i'd keep you,

catch you in

a glass jar

like a firefly,

if you'll let me.

i've got an old

blueberry jam

jar that i think

you'd like.

we could

watch the sun

go to sleep

on the other

side of the

glass, smell

like blueberries,

and dream of

nothing more.

would you

keep me,

if you could,

in a blue

glass sun jam

firefly berry

jar?

would you

make sure

i'm never

lonely, or

is that too

much to

ask?

we could

chip out

glass holes in

the shape of

our hearts,

and patch it

over with jam,

and dream of

nothing more.

Time

slips through our hands like water.

Time

falls through our fingers like sand

Time

leaves a memory like a shell souvenir

Time

sometimes sweet, sometimes salty

Time

peaceful and dangerous

Time

relaxation and confrontation

A third collaboration is coming soon to a Prose neighborhood close to you so be on the lookout for it.

If you like zombies or the undead, then this is for you.

Beginning May 23rd (Monday) and ending June 6th (Monday) twenty chapters with also the Prologue and Epilogue.

If you enjoyed Survivors and The Kincade Chronicles, then to be sure, you would love this one. So, stay tuned.

(... and keep the lights on and doors locked when reading. Never know what might show up at your door,)

in a golden glade of soprano notes

there's a tree the color of minor key

and with every note, it's crimson grows

with alizarin crescendos.

though bleeding ears may be pummeled and ache

drowned by a shower of endless high notes

and basses so low that they seem to blaspheme.

my eyes will never tire

of watching the seasons change

like a tall dark redbud

blossoming into a dark red song.

Oh young one,

may you be accepted by the ever approaching crescendo of expression, designed to blaspheme that which was once held sacred and known.

Do not attempt to dodge the alizarin shards of progress that—showered in the blood of past ideas—will pummel the souls of those who with a deep nostalgic ache inside them populate the ever-expanding glade that is experience.

And this will never stop happening.

Dear you, I’m sorry I wasn’t always the nicest,

Not noticing that having a little self love was priceless,

For Taking your smallest efforts for granted & always wanting more,

Never seeing your true beauty for what it’s for,

I’m sorry I hurt you for so long,

For always making you feel weak, when you needed to feel strong,

I was the problem all along,

Im sorry your hurting still, I take all the blame.

For why you continue to feel shame.

Shame in yourself for who you are, but I’m proud of who you became.

I’m sorry I didn’t love you when you needed it the most,

Instead I held the knife to your throat.

I made you question your worth comparing you to others,

I left you fighting your demons alone, I left you running for cover.

I’m sorry I wasn’t there to push you through your darkest times.

Im sorry I’m the reason you walk around blind,

And why you always question those who are kind.

I’m sorry I made you feel small when you needed to feel greater.

I’m to blame for why you see yourself and you whisper “I hate her”

I’m sorry I didn’t notice your worth until many yrs later.

You were trying your best and you still are,

truth is I’m proud you made it this far.

For picking up your broken pieces and embracing your scars.

I’m sorry at times it’s still hard to express yourself, & that you feel misunderstood,

I’m sorry the bad out weighed the good,

I’m sorry at times you still feel empty,

& For being so hard on you to have it all figured out by your twenties.

I’m sorry I left you feeling lost w/ no sense of direction,

Failing to convince you there is no such thing as perfection.

So I hope you can forgive me for all the pain I’ve put you through,

In hopes that forgiving me will leave you brand new,

Focusing on what’s in front and not in the rear view.

And that one day you can see yourself and say “I love you” and it’ll be true ❤️

Written by - Poetic-loner

Today, I'm starting over. I'm beginning my healing process by letting everything that binds me, weighing me down go. I'm closing the door to my past, looking forward to what's coming next, and most importantly, believing that everything will turn out right. After all the pain I've been through I will always choose love, blooming between broken souls. Swallowing bitterness. I want to be bigger than love, bigger than life, bigger than pain. Love will always shine in the darkness, falling with the rain.

I haven't done a challenge or written anything on Prose in several months, but this one said, "You need to respond."

The world by itself is anything but stupid. Actually, it is brilliant. The world, created by God. How can we call it stupid?

It has beauty. Oceans, mountains, grass, beautiful scenery, minerals that are vital for human life to sustain.

As we have given nature a nickname: "Mother Earth", she can be dangerous. Flash flooding, tornadoes, earthquakes, monsoons. hurricanes, blizzards, and droughts. These are weather patterns that are good for the environment but bad for human beings,

We live in a generation of change. Well, we all have since humans evolved. And that is where the real danger lies. The world isn't dangerous any more than it has been for centuries. The real danger lies in what roams the world.

Human beings. Those homo sapiens that run their countries. Those people who drive drunk and kill bystanders. Those people who murder for profit or sport. They take from the needy. Rape, pillage, and plunder. There are those who call themselves scientists who study the world and do excavational work to discover more mysteries without thinking of what they are doing to the eco system.

If we were to eliminate these types of people, the world wouldn't be dangerous and at the same time, we rid the world of stupid people who could no longer make our lives difficult.

Let the world run its course of natural events. With stupid people out of the equation, Perhaps the world will allow us to see even more beauty awaiting our eyes we have yet to experience.

One can only hope.

i've been so lost in my own head lately

so bottled up in thoughts that shake around the room like tornados and shatter on the walls like broken china

i think about you sometimes and i wish i could say it makes the weather a little nicer,

but it's just more like flood warnings and foggy street lamps

like iced roads and fist sized hail

sometimes i think about me,

my future, my past

and i think about how my therapist once told me if i didn't stop thinking

and worrying

my head would soon explode and splatter on the walls like crimson paint and charcoal memories

my thundering thoughts thrown upon this house like an abstract art gallery

i was eleven,

and now i'm fifteen,

almost fifteen

still worrying about the same things and the same storms

the same damn weather warnings from four years ago

it's sad really, that it rains far too much in this little quaint town for us to ever grow our garden

i'm sorry we can't ever grow our garden.

because in truth i love the rain

i love thunderstorms and i love floods

i love when tears stream down my face like rain drops on a windowsill

i love the silver lining to every cloud

and i love you until the moon should turn upside down

i hope when it rains a little you think of me and my thundering thoughts

because in truth i'd love to grow my garden with you

but i love the rain far too much

and i know you never will.