecrow
doing the tango
with a Hispanic gringo.
Never scare off any crows
Each of them having a mind of their own
Scavengers are at home
grilling up some squirming lizard toads.
on the sun baked roads,
like on US 95 thru Mosco
not in Russia but Idaho
and yet the halo continued to roll
for years through God only knows
til it finally landed in Chicago
on the Antiques Roadshow
shown off by an old crone
or St Joe incognito
with big nose
who lived alone
making a cameo
drooled over its host
a fat sweaty fellow
who smelled like pork roast
sampled his ear lobe
on toast
out doing Van Gogh
Anyway my hat off to poor bloke,
with necklace yoke
now a foot off the flo,
at end of his rope,
swinging low
to tune of Desperado
fading in and out on solid state radio.
Once again The Silent Landline Telephone
takes another mofo.
dreams he gives up the ghost
but wakes up surfing down an ice flow
in hills of Glasgow
tripping too much Gingko
staring past where horizon aglow
but alas seeing nothing that doesnt show

Pinkbird, are you here?
They searched for you and did not find you
You are not what they think you are
Unique
They can't describe you
In consecutive letters
I think you are here
Do you hear me
is not it
Point to me
With my class
If you don't care
I hear you
The pink bird
Ssssss

One thing opens an expanding mind
Tiniest little dove wings you will find
Season of promise season of joy
Each blossom becomes a decoy

Trapped by their dazzling brilliance
Peaceful does practice resilience
Lured into each others tranquility
Breathing deep the odor of fertility

One more thing to love each day
Sun rays shining and showing the way
Even briefly as the rains drag past
These moment of contentment last

Now such that I search in life
Not mired down by all its strife
Held captive by your beautiful grace
Tens of thousands filling my space

If all I need to surrender is my will
Be basked in the beauty you distill
I will not try and leave till when
Only when my heart is filled again

Such a ruckus of noise and tiny wings
Birds and bees and blossoms brings
From the nectar of trees so adorn
The sweet substance of life is born

My face shines with candid mirth
Pleasurable as my mind give birth
How rich a square of mosaic tile
You paint upon my face a smile

It is because I get such pleasure
When life gives me a rule to measure
My joyfulness needs not a disguise
Sitting under cherry blossom skies

Flaming hot horizon
Sunlit wings stream bright white
Over misty morning moisture meadow mayhem
Kissing away darkness from night

Flowers raise up erectly
Again blooming on long
While birds sing over and again
An old-fashioned sing-a-long song

Butterflies flit and flirt
In meadows of painted spring dawn
Waving wonder in each wisp
Childlike dreams of Someone

Love
Whatever inspires
Be it song sermon or science
Blessed the human family
With crumbs of comfort
From Christ's Table
(mbe)
To be continued
Copyright expired many years ago

Divine Love always has
& always will meet every human need

The truth will always set us free

What manner of Love
God bestowed
Upon his Beloved son
(John ?)

Even the youths shall utterly faint & fall
But those that wait upon the lord shall renew their strength
Mount up
Run not be weary
?Isiah 40
KJV

Psalms 23 & roger Whitaker
Sometimes in the morning
When you're fast asleep
I
My cup Runneth over w Love
To be continued incomplete

Famous quotes
Not my composed work
Copyrights expired many years ago
in court
Court done
Far to go to be done
not complete-done
To be contd.

"Are you teaching him a lesson?" She asked, eager to please,
As I tried to keep from barfing, my head between my knees.
"You hung on like a windsock! It just tickled us to death!"
Is she serious? I'm drooling, I can't hardly catch my breath.

"When you leaned yourself up forward and kissed him 'tween the ears,
The whole class just went crazy! I guess you heard the cheers!"
That must how I broke my nose and split my upper lip,
But I guess it looked like kissing', "I just love your horsemanship!"

"The way you tame the savage beast, the techniques that you're usin'".
When my tailbone hit the cantle, I felt my sphincter loosen.

"You reckon you could show us how you did it once again?
Be nice to get some photos." What? To show my next of kin?
I guess there goes my living will. I'm a victim of the forces.
The way this looks, I might as well be shoein horses.

"It was really so impressive, the way you made him load
At full gallop,sittin' backwards, from a way on down the road".
So that's how I hit the trailer, I think I lost a pound of flesh.
Thank goodness it was rusty and my tetanus shot was fresh.

"Could you show us that maneuver where you circled like a fan
With nothin' but your buckle touchin',
Holdin' out both your hands?"
Now where'd I put my Dramamine?
It was here the other day,
I'm feelin' kinda woozy,
Did Brannaman start out this way?

I thought it would be easy to be a horse clinician.
Now it's gonna take a miracle to explain this exhibition.
How I really was in full control, above the rising panic,
Though I looked like the propeller on the back of the Titanic!

"It's what I call the daisy," I modestly explained.
"It takes a master trainer to achieve what I've attained."
"You should concentrate on basics, skip the fancy stuff," I warned.
Besides, I thought, any gunsel can accidentally hook his buckle on the horn!

When words that sink too deeply
Into our hearts like a knife
Our feelings discarded so cheaply
The true meaning of this life

When times that last too briefly
And so colorful is the rose
Are taken away as thiefly
Such beauty lost and goes

When life becomes too weary
Into dusk the day will grow
Sleepless as night is dreary
Despite all the stars that glow

When dreams become too scary
And darkness becomes old
One cannot become too wary
Until all the lies are told

When trust can save us really
So great a need in strife
Is something given so freely
For those who honor life

When faith renews so freshly
Just like the turning tide
Is all needed so specially
So smiles no longer hide

In the shadow of the Raj
the afternoon delight
smoking opium
reclined in the hills
with Wallace
from the company
who through the haze
winked at me
as the Thai girl
brought in the tea

Wallace knew rubber
as I knew the jungle
we had fashioned
an alliance of sorts
as men do
in arduous conditions
"My good man"
as he was wont to declare
bristling with Etonian accent
downplayed his intentions
a disingenuous disguise
his virtues being few
"there is much to be done,
the world awaits Sir"

I took the hot tea
and considered the prospect
of rubber, men and machetes

I idly moved the curtain
and through the screen
I watched
Wallace's rigid frame
retreating stoically
midship
along the village road.
Making haste for the water
he glanced disdainfully
at the unkempt girl
corralling chickens
while the clove drawing
cigarette man
eyed him suspiciously
from a hut doorway
above the river.
Is it not God's will
he murmured to himself
that I should bring
a civilizing influence
to this damned outpost
of heat and destitution.
All three before him
had yielded to the mission
all missing in action
yet the company still
believed in rubber
believed in Wallace
and the empire
upon which the sun
never sets.

Hands bound above your head,
Eyes cloaked in my delicate darkness.

Tonight will be a beautiful pleasure
Mixed with sweet pain
As you surrender
Giving into your master

Tonight your heart will beat in my rhythm 
I’ll choose the pictures you will hear,
And with precise accuracy as I pleasure you 
My sweet sincerity you will deeply feel 

I will keep and cherish all of you 
In this world of selfish duplicity
Your essence of honesty and passion
Is why proud I am to be your master

Discover I will all the ways to pleasure you
Be that with my lips, my hands or with a whip
Not one strike will be without your pleasure
Not one thrust will be in selfishness

You and I together will explore
All the pleasure erotic world can offer
Sharing cute girls and guys we will
Having them play with us until we make them c*m

Yet ultimate delight will be
When deep into you I'll slide
A rhythm of passion we'll find
Taking us to peaks of sweet release

You and I in a sensual embrace, 
Our nectars creating a sweet cocktail of lust
Which only comes when kindred spirits climax
Together in passion as one.