Prose poems by myself

Untitled

As the Wind blew over the dew covered morning blades of grass, I saw nothing but an endless void, stretching out beyond the world I knew, and all that I had ever cared about seemed so little and few compared to the real world, the true life, that no one, not even I, could understand. The purposes and causes that I had fought so vigorously, even my reason and want to live, left me in a second, but that second seemed like an eternity, and all the seconds that followed seemed as such, until I felt as though I had been in the infernal plain forever. When the screeching sound began flowing over all, and my hands had been bound, I thought this was all there was and all there ever would be, until I finally realized that this was not life, and that this would not live, and that the time to live was over, and that coming nigh was not the time to be, but the time to not be, and that this moment would be the last in a long succession of finalities and endings, and that this ending was the true and most meaningful end, for this was the end that had been awaited by all , and that now we would stop and never be again.

i like it!!! 😱

an ambiguous look at life....from a view of one detached but a part of

Interesting piece, and great signature.

Thanks, hopefully I should be able to add a new poem once every week.

I like it too!! 😱 I would love to hear more ✅

Anger

With an anger that should awe the most fury filled of mountains, I am brought to the edge of my nerves, and I experience a paralysis of fury, unable to be calmed, and unable to control even myself. I am nearly filled with hate towards the world, towards the arbiter of my anger, I am loathing of those who are unable to feel as I, and I am unable to see such reason to be joyful. I expose myself as hateful, and wish it so as well, and I drown in my fustration, coolly expressing my disbelief of possible serenity, the thought that, perhaps, soon, I should be void of my current pessimistic conviction of dislike, my gut feeling of initial hatred towards the current invocation of such emotion. And when the time has passed and the awe-inspiring anger has become confused in its presence, I am thus lifted from my temporary seizure of fury.

😱

dude...you're good, puts me to shame

thanks 😄

nonono....thank you, its some awesome stuff

yours is more contemporary than mine which is a bit archaic

I prefer contemporary writers to older ones, with the exception of Shakespeare, so I guess I should be expected to write as such.

Originally posted by Fëanor
😱

dude...you're good, puts me to shame

Actually I just read some of your poems and your pretty good, your better at what is conventionally defined as poetry than I am, I just write emotional paragraphs.

Originally posted by alcoholicpoet
Actually I just read some of your poems and your pretty good, your better at what is conventionally defined as poetry than I am, I just write emotional paragraphs.

yay! I have a fan base! 💃

Originally posted by alcoholicpoet
yay! I have a fan base! 💃

Ask and you shall Recieve:

Life

What has begun the day, shall end the day, it is inevitably known, by myself, and all the participants in the poem of life. It is well concieved that, to end, one must be come, and to live, one must die. for, to live is a bounty and a burden on the shoulders of the living, 'tis a circle of love and heartbreak wrought by the race of destiny. To live, is an experience, seen, and done, by all, yet a knowledge known by few. 'tis a jovial glass that all drink from, that all gain from. To live is to exist, and subsist the world that we are presented. The world I see, you see, but, the same world I live in, you do not inhabit, you inhabit you're world, you're universe, and mine is mine own, my own world, of my consequenses, and my creations, of mine attributes, my land of myself, my life, my purpose, and my conquests. My life is one of living, not stopping, of moving and seeing, seeing the world as I only I may see it, as I shall live it.

if you ever get your stuff published, i wanna a signed first ed 😱

That's what I'm hoping for. The other day I sent that first poem to a magazine. Hopefully good things shall come of this.

Wow! 😱 Very deep... you have such a talent. I'm in awe 😮

Running

With arms flailing in unchanging winds, I run, as though I had been running for my entire life, as though, to run, was all that I should live for, should die for. I ran, without fatigue. I chose to run, I chose to lay purpose down for my life, and, to spite all doubt, my running shan't differ. I shall run as I always have, and always will. I shall run as though there never was a moment in my life were I wasn't running, as though, through running, I was kept alive, alive, alive by the premise that I sould be the greatest runner, that mt running should reach astronomical proportions was the reason for which I ran. The reason for which my running had become historical, should be the reason for which I had reached that point, that point of widely know supremacy over that which I have prayed to conquer. To reach the chapter in my life, where the ballad of my soul has streched beyond that which I hath intended, to have known the very core of my life, and the reason that it has been here, to know, to do, these things and more, is the very promise of life, the very reason to live, to live, to live.

Out of boredom I sketched this little stanza out.

Sanity
Insanity
What be they?
Why be they?
Why should they
be?