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 1022° 
R

One thing about rain,
it's not just water nor droplets
but bullets of different emotions
a match stick that burns your soul
in a deep, vague coldness
some found happiness from it
i once did
and some did find something
they did not want nor expect
but a thing about rain
is that you will always
find something
it will always give you a thing
even if you're not aware

and when you're not aware,
let me tell you,
it is the rain

a thing about the rain,
it's a door
a door that leads to a place
you once went
a door that opens widely
for a rent
it's more than a water
it's a memory
you can't assume that it's the same place
you once longed to be
we can't say that the door is safe
or the door is free

some were trapped
some managed to escape
some managed to smile
and I managed to fear
I fear that rain prolongs and bears fruit
but it did not, it just plucked up
a great root

how wonderful the rain could be
how it crashed to ground
a resilient tree
how one could change
with a single memory
and how rain heightens my anxiety

 810° 
Yue Wang Yidhna

I don't want to be your sun
I want to be the moon
Pale, faint,
You might not even notice me sometimes
But when you need me the most
When you are lost
I will be there
Having never left.

 423° 
Thinkerbelle

I fell in love with the way he keeps himself
so full, so sure, so arrogantly handsome yet so humbly beautiful

I fell inlove with him for all the times he stayed
through all the beating, through all the cheating,
through all the bad and good

I fell in love with his words
the way they roll out of his mouth through the clever words he speak and into my soul, he envelops me with every decibel he forms

I fell inlove with him, because he is true, because he is him

I fell in love with the way he looks at things that astound him,
the way the crease forms between his bushy brows,
you know he's thinking, you know he's about to say something
you know when he looks at you, so straight into your eyes you would think he has feelings for you,
so deep into me that the brilliant comeback I've thought of all of last night has crumbled and vanished only to be replaced by you

so then you caught me, words, out of breath, out of mind

you asked me, "what do you think?"

I thought, of how unpretentiously gorgeous you look
of the tax computation that made you question yourself, if u were in the right course
i thought of why you were so inlove with her,
I think of why I love him
but I think I'm in love with you

So I said, " I don't know"


eg

 395° 
rebecca

my body is a hotel full of guests who do not pay their bill
room 1 houses a boy who wraps his hands around my throat as he asks about my father
whispers from next door ask him if he is really afraid to die
they seem to come from inside the foundations of the building
and his upstairs neighbours are always banging on the floor in the hopes that he will notice them
my walls want to cave in on themselves
and the dining room is always full of monsters
bathroom drains clogged with hair and piss, pipes moaning in fear
i am filling up and it is terrifying
a sick, sick man is squatting in the basement
all of my residents know, but nobody says anything
out of politeness or fear
until it is too late, until
he has breathed his infection into the air
then transferred into the lungs of my occupants
using me as a conduit

 298° 
Neha

Love O Love...
U Pour Pure Blood...
You had my soul with the innocent glitter...
Ahh..you slaughtered it with no jitter???
Wounded & Bruised I get into my last slumber.
As I fall freely...
I forgive you my love willingly...
Love O Love..
U Pour Pure Blood...

 250° 
tumelo mogomotsi

sunset, sunrise
moments when it felt
right to put these feelings
to rest, i justify why you
deserve my adoration
and my eyes

funeral wear, a goodbye
would you love someone
who felt the love in
someone's beating
chest, only to let those
feelings subside


- t.m

 250° 
Kerrie Short

My feet barely touched the steps as I fled. Hot tears tracing the desperate expression on my face. In that moment it seemed I had sold my soul to the Devil and he had taken it with him to the deepest darkest depths of Hell where it would burn for eternity.

As I turned once more to face my demon I realised that it wasn't Prince Charming starring back at me, but my own personal Hell in human form...

As my feet took flight before the clock struck midnight, it wasn't a glass slipper I had left behind. It was my heart.

 250° 
Torontoisart

I lay here on my lifeless bed
tormented by my demons
all i hear are voices in my head

I'm a slave to  my own thoughts
and a victim to depression
all I feel is neglect

It is how Toronto was born
The rejection that kept coming my way
I'm haunted by it all night, I'm torn

I am weak
I fight a battle constantly in my own body
and I am on a losing streak

This pain. I've become numb to it
But I feel like I'm forever falling
I'm descending into a bottomless pit

I fall deeper and deeper and realize
Its not real
My mind was showing me lies

It was a trick
My mind is my enemy
It is so twisted and sick

My mind is envious of my happiness
It always finds a way to torment me
My life is just a mess

It's 4 a.m
I haven't shut my eyes
It really is a shame

I look to the ceiling and await my next punishment
I wait anxious
For my souls diminishment

-T

 244° 
Sea

I feel the dizzy poetry
coming on
and the American Spirits
box brags about recycling
as if it gives a fuck
that the environment is
crumbling

Cloud Trick

I am writing on a plane:
An airbus A380 cruising
Through the emptied rooms of heaven -
The place seems larger,
Now there's no one living here.

The clouds below are thick
And suddenly I wonder:
Why is it, every time I fly,
I cannot see the land below?
Yet when I look up from the ground
I often see the aeroplanes,
Travelling through an open sky,
Angels encased in corporate livery.

Now, in my seat by the window,
Staring down,
I see little specks of light -
Perturbations in my visual senses -
Errors of the mind -
Highlighted on the canvas of the air -
And on these flickers of illusion I fixate.

What if there is no land below?
Could it be that every flight we take,
Is a computer-generated fantasy?
An elaborate scheme dreamt up
By secret powers,
Who wish us to believe in forces
Beyond all reach of human mastery?

Maybe they catapult us
To this virtual place -
A hologram of God's old house,
Designed to bring the memory near:
The hope that humanity might have
A parent in the atmosphere.

Then,
Upon taking us up
To the promised land
They showcase the sacred vacancy
Of all our dreams of paradise.

Just as I begin to fall
Into the particulars
Of this miraculous conspiracy
I stop, and realise how poor I am -
I always buy the cheapest flight:
Always leaving early in the morning,
Just at the end of the night...

Do clouds form like dew
In the darkness?
As the Earth spins,
Are its hemispheres
Alternately cloaked in veils of white,
Like an eye that opens and closes
In both directions?

What I would give to witness that.

Written on a 7pm flight between Wroclaw, Poland, and Stansted, UK.
 220° 
Michael Mitchell

The Sun shines in the Fiery Dawn
While the Moon glows in the Cold Dusk

One adheres to short and sweet haikus
While the other prefers lengthy whimsical sonnets

One Plays the Boy in Love
While the Girl Plays Hard to Get

Distant distinct entities chained by responsibility
Still orbit closer to connect

The admiring fish swims beside the cute crab
They travel alongside in the shallow shore

Yin and Yang
Princess and Prince

Coexist among distinct cultures
Began exploring more than ever before

Courtship has revealed their grayscale similarities
Drawing the couple closer together

Their momentary dates felt like endless dreams
Laughing, playing, talking, studying, hugging and kissing

Their Love became lucid to them
Like black and white

Their hearts now beat stronger in unison
flourishing ever more in harmony

A love poem for my girlfriend (PNG) for our 1st month anniversary.

M&M
 171° 
Bianca

wanderers of our days
black and misty
who don't cry when
nobody has a kind word for them
why are we?
our life is a burning hole
and they live in the matchbook
where souls made of alcohol
are on fire
what do they do now?
but nobody knows
where those poor taverns fell

 171° 
Anna

a tough nut to crack
but to get the softer centre,
you must break him apart.

 144° 
Laura Duran

my mind is playing tricks on me
I thought I saw your face
next second gone, just like that
not the slightest trace

I must be going crazy
I thought I heard you call my name
but only silence greeted me
is my mind really playing games?

I thought I felt your tender touch
when I turned, you were not there
although goose bumps broke out on my skin
couldn't find you anywhere

you left me, oh so long ago
yet still you're on my mind
you'd think that I'd be over you
living life and doing fine

why then, am I seeing you
feeling your familiar touch?
why then are you haunting me?
why do I miss you this damn much?

I wish I could just let it go
banish thoughts of you away
I wish I could erase it all
or make it so you stayed

but I don't have that power
so here I am alone
hour after hour
trying to make it on my own

my mind is playing tricks on me
for here you are again
like I'm dreaming while awake
when will this madness end?

always the same, you show yourself
when void of company
when no one's here to witness
the way you come to me

perhaps I am going crazy!
it could be worse for me
at least one thing is certain
I won't ever again be lonely

I'll finally have you back again
and life won't be so sad
living in my crazy world
might  not be so bad

I may have lost touch with reality
I may be lost in wonderland
but I've made up my mind, I'm staying
reality will just have to understand

 125° 
AAA

"Why did you cut your hair? You looked so much better with it long!"
i hate this question because it makes me think
I am a strong woman I can have short hair and be stunning!
i want to scream this
i have my freedom to look like this!
i want to yell in anger
but the truth is
i didn't think about what others were going to think
and that makes me  feel powerful
but i didn't think much besides what was going to make me happy
It was one super selfish action i have made
I took control over my body after the rape
i was vulnerable again
open to the world
willing to show my beauty and strength

No one wants to play with a broken toy
no one wants to be with a broken boy

 76° 
Izzy

First Minutes
The discovery sinks in as we spring into action
Adrenaline kicks in, heart pounding, blood rushing.
My mind confusedly putting pieces together.
First Few Hours
Calls are made to paramedics and cops and investigators swarm our house.
Our car goes faster than what is safe as we follow the ambulance as it carried what we would later learn was only her body and a few dedicated paramedics.
A time of death is announced and more tearful calls are made, this time to family.
We leave hours later surrounded by a mournful silence.
First Day
We sat on the on the couch in a shocked silence, which was only broken by my calls to her friends, the ringing of the house phone and doorbell.
First Week
The silence was deafening and I had to escape.
So I returned to school after making arrangements with my family for the cremation and shedding my own tears for the first time. I caught the last two classes of the day and began burying myself in my classwork after telling those who needed to know.
First Month
Our own questions were behind every turn as we handled finances and possessions and settling things and celebrating her short life.  
I began to tell more and more of my friends.
Second Month
The pain was still fresh and stinging,
My mother returned to work for the first time.
Third Month
I held back my tears in English.
The play we read reminding me of her and running lines with her the previous year.
Fourth Month
I let it get to me while locked in my room, wishing it was my boyfriend's arms around me instead of my paint stained jacket as I painted the canvas as black as i was feeling.
Recording my tears for him and watching hidden watery eyes the next day in class as I honored our promise.
Fifth Month
After an uneventful spring break, my dad began staying home from work.
Sixth Month
School ended and summer began and for the first time in what was now fourteen years, I didn't have a sister. I was alone.
Seventh Month
Slowly but surely the pain faded, with the help of scattered therapists, counselors and mountains of support from family and friends.
Eighth Month
The weight of her absence doesn’t rest on my shoulders as heavy anymore.
Ink stains me with her memory, the pain I felt and saw personified over many pages as we still face it.
My father has returned to work as we each learn to deal with the missing piece of our family in our own ways.

It has been almost 8 months
 73° 
Angstrom

I want to kiss the nape of your neck
Follow the treasure trail to the Cape of regret
Be lost in your hair without any cares
Their tendrils of longing caress
Carried along by the rhythm of eternal tides
Floating in that ocean of dreams
My siren sings to me
Bringing visions of you in time and space
The  smile on your face
The way you taste
The smell of your breath
Almost angelic
Your essences washes away my fears
Scudding along on a surfboard of cares
I can do without.

I am honored this piece was chosen as the Daily!! Thank you fellow poets and poetesses for your encouragement!!'

eyes are small and red,
lashes clinging close with tears
shadows in your face

 55° 
chrissy

you don't know what my handwriting looks like
i don't know what your yawn sounds like
you don't know my reaction to the end of my favourite film
i don't know your reaction to eating your favourite meal

i don't know what your hand feels like
and you don't know what mine feels like
we may not know everything
but we are still in love

 53° 
Mehak Shaikh

Love to read anything
Anything means many skills
Mystery, suspense, love, action
Many clues in the faction

To feel the more taste of joy
Having half of mug of coffee to enjoy
The deep introversion to the soul of the characters
Funny, rude or curious styles of gestures

Hired to do scanning and skimming
Drinking the coffee to enjoy the event
To feel the emotions that cause wonder;
Raise the soul to feel good;
Over the feelings and thoughts,
Having sip by sip
Reading word by word

Determine to knock the door of the mind
Ideas hit to goes eternal behind
Evolving myself completely
Judging every characters deeply

Enjoying the reading along my dreams
Amazing conditions cannot be steal

My mind provoking me to do something
Something creative and unique piece
To write my own ideas
With the same flow of drinking
Coffee in the mug
Having sip by sip
Reading word by word
Fantasy, horror, comedy, or fun
It's being written with my pen

I feel bibliophile sometimes and I love writing along drinking the cup of coffee.
 47° 
rapunzel

now we're in the backseat,
and my stomachs turning.
maybe i just want people in my life
in an un-romantic way.
i like to get under their skin,
and steal their souls story.
i love how everyone is different,
and i can't hate a single thing,
because it makes them human;
the girls who steal bikes at midnight,
and the guys who offer their apartment
out at night.
i find myself in the wrong crowd,
i find myself in these situations,
in the backseat,
with someone who's speaks a
language far from consent
and it's all desperation.
his hands on my neck,
and there's no attraction,
physically.
mentally he has a way of making
my head spin faster than the
alchohol,
and i'm not sure if i'm
kissing him sober,
or if the night itself is drunk,
and i'm waiting for the sun to shine
a light on my mistakes,
as it always does.
i take their stories, they take mine,
but i'm not sure what part of it's true.
the girl in the backseat,
the girl shaking,
the rigid lips and bites.
maybe we won't speak,
maybe he'll lecture me again,
for using my body as a token
to pay my way.
love is an expensive thing.

© copyright
 42° 
Michelle Samson

If I held the rope tightly would I prevent myself from falling in an empty void with nothing but the cold wind biting through my skin in an endless battle with myself that I am very much aware I would never win? I wanted to save myself, but I guess I held on the wrong rope. It was wrapped around my neck like how all my problems wrapped up every fiber of my being. I held on the wrong rope.

 38° 
Corvus

You're willing to die for a country
That will exclude you from being able to serve.
You're willing to kill for a country
That still thinks a Bible is a valid argument.
You're willing to contribute to a conflict
That isn't as big a threat to your life
As the people you've vowed to protect the liberty of.
And you do it again and again
With a fraction of the respect patriots demand veterans are entitled to.
Because you've decided to put the needs of the complacent
Above your own human rights.
And you'll get no thanks from them,
Because they can't sleep easily at night
Unless they can rip off your clothing and see what's in your pants.
And if it doesn't add up to their image?
You can sacrifice your life for theirs and they'll still call you a freak.

I don't know why people are still so willing to die for a country that hates them so much, but the idea that the land of the 'free' wants to ban people from doing so and use such moronic excuses to do it has made me angry.
 36° 
Sirwca

Before the first cigarette engulfs my lungs
Before a thick dose of caffeine stains my teeth
Before the bunny ears find my shoes
Before the sun has a chance to make me hate being awake
Before everything

I feel you
I think of you
And it ruins my day

Rightfully so
Because we always want
What we can't have

After the last cigarette burns through my chest
After the last bottle of water fails to remedy the regret of a poor diet
After those bunny ears sever and my feet fall off
After the moon returns to reign in the sky of nothing
After everything

I feel you
I think of you
And it keeps me awake

Rightfully so
Because I'll always want
What could never be

Before, after
No matter
It will always be you

 36° 
Jacqueline Grace

It’s too much
Too much to think
To write
To dive
Not yet
I’m not ready
To dive
To think
I wasn’t then and I’m not now

I cry harder and harder and harder thinking that each tear
Will rid my brain of these memories 

Drain them
Erase them
Piece by piece
It’s too much
To dive
To start again
This endless cycle
This damn endless cycle
Take them all away dear God I scream
It’s too hard to think
To feel
To think
To dive
To feel
To reminisce

The only thing my body can do is tire itself by trying to release a pain that my heart
My heart
My tired heart will always hold onto

You are an open wound in my soul that will never heal

Each thought of you spills more alcohol into the depths of this gash

You are the lesson I learned
The one that stuck 

Dear God I scream
Dear God let me not have a daughter
I could not bear to watch her die and dive and fall and crash
Slowly and all at once thinking it’s fate and love and heaven and hope 
And everything and anything in between

Dear god I’m too tired
Too broken
I’ve lost my voice
Screaming
Breaking

You haunt my heart
My mind, heart, and soul
Because you will always be the one who broke me.
----

 34° 
Alexa

I don't know
how I feel.

It's hard
to put a label
on what
I don't know.

So, I'll remain here
sitting
contemplating
and
crying

all over you.

 34° 
teaxstains

Hey, you...
Yes, you...
I just want you to know that your new band rocks, especially that headbanging guitarist with the long hair from whom I borrowed a lighter outside campus once but whose name I now can't remember.
It doesn't matter. He probably doesn't remember me either.
It's good to see you guys know each other.
Anyway, why are we stalling and talking about some random dude whose role in the group isn't even significant enough to be remembered that I can't even remember his first name - unlike a band's lead singer.
I even downloaded one song you guys covered - the System Of A Down one that was even better than the original version.
Half your views now are probably from me although even if you used some sophisticated Youtube tracker device to see who views your stuff, you wouldn't know it's me. I'm so well-hidden you just can't, honey.
(I am, after all an anonymous online poet).
That's how many damn times I replay the song over and over.
It's just that good.
Or maybe...it's just to catch that glimpse of you every now and then peering up from under that stupid hat you always wore. I don't even know why do you even have to cover your face with that thing in most of your videos - or a hockey mask and wig. I miss your wild, curly hair that you allowed me to run my fingers through just that once - although you said you were going to straighten it soon and wished you had my wiry, straightened tresses - worn much shorter, of course.
Speaking of tresses, I know the place mine used to be splayed out on over your pillow would probably have been taken up by her's now.
Yes, I know you've gotten yourself a new girlfriend. Heck, you'd always said you liked someone else back then, even. But don't worry. I'm not bitter about it...like I would have been around this time, last year.
Speaking of which, God knows what  you were doing with me back then when you obviously wanted to be with someone else - her - if she was that "someone else whom you liked" you always referred to - the reason you wouldn't even hold my hand in public when a few hours ago they were nicely interlaced within mine as we lay side-by-side on your king sized bed.
I've said this before; if your apartment was a crime scene, there would be yellow caution tape all around my chalk outline splayed out on your bed (but not yours because obviously, I was the only one who did the dying that day).
I guess that's why flings are called flings.
They're fleeting...
...like the rocks some heathen flings through the windows of a cathedral in the middle of the night, causing it to shatter like a broken heart does following that fling, forming cracks in the stained glass called vulnerability, allowing the rain to pour and seep through in the form of tears and drench the whole interior with...
...pain.

 31° 
Waysee Qurul

Be lost in though
As reading the novel…
Then take a sip his coffee…
Stumble again and again the words…
Then close the book and watch out free…

Suffering memories…
Come into view on
Vapour of the brown mug…
Regrets, unvoiced words
And farewells…

A couple of minutes
Can remind lots of things
What you labor to forget…

Rain cats and and dogs
Out of the window…
Though you just listen
The silent
Except sounds of fireplace…

There is huge of space
On the door
Except the thoughts…
And some vapour
Of the brown mug…

 30° 
leolewin

Crystal blue eyes,
They remind me of the ocean.

As beautiful and limitless, as breathtaking and devastating.

To set sail is a death wish,
and to never try is a regret.

 30° 
Nat Lipstadt

Hello Poetry


Yearned.
Ached.
For so long, for a community,
That values the ineffable wonder
Of a wordsmith's creations, intended to
Repair himself and the world with bullets of
Verses.

And here you are.

Like/Dislike, matters not,
So long as we value each others work,
And the the heart echoes within
What the eyes read and the mouth whispers.

The array and disparity of your names,
A delight,
Each name a poem
In its own right.

So I resubmit a question for your consideration,
The answer is now known,
The answer is all of us.
May 2013
---------------------------------------------------------


­Who's Who In Poetry  



T'is a curious thing,
these verbal peddlers, tribal members,
famously well known to no one,
perhaps at best,
a kindred few, fellow-travelers.

Each a troop,
bloodied, purple hearted,
word-wounded,
anonymous unto each other,
yet all bonded intimates,
in solitary struggle united,
yet sea-parted by the very nature
of the solitude of composition.

All poets are Cain scar-marked,
purposed for everyone to see,
a warning to rabbled boors,
imagination suppressors!

World:

cherish these flawed ones,
gentle these frail but gritty,
the Lord has tasked them
to be prophets in one tongue untied,
undo the strife of Babel's division.

Poets!

Be the harpooners
of the unexamined life,
with unfettered rhapsody,
comfort caress us,
exhort the loopy
to light their illusionary candles,
turn the sad eyed lowlanders
into crinkly eye-lined smilers.

With clinical observation,
dense and demanding,
make us laugh at
the comedy of our situation,
teach us our free-to-see peep show,
reveal, unseal us
with tart empathy!

For who's who in poetry
is all of us!
saviors and failures,
recorders and decoders,
night writers of the oohs and aahs
of dreams and nightmares.

When this poet cannot,
no longer, anymore,
tastes his poems upon your lips,
keep your poems within his heart,
then he breathes no more,
and becomes one who was,
yet is,
because of you,
in poetry.
---------------
Postscript (1/25/17)

Even more true today, than four years ago.
Thank You.

a revised, minor modestly different, version was published in Feb 2016 as
Orphans and Poets, Peddlers & Members https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1564122/orphans-and-poets-peddlers-members/


and then finally another different variant, more personal was published in
Aug 2016 as
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1734088/the-harpooner-of-the-unexamined-life


the harpooner of the unexamined life

"Be the harpooner of the unexamined life,
with unfettered rhapsody, comfort caress us,
exhort the loopy to light their illusionary candles,
turn the sad eyed lowlanders into crinkly eye-lined smilers."

writ many years past, just another dusted off phrasing,
composed from life's lecture notes, collected by eyes tired
from the hazing,
eyes wearied by the addict-strong,
incessant observational needing,
of celebrating the loopy,
they who make this planet
capable of laughing at itself,
a helping habit for mutual survival...

should you spot a man ungainly wrought,
weighted down by a harpoon cross
cursed  'pon his Cain-marked back,
you need not move to the other side,
'tis only a make-believe poet,
with his recording device,
seizing your rhapsodies to rhyme,
his collected artifacts, your crinkly smiles,
his meat, his metier, his chosen career,
a comfort caresser of your illusions into
a shapely sculpture of words for you to keep,
a token of your now examined worth,
a celebration for the keeping...
___________-

special thanks to those who rediscovered these poems recently and brought them back to me for refreshing cherishing these old word friends.
 29° 
SøułSurvivør

Thirteen roses in a row
Red rain falls,
Don't you know
Down the window
Pain it goes
In the gutters
Through the nose
Where's the thunder
When it flows...?

(Chorus)
Wrapped around
The gauze that's stained
What difference snow?
The same as pain
When it melts
It's just rain.


Withered flowers.
Falling leaves.
It's a howling in the eaves
It's the cult the
Maimed believe
No one cares.
No one grieves.
Cover up.
Long jeans & sleeves.

Razors are a water slide
On track like
A carny ride
Over arms & over thighs
Release all
The pain inside

(Chorus)

It's an ocean
Where we sail
A coin that can be
Heads or tails
A lover's letter,
Or junk mail
A piece of garbage.
Holy grail.

(Chorus)


SøułSurvivør
(C) 7/23/2017

This song I REALLY want to release. Cutting is a terrible epidemic in our young people. It has almost replaced street drugs as the scourge of youth...
 29° 
Dainty Bones

I see every constellation
twinkle in your eyes
I see every galaxy
pour out of your smile
I hear every shooting star
fall from your perfect voice
I feel every bit of peace
when I'm looking at my universe
-m.a

 29° 
Francie Lynch

I wish to age like a wrap-around porch
In a thunder storm,
While generations tell tales,
Sipping drinks.
A porch of blinking stars,
A place to run out of rain,
With wooden steps for deliveries,
With ascending and descending friends.

I will age like a tree,
Grow stronger in the wind;
Give shade and shelter to all
Beneath my ring-aged limbs.

I wish to age as a river bends,
Contiguous with all shores;
Floating everyone I know
On eternal waters defying death,
A current winding with no rest.

I will age like a star,
Burning bright, giving light,
Something to reach for.

I wish to age like a mountain,
With secret caves and riches.
And you can rock your soul
Around, over or through,
Solid, snow-capped summit,
Beckoning you.

I will age as the moon,
In stages, full and new;
Each night different,
Unnoticeable fading,
As all who age will do.

Thank you all very much for your thoughtful, insightful and kind comments. It's a wonderful surprise and honor to be chosen for the daily, as there are so many damn good poems written by the poets here every day. And especially a sleeper like "I Will Age." I guess it's a lesson to be learned. Thanks again to everyone, and especially to Hello Poetry for giving us this marvelous opportunity to publish.
Peace to All.
Francie
 28° 
Poetria

Who's going to understand
how I hate taking showers because
I love taking showers?


How my speech is as shallow
as my mind is intense?

Tell them not
that the shower feels so good,
you fear the time it will end.

Tell them not
about that fear controlling
your will to shower ever again.

Tell them not
that you hate what you think,
but you love what you pen.

Whoever said you had to make sense?
 27° 
Rand

Dear depression
I'm writing to let you know
That I don't have anything else to give
You took away all my hope

What more do you want of me
The few breaths that I take?
They're not even for me I swear
I just don't want them to break
The ones who still care about me
Somehow you weren't able to push them away
I guess they're stronger than I'll ever be
But I don't want you to make them ache

Hurt me bruise me take my soul
But let my body here
For them , not me , I'm miserable at my best
But I can't let them live in fear

Dear depression
Please subside
We can live together
Just don't make me die

I'm a girl
who climbed mountains
and when i reached the top
no one praised me
no one knew
the pain of the sting
on my heart

I'm a girl
who has loved and who has lost
who has given and not received
who wanted and never got
who blew her shot
at her dreams
because of the things she had to survive.
sometimes it's too bitter
to swallow.

I'm a girl who loves the moon.
I'm a girl who grew up too soon.
I'm a girl who was used for lust.
And a girl who now has no trust.

I'm a mess
a butterfly who flies back
to her cocoon
because she feels like a worm inside
small and scared
and just doesnt want to again be tried
her body is hers and hers alone
this she repeats
as she relives it again

 26° 
Nadia DeLevea

You're blind when you see me,
I'm on my knees and broken.
I remind you who I really am,
Remember these words I've spoken.

Unshakable you see me,
You see me standing tall.
Like a statue made of stone,
You see a rock who'll never fall.

Unbreakable you see me,
You see me effortlessly bold.
Like the stars will always shine,
You see power you think I hold.

Unstoppable you see me,
You see me fighting without fear.
Like relentless worriers conquer,
You see a hero who never sheds a tear.

I make my strength shine bright,
Shine to cover up my weakness.
You can't see past my Confidence,
You refuse to see me my meekness

Even stone can't stand forever,
The world will beat it down.  
I remind you I'm only human,
The world can make me drown.

Even stars can't shine so bright,
So bright to shine through the clouds.
I remind you I'm just another face,
Another face in amongst the crowds.

Even heroes can't withstand all,
Hold the weight of the world alone.
I remind you I can't hold on forever,
Excessive trials will break my backbone.

I refuse to let you believe,
Believe who you see is perfect.
A pedestal I don't deserve,
And don't EVER say I'm worth it.

Unrealistic Expectations™  By Nadia DeLevea
 26° 
Catlynn

Do you realize what you do? Whenever you delete one of us?

You use minutes of your life to write us up, Isn't that such a bust?

We wait around patiently in your drafts, possibly abandoned or alone

Hoping for that day where we will be finished and complete, your profile would be our home!

But there was something about us that you didn't like

Instead of revising and editing, you clicked "DELETE". You gave up the fight!

Change us! Revive us! Turn us into something that will please you!

Afraid of what people may think of us? Then allow us to seal their lips like glue!

We will be whatever you want us to be, but PLEASE give us a chance!

Are you a coward? Are you too lazy? You have everything you need in advance!

Don't let us go so quickly! Please don't put us to shame!

Or do you only see us as empty words with no meaning on a blank white page....

Here is a Challenge I want all of you to take on
Take a Poem that you Deleted, you thought that was gone
Post in the comments and see what will happen
Let's see how many complements you can gain, let this begin!
Edit it to your hearts desire
Let's see if this Poem can grow on FIRE!!!!
 25° 
Anne Molony

you know the look
the look
when you feel eyes on the side of your face
but you're not completely sure
so you turn
instantly catching them
looking
their addictive
ice blue eyes
staring
and then quickly they're gone
looking somewhere else
like the floor or  
out the window or
pretending to be deep in thought
but
you know that they've been looking
because you've caught them twice before

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