Prose Poems (414)

Never did I doubt you,in your words I felt secure. Till that first time I felt dishonesty..as you walked right out the door.

It happened a few times again,and I thought it was just me..Till I came out side to find you..you were hiding something from me.

In shock I asked whats going on, and you admitted to me your vice.You lied about a trivial thing..and that's was not too wise.

You see I am a smart one, and lies from men are nothing new..but in you I put my trust, and that was hard to do.

Now you were so good at story telling, that now I question everything you say..Damn you for hurting us..in that awful ugly way.

You get mad each time I ask you in that way that says "yeah right"
But have you ever wondered why you ever lied to me that night?

Words they can do two things, bring joy or bring much pain..and the sad thing is that I don't think I can.in you trust that way again.

I wish I never caught you so To me you still could be,that great guy I thought you were before you lied to me.

Now I have this heaviness that rests upon my heart,I have never lied to you..now it's tearing us apart.

I pray we can get past this, and we can forgive ..forget. I was really hoping this time would not be built upon regrets.

You always helped me with all my troubles
and i'd do the same for you
when i said no one cared about me
you'd say you do
you stopped me from hurting myself
and ending my life
you came to my rescue
and put down the knife
you told me you would be nothing
if I wasn't there
those words showed me
you really cared
but there's another secret
that killing my soul
one that made me realize
you made me whole
it's that i love you
and even though were friends
i would always love you
until the end
I hope that one day
maybe you'll love me too
and I'll be waiting for that day to come
and you'll say I love you

These brown eyes have glimpsed beauty many times in this llifetime. Yet, never before have they glanced upon such exquisite nobility as lies before them tonight. The texture of your skin softer than the finest silk. Your dark wavy hair so beautiful, like the mane of a thoroughbred stallion. I'm afraid if I touch you I may damage the jewel. for my hands are rough from tampering with steel. Please forgive the boldness of a poor fellow's stare, but I can't succor myself. You're as lovely as the sight of a baby doe. Those piercing dark eyes of yours burn the abyss of my soul. How incredible it must be to awaken next to someone so fabulous, your breath caressing my cheeks, your fragile frame entwined with mine. Indeed, what a blissful moment, knowing that for once in my life I am going to be touched by a creature so phenomenally extravagant. It makes me almost dizzy to imagine what it would be like to taste the delicate fruits of your secret garden and nurture from its basket like bees swarming to honey. By Cheyenne Yakima

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.

How to see through dripping eyes
only then can the truth be exposed
everything is blurry and out of focus
but never have I seen things so clear

in my frying pan go the butter for lots of tasting soup
in go my onions sweating in my frying pan
in i put my mushrooms now theres not much room in my frying pan
a bit of salt and pepper as i quickly stir

in i put some soya sauce into my pan ,very saucy of course dark is the best
in the pan i put two small hand fulls of rice or pearl barley of course
in the pan i put an oxo or lovely bovril cube to add more flaver of course
more salt and pepper and not least of all more soya sauce

into this i put my cooked onions and mushrooms
then it is all topped up with water of course
i bring this all to a lovley boil then simmer for half and hour
while i hover and put the house straight again
i look forward to my reward my lovely soup of course which is made in no time at all

My friends want charming princes
And they dislike frogs
So i thoutght to myself yesterday night:
Am i a frog or a prince???
I confess that i love animals and frogs are very interesting too
Single princes exist... Maybe in the United Kingdom and other royal families around the world...
I guess i am not a frog and neither a prince in spite of being very charming as my brazilian, chinese and japanese friends use to say
So i am confused because i don´t know my true role at this love story
Sometimes i use to compose love songs and i really don´t understand who is the source of my inspiration in spite of inspiration being for all... as far as i realize it...
For a while i try to record my songs without concerns about who inspires me because i am single and not looking for anyone but what will happen if i meet a special someone(?)...
I am afraid of being not able to compose any song because i would be "in love"...
So what can i do?
To love or not to love???
My life is so colourful because i love music...
Will i betray my songs if i fall in love???
Will i lose my "gift" if someone touches my heart and soul???
Sometimes i sing like a frog in love...
By other hand i am as a prince who sings in order to feel less loneliness...
Maybe i will be fine if i love someone... i hope so...
Probably i am a "frog prince" and so my confused conceptions fade like a bouquet of flowers during a Summer night...

In the twilight hour
two shadows emerge
treading the evening sea shore.
Smiles brighter than silver dollars,
barefoot arm and arm.
Laugher echoing across
the blue velvet sky.
Dancing the night away,
unclothed, merging as one.
Romancing beneath the stars,
soft cheeks caressing,
with eyes glittering
like crystal chandelier.

Cattle die kindsmen die
Thy to will soon die
But far and fair will
The deeds of a good man
Travel even after death

As shy as a hedgerow mouse
As timid as a bunny rabbit
I cannot seem to write a line
In this crazy mind that I inhabit

The poetry and prose I write
The verses and the rhymes
I still can’t send a contact message
To endear a woman’s charms

I’ve tried so many times so far
To make a good impression
But every time I write something
It leads me to depression

I never know just what to say
To start the conversation
Now I’m stuck inside my head
My thoughts are in stagnation

A single message I’ve not sent
No contacts have been made
I have no idea what to put
This could be a lost crusade