Prose Poems
The Written Word
by John Michaelson
The Written Word by John Michaelson
The infinite and eternal power of the written word,
Penned naked and vulnerable on the page,
Lies only in the destiny of its earnest reader,
With its untapped potential trapped in its cage.
As its curves and its corners are flowing with ease,
Whether handwritten, typed or etched,
Its power to influence the reader it attracts,
......
do you think we're friends in every universe?
by t.e. talbott
"do you think we're friends in every universe?"
i think sometimes
you're an unexpected present in June,
the gift of consideration outside of birthdays.
sometimes i'm gratitude, a full heart
thanking the heavens for you.
sometimes i’m the white-washed face of God
in someone's painting,
......
Prose Poems
by Michael R. Burch
PROSE POEMS by Michael R. Burch
These are prose poems, experimental verse and free verse by Michael R. Burch. The first prose poem, “Something,” was the first poem I wrote that didn’t rhyme, around age 17–18.
Something
―for the children of the Holocaust and the Nakba
by Michael R. Burch
Something inescapable is lost—lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight, vanishing in a gust of wind toward an expanse of stars immeasurable and void.
......
Villanelles II by Michael R. Burch
by Michael R. Burch
These are villanelles by Michael R. Burch and and villanelle-like poems, including a new new poetic form I invented, the “trinelle” or “triplenelle.”
Villanelle: She Always Grew Roses
by Michael R. Burch
for my grandmother, Lillian Lee
Tell us, heart, what the season discloses.
......
Sunset Over Mull
by Kirsten Moreton
The sky-blue bleeds into the daffodil yellow melting into the burning orange,
harshly interrupted by the black roaring mountains erupting from the earth.
Only for the magnificent mirror to continue again in those blues, yellows and oranges.
The shifts in the current tear through the fabric of the river, staining the blue with patches of coral pigment.
A blazing ball projects the beauty to only four eyes. Wonder only seen by two people. Wonder that can only be found and only be enjoyed in one of few places left that is truly wild.
......
Sunset Over Mull
by Kirsten Moreton
The sky-blue bleeds into the daffodil yellow melting into the burning orange,
harshly interrupted by the black roaring mountains erupting from the earth.
Only for the magnificent mirror to continue again in those blues, yellows and oranges.
The shifts in the current tear through the fabric of the river, staining the blue with patches of coral pigment.
A blazing ball projects the beauty to only four eyes. Wonder only seen by two people. Wonder that can only be found and only be enjoyed in one of few places left that is truly wild.
......
The Written Word
by John Michaelson
The Written Word by John Michaelson
The infinite and eternal power of the written word,
Penned naked and vulnerable on the page,
Lies only in the destiny of its earnest reader,
With its untapped potential trapped in its cage.
As its curves and its corners are flowing with ease,
Whether handwritten, typed or etched,
Its power to influence the reader it attracts,
......
do you think we're friends in every universe?
by t.e. talbott
"do you think we're friends in every universe?"
i think sometimes
you're an unexpected present in June,
the gift of consideration outside of birthdays.
sometimes i'm gratitude, a full heart
thanking the heavens for you.
sometimes i’m the white-washed face of God
in someone's painting,
......
Villanelles II by Michael R. Burch
by Michael R. Burch
These are villanelles by Michael R. Burch and and villanelle-like poems, including a new new poetic form I invented, the “trinelle” or “triplenelle.”
Villanelle: She Always Grew Roses
by Michael R. Burch
for my grandmother, Lillian Lee
Tell us, heart, what the season discloses.
......
Prose Poems
by Michael R. Burch
PROSE POEMS by Michael R. Burch
These are prose poems, experimental verse and free verse by Michael R. Burch. The first prose poem, “Something,” was the first poem I wrote that didn’t rhyme, around age 17–18.
Something
―for the children of the Holocaust and the Nakba
by Michael R. Burch
Something inescapable is lost—lost like a pale vapor curling up into shafts of moonlight, vanishing in a gust of wind toward an expanse of stars immeasurable and void.
......
