A Poet Won't Know It

The following is the result of The Prose Challenge of the Week #38 (which was in 2016).. #theprose #prosechallenge #prose #whatsummermeans #italkwithmyhands summer's a hot flash a superheated spell days flush with fever burning hot as hell dog days quicken your farewell fall is so much cooler for this old southern belle

The following is the result of the Prose Challenge of the Week #37 (which was in 2016)... #prose #prosechallenge #theprose #proser #prosing #writingchallenge #italkwithmyhands while living the life of manifest need stone is the heart that loves but won't bleed while racing after the manifest thought dark is the mind that thinking thinks not while palming the point of manifest touch held are the hands that help not so much while looking around for manifest sight shut is the eye that sees not the light while feeling the beat of manifest sound deaf is the ear that finds it profound while talking about the manifest food bad is the mouth that spoils the mood

a-dam and eave began to weave the fabric in the start able and cane still much insane so death gave seth first part eden, still home still west of roam still lost to those who wander on noah's boat still safe afloat still safe from rain and flood for forty days the swells and sways the water and the blood by god's design the rainbow sign the promise men still squander suns since begotten names since forgotten the fam'ly tree still grows the chosen thyme the shaking rhyme the whole wide world still knows X marks the spot the ark of aught the house of sow and sews the plan sublime the clown and mime stand still in the ebbs and flows stones with no moss nails in a cross the king dressed like a thief brotherly love flies like the dove same are the slave and chief credit is dew the word is true still in the book wrote wright still like the knight first site of flight still marks the start of fall the kiss and attack the great come-...

As a child I once was told 'Bout a place with streets of gold Chosen ones will lead the way Down the road from days of old Each one called will come from clay Formed by hands that work and play Guided by their blood-bought fate Heads of tribes they are today             (May 2014) In and out of fight and flight Just to freeze up at the sight Keepers of the faith were tricked Looking for some shiny knight Many called, few are picked None shall pass if pride is pricked Open season, hunter's aim Preying once the salt's been licked Queer and quaking stab of shame Rhyme and reason leave the game Step into a song of quest Turn the pointer far from blame Under oath of family crest Visions of the final test Weary walker at the gate Yesteryear is laid to rest (March 2016)

Jack and Will went down the Hill to see the River's Valley For it was said their kinsman Fred was hung at Parker's Alley At Belle Point they passed a joint and longed for Old Time's order For they knew well they came from Hell from both sides of the Border Will and Jack planned their attack like snakes without a rattle Outside the court down in the Fort where good and evil battle Jack and Will went there to kill right at the stroke of seven They were keen 'til all was clean like Earth had just met Heaven