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FreddyZ
I was born in 1966 - therefore I am forever 18 years old or so. I express myself with words as only I know how
62 Posts • 212 Followers • 348 Following
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Challenge
Challenge of the Week LXVIII
Share the best or worst dream you ever had. This challenge must receive at least 50 entries by March 27, 2018. If it does, then Prose will spotlight one winner and nine finalists on our landing page, newsletter, and social media. Winners determined by the Prose team based on writing skill and creative edge.
Profile avatar image for HummingBird
HummingBird in Dreams

Enlightened.

A few years ago, I woke up with a feeling I had never experienced before. I was happy and at peace. My heart was racing a million miles a minute, yet, I had never felt more calm.

Slowly, images of my dream flashed into my mind forming a tear that slipped down my cheek and onto my blanket. As I sat still, I held on to things I had seen when I was asleep. In my dream:

I stood on a beach in the south of france at the crack of dawn. A few feet away from the water, my feet were planted on the warm sand that smelled of sweet cinnamon. I bent down to scoop the sand as then let it fall from my finger tips like liquid gold.

I stood back up as I watched the sun rise from the horizon, casting its ember rays onto the water that danced to the elegant melody of the breeze. Tall waves, taller than I, began to gracfully meet the shore. As if the waves were my emotions, they were synced to my breathing. The deeper the breath, the larger the wave. Piercing through the blue glassed water, the sunlight carassed my skin and beckond me closer to the sea. I walked forward till I felt the soft foam reach for me.

Blending into colors I never knew existed, the sky held the sun as I stood frozen and enchnated by the beauty of a moment so precious, I forgot how to breath. Knowing that I had to leave, I stepped into the sea and tilted my head up to witness a wave so great, it challneged to touch the stars.

I spoke of this dream to my mother, but I could not contol the tears that fell so easily.

To this day, I have never seen a sight so memorable of felt such pure bliss as I did in that dream. This place has become my get away, it is a mental escape because the waves have always seemed to help me find my peace.

Challenge
I have been gone for quite sometime and this is my first Challenge in well over a year. I call it Autobiographical Poetry. I await your coming. I will start it off.
Pick a year of your life. Any year, matters not. Give it flavor, give it a light to shine on. Use it to vent anger or despair. Use it to show the ridiculous, or your passion for what you love.Be honest, be true, write your truth of what you best remember.
Profile avatar image for Mavia
Mavia in Poetry & Free Verse

(with understanding)

 

The Fates have

favored me

to be born

in the month 

of Love

my folks would say

since my birth I

laughed like an adult

(with understanding)

It's life I've loved

love I've lived

and You I'm 

laughing with

before the cradle

and the grave

seeking our humane

a smile outstretched

(with understanding)

#autobiographicalpoetry #challenge

<font face="Helvetica" size="3" color="silver">02.07.1980</font>

Cover image for post With scones, clotted cream & curds, by JimLamb
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JimLamb in Food & Drink

With scones, clotted cream & curds

She served them tea

In Wegwood cups,

Featuring tantalizing Hibiscus designs.

Stylish angular handles welcomed even stubby thumbs;

Saucers, like deep-blue ponds, encircled each vessel.

In another life,

She’d been quite swanky:

Champagne parties, slinky skirts,

& jingle-jangle jewelry—dangling,

From her thin, pale, elegant neck.

But now,

Her parties were tame:

Small, social, afternoon affairs,

Starring sandwiches, scones, clotted cream & curds.

Chit-chat opened each outing; gossip, each close.

Weariness,

Wearing a drab cloth coat,

Chose to attend this otherwise ordinary day.

Exhaustion & Fatigue tagged along.

Next time they had tea, was at her funeral.

Cover image for post Two Types of People, by SavannahTate
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SavannahTate in Stream of Consciousness

Two Types of People

   "There are two types of people in this world," she said. "The broken ones, and the pretend-they're-not-broken ones. Which type are you?"

   "Neither!" he protested, clearly affronted.

   "Ah." Her eyes flashed knowingly. "So the second type."

Challenge
Prose Challenge of the Month #1: Write about losing your innocence. Fifteen entries will be featured in a Prose Original Book of the Month, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
Cover image for post Today, I am Trans, by Rev_Frenchie
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Rev_Frenchie

Today, I am Trans

-In sixth grade I cried because I started to develop underarm hair. I shaved it, not knowing you needed shaving cream, and it burned for a week. I haven't loved myself since.

-In seventh grade I told myself I was skipping school so I wouldn't have to change in front of the other boys. I didn't, and ended up changing in the bathroom stall for half the year. Kids made fun of me, so I stopped and changed in front of my locker. Every time, I stared st the wall and hated myself a little bit more, lost a little more dignity every time. I haven't loved myself since.

-In eighth grade I took a trip to Washington D.C. to learn more about our country. Naturally, I had to stay with another boy in the hotel rooms, because a boy and a girl cannot be trusted together. The first night I stifled sobs under the bed covers because, however little bit of intimacy it was sharing a room, I was not comfortable with it. I haven't loved myself since.

-my freshman year was a repeat of my eighth. My band took a trip to Dallas, Texas for a biannual competition. I had to stay with three other boys in a two-bed hotel room. I cried because I couldn't even confide in my female friends in private, because I wasn't even allowed to enter their rooms. I haven't loved myself since.

-my sophomore year I told my mom I was transgender- a quivering fact I'd known about myself for a while. She'd always said she'd support me no matter what, so I was taken aback when she said I was on my own because she didn't want to have anything to do with it. We never talked about that night again. I haven't loved myself since.

-this year, now a junior, I wore the guard makeup for my color guard performances, and a lot of people complimented me on how good I was at cosmetics. I know it was a little heavy and i mainly looked like a drag queen- not the girl I wanted to be- but I felt beautiful and was ecstatic.

-this year, now a junior, I know that me being transgender is not a phase. It is a fact about me- like that I have brown hair or love Taylor Swift- and it will never change. I am not open or presenting, and I'm not sure I ever will be, but i do know i will do everything in my power to help other minorities and people like me.

-today, I am a closeted trans teen. I have had to grow up a little quicker than the other kids, but it has only made me more mature and more versatile than the other kids. When we're pushed down, I am the first to stand up. When we are abused, I am the first to fight back. And when we are oppressed, I am the first one to riot.

-today, I am trans. And I will not let you walk on my rights as a human being.

Challenge
Prose Challenge of the Month #1: Write about losing your innocence. Fifteen entries will be featured in a Prose Original Book of the Month, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
Cover image for post Candy Quicky, by Mamba
Profile avatar image for Mamba
Mamba in Stream of Consciousness

Candy Quicky

A sweet loss of innocence

when I look at you

Kit Kat

chocolate thick

drip upon

my slip

silk stain

bit lip

ready to

unzip

hard candy

lollipop

sugar cane

pop rock

burst thick

quick fix

suck upon

a twix

lemon drop

hard blow

bubblegum

wipe chin

sneaky grin

swallow and

then savor

taste of sin.

Challenge
Prose Challenge of the Month #1: Write about losing your innocence. Fifteen entries will be featured in a Prose Original Book of the Month, whereby each winner will take 5% lifetime royalties. You must purchase the book to discover its authors, who will be determined by objective data (reads, likes, reposts, comments) and by team vote to ensure reader satisfaction. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtags “itslit,” “getlit,” and “ProseChallenge.”
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MLPrice in Stream of Consciousness

Naivety

You were born on the wrong side of the tracks.

Destined from your first wide eyed look at the world to be a nothing

when you had the potential to be everything.

My mother whispered about you in the ear of her friends and turned away but I stared.

I saw all the world's stars in your eyes and all the worlds bruises on your cheeks.

It was odd, because at this point I saw the world in full colors, vibrant tales of happiness and goodwill towards men danced in my thoughts. 

I saw a boy who's mother laid hands on him but not in the loving way I was used to. I didn't even know that was possible.

I saw the world as bright and warm and suddenly you made me realise that it's not. 

In true Baader-Meinhof Phenomenon fashion I started to see the bad everywhere. 

I noticed the bruises on their wrists before I noticed the soft crurve of their lips, I noticed the rain before the bow, I noticed the ruin before the love. 

You were born on the wrong side of the tracks, but I opened my eyes a little wider and saw past them.

Challenge
Write me an unbelievably sexy micropoem, please, on one of these decidedly un-sexy topics: laundry, taxes, the dentist, infomercials or bodily functions. TAG ME!
Profile avatar image for leeroyjenkins
leeroyjenkins in Micropoetry

Fill my Cavity of Desire

choke me

with the paper bib.

tasting gloved fingers,

lustful scent of blood lingers

when the scalpel penetrates my gum,

baby, you know you make me numb

jaw gone slack with one injection

of your

anesthetic

antiseptic

minty fresh

affection.

Book cover image for Two Faced Killer
Two Faced Killer
Chapter 5 of 5
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J_E_Hixon

Self Doubt

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Profile avatar image for RickD
RickD

true self:

humid

stale air

hangs heavy

as my breath

is shallow

and anxiety laden --

a wolf

with lonely eyes

swims in my blood

wanting to escape

from stalking

worry

and then,

i release --

allowing

cool air

to penetrate

my constricted

soul --

it is

knowing

that the

vortex of

life

is love

and that

i recline

in the arms

of solitude

where

my true self

resides

in blue

surrealistic smears

of intrinsic

light.

the air

still

hangs heavy

and worries

like a

broken leg

cleave

to my brain

but i

allow myself

to touch

serenity

which

streams

through my eyes

coloring

tightness

with

the peace

of a

flickering candle,

and so

my day

continues

in monotony

but shaded

by an awareness

of a simplicity

of vision --

a portrait

of my true

self

which is

breathing --

a gentle

observer

like a

busy sparrow

dancing

in water.

I am

a kite

rocking

and swirling

in

cultivating

nurturing

sky.

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