Hidden Love
In the hush of the evening, a faint whisper heard,
"And so it begins," in the cloak of the shadow,
A forbidden embrace, hidden from the world's scorn,
Under the watchful gaze of the silvery moon,
Their eyes meet, a language only they understand,
In this moment, their secret love softly blooms.
Under the moon's light, secrets become whispers,
In the comforting arms of the night's shadow,
Their embrace, a sanctuary from prying eyes,
Bathed in the moonlight, a love unspoken,
A story untold, in their gaze, it unfolds,
"And so it begins," the night air hums their secret.
In each other's embrace, the world fades to shadows,
Their whispers, a symphony under the moon's watch,
Through loving eyes, they see their hidden truth,
In the dance of the night, their love quietly blooms,
"And so it begins," a refrain in the moonlit silence,
A secret romance, in the night's tender embrace.
In the realm of dreams, under the moon's soft glow,
Their eyes speak volumes in the land of shadows,
Whispering "love," a secret held in their embrace,
"And so it begins," the stars witness their bloom,
In the stillness, their love's whisper resonates,
A clandestine meeting, away from judgmental eyes.
Beneath the gaze of the ever-watchful moon,
Their secret love, in whispers, it blooms,
In shadows, they find solace in each other's embrace,
Away from the world's eyes, a love that dares to speak,
"And so it begins," a pledge in the night's whisper,
Their story, a hidden gem in the moon's shadow.
In their final dream, under the moon's farewell,
Their eyes alight with love's enduring whisper,
In the embrace of dawn, their secret still blooms,
"And so it begins," a phrase that endures in shadow,
A tale of love, watched over by the moon's gentle eyes,
Their romance, a timeless whisper in the world's embrace.
"And so it begins," in the night's final whisper,
A secret love, in the moon's understanding eyes,
In each other's embrace, their story blooms in the shadows.
Gumshoe
I've always been a fan of old school detective culture, the voice, the dreary yet hopeful-cynic vibe, the look upon the world they have. So, when I ran actoss this story on Prose., I had to feature it. The way it was told, almost noir-ish, clean-cut, which was different for me, on all levels. but also adding to the charm and overall strength of the story, struck me in a way that called me back to the black and white classics.
Written by a writer new to us, and, to said writer, whose name I'll have in the first tag in the comments below, thank you for the piece here. I haven't yet browsed all your posts, but I hope the narration is alright with you. I had fun with your detective.
The writing on Prose. is to a point where I can open it at any given moment now, and find something that pulls me in without having to even scroll.
Here's the channel link to the story.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_SawgQ3VIw
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team
Ember
The lonely life of an ember,
the lazy drag of atrophied muscles.
My stomach withers as I gaze to the window,
pulsing of my temples deliberate and slow.
I cannot force food down, or medicate the treacle anxiety anymore,
and am left wondering why I am so bereaved when there is no one to mourn.
Agonizing. Torturous.
I pray to God for a reprieve, and He takes the only comforts I have,
waves them above my reach while the ground opens its maw and swallows.
I am bereft of a rattle as every fear rattles and snaps in my head, the edges sharp and cutting but I am as sentient as a cadaver.
I swallow the amounting cry for relief, tears cold as they pool in sunken sockets.
Wonder. Wish.
Godforsaken Desert Lows
He died in the winter of his 32nd year
Coming home to a place he'd never been before
He couldn't leave yesterday behind him
You might say he was dead all along
You might say he lost the keys to the door
When he first came to the desert his life was far away
Off the trails, hanging by a grain of sand
All his dreams broken and he wished he cared more
It keeps coming down and he won't last much more
In the Godforsaken Desert Lows
I've seen it snowing sand on the moon
The sunlight behind the night sky is louder than we know
Godforsaken Desert Lows (Godforsaken lows)
Godforsaken Desert Lows (God only knows)
He fell from idolic mountains
He hit the dusty roads below
He couldn't see everything he was meant to be
They say he went crazy
When the sand blocked the sun
He couldn't make friends with the moon or memories
Now we walk without him
With his desolation and dunes
Seeking forgiveness with every step we take
He lost sight of himself and we can't ever understand
The turbulence of a lost soul in wasted desert sands
In the Godforsaken Desert Lows
I've seen it snowing sand on the moon
Talked to God but he didn't reply
Godforsaken Desert Lows (Godforsaken lows)
Godforsaken Desert Lows (God only knows)
Now his life is full but it's over
And our hearts know a new kind of fear
Complicated hearts we can all understand
Weeping under mountains instead of climbing some more
We're all scarred from our own Godforsaken wars
In the Godforsaken Desert Lows
I've seen it snowing sand on the moon
I've seen a man lose his life too soon
Fuck these Wasted Desert Lows
Godforsaken Desert Lows
I've seen it snowing sand on the moon
Strangers around the campfire and everybody's low
We're all wasted in these Godforsaken Desert Lows
The Desert Moon
It's beneath the sand
where all is buried
in desert low
like a pearl
the pool
Beneath the sand
down where it's
neither
hot nor cooled
Beneath the sand
of Time
where all lies
in waiting
Beneath the sand
drawn for its own
full occasion
by the tide
Beneath the sand
the pull of water
dips anew...
Beneath the sand
the desert Moon.
11.26.2023
The Desert Moon challenge @Huckleberry_Hoo
Petrichor
he wakes his love
dark rumble
over lush surface
she feels his insistence
a building deluge
that can no longer be denied
cloudbursts profess
his love unbound
as she achingly pulls
every aqueous droplet offered
into her substratum
for she knows
this is life itself
spent, he deeply inhales
the rising aromatic nectar
of their liaison
upon her landscape
What You’re Made Of
Really fell in love with this piece of writing, to foreshadow this writer's username. Sure, it struck a personal chord, but also the bare bones and forward, smooth-edges style of this writer brought it up for a feature. Here's the link to the channel.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wqat1AcSFIk
And.
As always.
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team