#prose poems on Hello Poetry

Mariah Jul 7

wishing I was dead
never worked out
in the end
Life and Death were friends
who needed me
just as I,
had always needed them

Even when it's bad.

#life #death #balance #prose #duality #trying #curious #natural #bpd #ocd

unblindingly bright Sep 22

A Moment In Rome

A hotel room in Rome. In front of me, a young lady is standing. When I look into her eyes, I can see the darkest midnight sky, and the waves of her hair are like the champagne in the glass she is holding in her hand.

#prose #rome #hotel #lady #champagne

Anwar Ghani Sep 22

HIDE

My heart is so bright, not because of its soft whiteness, but because of the dreams that dwell in my chest thanks to your blue eyes.
I tried, like any story, to hide my flowers so you wouldn't see the trace of your love on my face.
My waters are warm, and all these phrases don't hide my longing for you. Yes, I am a prisoner of my longing for you, and it's not strange to see in my heart all the wishes that hide their dreams with a silent veil.
I am a story of longing; my rivers are nothing but a legendary face of waiting, and my boats are nothing but calls that know no destination but you.
I am your lover who hides his love with all happiness.

#anwaer #anwar #ghani #prose #poetry

Joseph Miller Sep 22

Poet Affirmation

The world does not know
who the poet is
until they are told
so listen here, listen well
I am the poet
now you can tell
dare you not believe me
I will show you again
with every page revealing
the poet I am

Please forgive my brush with egotism .... this write was motivated by a critic who told me (before I joined HelloPoetry), that I was not writing poems, because the words didn't rhyme. So I wanted to show him I could write a poem that rhymed.

#poet #rhyme #prose #poem #critic #writing #confidence #affirmation #doubt #writer

Jasper Sep 22

What poetry is

Poetry should console one with the many tortures of existence. One should feel understood by a poem. A poem should say, "It's okay, so long as I'm here." Pain and death: The black ink and the white space of our letters, and the language: It is with this language that we write life, beauty, and joy. Love. Through poetry. Poetry shouldn't be to show off, or to make money, to get views, it shouldn't even be for itself. It should be for whoever the poem itself is for. For humanity. This doesn't mean all poetry has to be sad poetry. Happy poetry is okay as well. But there's something so utterly impermanent about a brief moment of happiness. The sweetest touch has never left a scar. But the sweetest pain - that
Is poetry.

#poetry #prose #proem #prosepoem #aphorism #thought #insightful #note #art #philosophy

saint Sep 14

contrite solidarity

sometimes when you upset me i go back to her page. i study the angle of her jaw, the way she smiles while she lip syncs, and i feel a curious kind of admiration. she’s gorgeous, i get why you liked her. it hurts that you could hold both of us in your palm, decide one, then treat me like whatever was left.

i scroll. i mindlessly tap through her posts, the rhythm of her life moving forward. part of me wants to compare, to measure my laugh against hers, my skin against hers.. and part of me knows comparison is cruel and endless.

i wish i’d never found her account. maybe i would’ve been happier in ignorance. and yet i’m oddly grateful too: grateful i saw the locked door you pretended didn’t exist, grateful for the ugly, painful, clarifying light of truth. our story has rips, but at least i know where one started.

sometimes i imagine meeting her. not as rivals, but as witnesses. i picture us sitting across from each other, trading stories, stitching together the ways you repeated yourself and the ways you changed. i wonder if she’d nod in recognition or tilt her head in surprise. i think we’d both leave with a clearer picture of who you really are, and maybe that’s the only kind of comfort left.

when those thoughts come, i almost flinch at myself. ashamed that my mind wanders there, that i let jealousy shape itself into fantasy. it feels raw, unpolished, something i shouldn’t admit out loud. but it’s the truth of loving you. messy, heavy, and hard to carry in silence.

each time i revisit it, it unsettles me a little more. and that scares me. i can’t tell if the sharpness is dulling with time, or if with every glance at her face and name, some small part of what i feel for you quietly shifts. that is my fear.

#prose #poetry

jaév Sep 11

and here i am, emptying my body into words from a bled-out wrist

there are days like today
when the void in my head doesn’t consume me,
when the darkness where i am doesn’t suffocate me.

it’s just there,
hovering like a quiet shadow,
pressing its weight against my back.

and there i was,
feeling its draining comfort
as though it knew i’d fought enough battles
for one day, as though it had come to keep me company.

and there i was,
letting its presence envelope me
until it was gone—
until all that was left
was my drained, bled-out body
and my mind split open,
leaking out its deafening silence.

and there i was,
sighing out all the heaviness in my chest
as though it were the last,
the only thing left to do
before everything finally ended.

tumblr.com/elegiesuponyourgravestone| facebook.com/elegiesengraveduponyourgravestone

#poetry #prose #confessional #elegy #grief #longing #jvorongan #graynuances

Kayla Burke Sep 10

Too Ugly to Stay, Too Beautiful to Ignore

To be born into a world so lackluster, so intent on stripping away dreams, individuality, and creativity — it should be criminal to tell those who fall victim that they are not normal. To encourage them to hold onto those very things — dreams, individuality, and creativity. Is it not hypocritical to tell those born with such gifts that they must use them to the fullest, while existing within a society built to ***** out those gifts and holders of such? Calling upon such people as too emotional, weird, out of touch, and or eccentric, in a way that offends, is a hypocrisy often ignored.

I am offensive, in the ways that rain is offensive on a hot day; some breathe a sigh of relief, others curse the timing of my arrival. I come to offer a refreshing view, a clean slate, a new beginning. But I can be strong — strong enough to sweep away the things I love. I remind you to cherish what stands, before the world swallows it whole. And though once gone, I will dig a hole, and I will fill it with myself, offering a new life to those who come next.

I am as offensive as a puppy jumping at the legs of a passerby; some smile and pet me, while others shrug me off, annoyed by my lack of control and my lack of boundaries. But the childlike wonder carried by those who have been touched by the darkest entities — that wonder is one of the most beautiful things on Earth. Having seen the darkness in this life, and perhaps the lives before, I will always remain a puppy.

The beauty of life would not be beautiful without the ugly.

I am too ugly.
I am the mud beneath your shoe.
I am the wasp buzzing too near.
I am the coffee stain on your work pants — always noticed, yet never welcomed to stay.

And yet I am the wind that blows the yellow, orange, and red leaves across your yard after a long day — reminding you to breathe.

Through the chaos, there are beautiful moments to be held.
Those who carry chaos offer the most peaceful moments, unbeknownst to most.

I am deep and vast as the Pacific Ocean — crashing upon the rocks one day,
Sitting idle on the sand, the next,
A being of stagnancy, yet a being of ever-changing and constantly in motion.
I can swallow things whole, keep them hidden within me for lifetimes.
Or I can choose to unearth them — share them with the shore.
Let myself be seen by those I once feared, of polluting me.

or, the burden of being deeply felt

#prose #prosepoem #rawemotion #metaphorical

Hebert Logerie Sep 9

A Song Is A Poem

A song is a poem
With rhythms and rhymes
It would be a blasphemy
Not to say it and explain it.

A song is a prose
Put on pause
Intermittently
With various beats and tempos.

A song makes you dance
A poem makes you dream
And a prose helps us examine.

A poem is a classical prose
With harmonic words
And well-calculated rhymes and verses
A poem is really fantastic.

A song makes you live
A poem makes you revive
And a prose helps us survive.

Copyright © December 2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.

#poem #song #poetry #rhymes #verses #speech #discourse #prose

jaév Sep 8

perhaps a dream stops being a dream the moment it learns to survive.

i have sifted the wound in my chest for dreams gone soft with rot, spending my days stripping away the layers, as if disappointment were a skin with no depth.

how far must i carve this hollow before the marrow flickers through, before i can lift my bones like relics—fragile, foolish, still shadowed by the amaryllis that once stood, its memory lingers, refusing to die?

tumblr.com/engravedthoughts | facebook.com/elegiesengraveduponyourgravestone

#poetry #prose #confessional #elegy #grief #longing #jvorongan #graynuances