Fictional Prose by Members Last Online
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Short stories and chapters from books and novels
Poems published by members most recently online.
EdibleWords
Poem Published
8th Jan 2020 2:14am
8th Jan 2020 2:14am
Grannypig in a Web - Mel Won't Bite
Mel used almost no brain power to respond, after climbing to the mountain, drinking from the fountain, and so much more only to realize certain parts of civil life offended her inner savage beyond tolerable limits, including her fallible local credit system. “No way. After our last adventure with Chaz, no more! We agreed. We share Grandpa's farm and I won't risk it again. Not even with vids going gangbusters. We are still making money with ads, right?”
“Not really anymore, no. Sorry. Do you think your black-ops guys had anything to do with it? Our view counts seem to have reset,...
“Not really anymore, no. Sorry. Do you think your black-ops guys had anything to do with it? Our view counts seem to have reset,...
#parody
#satirical
#funny
38 reads
4 Comments
buddhakitty
Poem Published
14th Aug 2019 2:19am
14th Aug 2019 2:19am
the stone that floated
a young acolyte, who recently
entered the monastery to learn
the way, saw a venerable ancient
master walking slowly in the garden.
the young man ran over to him
and exclaimed with great excitement,
"Teach me master! Teach me
everything! "
the old master, bent over with age,
looked up at the young man. A
small, wise smile drew back his
lips and he softly said,
"I will teach you nothing."
the novice looked shocked
and walked sadly away, not
realizing that he had experienced
his...
entered the monastery to learn
the way, saw a venerable ancient
master walking slowly in the garden.
the young man ran over to him
and exclaimed with great excitement,
"Teach me master! Teach me
everything! "
the old master, bent over with age,
looked up at the young man. A
small, wise smile drew back his
lips and he softly said,
"I will teach you nothing."
the novice looked shocked
and walked sadly away, not
realizing that he had experienced
his...
#Buddhist
84 reads
6 Comments
AverageJoe
Poem Published
15th Sep 2019 2:35pm
15th Sep 2019 2:35pm
The Touch
My hands are rough and calloused not soft, the same as my language. It is not given to me to speak soft words, which while sweet, are soon forgotten. Besides, “I love you” and “You’re beautiful” I should soon be lost and adrift in my sea of ignorance of pretty words.
So what has brought us to this?
Was it that moment you caught me looking too long before speaking or that almost imperceptible measuring look that found something more than just good and decent…leading to a different smile than I’d seen before as you gazed steadily into my eyes?
Why do we try to...
So what has brought us to this?
Was it that moment you caught me looking too long before speaking or that almost imperceptible measuring look that found something more than just good and decent…leading to a different smile than I’d seen before as you gazed steadily into my eyes?
Why do we try to...
#love
#relationships
#dreams
#fate
#passion
139 reads
4 Comments
Neoma
Poem Published
1st Dec 2019 5:49am
1st Dec 2019 5:49am
In Cyrillic Hand
Father Teorist Nikopol, a consumer of lead and saliva, wrote to the Patriarch Arseniii Čarneich from the darkness, somewhere in Poland, with a woman quickly sown in Penza.
"You know, Your Holiness, the patriarch, that I have been appraised of a theory, which my future will always expound upon. I was born in 1641 in the monastery of St. John in Nicola, on the day of the Sacred spiral to that family of monks which sundered the bowl. But like in my brethren, wooden spoons in their hands all, so too did I fear from the eyes which followed me since the moment that I...
"You know, Your Holiness, the patriarch, that I have been appraised of a theory, which my future will always expound upon. I was born in 1641 in the monastery of St. John in Nicola, on the day of the Sacred spiral to that family of monks which sundered the bowl. But like in my brethren, wooden spoons in their hands all, so too did I fear from the eyes which followed me since the moment that I...
#religion
81 reads
1 Comment
goldenmyst
Poem Published
23rd Jan 2020 4:41am
23rd Jan 2020 4:41am
Bourbon Street Lady
Before my very eyes, Rowena strips out of the dress as virginal as her first communion one into the lingerie of her feminine-fantastique persona. I glimpse the once starry-eyed Catholic school girl who wandered the hallways of “Our Lady of Perpetual Penance.”
Ro says, “There is the law of averages. Though some deny it I’ve seen it at work in my daily life. I’ve put myself in harm’s way for those I cared about. I didn’t do this out of a sense of duty but rather the love of an army nurse who sees a wounded soldier with a ticking grenade and throws it with all her strength...
Ro says, “There is the law of averages. Though some deny it I’ve seen it at work in my daily life. I’ve put myself in harm’s way for those I cared about. I didn’t do this out of a sense of duty but rather the love of an army nurse who sees a wounded soldier with a ticking grenade and throws it with all her strength...
#love
#women
#sex
#betrayal
#city
23 reads
0 Comments
Sky_dancer
Poem Published
19th Aug 2019 4:33pm
19th Aug 2019 4:33pm
Kernel Series Unknown. 16
The knowledge that this whole experience is just a mental construct is frightening, the fabric of everything I once believed was now not true.
I feel a connectedness to all consciousness, even though I had my own, separate datastream. What was once an overwhelming experience of knowledge has become a place of peace.
Somehow, his voice managed to filter everything into him, turn it down just a little, and then connect it to me in a way my mind didn't feel as though it were about to schism.
I felt a longing, a yearning for all the units I knew to be able to...
I feel a connectedness to all consciousness, even though I had my own, separate datastream. What was once an overwhelming experience of knowledge has become a place of peace.
Somehow, his voice managed to filter everything into him, turn it down just a little, and then connect it to me in a way my mind didn't feel as though it were about to schism.
I felt a longing, a yearning for all the units I knew to be able to...
#technology
#philosophical
#scifi
130 reads
7 Comments
sunsettown
Poem Published
21st Jan 2020 10:21pm
21st Jan 2020 10:21pm
Behind The Paranoid Eyes Of A Dead Romantic
these tired eyes?
they hide in the dark
and this rocking chair,
i like when it creaks my battered floor
i was meant to replace these torn wallpapers
overlooking my dusty old desk
here, in the corner of the room
damn it’s littered with crumpled sheets
and those unread books
but i’d rather they stay like that
to write their own stories
so i turn on that lampshade by the window
they’re playing floyd on the radio
as i hear yet another movie
i sink into my breath
and heavy lungs
that...
they hide in the dark
and this rocking chair,
i like when it creaks my battered floor
i was meant to replace these torn wallpapers
overlooking my dusty old desk
here, in the corner of the room
damn it’s littered with crumpled sheets
and those unread books
but i’d rather they stay like that
to write their own stories
so i turn on that lampshade by the window
they’re playing floyd on the radio
as i hear yet another movie
i sink into my breath
and heavy lungs
that...
#love
#LifeAsAWriter
#art
79 reads
19 Comments
SweetKittyCat5
Poem Published
14th Jan 2020 3:20am
14th Jan 2020 3:20am
Shadows Of Passion
IMPERIAL PALACE HOTEL
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
Ragan straddled her latest male victim. She reached out and made sure the lock in the wrist cords was secured.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“It’s your destiny to die. Now shut up.”
Ragan covered Senator Sexton’s mouth with a white silk scarf and tied it. She lifted the dagger near the senator’s thigh and held the tip of the silver blade against his jugular vein. She journeyed it along the contour of his dark-brown shaven cheekbone.
...
LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
Ragan straddled her latest male victim. She reached out and made sure the lock in the wrist cords was secured.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“It’s your destiny to die. Now shut up.”
Ragan covered Senator Sexton’s mouth with a white silk scarf and tied it. She lifted the dagger near the senator’s thigh and held the tip of the silver blade against his jugular vein. She journeyed it along the contour of his dark-brown shaven cheekbone.
...
#identity
69 reads
2 Comments
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Daniel Long
Poem Published
3rd Sep 2019 00:33am
3rd Sep 2019 00:33am
White-Eyed Corpse
Samantha didn’t know where she was. Her foot was heavy on the pedal, gliding down the open, hilly slopes of the backcountry. Cellphone in one hand; the GPS buffering. Twice already she almost crashed. Approaching out of the horizon was a yellow SLOW DOWN-SHARP TURN-15 mph. Samantha pressed the clutch as the momentum leaned her forward; the seatbelt fastened behind her. GPS still buffering, Samantha flew past the occasional country road which posted: UNIMPROVED ROAD - PASS AT OWN RISK. Then one caught her attention as it approached; SLOW DOWN – SHARP TURN… she rolled her eyes.
A...
A...
#dark
#death
#scary
94 reads
1 Comment
SimpleTon
Poem Published
21st Jul 2018 9:14pm
21st Jul 2018 9:14pm
A world wide side street
A toddler in a pushchair points at the ground giggling as he shouts "mummy the floor looks like a leopard" -
his mother fails to respond, she is too engrossed in texting a friend about the latest development on a reality tv show. The cobbles are covered in such a huge amount of discarded chewing gum literally thousands of pieces spat out to become black and grey spots that to the childs innocent eyes look like leopard print - as if the sidestreet was the side of leopard laying down. I laugh because if this street is a leopard we humans must be fleas or another form of parisites...
his mother fails to respond, she is too engrossed in texting a friend about the latest development on a reality tv show. The cobbles are covered in such a huge amount of discarded chewing gum literally thousands of pieces spat out to become black and grey spots that to the childs innocent eyes look like leopard print - as if the sidestreet was the side of leopard laying down. I laugh because if this street is a leopard we humans must be fleas or another form of parisites...
#ShortStory
196 reads
2 Comments
wallyroo92
Poem Published
28th Oct 2019 7:57pm
28th Oct 2019 7:57pm
Brinkton Fartentuaht
#narrative
#ShortStory
#prose
68 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Fictional Prose: Short Stories and Chapters from Books and Novels
