Recent Non-Fiction Prose by Members Last Online
Non-poetic writing including diary extracts, journal entries, letters, essays and art - Published by DU Poetry members most recently online.
samael
Poem Published
10th Apr 2018 12:41pm
10th Apr 2018 12:41pm
Visits to a council of the blind thrift store behind a Hardees as a teenager ;neither of which still exist
Where have my Stone temple pilots gone
a day trip with an unsuspected pedophile
blue
sixth generation 1970's Ford-f series
sunshine
rising out of the devil beating his wife
after a hard warm rain
where east Morelia Ave and Pershing streets meet at a barbershop
tall green shrubs hide a house i'll never go in
this life is a wide grey empty parking lot
sitting Indian style alone
with nothing left to warm us but our past memories
and chance encounters with strangers
who smell like a familiar touch
so comfortable we can close...
a day trip with an unsuspected pedophile
blue
sixth generation 1970's Ford-f series
sunshine
rising out of the devil beating his wife
after a hard warm rain
where east Morelia Ave and Pershing streets meet at a barbershop
tall green shrubs hide a house i'll never go in
this life is a wide grey empty parking lot
sitting Indian style alone
with nothing left to warm us but our past memories
and chance encounters with strangers
who smell like a familiar touch
so comfortable we can close...
#memories
24 reads
0 Comments
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
jade tiger
Poem Published
4th Jan 2016 12:08pm
4th Jan 2016 12:08pm
Summer Camp
sing along if you know the melodies
I’m driving through Mojave Desert, visiting one of my sisters before the long summer season sets in with a vengeance. She's one of the counselors at a summer camp for girls, and has invited me to come up for the weekend. The drive is long but filled with rugged scenery, especially once I reach the mountains. The winding road becomes a narrow, rocky lane strewn with boulders hazardous to a vehicle that isn’t a 4-wheel drive. I slowly make my way up the slope as the road becomes narrower until it's barely enough to allow one-way...
374 reads
11 Comments
AEMelia564
Y
Y
Poem Published
12th Aug 2017 1:01pm
12th Aug 2017 1:01pm
Diary of existence
Each time it changes colour
Starting with curling formation sailing forth slow in harbours reversed.
This is what we call creation
An artist transforms each version wildly welcomed by all muses
bringing short deleriums of delight.
I follow the lines on my hands and watch them melt into sentences lost
There is an overgrown path in the depths of my being.
Once , I took it each morning without haste. I took it each evening with
an even greater sense of purpose. My hands were always filled
, my pockets made a...
Starting with curling formation sailing forth slow in harbours reversed.
This is what we call creation
An artist transforms each version wildly welcomed by all muses
bringing short deleriums of delight.
I follow the lines on my hands and watch them melt into sentences lost
There is an overgrown path in the depths of my being.
Once , I took it each morning without haste. I took it each evening with
an even greater sense of purpose. My hands were always filled
, my pockets made a...
140 reads
5 Comments
RByron418
Poem Published
30th Mar 2018 9:40pm
30th Mar 2018 9:40pm
Hunter S Thompson
While all the spectators are busy trying to figure out why anyone would kill themselves, those in that position are in a panic to figure out why they shouldn't.
But once you've filled up enough pages, what the hell is there left to do?
Training yourself to view the world at a different angle, you end up making it impossible to live in. Shadows conceal monsters and light is a conspiracy for the blind and nobody knows it but you and few others too far removed to be any sort of cure for isolation.
Warp your mind finding that angle or you find that angle after your mind has been...
But once you've filled up enough pages, what the hell is there left to do?
Training yourself to view the world at a different angle, you end up making it impossible to live in. Shadows conceal monsters and light is a conspiracy for the blind and nobody knows it but you and few others too far removed to be any sort of cure for isolation.
Warp your mind finding that angle or you find that angle after your mind has been...
#suicide
#alcohol
#LifeAsAWriter
42 reads
4 Comments
ExistenceInSilence
Poem Published
7th Apr 2018 6:44am
7th Apr 2018 6:44am
The Light In You
Neither did you ever want it
or thought of it
Nor does the world pirouette around you
You're just a number from the other
7.6 billion plus alive today
and counting
what you feel or write about
means nothing
to anyone
to anything
this crowd is one big creature
It'll take more than an itch
from the fragment of a DNA
to spiral it unconscious
from what you feel, you write
yet there are those who scratch
at your skin to crumble you
to pieces
reality is
what you feel or write
means the world to you...
or thought of it
Nor does the world pirouette around you
You're just a number from the other
7.6 billion plus alive today
and counting
what you feel or write about
means nothing
to anyone
to anything
this crowd is one big creature
It'll take more than an itch
from the fragment of a DNA
to spiral it unconscious
from what you feel, you write
yet there are those who scratch
at your skin to crumble you
to pieces
reality is
what you feel or write
means the world to you...
#strength
#faith
57 reads
8 Comments
staggerlee
Poem Published
25th Feb 2015 11:28pm
25th Feb 2015 11:28pm
changing of the guard
CHANGING OF THE GUARD
After the signing of treaty in 1921 the struggle to gain the levers of power began in earnest. The southern Irish
middle class made up of old unionist elite, the catholic hierarchy, large land owners and the remnants
of the old civil service took the view that partition and the oath was preferable than a prolong conflict
with Britain which would undermine the old order even in the new nationalist state.
The question on everybody lips in late 1921 was what would a truly free Ireland would look like, in particular what class or classes would...
After the signing of treaty in 1921 the struggle to gain the levers of power began in earnest. The southern Irish
middle class made up of old unionist elite, the catholic hierarchy, large land owners and the remnants
of the old civil service took the view that partition and the oath was preferable than a prolong conflict
with Britain which would undermine the old order even in the new nationalist state.
The question on everybody lips in late 1921 was what would a truly free Ireland would look like, in particular what class or classes would...
380 reads
1 Comment
darkblue
Poem Published
Yesterday 5:47am
Yesterday 5:47am
this is what I do, incase you ever wondered
A child is a child, until they see the world for what it is. Yes growing up is not easy, but for some, it is hell.
I was born between a drunk and a con artist, both joined together by the love of greed. One used me as a punch bag, the other a way of making money through others sexual sadism.
I knew how to give head before I could even spell it. I learned to cope with life by self-harming and poetry.
I created worlds for me to escape into, characters I could become. Friends who lived inside my head, which protected me during abuse of any kind.
I learned words could be used...
I was born between a drunk and a con artist, both joined together by the love of greed. One used me as a punch bag, the other a way of making money through others sexual sadism.
I knew how to give head before I could even spell it. I learned to cope with life by self-harming and poetry.
I created worlds for me to escape into, characters I could become. Friends who lived inside my head, which protected me during abuse of any kind.
I learned words could be used...
#identity
#SelfHarm
#myself #SelfReflection
#myself #SelfReflection
26 reads
1 Comment
troublesome_98
Sweet_Adieu
Sweet_Adieu
Poem Published
5th Dec 2017 8:32pm
5th Dec 2017 8:32pm
Seeking Peace- December 5, 2017
I wish to take a walk like the one and only Jill Scott
Somewhere far way where I can wake up late on sunny days
I wish to be alone unlike Maya Angelou
Maybe then I'd find my peace and hopefully the noise will eventually cease
I no longer wish to be in love
For love is only to be cherished by Him
I seem to attract only crying doves
That fly away at their every whim
Somewhere far way where I can wake up late on sunny days
I wish to be alone unlike Maya Angelou
Maybe then I'd find my peace and hopefully the noise will eventually cease
I no longer wish to be in love
For love is only to be cherished by Him
I seem to attract only crying doves
That fly away at their every whim
84 reads
3 Comments
Gahddess_Worship
Poem Published
6th Dec 2015 00:01am
6th Dec 2015 00:01am
CONSUMING LOVE
Entered in the "Dream Lover" competition)
Dearest Love,
Our love affair, to me, is a great source of consolation. Whenever troubled, bored or desperate for companionship you are at my side offering unconditional comfort and diversion. The habits that we have developed are now an integral part of my daily routine. The evidence of our love is more and more apparent to myself and others as my stomach festoons more and more over my belt and it becomes increasingly harder to move. As enjoyable as it is to make love our interludes will, in the end, be the death of me. Although the idea of...
Dearest Love,
Our love affair, to me, is a great source of consolation. Whenever troubled, bored or desperate for companionship you are at my side offering unconditional comfort and diversion. The habits that we have developed are now an integral part of my daily routine. The evidence of our love is more and more apparent to myself and others as my stomach festoons more and more over my belt and it becomes increasingly harder to move. As enjoyable as it is to make love our interludes will, in the end, be the death of me. Although the idea of...
200 reads
4 Comments
Lylarose
Lyla
Lyla
Poem Published
5th Nov 2017 3:13am
5th Nov 2017 3:13am
It's Been a Hard Year
Days all melt together... all the same. I am so sad and I don't know why. It's random... One moment I feel happy and then a switch goes off and all I want to do was crawl into bed. One minute I feel fine, then the next it's like I'm dying. Not even things that once made me happy work anymore. I feel awful, and of course I just tell people, but it's awkward for them, so they don't check up on me. Everyday gets worse. Why is everyone so quick to assume you're better?! I AM NOT BETTER. But no one cares. I am not good enough for anything I love... no one sees any potential... so I must have...
113 reads
2 Comments
Jadedembers
Poem Published
27th Oct 2017 7:53pm
27th Oct 2017 7:53pm
21 Guns Mothering
*Eulogy for my Aunt/2nd mother Shanna F. W. May you rest in peace, and I love you. 10/13/2017**
You where my role model, at least one of the more impactful ones, because of who you where. You taught me some of the most valuable and exceptional lessons. I often referred to those exquisite lessons as 21 gun mothering. I could never be half of what I am today without your 21 gun mothering.
You where wild and raw. I loved that about you. You where unorthodox in a brillant and honest way. You lived your life how you deemed fit. You you where the ribbons many...
You where my role model, at least one of the more impactful ones, because of who you where. You taught me some of the most valuable and exceptional lessons. I often referred to those exquisite lessons as 21 gun mothering. I could never be half of what I am today without your 21 gun mothering.
You where wild and raw. I loved that about you. You where unorthodox in a brillant and honest way. You lived your life how you deemed fit. You you where the ribbons many...
129 reads
7 Comments
dartford
Paul S...
Paul S...
Poem Published
19th May 2014 00:36am
19th May 2014 00:36am
alone with my thoughts...
loneliness, apparently, is not an integral
part of the human condition, but can be
dismissed as a symptom of poor social
skills, according to the psychiatrist.
Therefore, I am not lonely, I am an
inferior speaker, listener, looker, actor...
my behaviour needs to be altered, to
make me socially viable, a going
concern, one of the gang...
The trouble is, I thought loneliness
meant something more than that, I
thought it went a little deeper. I mean,
the gang look a pretty lonely bunch to
me, even if they are all excellent in ...
part of the human condition, but can be
dismissed as a symptom of poor social
skills, according to the psychiatrist.
Therefore, I am not lonely, I am an
inferior speaker, listener, looker, actor...
my behaviour needs to be altered, to
make me socially viable, a going
concern, one of the gang...
The trouble is, I thought loneliness
meant something more than that, I
thought it went a little deeper. I mean,
the gang look a pretty lonely bunch to
me, even if they are all excellent in ...
338 reads
9 Comments
DU Poetry : Recent Non-Fiction Prose: Short Stories, Diary Entries and Letters
