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Written by Winterreign in portal Romance & Erotica

Yearning.

I love how dirty

your mind is.

I love how

Dirty you are.

I love how

Naughty you can get.

Your naughtiness

Makes my panties

Soak extremely hard.

I love how you bring

The animal caged

Inside me out to play.

Let both of our

Animals out to play

In the wild.

You and i

Will get along perfectly.

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Written by Winterreign in portal Romance & Erotica
Yearning.
I love how dirty
your mind is.

I love how
Dirty you are.

I love how
Naughty you can get.

Your naughtiness
Makes my panties
Soak extremely hard.

I love how you bring
The animal caged
Inside me out to play.

Let both of our
Animals out to play
In the wild.

You and i
Will get along perfectly.
#fantasy 
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Written by Syne

Mr. Pendlum's Compendium

Hi all! Once again I apologize for my continued absence. I reemerge now with something to show for my absence, something that I am sharing with only a few close friends and family, and with you, because I feel that this little family of writers has helped me push myself forward with my writing. Though this particular project began in February of this year, before I joined Prose, many of these writings have been inspired by my time here on Prose and many of you have contributed with your generous feedback and motivation. This is only the first part of my project that is done; the second part will be to seek a good publisher, so there is much work to be done still. But for now, I share with you the digital version of my new illustrated poetry book, Mr. Pendlum's Compendium of Illustrated Verse from the Multiverse Vol. 1. I hope that one day you will be able to see it in physical form. I leave you the link here:

http://syne.pagecloud.com/bookdownload

Ps. If you have feedback I would still love to hear it as this is still in demo form. And even if it was the final published work, I would welcome it anyway

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Written by Syne
Mr. Pendlum's Compendium
Hi all! Once again I apologize for my continued absence. I reemerge now with something to show for my absence, something that I am sharing with only a few close friends and family, and with you, because I feel that this little family of writers has helped me push myself forward with my writing. Though this particular project began in February of this year, before I joined Prose, many of these writings have been inspired by my time here on Prose and many of you have contributed with your generous feedback and motivation. This is only the first part of my project that is done; the second part will be to seek a good publisher, so there is much work to be done still. But for now, I share with you the digital version of my new illustrated poetry book, Mr. Pendlum's Compendium of Illustrated Verse from the Multiverse Vol. 1. I hope that one day you will be able to see it in physical form. I leave you the link here:

http://syne.pagecloud.com/bookdownload


Ps. If you have feedback I would still love to hear it as this is still in demo form. And even if it was the final published work, I would welcome it anyway
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Written by CJames

Seeing Jane

'Tis I've been gifted and been blessed;

laden with skill to beauty wrest.

With quills that from wells deeply drink,

to gather such in lines of ink.

A poet's wit, with words finespun,

that trace her pose -- yet still outdone.

That from her lyric light do shrink,

and gather she not up in ink.

A turn to palette and to brush,

that seem to capture at first blush,

and for a moment have me think,

that I have gathered her in ink...

But no... no matter strength of gift,

I fear my work but gives short shrift.

It draws not her from any brink

and gathers not she in my ink.

Unsnared, she roams without constraint,

free of my rhyme and canvassed paint.

Alluring, breaking chain and link --

bound never up by my poor ink...

© 2017 CJames, All Rights Reserved

[Art: Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Study of Jane Morris for ‘Mnemosyne’, 1876.]

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Written by CJames
Seeing Jane
'Tis I've been gifted and been blessed;
laden with skill to beauty wrest.
With quills that from wells deeply drink,
to gather such in lines of ink.

A poet's wit, with words finespun,
that trace her pose -- yet still outdone.
That from her lyric light do shrink,
and gather she not up in ink.

A turn to palette and to brush,
that seem to capture at first blush,
and for a moment have me think,
that I have gathered her in ink...

But no... no matter strength of gift,
I fear my work but gives short shrift.
It draws not her from any brink
and gathers not she in my ink.

Unsnared, she roams without constraint,
free of my rhyme and canvassed paint.
Alluring, breaking chain and link --
bound never up by my poor ink...

© 2017 CJames, All Rights Reserved

[Art: Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Study of Jane Morris for ‘Mnemosyne’, 1876.]
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’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.' This is a piece taken from Lewis Carol's "Jabberwocky", one of my favorite poems of all time. Even though the poem is written in gibberish, with words from Carol's own imagination, it still manages to convey meaning and capture a strong tone. Poems don't have to make sense to be enjoyable. Write your own poem in gibberish, but try to capture a certain tone, funny, solemn, urgent, mysterious. If it has a rhythm or meter, all the better. But most importantly, have fun! 100 coins to the winner.
Written by Syne in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Bibblybib and Bobbledob

If Bibblybib and Bobbledob both bobbled bibbingly

Did Bilby boil the bubble stew before or after tea?

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’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe: All mimsy were the borogoves, And the mome raths outgrabe.' This is a piece taken from Lewis Carol's "Jabberwocky", one of my favorite poems of all time. Even though the poem is written in gibberish, with words from Carol's own imagination, it still manages to convey meaning and capture a strong tone. Poems don't have to make sense to be enjoyable. Write your own poem in gibberish, but try to capture a certain tone, funny, solemn, urgent, mysterious. If it has a rhythm or meter, all the better. But most importantly, have fun! 100 coins to the winner.
Written by Syne in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Bibblybib and Bobbledob
If Bibblybib and Bobbledob both bobbled bibbingly
Did Bilby boil the bubble stew before or after tea?
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Written by Augustmntn

See yourself

Do you ever see yourself the way that I saw you?

Have you ever loved yourself the way that I loved you?

You could be set free, if you did either.

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Written by Augustmntn
See yourself
Do you ever see yourself the way that I saw you?
Have you ever loved yourself the way that I loved you?

You could be set free, if you did either.

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Written by istoppedtrying

i float my fleeting eloquence away

through the shadows of your snow globe.

publish each piece, if my free verse

left peaches on your scroll wheel.

add the abstract to ascend your eyebrows

so i can bask in the shaking heads.

hover over every syllable, sponge

the meaning

i don't require fancy words

or

a rhyme scheme.

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Written by istoppedtrying
i float my fleeting eloquence away

through the shadows of your snow globe.

publish each piece, if my free verse

left peaches on your scroll wheel.

add the abstract to ascend your eyebrows

so i can bask in the shaking heads.

hover over every syllable, sponge

the meaning

i don't require fancy words

or

a rhyme scheme.

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Write an R-rated short story.
Written by dustygrein in portal Fiction

Steel and Me

Steel’s breath smells almost as bad as the air here, downwind from what used to be a city. Mine probably stinks just as much as the dog’s, but he never bitches about it, so neither do I.

 

Four days.

 

That’s how long Steel and I have been here on the west side. We have the cellar to ourselves and so far we have avoided the roving gangs of Burners. Our night-time searches have been a bust though. All we have to show is one dented gas can, a few rolls of masking tape and the batteries.

 

Hell, I should feel thankful for those.

 

The last pack of batteries I found bought me three hots and a cot at the Ref-Center across town. Of course those were the square nine-volts and these are only double-A’s, but they should still be worth a fresh meal, and maybe a pair of socks.

 

There’s a Drift I met by the burn pits—I think her name is Doris, or Daisy; something stupid like that—but she says she has a half-dozen sports-bras stashed, that she managed to steal from somewhere. If it’s true and one of them fits, I might just swap her a couple batteries instead. Safer than going to the Ref-Center, and I’d love to be able run without having to tie a shirt around my chest.

 

The sun’s getting hot again. Midday temps are reaching at least 130 now. Luckily we’ve been riding out the worst of it here, two levels deep. The air is a bit staler down here, but the heat is manageable.

 

We’ll need to make a trip to the lake tonight; we are down to two canteens of water, and Steel has been panting a lot today.

 

The mutt knows I’ll give him my share if I have to.

 

One of the Noonas at the Ref-Center told me she heard we are supposed to get some relief from the heat as autumn begins, but I wonder. Whoever the genius was who fired up the HAARP array, stripped the cloud cover off most of the planet before they could shut it down; the only rain we’ve seen in months has been in our dreams.

I pour a little water in my hand and let Steel lap it up before we settle in for a siesta. It’s the best thing to do when it’s this damned hot.

     #

I come fully awake from my nap all at once, like always. It doesn’t pay to be only partially aware. I learned that the hard way last year.

 

“Come on, Steel. Let’s go see if the group under the library wants to trade some mostly clean tape rolls for a new book.”

At least I would have something to read that way.

 

I almost make the stairs, when Steel’s warning growl, low and almost non-existent, stops me in my tracks. He smells something, and now I can hear it. Someone is in the room above us. I gently slide the bolt back on my rifle, and check the chamber before re-locking it, tightly.

 

I love you, dog. Let’s see who it is.

 

I make my way quietly up the stairs with Steel at my heels, all but silent on the pads of his feet.

 

I stop in the stairwell below the level of the upper floor, and slowly raise myself up on my toes, just enough to see through the weak light beyond the doorway above. It looks like a pair of Burners, probably on a foraging patrol. Shit, they aren’t even trying to be quiet; probably feel invincible. They should have checked the building completely, before acting all at-home and cozy. I bet they don’t even realize there is another level below this one.

 

I put my left eye against the scope, my right trigger finger lying gently inside the trigger guard. Just as I thought. Two boys in Burner boots and jackets. Hell, they don’t even look old enough to shave. I guess that’s a problem they won’t ever have to worry about now.

 

I raise my left hand, all four fingers straight up in the air. I can tell Steel has frozen at this signal without even having to look. We are a good team, Steel and me.

 

I think you might have some fresh food tonight, dog.

 

With a single motion, I close my hand into a fist and then stretch my fingers out flat. Steel lowers himself to his belly and crawls past me up the last few steps, and slinks toward the doorway. He knows how to flush out his prey.

 

Steel lays in the doorway quietly and turns to look at me. I brace myself against the steps and sight in on Burner #1, across the room. The idiot is standing in a thin beam of sunlight; an easy shot. Even easier to imagine he is one of the crew who raped me last year. They are all dead, thanks to Steel—and a couple well-placed bullets—but the anger comes on anyway, strengthening my resolve.

 

A simple quiet tongue-click is Steel’s cue and he begins to whine. Very softly and non-threatening. His posture is relaxed and his tail is slowly thumping up and down. He has his ears lowered and if I know Steel, he is grinning his silly-dog grin at them as well. He knows how to do the sweet and innocent act better than any human I have ever met.

 

“What the fuck was that?” The sitting duck in my sights turns to look toward the darkened doorway with a bit of panic in his voice.

 

Maybe these two have a little brains after all.

 

His partner sees Steel and proves how green he is, sealing both their fates. He walks over and bends down, muttering some kind of baby talk to Steel. I gently squeeze the trigger on my rifle, and as the sound of the shot echoes up the stairwell, his buddy’s head explodes into a fine red mist behind him—bits of brain and blood spraying out across the far side of the room. I throw the bolt back, ejecting the spent casing, and slam another round home into the chamber before the noise is even gone.

 

The look of shock on the second Burner’s face is almost comical, but doesn’t last long. Steel uncoils like a spring, and without making a sound, tears out the asshole’s throat. His body falls to the floor, and his feet actually spasm a few times before his brain registers his own death.

 

I wait a few minutes to make sure the sound of the shot hasn’t attracted any unwanted attention, then stand up and enter the upper basement. I gotta hand it to the Drift who sold me this ammo. He said it would pack a punch, and he was definitely on track.

 

I quickly search the bodies. The headless one was packing a pistol with a full clip, but his buddy, Mr. Dog Food, was only carrying a 22-caliber pellet gun. Big Bad Burners they weren’t. Pitiful wanna-be’s is closer to the truth.

 

This is a tough world boys, too bad you didn’t figure that out sooner.

 

Between the two of them, they did have three canteens, which I use to refill my own supplies. The one I shot also had a bag of jerky in his pocket, so it looks like maybe Steel and I will both have a bite of dinner.

 

I signal the dog to have at it, and as he fills his belly on the remains of the Burner, I head back down to pack up my duffel. They were probably loners, but just in case, I’d rather not be here if they do have friends to mourn their stupidity.

 

Oh well; it was time to move on anyway. Slinging my rifle, I lift the duffel to my shoulder and join Steel upstairs. Together, we make our way toward ground level and the afternoon heat. I pat the new pistol tucked into my belt, and smile at the dog.

 

Looks like I have a bit more than just batteries to trade now, mutt. Let’s go.

(c) 2017 - dustygrein

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Written by dustygrein in portal Fiction
Steel and Me
Steel’s breath smells almost as bad as the air here, downwind from what used to be a city. Mine probably stinks just as much as the dog’s, but he never bitches about it, so neither do I.
 
Four days.
 
That’s how long Steel and I have been here on the west side. We have the cellar to ourselves and so far we have avoided the roving gangs of Burners. Our night-time searches have been a bust though. All we have to show is one dented gas can, a few rolls of masking tape and the batteries.
 
Hell, I should feel thankful for those.
 
The last pack of batteries I found bought me three hots and a cot at the Ref-Center across town. Of course those were the square nine-volts and these are only double-A’s, but they should still be worth a fresh meal, and maybe a pair of socks.
 
There’s a Drift I met by the burn pits—I think her name is Doris, or Daisy; something stupid like that—but she says she has a half-dozen sports-bras stashed, that she managed to steal from somewhere. If it’s true and one of them fits, I might just swap her a couple batteries instead. Safer than going to the Ref-Center, and I’d love to be able run without having to tie a shirt around my chest.
 
The sun’s getting hot again. Midday temps are reaching at least 130 now. Luckily we’ve been riding out the worst of it here, two levels deep. The air is a bit staler down here, but the heat is manageable.
 
We’ll need to make a trip to the lake tonight; we are down to two canteens of water, and Steel has been panting a lot today.
 
The mutt knows I’ll give him my share if I have to.
 
One of the Noonas at the Ref-Center told me she heard we are supposed to get some relief from the heat as autumn begins, but I wonder. Whoever the genius was who fired up the HAARP array, stripped the cloud cover off most of the planet before they could shut it down; the only rain we’ve seen in months has been in our dreams.

I pour a little water in my hand and let Steel lap it up before we settle in for a siesta. It’s the best thing to do when it’s this damned hot.

     #

I come fully awake from my nap all at once, like always. It doesn’t pay to be only partially aware. I learned that the hard way last year.
 
“Come on, Steel. Let’s go see if the group under the library wants to trade some mostly clean tape rolls for a new book.”

At least I would have something to read that way.
 
I almost make the stairs, when Steel’s warning growl, low and almost non-existent, stops me in my tracks. He smells something, and now I can hear it. Someone is in the room above us. I gently slide the bolt back on my rifle, and check the chamber before re-locking it, tightly.
 
I love you, dog. Let’s see who it is.
 
I make my way quietly up the stairs with Steel at my heels, all but silent on the pads of his feet.
 
I stop in the stairwell below the level of the upper floor, and slowly raise myself up on my toes, just enough to see through the weak light beyond the doorway above. It looks like a pair of Burners, probably on a foraging patrol. Shit, they aren’t even trying to be quiet; probably feel invincible. They should have checked the building completely, before acting all at-home and cozy. I bet they don’t even realize there is another level below this one.
 
I put my left eye against the scope, my right trigger finger lying gently inside the trigger guard. Just as I thought. Two boys in Burner boots and jackets. Hell, they don’t even look old enough to shave. I guess that’s a problem they won’t ever have to worry about now.
 
I raise my left hand, all four fingers straight up in the air. I can tell Steel has frozen at this signal without even having to look. We are a good team, Steel and me.
 
I think you might have some fresh food tonight, dog.
 
With a single motion, I close my hand into a fist and then stretch my fingers out flat. Steel lowers himself to his belly and crawls past me up the last few steps, and slinks toward the doorway. He knows how to flush out his prey.
 
Steel lays in the doorway quietly and turns to look at me. I brace myself against the steps and sight in on Burner #1, across the room. The idiot is standing in a thin beam of sunlight; an easy shot. Even easier to imagine he is one of the crew who raped me last year. They are all dead, thanks to Steel—and a couple well-placed bullets—but the anger comes on anyway, strengthening my resolve.
 
A simple quiet tongue-click is Steel’s cue and he begins to whine. Very softly and non-threatening. His posture is relaxed and his tail is slowly thumping up and down. He has his ears lowered and if I know Steel, he is grinning his silly-dog grin at them as well. He knows how to do the sweet and innocent act better than any human I have ever met.
 
“What the fuck was that?” The sitting duck in my sights turns to look toward the darkened doorway with a bit of panic in his voice.
 
Maybe these two have a little brains after all.
 
His partner sees Steel and proves how green he is, sealing both their fates. He walks over and bends down, muttering some kind of baby talk to Steel. I gently squeeze the trigger on my rifle, and as the sound of the shot echoes up the stairwell, his buddy’s head explodes into a fine red mist behind him—bits of brain and blood spraying out across the far side of the room. I throw the bolt back, ejecting the spent casing, and slam another round home into the chamber before the noise is even gone.
 
The look of shock on the second Burner’s face is almost comical, but doesn’t last long. Steel uncoils like a spring, and without making a sound, tears out the asshole’s throat. His body falls to the floor, and his feet actually spasm a few times before his brain registers his own death.
 
I wait a few minutes to make sure the sound of the shot hasn’t attracted any unwanted attention, then stand up and enter the upper basement. I gotta hand it to the Drift who sold me this ammo. He said it would pack a punch, and he was definitely on track.
 
I quickly search the bodies. The headless one was packing a pistol with a full clip, but his buddy, Mr. Dog Food, was only carrying a 22-caliber pellet gun. Big Bad Burners they weren’t. Pitiful wanna-be’s is closer to the truth.
 
This is a tough world boys, too bad you didn’t figure that out sooner.
 
Between the two of them, they did have three canteens, which I use to refill my own supplies. The one I shot also had a bag of jerky in his pocket, so it looks like maybe Steel and I will both have a bite of dinner.
 
I signal the dog to have at it, and as he fills his belly on the remains of the Burner, I head back down to pack up my duffel. They were probably loners, but just in case, I’d rather not be here if they do have friends to mourn their stupidity.
 
Oh well; it was time to move on anyway. Slinging my rifle, I lift the duffel to my shoulder and join Steel upstairs. Together, we make our way toward ground level and the afternoon heat. I pat the new pistol tucked into my belt, and smile at the dog.
 
Looks like I have a bit more than just batteries to trade now, mutt. Let’s go.

(c) 2017 - dustygrein

#fiction  #adventure  #postapocalyptic  #strongfemalelead 
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If you ever loved prose, if you ever believed in prose, it's time to share. Show your love and appreciation, say something positive-cheerful to/about prose.
Written by Vyxyn

Universal family of Prose

I'm so glad to have this forum, this Prose.

After the last group I was in folded, I felt so lost, then some of my writing mates from there found Prose and it's been a home away from home.

Even better because Prose has many more interesting ways to express yourself!

When I write it's difficult for me to write about fictional stuff because I feel every thing I write. I feel every word I read the same way which is why I don't read many stories.

Prose to me is a wonderful outlet to experience and explore different venues without feeling as if I'm going to be harshly judged.

We are all part of this special Universe,

This family we fondly call

Prose.

Prose thanks for hanging in there!

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If you ever loved prose, if you ever believed in prose, it's time to share. Show your love and appreciation, say something positive-cheerful to/about prose.
Written by Vyxyn
Universal family of Prose
I'm so glad to have this forum, this Prose.
After the last group I was in folded, I felt so lost, then some of my writing mates from there found Prose and it's been a home away from home.
Even better because Prose has many more interesting ways to express yourself!
When I write it's difficult for me to write about fictional stuff because I feel every thing I write. I feel every word I read the same way which is why I don't read many stories.
Prose to me is a wonderful outlet to experience and explore different venues without feeling as if I'm going to be harshly judged.
We are all part of this special Universe,
This family we fondly call
Prose.

Prose thanks for hanging in there!
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Written by Vyxyn in portal Poetry & Free Verse

Lost

To feel real.

I would like to know it just once.

To know the love, the real pure love from a man who isn't trying to get something from me.

The kind of unselfish love.

The kind of love where I come first, as I worship him, so he worships me.

The kind of love that I can get lost in his arms and he loves it as much as I do.

Why is there none for me?

I give, I send out to the universe, I abide and yet I am held back and things are still the same.

I serve and yet I am undeserving.

I yield and yet love is unyielding

I give and yet love is ungrateful.

I am lost.

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Written by Vyxyn in portal Poetry & Free Verse
Lost
To feel real.
I would like to know it just once.
To know the love, the real pure love from a man who isn't trying to get something from me.
The kind of unselfish love.
The kind of love where I come first, as I worship him, so he worships me.
The kind of love that I can get lost in his arms and he loves it as much as I do.
Why is there none for me?
I give, I send out to the universe, I abide and yet I am held back and things are still the same.
I serve and yet I am undeserving.
I yield and yet love is unyielding
I give and yet love is ungrateful.
I am lost.
#nonfiction  #romance  #poetry  #philosophy  #mystery  #film  #spirituality  #opinion 
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Written by Nara

That one lie

I like me better without you.

And that's a lie;

A white lie to feed my ego.

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Written by Nara
That one lie
I like me better without you.
And that's a lie;
A white lie to feed my ego.


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