Least Read Fictional Prose
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Short stories and chapters from books and novels
Find an undiscovered masterpiece in the DU Poetry least read poems.
Pishashee
Poem Published
8th Sep 2014 4:55pm
8th Sep 2014 4:55pm
trade of blackness
and I walking about
the night, thinking
I saw a moving star
that lights the heart
at the slightest tempt
and fills the tender brain
with trade of blackness;
sought a laugh from
under a darkened bell jar
under the green leaf
where a spider has kept
his wish; the crowning for
for my thoughtlessness,
in that we're the gods of
the animals that become us.
the night, thinking
I saw a moving star
that lights the heart
at the slightest tempt
and fills the tender brain
with trade of blackness;
sought a laugh from
under a darkened bell jar
under the green leaf
where a spider has kept
his wish; the crowning for
for my thoughtlessness,
in that we're the gods of
the animals that become us.
32 reads
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ScottSF21
Poem Published
18th Aug 2014 6:39pm
18th Aug 2014 6:39pm
5pm, on the bus.
He’s coming back, The driver’s coming back” a voice said.
“The driver had just gone to help someone who broke down, their car stopped right in front of us it would seem “ ,another voice explained.
Our driver is boarding back onto the bus but fear is hitting us as another man is joining him. The man is holding a knife to our driver’s back. WE’RE BEING HELD AT KNIFEPOINT! WE’RE BEING HIJACKED! The man is standing stiff as a corpse ,his red painted face bent out of shape by his crooked smile. Dread is starting to seep into our bones like a cold fog.
Three...
“The driver had just gone to help someone who broke down, their car stopped right in front of us it would seem “ ,another voice explained.
Our driver is boarding back onto the bus but fear is hitting us as another man is joining him. The man is holding a knife to our driver’s back. WE’RE BEING HELD AT KNIFEPOINT! WE’RE BEING HIJACKED! The man is standing stiff as a corpse ,his red painted face bent out of shape by his crooked smile. Dread is starting to seep into our bones like a cold fog.
Three...
33 reads
2 Comments
sektioN8ty
Poem Published
3rd Sep 2014 10:53pm
3rd Sep 2014 10:53pm
Price for the Prize
Price for the prize
The seed of a money tree
I bet you everlasting leaves
Shield to all problems
A green cow is a cheap bargain
The staff of fame
Stardom, the rise of galaxies
The universe is a screen
The left balls is a paycut
A cloth of Power
Hitler was a bluff
The earth, a province at your feet
Jump off the eiffel tower
Herb of health
Illment an outkast
Accidents, drowned in the seas
Survive a dragon's sting
Eternal Life, life unending
Dine with the maker
Peace and happy ever
Believe in...
The seed of a money tree
I bet you everlasting leaves
Shield to all problems
A green cow is a cheap bargain
The staff of fame
Stardom, the rise of galaxies
The universe is a screen
The left balls is a paycut
A cloth of Power
Hitler was a bluff
The earth, a province at your feet
Jump off the eiffel tower
Herb of health
Illment an outkast
Accidents, drowned in the seas
Survive a dragon's sting
Eternal Life, life unending
Dine with the maker
Peace and happy ever
Believe in...
33 reads
2 Comments
sodium589
Poem Published
29th Aug 2014 5:55pm
29th Aug 2014 5:55pm
A dog's monument
(Entered in "Something Worth Writing)
At Gettysburg Lincoln stated that four
score and seven years before a nation
was brought forth, conceived in liberty,
and dedicated to the proposition that
all men are created equal. He dedicated
the ground for those who gave their
lives that that nation might live.
Four score and nine years ago, 20 men
and their sled dogs risked their lives in
what later became famous as "The
Great Race of Mercy" to bring hope to
the diphtheria-stricken town of Nome.
This heroic deed was honoured by a...
At Gettysburg Lincoln stated that four
score and seven years before a nation
was brought forth, conceived in liberty,
and dedicated to the proposition that
all men are created equal. He dedicated
the ground for those who gave their
lives that that nation might live.
Four score and nine years ago, 20 men
and their sled dogs risked their lives in
what later became famous as "The
Great Race of Mercy" to bring hope to
the diphtheria-stricken town of Nome.
This heroic deed was honoured by a...
34 reads
1 Comment
xXShatteredHeartXx
Poem Published
2nd Sep 2014 5:53pm
2nd Sep 2014 5:53pm
Another Lost Soul Chapter 3
My mom pulled up to a 2-story white house. The front of it had a wrap-around porch and a porch swing. I waited until my mom was in front of the car to get out. I really didn't want to be here. I would rather be at school than here. The door opened and a man came out. His hair was dyed black, and he was wearing a polo and khakis that were held up with a leather belt. He walked over to my mom and shook her hand then pulled her into a hug. My muscles tensed up. The thought of this guy touching my mom was enough to make me run.
"Hello Jill. I see you have found it after all. This...
"Hello Jill. I see you have found it after all. This...
34 reads
0 Comments
D_M0ndE99
Poem Published
7th Mar 2014 9:37pm
7th Mar 2014 9:37pm
I Forsake My Forefather's Gods
I forsake you Dagda
you are no longer my father,
my god.
I forsake you Donn
you lost your power, your sting,
I am not afraid of your druids,
nor of death.
Get behind me Oenghus,
I no longer love you.
Oghma, I burn down your
writings,
may you be forgotten.
I forsake you Lug
you are no light
to the world,
you are darkness
and so shall I bury your altars
and shrines, my you live in darkness.
Nuadu, you are no longer
my god, my king
you lost your crown,
I now serve and worshipped a new...
you are no longer my father,
my god.
I forsake you Donn
you lost your power, your sting,
I am not afraid of your druids,
nor of death.
Get behind me Oenghus,
I no longer love you.
Oghma, I burn down your
writings,
may you be forgotten.
I forsake you Lug
you are no light
to the world,
you are darkness
and so shall I bury your altars
and shrines, my you live in darkness.
Nuadu, you are no longer
my god, my king
you lost your crown,
I now serve and worshipped a new...
35 reads
0 Comments
GeneFrederick
Poem Published
20th May 2014 9:28am
20th May 2014 9:28am
Loving Lies
Here I sit in this room all alone. Wanting, longing for the ring from the phone; for the call from you that you're on your way home. When the phone finally rings, I sigh with relief.
"I'll be home soon," you say, "I was out with the girls and lost track of time."
The rain begins to fall as I listen to your lies. If only your friends hadn't called just before asking where you were. If only you stayed true and didn't run around like a harlot from the days of old. As I hang up the phone I head to our room... my room now. I will have your things packed by...
"I'll be home soon," you say, "I was out with the girls and lost track of time."
The rain begins to fall as I listen to your lies. If only your friends hadn't called just before asking where you were. If only you stayed true and didn't run around like a harlot from the days of old. As I hang up the phone I head to our room... my room now. I will have your things packed by...
35 reads
0 Comments
blocat
Poem Published
2nd Sep 2014 11:38am
2nd Sep 2014 11:38am
Bullshit Baffles Brains
Bombardier Bob Grice had been a sergeant then got himself busted (twice) down to the basic rank of gunner. His great character, initiative and natural low cunning had got him promoted again.
The big gruff Yorkshireman had grown up in a succession of orphanages and foster homes forcing him to become self reliant or, as one Sergeant Major had described him: “As sharp as a shit house rat and slicker than snot on a glass banister.”
Bob had joined the British Army in 1943 at the age of 18 and showed great promise in basic training. He had gone ashore on D day plus one with...
The big gruff Yorkshireman had grown up in a succession of orphanages and foster homes forcing him to become self reliant or, as one Sergeant Major had described him: “As sharp as a shit house rat and slicker than snot on a glass banister.”
Bob had joined the British Army in 1943 at the age of 18 and showed great promise in basic training. He had gone ashore on D day plus one with...
35 reads
2 Comments
broostafer
John Paul
John Paul
Poem Published
7th Sep 2014 10:02am
7th Sep 2014 10:02am
Happily Ever After
35 reads
0 Comments
FlakyPorcupine
Poem Published
7th Mar 2014 10:39am
7th Mar 2014 10:39am
Uneasy Lies the Head
Liberté
Egalité
Fraternité:
Quelles belles idées!
La tyrannie du peuple.
He hears them outside of his door, words spoken in hushed whispers and the shuffling of feet. He knows who they are, and what they want. They are after him. They are going to kill him. The whole country is going to watch and bear witness. Whatever he has to do, he has to do it fast. He is rational, knowing full well that most, if not all of his partners were either jailed, killed or suicide already. So he does the only sensible thing he found he can do for a man...
Egalité
Fraternité:
Quelles belles idées!
La tyrannie du peuple.
He hears them outside of his door, words spoken in hushed whispers and the shuffling of feet. He knows who they are, and what they want. They are after him. They are going to kill him. The whole country is going to watch and bear witness. Whatever he has to do, he has to do it fast. He is rational, knowing full well that most, if not all of his partners were either jailed, killed or suicide already. So he does the only sensible thing he found he can do for a man...
37 reads
0 Comments
SirCreepy
Poem Published
8th Nov 2013 8:47pm
8th Nov 2013 8:47pm
Beggar and Thief: part 3
So, one day, as he left for lunch, I slipped into his shop, unnoticed along with the midday traffic, most of the workers and the town guard on break this time of day, I proceeded to take everything that wasn't locked up after I scouted the area to make sure no one else was around. It was going even better than I had hoped, as I had collected several pounds of precious loot just from the first room.
But as I made my way upstairs to the jeweler's living quarters, to see what I could find there, I heard the sound of the front door opening downstairs, he was back!
My thoughts...
But as I made my way upstairs to the jeweler's living quarters, to see what I could find there, I heard the sound of the front door opening downstairs, he was back!
My thoughts...
38 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Least Read Fictional Prose: Short Stories and Chapters from Books and Novels