Anxiety
I kept turning up
My music,
Which was blaring
Through my headphones.
As I sat,
I suddenly became aware
Of all the noises around me,
Where each body
was in relation to mine,
I heard noises that did not exist,
I felt things crawl on my skin
That were non existent.
My leg involuntary moved,
Trying to keep my sane
As my anxiety raged.
The Chase
Shadows on a shed
Something was misread
Wrong time, wrong place
Now we’re in a police chase
And someone wants us dead
Footsteps getting close
Or were they just ghosts
Heavy breaths
And no more rest
It feels like I overdosed
Tripping over rocks
Rain and soggy socks
The police come
With hancuffs and gun
But all I hear are clocks
No, wait- that’s my heartbeat
They push me in the backseat
I’m off to jail
To pay my bail
When will justice and I meet?
Prose Challenge of the Week #10
Good Morning, Prosers.
We hope you all had a great Valentine’s weekend!
As we embark on week ten of our Prose Challenge of the Week, we want to tell you all how stoked we are with all of your challenge responses. Week nine saw the biggest number of entrants to the prompt, ever! We are so proud to be a part of this journey with you all.
As today marks President’s Day, we thought we’d bring you a fitting challenge theme:
Prose Challenge of the Week #10: In honour of Presidents’ Day, write a Haiku about Donald Trump or Bernie Sanders. The winner will be chosen by Prose based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. Winner will receive $100.
Everyone has something to say about Mr. Trump, or Mr. Sanders, whether you are from America or not. Trump especially, has made news all across the globe, it’s up to you if that news is good or bad, after all, we are all entitled to our own opinions.
The heartbreak challenge was utterly heartbreaking to read, and the team most definitely needed a stiff drink to drown our sorrows afterwards. Way to go everyone, you certainly know how to make us weep!
We have read all of the entries you have piled high on our digital desks, and have come to a decision. The winner of the Prose Challenge of the Week #9 is @CJStevenson, with their piece “Stairway to Nowhere.” Congratulations! We will be contact with you shortly to arrange the transfer of your winnings.
Have a great week everyone,
Until next time.
Prose.
Guilt Shadows
How's this,
for a choke to the throat ...
Your presence screamed, 'Trust Me'
and I believed ...
Until you fucked my soul to stone,
raping my heart to the bone
leaving guilt to be my drowning pool.
You only saw me as an easy thrall!
The sign around my neck, ...
clearly stated, No Trespassing!!!
But, you did it anyway ...
Since then,
everyday,
I stand,
in the culler doorway,
watching guilt shadows taunt me ...
Just know,
One day,
One day I WILL,
end this pain
and with my last breath
I will say ...
Never. More.
Though the Raven is a symbol
of deaths snarling face, though
he carry omens while creeping
through clouds of white,
even He fears the poet,
gazing in the forest to the tune
of gentle streams trickling.
For if menacing caws of
the black winged beast
prove too distracting,
the poet may very well
blast that fuckers wings off
and return to visions of
lilacs and lilies singing:
"leave Never. see More."
The Artist (1986)
She entered the shop. The blaring, neon OPEN sign had beckoned her to enter the shop. The Artist. Maybe, it was the usage of the article 'the' that had awoken something in her, something that had been dormant for too long.
Her red hair was twisted into a bun. Strands of curls were purposely let lose to frame her face. Green eyes scanned the shop- stopping at every artist, every painting, memorizing every detail of this heavenly place. Her eyes stopped. In the back corner stood a boy- most likely her age- and unlike the rest of the artist he wasn't staring wistfully at his work, as if in another world. No, he wasn't staring at the canvas in front of him. He was staring at her.