Layers
I
am
the
world
in
a
crying
tear
and
I
fall
into
rivers of
flowing pain
I
shed
layers of
my loss
creating
a
pile of
excess baggage
the wet gashes of
oversupply are rain
spray in a time drizzle
Though I cry sometimes
I am showered in the rainbows
Everyone
“Everyone’s got something”
(struggles sight unseen)
Kindness holds the answer
Patience sets the scene
No need for derision
Leave behind disdain
Life will pass much sweeter
Everyone will gain
Wrong World, Wrong Time
When I was younger
I thought
I was born too late
I believed
That I should have been born earlier
I was embarrassed
Embarrassed about my age
As if I was born into a world
That had long since
Passed me by
I was nostalgic
for a time I never knew
Now that I have gotten older
I no longer feel embarrassed
No
Instead part of me feels sad
Because part of me
Can’t help but feel
That I was born too early
Confused?
So am I
I guess
That this is my life
To always feel
Like I’m in the wrong time
In the wrong world
As if there is a world
In which I do belong
But I have missed it
Maybe in another life
I will find it
For now though,
Life continues
The Lost Meaning of Time
I stand in the large open field
The grass is short
as if it has just been cut
For hours I stand in field
Watching the sun
As it slowly rises into the sky
Night has become day
As time passes,
everyone gets up
Slowly I hear
Sounds of laughter
Sounds of children playing
Sounds of conversions
about the challenges of the day
Sounds of people going to work
Sounds of cars whirling past
When the sun begins to set
I'm still in the field
Slowly I hear
the sounds of people going to bed
the sounds of children
Being kissed goodnight
The sounds of the day
slowly becoming more quiet
Until there is nothing, but silence
Day has become night
I stand in the field
All night long
Until night again becomes day
Then I stand
until day again becomes night
This process repeating itself
Over and over
The grass growing
til it is as almost as tall as me
The change of night and day
becomes indistinguishable
Time loses meaning
And I feel out of place
As everything around me
slowly changes
The children grow old and die
And then so does their children
The cycle repeating itself
Til the pattern loses meaning
Til everything loses meaning
and becomes trivial
Luctus
Born amongst the winter months, when warmth is far forgotten
When life is but a rotten seed, or so I’ve thought so often
Grisly thoughts of memory past, which now so brightly loom
The wind brings mist from farther north, where I will be bound soon
What hath become of brighter days, with song and merry sight?
For now I roam through darkest crypts along this endless night
Where shadows grasp with lustful sights, to quell such dire want
Their glasses brim with foulest drops that turns the stomach daunt
What vile deed I abruptly struck for sternest punishment so
In all the years I’ve faced the worst, I’m still my darkest foe
And when the stars come crashing down upon my shaken frame
The man who comes to take the retched, will surely call my name
The bones do ache and nerves stay clenched, such age without the years
I’d hung my eyes from others sight, the gallows made of fears
Always less than those I’d gaze, and less than those I don’t
So cruel those gods who’d curse me so, so pray to them I won’t
No desire to lead the hearts of men, nor follow the brightest light
I’ll wander now, till sorrow comes, and all I’ll see is white…
Love Lost
I remember your breath on my neck
Your bites on my shoulder
Scratches on my back
Hands in my hair
Legs around my waist
Feeding you breakfast in bed
Those days and nights
What happened with us
Did I give too little
Did I ask too much
Still thinking...
I don’t know; but I wonder, willing to wander together… that is why I’m writing.
It’s Simple
I write because I'm unable to sort out all my thoughts in only my mind
I write because I could never trust people as much as paper and a pen.
Prose Challenge of the Week #64
Hello, Prosers,
We hope this challenge announcement finds you well and writing!
It’s week sixty-four of the Prose Challenge of the Week.
For the last week, you have been writing a twisted tale, and man, did you deliver. Before we check out who the deserving winner and recipient of $100 is, let’s take a look at this week’s prompt:
CotW #64: Write about the most hilarious thing you have ever witnessed. The most eloquent, elegant, entertaining entry, ascertained by Prose, earns $100 and stays atop the Spotlight shelf for six straight days. Feel free to invite friends, distant family, even strange acquaintances to play this challenge with you anonymously. Please use #ProseChallenge #itslit for sharing online.
Now, back to the winner of week sixty-three.
We have read all of your entries, and have come to a decision. The winner of the Twisted Tale challenge is @jwelker76 with their piece, Until Morning.
Congratulations! You have just won $100. We’ll be in touch with you shortly.
In the meantime, you have one week to get your write on!
Until next time, Prosers,
Prose.