Prose
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- Written by Vangoman/ Dan Van Fleet
- Category: Prose
- Hits: 1715
“Percy Sledge Sang” When a man loves a woman, can’t keep his mind on nothing else, he’ll change the world for a good thing he’s found. If she is bad he can’t see it, she can do no wrong; turn his back on his best friend if he puts her down. If she plays him for a fool he’s the last one to know, loving eyes can never see...
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- Written by grunfruaorshell
- Category: Prose
- Hits: 1837
So I was not expecting this tonight. It seemed a bit mundane the reading. And then I got up in front of the modest crowd and let my words flow. They applauded. Others recited and read. And then the show was over and I thought I would just go have some drinks afterwards with my friends. A man came up to me. Someone I may have passed on the street who might have smiled. He shook my hand and told me he liked my poem. It had really moved him and could he have a copy. I paused. I hestitated. I gave him my information and the sites I was on. But...
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- Written by Vangoman/ Dan Van Fleet
- Category: Prose
- Hits: 1882
User Rating: 5 / 5
In her last humane way of touching me, this woman human in love, feels like some exotic silk scarf being dragged endlessly across the submissive lips of someone very much in love, hers is a kind of veiled love that imprints upon the life of lovers by stretching their heart into a bending of surrendering, this is the way of touching by my woman. A woman in search of final midnights of chard submission initiated by me the man who helped shape her glorious free life. Her love is one of those soft kinds of loves that surround the calling to warmth, warmth found only inside the trade winds of the soul or in those sacred moments where the art of the heart is passionately making love.
- Details
- Written by Vangoman/ Dan Van Fleet
- Category: Prose
- Hits: 1692
In her last humane way of touching, that of a woman human in love, or more precise like some exotic silk scarf being dragged endlessly across submissive lips of someone very much in love, hers is a kind of veiled love that imprints upon the life of other lovers by stretching their heart into a bent posture of surrendering, this is the way of touching by my woman. My woman in search of a final midnight of chard submissions initiated by me the man who helped shape her glorious life. Her love is one of those soft kinds of loves that surround the calling of warmth, warmth found only inside the trade winds of the soul or in those sacred moments where the art of the heart is passionately making love to you.
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