#prosaic

8 posts
  • ether_speaks 128w

    1 sided love

    Beatings on the wall,
    Harder than the heart,
    Tears do free fall,
    Don't know where to start.

    It began with a simple hi,
    And you became my best pal,
    Getting closer as the years went by,
    I felt you were my all.

    Don't know when the change came,
    And my feelings for you changed,
    Our friendship still remained the same,
    But my thoughts had transcended.

    The warm feeling when you were close,
    Filled my heart with joy,
    The sweet words that you spoke,
    All seemed as Cupid's ploy.

    Then on one day of Valentine,
    I thought to speak my heart,
    Didn't know that the bright sunshine,
    Would disappear from the heart.

    There I saw you, your lips locked,
    With a guy I never knew,
    As if the universe had mocked,
    My heart beats became few.

    My unrequited love for you,
    Remains in me to this day,
    The wish to spend forever with you,
    I wish that wish would go away.

    Everyday I see you with him,
    I feel a stab in deep,
    My cheery face has become grim,
    I'm losing a lot of sleep.

    I beat the walls to break them down,
    This wall of one-sided love,
    All my smiles have turned to frown,
    Cupid weeps from above.

    Even now you care for me,
    As your best friend forever,
    Leaving you now is best for me,
    As we can't ever be together.

    ©ether_speaks

  • gangotriii 137w

    My truthful prosaic life
    Is better than
    Your fictional pompous life
    ©gangotriii

  • lavanya_nukavarapu 169w

    #ruins #selflove #beautiful #broken #freeverse #prosaic #stories #shortstory #thoughts #musings
    #mirakee #mirakeestories


    RUINS

    A different kind of peace exists here
    A different kind of tranquility exists here

    Beyond. Incomprehensible.

    You have to come here with me to the ruins and sit next to me to experience it and see

    how the invisible shape of solitude forms through the scattered broken bricks;

    how the moss and the weeds sing the songs of strength;

    how the fading writings on the eroded walls tell inspiring stories

    and most importantly how broken things attract few more broken things and how these broken things keep repeating the same words...you are beautiful no matter what...you still exude the beauty of what was once whole...you are a lesson to others and let them come and find their peace with you contemplating life.

    Read More

    RUINS

    how the fading writings on the eroded walls tell inspiring stories




    ©lavanya_nukavarapu

  • rizekami 181w

    Prosaic Poem

    My dictionary defines prose as a written
    or spoken language in its ordinary 
    form without a metrical structure.
    Almost anyone can write prose
    There are times when it is 
    written in an incoherent
    and rambling manner
    much like the text  
    you are reading 
    here right now
    as you wearily 
    plod through
    my dreary
    and dull
    prosaic
    poem.
    ©anshika96

  • amp1972 188w

    You've become a Magus, when...

    ©amp1972


    You know you have become a magus, a wizened star among the living,
    when unprovoked Satan threatens you with your mortality & vulnerability,
    while GOD threatens you with infinity & 'that ambush on judgment day'!

  • amp1972 188w

    Das Schwarze Auge Gedicht - Ein Thorwaler im Spukforst

    *

    Inspiriert durch: Autorin Heidi Schmitt-Lermann's DER GEISTERWALD

    Das Schwarze Auge, Region Thorwal und Thorwaler als Charakterklasse und Wikinger-Abkupferung sind Eingetragenes Warenzeichen bei Ulisses Spiele und urheberrechtlich geschützes Zeug. Mir reicht DSA in erster Edition immer noch... ;->

    Ein Thorwaler im Spukforst, 1.2
    © Andrè M. Pietroschek, alle Rechte vorbehalten

    Sein treues Weib konnte ihn da nicht begleiten,
    denn Sie hatte zu schützen ihr Herd und Heim.
    Doch der drohenden Sage vom blutigen Spukforst,
    der geht kein echter Swafnirson auf den Leim!

    Mit Streitaxt und Schild bewaffnet marsch.
    Dem Grauen mutig entgegen in jener Nacht.
    Denn kein Spuk der in seiner Heimat wandelt
    hat je mehr Leute als die Angst umgebracht.

    Ein Nebel steigt herauf, Drachenodem gleich.
    Hirngespinste hüten so wohl Ihr kleines Reich.
    Doch waghalsig stapft der Nordmann vorwärts,
    denn ein Werwolf lockt nun zum blutigen Reigen.

    Ob er da Räuber oder gar pelziger Mond-Skalde,
    es werde sich im aufrechten Zweikampf zeigen.
    Die Geisterfee blickt ungläubig aufs Treiben,
    zwei Narren, die sich fröhlich hier entleiben.

    Der Nordmann hat fürwahr die Bestie bezwungen,
    knapper Sieg und mit um Luft ringenden Lungen.
    Die Geisterfee eilt fix herbei, der Neugier Kind
    "Hab Anstand, Spuk, ich raste im eisigen Wind."

    Den Todeskuss, den hält die Fee für Rahja's Spiel,
    doch Nordmann hat wahrlich nicht den Tod als Ziel.
    Verbannt wird jenes Weib mit Ihren dunklen Launen,
    durch Pulvergemisch aus Salz und Sud der Alraunen!

    Die Hexe blickt verschmitzt, einst war sie selber jung.
    Des Nordmann's Seele und wie sie den Tod im Eis bezwung.
    "Verschone ich Dein Leben, so gib mir Dein Ehrenwort,
    nur zur Jagd und zum Überleben kehr zurück an diesen Ort."

    Der Sohn Thorwal's dreht sich heimwärts, ein Ehrenmann.
    Die Hexe blickt ihm lange nach, entschwindet aber dann.
    Daheim ward sein tapfres Weib auf einsamer Wacht beäugt.
    In dieser Nacht, geliebtes Kind, haben wir Dich gezeugt.

  • lacrimasphoenix 202w

    My poetry often gets it’s life or shape, while I watch the sun, set into calmness. What’s your story? What gives your writing or poetry a life or reason to breathe? ?

    @writersnetwork @readwriteunite @mirakeeapp #story #prosaic #mosaic #poetry #lifestories #writersnetwork #readwriteunite

    The word prosaic is used for its meaning which means, having or using the style of prose as opposed to poetry! ?

    Read More

    The sunset often
    Helps me create
    A therapeutic
    Mosaic of
    Poetry
    Out of the prosaic
    Life stories I wish
    To treasure forever

    ©lacrimasphoenix

  • littlespider 242w

    We turned to the darkness
    As the evening glow melted through,
    Spiders crawled over each other.
    We stepped out of our boxes
    And met the wild wind,
    Picked up the blood rose,
    Let the thorns pierce our fingers.
    I laughed and the wind stole my laughter.
    Medusa's thousand snakes
    And you still touched my hair -
    "These are the best of times", you said.
    Smiling, I step out of the memory.