Wandering on Edge of Life
Whet thy whistle and cherish
soft peaks of life
swing from frayed ropes
dangle from hot tin roofs
tap wild bare feet
Whet thy whistle and savor
horses trotting on old brick roads
black eyed sunflowers bending
spirits hiding in gray mist
rushing wind on blushed ears
Whet thy whistle and witness
feverish tracks of strewn rocks
fingers rustling on silken grass
fingernail moons and froggy leaps
sun dances in waving winds
Whet thy whistle and listen
warm breeze piping
wetness whispers of wind
waving palms mid azure skies
thousands of tales murmuring
WANDER AT THE EDGE OF LIFE WITH EARTH AT YOUR FEET
PENCIL OF CHILD
My fight is for peace.
Peace is my fight for.
For peace is my fight.
My fight ------ peace,
Peace ------ for,
For ------ my fight.
My fight is for ------
Peace, is my fight ------
For peace ------?
------ for peace
------ is my fight,
------ peace is my fight.
My fight ------ ------,
------ my fight ------,
------ ------ my fight...
--------
--------
For peace is my fight!
A Snake in the Grass
Primative...
I was unwanted
called serpentine
a prima donna
of primates....
thunderstruck
in the garden plot
where certain bipeds
were once weeded up...
with faith on the palate
from a lone guarantee:
“That the first shall be Last;
and the last shall be First.”
but how, what, or why?
I query to coil & unravel
knowing something
is within me....deep
if I could but
sink some teeth
in to describe...
how I’d draw that Life Blood
I’ll never have enough of...
I am the First
condemned
and the Last
for sacrifice...
I’ve prayed for me
...and on my sanity...
I’ve crawled from Void
returning belly up
back to the In-fin-not
no parable to unparcel
from this scaly muck...
just the loss of a mind
dumbstruck
with consciousness
buried by doubt
...as human pain
in the grass
#SnakeInTheGrass #Challenge
Seasons/Don’t/Matter
I’m like a sandstone rock in the desert
That sucks-in the rain but still dry
Kick it, bash it! won’t complain
The sun fries it but still silent
It’s sandstone, hard and dry
/ /
When winter growls it doesn’t run away
And the winds don’t break or move it
As it sits still on its sandy cracks
Seasons come, and seasons go
And it’s the same sandstone.
#hashtag
Once I knew a girl named Bell.
I felt like she only had one job...
To make my life a living hell.
She told me I worthless,
That I would never be loved.
She said I had no propose.
She turned the world against me,
Trapping me in a raging wildfire,
Not being able to be free.
I was all alone,
No one wanted to be my friend.
It was like Bell already mad my tombstone.
I turned into a coward,
I did things and I'm not proud.
I cut my arms and gave up all my power.
I did that for a year,
I hated myself,
I wanted to disappear.
But one day something changed,
My blade cut a little too deep.
And I remember being drained.
The doctor said I was lucky to survive.
That day completely changed me.
I realized that i didn't want to die.
The truth never lies
The Battle of Honest Intentions
Truth never lies, and a lie's never true.
Dissonant chords; are they red, white, or blue?
Spoken to mirror deceit in the soul,
Truth is a weapon; a lie is a goal.
Stabbed in the back but admitting the deal
Practices lying, both hands on the wheel.
Truth sets a standard of freedom's regime.
Lies are but gestures of trickery's scheme.
Sword and a shield bearing truth as the mark
Battle the demons that lie in the dark.
Sinister motives a fib holds within-
Bold to the face in the gist of a grin.
Truth marrow filling the bone of a word
Speaks what is honest and pure, not absurd.
Lies boast decay in the flesh of the mind,
Maiming and aiming at garments, unkind.
Difficult notions seem hard to disguise ...
Lies aren't truth, and the truth never lies.
#poetry #Philosophy
Prose Challenge of the Week #50
Good morning, Prosers,
It’s week fifty of the Prose Challenge of the Week! Last week saw you all writing poetry and prose using the sentence, “we are all broken,” as inspirations. We had shed-loads of superb entries to read, so thank you everyone.
Before we find out which one of you takes the $100 prize, let’s take a look at this week’s prompt:
Prose Challenge of the Week #50 : With Thanksgiving around the corner, write about a conversation around the table where a family secret is unfurled. The winner will be chosen 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. The winner will receive $100 and will be placed first on our Spotlight page and the runner-up will receive 1000 coins. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtag #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Get writing now
From this point forward, the winner will not only receive $100, but they will also have their post Spotlighted. This means that anyone who visits theprose.com and isn’t logged in, will see your post first, before anyone else. So, make your words count. Not only this but we are now offering the person who comes in second place 1000 coins to buy some beautiful word porn! How about that for incentive to enter?
Back to the winner of week forty-nine. We have read all of your entries and thoroughly enjoyed every single one. There can only be one winner and one runner up, however, and after much deliberation the runner up, and the recipient of 1000 coins is, @JessicaJohnson with their piece “You’ve Come to the Right Place.” Congratulations! Now for the champion of the challenge, our winner this week is, @RoseMoore with their piece “The Meeting of Broken Things.” Congratulations to you, we will be in touch shortly to arrange transfer of your winnings!
That’s all for this week, here’s to a week filled with all things Prose!
Until next time, Prosers,
Prose.
Fabled Truths
These are the moments in history where suddenly we can feel that the stories of the past are true. That, despite the subtleties of the present, we might always be one step away from a page of a text book. And now, we don't know what to expect, and even the certainty of the sun rising doesn't seem as strong as it was before.