Together, we write — painting skies

Paper-white, swept on azure-blue

parchment

Raindrops, ink-storms mist our eyes

Pen’s to page as the cloud’s to the

firmament

One body, we lap mankind’s souls

Cerulean sketched ocean scapes

Sand fleas, building castles and moats

Cresting hearts, washed in lyrical waves

Architectural structures, sublime

Under me, under you; mystifies

Foundations of contrast and rhyme

Toothpick towers of phrase paradise

First, born in love with words; smitten

Aster flowers, bamboo branches and

leaves

Unnatural, squares - quilt patch

knitting

Ivy lattice laced prose, drawing bees

Eyes of artists see poems in living

Words work their ways into sonnets

Encouraging lambs in sheep’s clothing

Gifted writers, not just an(y) other

poets

Stained glass windows; our joy in the

pane

Scatters light, shades of heart’s hopeful

hue

A lark in the woods should we wane

Inspiration, when words remain few

Verse-stippled pigments paint canvas

Writing fame with the stars in the sky

Tapestry, woven, we blanket

Carpe Noctem; blue-black seizing

night

Spilling ink from our vessels of clay

Bards bake pie; huckleberry hue

flavor

Staining flesh as our fingers, we splay

Art from words that will live on forever

****

This piece is in honor of all the Prosers in our wonderful community! If your username isn’t included, please know that you are still there within these lines and in the spirit that this was written. <3 thank you for taking the time to read this and for always being so supportive!

I have made many friends through this site. It's really cool. This is a required site. Especially for writers and poets. I would like to thank the site's owners and best wishes! All the people on this site are amazing. Together we move towards greater goals. We will win if we are united! May we accompany the visitor?

I was very excited at first. What if they don't accept me?

But soon everything went well. It is true that I am in financial trouble, but I am spiritually rich

Thanks everyone!

Don't forget following me! (joke)

I'm a busy, full time mom. Most days, I think in Disney quotes, diapers, and banana slices coated with peanut butter. I love what I do, and I love defining myself as "Mom." Moms are superheroes too, afterall. We know where everything is, and we have that spidery sense of knowing when someone is getting into something they shouldn't. Our kisses heal scraped and bruised knees. Our singing and story reading skills send the monsters away and help ou children to drift to peaceful sleep.

But there are days, rare days, where I remember other dreams and passions I've had. I keep them in a little drawer like Mr. Darling. And every time I open that drawer, I come to the Prose. On the Prose, those dreams don't have to stay in the drawer. They can be a reality. I can be Mom, but I can also be a writer. I can be a poet. I can let myself get swept away in a moment of fantasy as it types its way across the sccreen. Excitement and accomplishment course through me--you know the feeling. That amazing experience of being "in the zone." Inspiration courses through me. I'm not blocked or slow. I'm moving at the speed of light. Flying. Soaring through galaxies of thought. A breath escapes. A sigh of relief. A gasp of life. An embrace of peasure. A poem has been born.

It is in that moment where I meet myself. I'm a creator, an artist, a lover of so many things, so many possibilities.

And then I go back to my superhero duties and my two amazing daughters. But I love those stolen moments on the Prose. They rejuvenate me, jog my creativity, and give me the extra boost I need to be a good Mom.

If not for writing on THE PROSE

My many casualties and woes would have no place to go

When in pain or feeling jubilant again

My usual course is to put in on this site for my gain

Although I have problems typing direct

I cut and paste from my notebook you can bet

All in all its been a favorable ride

Surely my words penetrate not only my soul

But grip the readers so we all can grow

Prose have given me a platform I can express my wildest emotions on. My darkest poems, the best, or the worst of my poems. I love the fact that I can write unfiltered and free. I love the Prose platform. It has many styles to help writer’s hone in on their skills. I love that you can go back and edit your work. I have made a lot of errors. Some writings still have some errors in them. Even with the mistakes fellow writer’s will still read your work and give you feedback on your material. When fellow writer’s like your work it makes you feel so good. It makes you want to write even more to get better at what you do. I love Prose because some sites you can’t use profanity sometimes it’s necessary to get your point across. Prose is an awesome site because they give you the freedom to express who you are without judgement and that’s what I love about Prose. Prose has made me push myself out of my comfort zone and try different things with writing prompts from fellow writer’s adding their challenges to get your juices flowing. I love the different challenge’s it brings. It keeps me on my toes. Prose is my go to writing site for learning and growing. I see my growth and I love it. I even edit more now. My goal is to fix all of the errors in my writings. Thank you! Prose team members for letting me be free to write. Free to decide who I am and free to write my own style as I see fit. Your site is the best writing site for me. “Who loves you baby.? I do. Prose. com.”

i hide away on this site

it brings me closure

it lets me give all my fears

insecurities

to the world

everyone around me

feels the same

they know

what it feels like to hide away

to want to be heard

that’s what this has given me

the ability to have somewhere

to give myself to

even on the worst days

i can give myself to the words

the poems

to prose.

Last Sunday afternoon, I was feeling a bit down, so my best friends asked me if I’d like to go with them, and grab something to eat. I knew they wanted to cheer me up. But since I was lost and disconnected from the world at the moment, swimming in my own nightmares, I didn’t invest much time and attention in their offering. A few seconds later, however, when I barely awakened from daydreaming, while drenched in sorrow, I forced myself to engage in their conversations; and I agreed to go out and try having a good time with them.

The ride to the place was long, and upon arrival, we had to wait in a long line to be seated. The venue we visited was such a nice classical, old style restaurants that sat just right off the river, beneath Brooklyn Bridge; we had a blast, enjoying the food and wine, while laughing and conversing about our old ages that had gone a long time ago.

My friends made me laugh and helped me to cope, holding my soft, tender heart closer to my chest.

Later that night, I forgot about what I had been fuzzing about earlier in the day, thanks to the good friends I had. That’s how theprose.com makes me feel sometimes, when I am out of ideas or bored, it gives me hopes and wings to fly.

Thanks the prose teams!!!

MidnightInk (2-5-20)