Prose Published by Members Recently Online
#prose
MySmile
Besma
Besma
Poem Published
24th Nov 2024 9:52am
24th Nov 2024 9:52am
Trodden Paths Not In Vain
"Paint in silence”
“The Weight of Temp”
Colour your canvas and spill your Art
shake and awaken many a heart
Untether your soul
from your whole
escape mundane and time
and let your brush rhyme
Have Man radiate
pour oil colours on his trait
Carve his seized dreams
and his insight of flowing streams
Let me read his cry of birth
and see the drops of tears on earth
A valiant core, the shell is worn
could not be broken, though torn
You display a challenging stand
behind a back forced to bend ...
“The Weight of Temp”
Colour your canvas and spill your Art
shake and awaken many a heart
Untether your soul
from your whole
escape mundane and time
and let your brush rhyme
Have Man radiate
pour oil colours on his trait
Carve his seized dreams
and his insight of flowing streams
Let me read his cry of birth
and see the drops of tears on earth
A valiant core, the shell is worn
could not be broken, though torn
You display a challenging stand
behind a back forced to bend ...
#art
#beauty
#FreeVerse
#humankind
#prose
76 reads
6 Comments
MySmile
Besma
Besma
Poem Published
24th Nov 2024 9:52am
24th Nov 2024 9:52am
Trodden Paths Not In Vain
"Paint in silence”
“The Weight of Temp”
Colour your canvas and spill your Art
shake and awaken many a heart
Untether your soul
from your whole
escape mundane and time
and let your brush rhyme
Have Man radiate
pour oil colours on his trait
Carve his seized dreams
and his insight of flowing streams
Let me read his cry of birth
and see the drops of tears on earth
A valiant core, the shell is worn
could not be broken, though torn
You display a challenging stand
behind a back forced to bend ...
“The Weight of Temp”
Colour your canvas and spill your Art
shake and awaken many a heart
Untether your soul
from your whole
escape mundane and time
and let your brush rhyme
Have Man radiate
pour oil colours on his trait
Carve his seized dreams
and his insight of flowing streams
Let me read his cry of birth
and see the drops of tears on earth
A valiant core, the shell is worn
could not be broken, though torn
You display a challenging stand
behind a back forced to bend ...
#art
#beauty
#FreeVerse
#humankind
#prose
76 reads
6 Comments
MySmile
Besma
Besma
Poem Published
24th Nov 2024 9:52am
24th Nov 2024 9:52am
Trodden Paths Not In Vain
"Paint in silence”
“The Weight of Temp”
Colour your canvas and spill your Art
shake and awaken many a heart
Untether your soul
from your whole
escape mundane and time
and let your brush rhyme
Have Man radiate
pour oil colours on his trait
Carve his seized dreams
and his insight of flowing streams
Let me read his cry of birth
and see the drops of tears on earth
A valiant core, the shell is worn
could not be broken, though torn
You display a challenging stand
behind a back forced to bend ...
“The Weight of Temp”
Colour your canvas and spill your Art
shake and awaken many a heart
Untether your soul
from your whole
escape mundane and time
and let your brush rhyme
Have Man radiate
pour oil colours on his trait
Carve his seized dreams
and his insight of flowing streams
Let me read his cry of birth
and see the drops of tears on earth
A valiant core, the shell is worn
could not be broken, though torn
You display a challenging stand
behind a back forced to bend ...
#art
#beauty
#FreeVerse
#humankind
#prose
76 reads
6 Comments
MySmile
Besma
Besma
Poem Published
24th Nov 2024 9:52am
24th Nov 2024 9:52am
Trodden Paths Not In Vain
"Paint in silence”
“The Weight of Temp”
Colour your canvas and spill your Art
shake and awaken many a heart
Untether your soul
from your whole
escape mundane and time
and let your brush rhyme
Have Man radiate
pour oil colours on his trait
Carve his seized dreams
and his insight of flowing streams
Let me read his cry of birth
and see the drops of tears on earth
A valiant core, the shell is worn
could not be broken, though torn
You display a challenging stand
behind a back forced to bend ...
“The Weight of Temp”
Colour your canvas and spill your Art
shake and awaken many a heart
Untether your soul
from your whole
escape mundane and time
and let your brush rhyme
Have Man radiate
pour oil colours on his trait
Carve his seized dreams
and his insight of flowing streams
Let me read his cry of birth
and see the drops of tears on earth
A valiant core, the shell is worn
could not be broken, though torn
You display a challenging stand
behind a back forced to bend ...
#art
#beauty
#FreeVerse
#humankind
#prose
76 reads
6 Comments
MySmile
Besma
Besma
Poem Published
24th Nov 2024 9:52am
24th Nov 2024 9:52am
Trodden Paths Not In Vain
"Paint in silence”
“The Weight of Temp”
Colour your canvas and spill your Art
shake and awaken many a heart
Untether your soul
from your whole
escape mundane and time
and let your brush rhyme
Have Man radiate
pour oil colours on his trait
Carve his seized dreams
and his insight of flowing streams
Let me read his cry of birth
and see the drops of tears on earth
A valiant core, the shell is worn
could not be broken, though torn
You display a challenging stand
behind a back forced to bend ...
“The Weight of Temp”
Colour your canvas and spill your Art
shake and awaken many a heart
Untether your soul
from your whole
escape mundane and time
and let your brush rhyme
Have Man radiate
pour oil colours on his trait
Carve his seized dreams
and his insight of flowing streams
Let me read his cry of birth
and see the drops of tears on earth
A valiant core, the shell is worn
could not be broken, though torn
You display a challenging stand
behind a back forced to bend ...
#art
#beauty
#FreeVerse
#humankind
#prose
76 reads
6 Comments
adagio
Poem Published
22nd Dec 2021 5:25pm
22nd Dec 2021 5:25pm
Whimsy
It was a wistful longing for the night winds that had me pawing dark sensuality. As my breath condensate in a brume of sooted smoke from the nearby chimneys. And I grinning a grin of a harlequin. As I lit the gaslights, a choir in the distance harken a carol. "O come all ye faithful..."
Beneath my button britches, my manhood twitched, with Old Nick's itch. And with a glint in my monocle, I sauntered to her portal. In hopes to grovel in her skirts.
Forgoing my roguish behavior in spite of myself. While under the thumb of my gin and sweet bouquet of gorse from the meadows....
Beneath my button britches, my manhood twitched, with Old Nick's itch. And with a glint in my monocle, I sauntered to her portal. In hopes to grovel in her skirts.
Forgoing my roguish behavior in spite of myself. While under the thumb of my gin and sweet bouquet of gorse from the meadows....
#ShortStory
#prose
700 reads
0 Comments
adagio
Poem Published
22nd Dec 2021 5:25pm
22nd Dec 2021 5:25pm
Whimsy
It was a wistful longing for the night winds that had me pawing dark sensuality. As my breath condensate in a brume of sooted smoke from the nearby chimneys. And I grinning a grin of a harlequin. As I lit the gaslights, a choir in the distance harken a carol. "O come all ye faithful..."
Beneath my button britches, my manhood twitched, with Old Nick's itch. And with a glint in my monocle, I sauntered to her portal. In hopes to grovel in her skirts.
Forgoing my roguish behavior in spite of myself. While under the thumb of my gin and sweet bouquet of gorse from the meadows....
Beneath my button britches, my manhood twitched, with Old Nick's itch. And with a glint in my monocle, I sauntered to her portal. In hopes to grovel in her skirts.
Forgoing my roguish behavior in spite of myself. While under the thumb of my gin and sweet bouquet of gorse from the meadows....
#ShortStory
#prose
700 reads
0 Comments
missjem56
Poem Published
7th Aug 2022 10:39pm
7th Aug 2022 10:39pm
Dead Beat
My heart beats
Like the pitter patter
Of bongo's
Smooth, and rhythmical
Jungle drums
No war beats
Synchronised
Symbolic
Communicative
Hollow echoes
On tightened skin
That once lived
And had a beat
All of its own
by Jemia
Like the pitter patter
Of bongo's
Smooth, and rhythmical
Jungle drums
No war beats
Synchronised
Symbolic
Communicative
Hollow echoes
On tightened skin
That once lived
And had a beat
All of its own
by Jemia
#prose
#LifeCycle
244 reads
2 Comments
missjem56
Poem Published
7th Aug 2022 10:39pm
7th Aug 2022 10:39pm
Dead Beat
My heart beats
Like the pitter patter
Of bongo's
Smooth, and rhythmical
Jungle drums
No war beats
Synchronised
Symbolic
Communicative
Hollow echoes
On tightened skin
That once lived
And had a beat
All of its own
by Jemia
Like the pitter patter
Of bongo's
Smooth, and rhythmical
Jungle drums
No war beats
Synchronised
Symbolic
Communicative
Hollow echoes
On tightened skin
That once lived
And had a beat
All of its own
by Jemia
#prose
#LifeCycle
244 reads
2 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
22nd Apr 2024 10:56pm
22nd Apr 2024 10:56pm
The Sheridan Women
The women of the Sheridan family always disappeared at some point in their lives, normally before fifty but at least once at seventy-two. (She was a powerful old woman called Ma Sheridan, who ruled her henhouse with an iron claw.) Eleanor became dimly aware of this truth when she was seven years old, and overheard her mother explaining family photographs to her grandfather, already short of memory at sixty-eight. His name was Granddad Chips and it would take another twelve years for the old boy to require hospitalisation, by which time Eleanor would have made her disappearance, the youngest...
#magic
#pagan
#prose #witches
#prose #witches
136 reads
2 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
22nd Apr 2024 10:56pm
22nd Apr 2024 10:56pm
The Sheridan Women
The women of the Sheridan family always disappeared at some point in their lives, normally before fifty but at least once at seventy-two. (She was a powerful old woman called Ma Sheridan, who ruled her henhouse with an iron claw.) Eleanor became dimly aware of this truth when she was seven years old, and overheard her mother explaining family photographs to her grandfather, already short of memory at sixty-eight. His name was Granddad Chips and it would take another twelve years for the old boy to require hospitalisation, by which time Eleanor would have made her disappearance, the youngest...
#magic
#pagan
#prose #witches
#prose #witches
136 reads
2 Comments
Casted_Runes
Mr Karswell
Mr Karswell
Poem Published
22nd Apr 2024 10:56pm
22nd Apr 2024 10:56pm
The Sheridan Women
The women of the Sheridan family always disappeared at some point in their lives, normally before fifty but at least once at seventy-two. (She was a powerful old woman called Ma Sheridan, who ruled her henhouse with an iron claw.) Eleanor became dimly aware of this truth when she was seven years old, and overheard her mother explaining family photographs to her grandfather, already short of memory at sixty-eight. His name was Granddad Chips and it would take another twelve years for the old boy to require hospitalisation, by which time Eleanor would have made her disappearance, the youngest...
#magic
#pagan
#prose #witches
#prose #witches
136 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Prose Published by Members Recently Online
