How Is Prose Different From Poem and Story?

Prose comes from the Latin word “prosa oratio” which means “straightforward”. When you pen down your feelings or thoughts as they come, is prose. Now, what makes it different from a poem and a story? A poem is defined by a structure. It has lines, stanzas, and has certain rhythm or rhyme. A story is a narrative of your imagination or a real incident with several characters. Meanwhile, prose is a natural flow of words and is usually in paragraphs or sentences.

Did you ever carry a journal or poured out your feelings on a piece of paper? Those were probably prose. I’ve been writing prose for a long time not realizing that most of them were prose.

Let me show you an example. Here is an old prose that I wrote while I was enjoying the backwaters in Goa. 

“Nothing makes me happy like a good cup of sun brewing over the gentle waters rippling through my veins and out of my gut, and every inch of nuclear atoms dancing with joy through my soft skin with the very sight of it.”

Let’s turn this prose into a poem.

a good cup of sun

brewing over gentle waters

rippling through my veins,

and my atoms they shudder

through my soft skin

they dance, and I wonder

what can make me happy?

Nothing, but the sight of this splendour.

Now, let’s turn this poem into a story!

It was 6:00 a.m. The coldness of the floor fused to the soles of my feet as I ventured outside. I noticed Sheru curiously sniffing around, his tail swaying from side to side. I was drawn to the backwaters, a mere ten steps from my room. 1, 2, 3…..10, “Aah!” a sound of relief escapes my lips as I absorbed the fresh atmosphere into my weary soul. The toxicity of the city had plunged me to a state of narcosis.

Perching at a concrete block at the water’s edge, I stared at the sun rays tango with the rippling waters. Just then, I saw a small silvery fish swimming beneath my feet. Its fins were as red as the round bindi on Phoolmani’s forehead. It suddenly swam frantically, which piqued my curiosity . I wondered why. I waited and watched, and then, I saw a green sinewy body glissading under the floating hyacinth. A snake! I exclaimed and jumped on the concrete like a frightful langur. Luckily, the fish was swift enough to escape its pursuer and I was relieved to find that the snake was harmless.

After a while, the snake slithered away, leaving me to continue basking the warm sunlight. I thought to myself, “What can bring me greater joy than witnessing nature unfurl its ethereal beauty? Nothing.”

Did you see the difference in all three? Now go, create your prose.