Announcing The Prose Press
Dearest Writers:
Over the past 12 months, members of our community have expressed their desire to publish a book but lack of traction with agents or publishers. Our mission is to see members of our community succeed and fulfill their dreams of becoming published authors.
Enter, The Prose Press:
https://theprose.com/p/press
In collaboration with one of the fastest-growing educational companies, we started The Prose Press to give up-and-coming authors the platform to successfully write and publish their work.
Over the next few months, we will be inviting aspiring authors to submit their work and start their publishing journey with The Prose Press and share key pieces of their journey with you – their learnings, conversations, milestones, and excerpts.
If you are interested in turning your working manuscript into a real book, reach out to us.
Thank you to our supporters and community members for making this possible.
https://theprose.com/p/press
Cheers,
Prose.
Limping to Immortality
Pale-white wanderer on a distant shore,
Encumbered by regret, limping, sighing;
Waiting for the one whom he loved before,
Returning, renewing, death defying.
Brothers and lovers, by Ilium’s fall
Rememberèd. Phoenix-birthed from the pyre
To Thermopylae’s call, a last shield wall,
And Gallipoli’s wire - machine gun fire.
Rekindled by love, they fight and they die,
The circles of this world they cannot burst;
No final adieu, no farewell goodbye,
To their glory of youth - blessed and accursed.
A broken bough, a scattered vow - ’tis done.
They rest: till again, the cycle’s begun.
Falling!
Here I am one more time
Saying goodbye to another man
Again things gone wrong
You told me about my first
He says things about me
You said you knew months now
How could you?
One month I haven't seen you
Everything fake about me
You believed every piece of it
Want to keep me but I can't
I have to quit you and life
Love was once upon a time
After that you destroyed me
No feelings, no sorrys
I shall fall into the fire of another problem
Rum Fun
He sighed & took another sip of his drink. What now?
Then he heard the sound of a beating heart. But this one seemed to be beating like a symphony. He was drawn to the heart’s melody.
He turned a bit to see who was now sitting a couple seats away from him. Her hair was like magic. With a mix of colours ranging just like a rainbow.
She ordered some rum. He snickered.
She ignored his snicker. And carried on looking around the bar.
He shook his head and said something almost in a whisper, ‘‘Interesting hair colour.’’
She slapped her hand on her lap. “Listen, Mister! You know I can hear you right?”
He smiled and winked at her, hoping that would make her more irritated now. Of course it worked. She got off her chair, and started to head toward the exit door.
A hand fell on her shoulder. She turned around ready to punch whoever it was trying to grab her.
As soon as her hand reached near his face, it seemed to be stopped by an invisible strong force. “What in the world?”
He laughed and asked, “You should not be drinking rum. Miss...”
She dropped her fist, and stared at the guy. He was tall, dark and handsome. She tried to not laugh. If this was a romantic novel she would already dancing with him.
From there he would take her back to his place, and she would fall madly, deeply, in love with him. Hold her breath to be by his side forever.
She took a deep breath and scoffed. “This is not going to work, okay. I have work early in the morning.”
“What? No, I just wanted to know your name. I’m not buying you a drink. Not going to happen. Unless, you don’t mind me buying you one.”
She moved her hood over her head. “Thanks for the offer. But I have to go.”
He said, “I hope to see you again. Or at least bump into you in the area.”
She smiled, walking away from the stranger. Then hoped for the same thing. It’d be great to see him again.
Maybe she could come back later to check on him. She had been tracking him for a while now.
Underneath her enormous cloak— was a sword, some grenades, her trusty bow & several arrows. Hey, she had to be ready. This part of this village was full of many creatures from different realms.
#RumFun
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=4qgYWWRpnD8
6/10/2020~Mardi.
The Gloomy Fall
Watch the gloomy mist that falls upon the earth;
watch it fall like split timber.
gaze for just a seldem moment on this mist,
that eccompases my world and encircles
every field and every forest.
Not a sound is heard and yet there seems to be an echo,
A deeply rich echo of thought inside my head.
This is my time for deep and cold feeling questions,
that give me chills to think about.
everything in life falls down to a lower rung.
The rain creeps along the clouds planning its daring voyage.
Next, it drifts downard, slowly spireling like a dancer.
One day the sun will return to earth.
Its dazzling streaks will flood all the land,
he will establish his throne again, but not just yet.
We all know a kings greatest rise must sometimes
come after the fall.
Saved by an Infant
I didn’t know I needed her,
Until the day she was born,
For nine years I had been alone,
Before I held my baby sister in my arms.
So tiny, so fragile,
Fragile as a budding flower,
Flower that had to be protected,
Protected with all my power.
For the first time I cared,
Cared more than I thought I could.
Could I really be that selfless?
Selfless to put her before my own good?
She turned my life upside down,
Down to the last cell in my being,
Being a puking, pooping lil’ monster,
Monster that held my thumb while sleeping.
Fifteen years later I look back,
Back to that liberating day,
Day that mother gave life to a baby,
Baby that breathed new life into me.
“Are There Dragons in Hell?”
“Hey, Satan?”
“Yes?”
“Are there dragons in Hell?”
“Yes.”
“Are there pirates in Hell?”
“Yes.”
“Is Napoleon in Hell?”
“Um, I don’t-“
“Is Peter the Great in Hell?”
“Um, I don’t-“
“Ooh, what about Al Capone, or ‘Machine-Gun Kelly?’”
“Yes. No. I don’t know!”
“Is it warm in Hell, because I cannot stand the cold for too long?”
“What, yes, very warm.”
“Good.”
“What?”
“Is the lava in hell like in ‘Minecraft,’ where you can pick it up with a bucket and move it somewhere else?”
“Wa- I don’t know? Why do you care?”
“Are there skeletons in Hell?”
“Yes.”
“Can we cook food over the fires of Hell, or do we have to pay for that?”
“Wa- What? What, no, you can’t-“
“Will I have to read works by James Joyce in Hell, because I really don’t like his writing that much.”
“If you don’t like it, you have to do it.”
“So what if I don’t like to drink tea, then can I have as much tea as I want?”
“Um, technically, if you genuinely-“
“Or ice cream, if I don’t like ice cream, could I have as much as I want?”
“I don’t think you under-“
“Are there dragons in hell?”
“You already asked that.”
“Well, are there?”
“Yes.”
“Sweet, I’m in!”