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I write when the river's down,
when the ground's as hard as
a banker's disposition and as
cracked as an old woman's face.
I write when the air is still
and the tired leaves of the
dying elm tree are a mosaic
against the bird-blue sky.
I write when the old bird dog,
Sam, is too tired to chase
rabbits, which is his habit
on temperate days. I write
when horses lie on burnt grass,
when the sun is always
high noon, when hope melts like
yellow butter near the kitchen
window. I write when there
are no cherry pies in the
oven, when heartache comes
like a dust storm in early
morning. I write when the
river's down, and sadness
grows like cockle burs in
my heart.

Tod Howard Hawks
I'm dumb
for feeling lonely, ever

If I have friends
then I might have the world
Wanting to be anywhere but here
With eyes filled with fear
Live by believing not by seeing
Where are you, where did you go???
What scares me the most
Is to love someone so much
That in losing them
You lose yourself
And yet
still end up
mourning not
your crippled soul
But them
Only them
Always them
crocus mist
jump on snow pulps
for early zebras
I am not able to get the system to publish a lot of my writing. It seems other people aren't having that problem. Perhaps they DONATE MORE? I am not able to donate much because I'm on Social Security disability and I have a fixed income. Recently I donated more than I could afford. I'm still having this problem. I have many friends on Facebook. Perhaps they would like to know about this problem and find other poetry sites rather than hello poetry. I don't want to do this, because I used to like this site a lot and there are some excellent poets here. I have tried twice to inbox you, Elliott. You have not responded. Perhaps you're trying to force me off the site. You are not succeeding. Instead I shall take this to a higher authority. God. I pray for you. That your heart will be changed. That you will be blessed with everything I want for myself. But I will take this to Facebook also. I don't want my friends to be hurt by a site that does this to people. Thank you for reading.

Catherine Jarvis
If anyone else is having this problem please inbox me. Thanks.
Maciej Cacha
My head can solve equations.
My heart can make them come true.
But you're this little problem,
Resulting in something new.
j a connor
D  eliver

E  ach

S  oul

T  hrough

I  nevitable

N  atural

Y  earning
Patrick Ramsey
If I could walk into your eyes
I’d be where my fascination lives
And I’d find your tears you shed for me
And slowly my kisses I’d give
And if I cry and you wipe my tears
Your touching a part of yourself
Because the day  that I sought your gaze
is the day my soul received its help
To Vanessa Morales Figueroa the girl I love
Vansh kapoor
She is beautiful.
She sounds pretty.
Her smile is addictive.
That mutual eye gaze
is a terminator.
Yacov Mitchenko
Just a little taste or sip of Me
and you may feel I'm kind,
I'm here to caress and console you,
I'll make sure no harm comes to you.
So much for the sip - the depths of Me
will rip your ideals apart.
Security and respectability
and your sentimental morality
flee or die at the sight of My heart.
All that you cherish, take yourself to be
is a lie - at best a useful lie.
Yet sipping's good for now; keep sipping
until you are ready to die.
Snows much
a walk to touch
dusk is the air between here
and there I wander low
is my heart vibe truly black
as night shaded bright
blue under a yellow hue
the stars align my mind is dry
ice is a rush my brains too mush
to brush air is to dare to dream
a new reel reveals a moor
the soul is parched white

Words, words, words, words.
Words, words,
Words, words, words, words

Wordsss, wordssss
Up for your interpretation
Thomas W Case
There's a little
boy that hides in
the dark corners of
my soul.
He doesn't want to
be hurt anymore.
I spent eight years
with Beth.
For the most part,
it was hell and
constant pain.
She made nightmares
look good.
I heard the
little boy cry
late into the
silky night,
while snails got
smashed on the streets
of Ventura.

When I drank, which was often,
the little boy seemed
at peace for awhile,
while swans were
murdered in Venice,
and I tasted the ashes
of Neruda.
Years flew by
like seagulls;
and darting.
The little boy
continued to
hide in the
dark corners of my soul.

He wanted to
come out and be loved.
He was thirsty for it,
but there wasn't
any around.
It was dry, like the
deserts in hell.
It's too late for
sorries, here comes
the plow.

He began to see
the pattern of life.
There are monsters
that walk in the light.
Vulnerability equals pain.
The little boy got mean.
And now he carries
a knife.
tina kimi
I do not  mind struggling
to get a bite each day

Nor the torture of getting
up on a beautiful day just
to spent it laboring

what I do really hate though..
is another human hating on another.
it never makes sense...
Shelter is a storm.
Flying high; my heart within.
Why must you float on?
Sorry for the re-upload, I accidentally yeeted this one
Mr Shankley
I kissed a girl with a broken smile;
nothing could come near.
She carved it with a pocket knife;
slit from ear to ear.
And she wears it like her favourite scarf;
it keeps her from the cold.
So I told her its only woven by
her enemies of old.
Mildy distracted by the same song on repeat
I allow the notes to carry me through the day
Whilst I’m chasing sunsets in my head
My feet are planted firmly in reality
I wonder which side of me will reign supreme today
A tug of war between both
But when I look in the mirror
My adversary is always myself
The choice to compete was mine all along
But the moment they unify
That’s when the magic occurs.
I can't properly describe,
your memory in my mind.
I only remember pieces now.
In awe of your beauty.
Sometimes I try so hard,
force your image to return.
Parts are missing, forgotten.
The fragments that remain,
I will cherish until they leave,
like the rest of you did,
and will, in time.
अनुभव  के अतिरिक्त कोई आधार नहीं ,
परमेश्वर   का   पथ   कोई  व्यापार  नहीं।
प्रभु में हीं जीवन कोई संज्ञान  क्या लेगा?
सागर में हीं मीन भला  प्रमाण क्या  देगा?

खग   जाने   कैसे  कोई आकाश  भला?
दीपक   जाने  क्या  है  ये  प्रकाश भला?
जहाँ  स्वांस   है  प्राणों  का  संचार  वहीं,
जहाँ  प्राण  है  जीवन  का आधार  वहीं।

ईश्वर   का   क्या  दोष  भला   प्रमाण में?
अभिमान सजा के तुम हीं हो अज्ञान में।
परमेश्वर   ना  छद्म   तथ्य  तेरे  हीं  प्राणी,
भ्रम का   है  आचार  पथ्य  तेरे अज्ञानी ।

कभी  कानों से सुनकर  ज्ञात नहीं  ईश्वर ,
कितना भी  पढ़  लो  प्राप्त ना  परमेश्वर।
कह कर प्रेम  की बात भला  बताए कैसे?
हुआ  नहीं  हो  ईश्क उसे समझाए कैसे?

परमेश्वर      में       तू    तुझी   में    परमेश्वर ,
पर  तू  हीं  ना  तत्तपर  नहीं कोई अवसर।
दिल  में  है  ना    प्रीत   कोई उदगार  कहीं,
अनुभव  के अतिरिक्त  कोई  आधार नहीं।

अजय अमिताभ सुमन
मानव ईश्वर को पूरी दुनिया में ढूँढता फिरता है । ईश्वर का प्रमाण चाहता है, पर प्रमाण मिल नहीं पाता। ये ठीक वैसे हीं है जैसे कि मछली सागर का प्रमाण मांगे, पंछी आकाश का और दिया रोशनी का प्रकाश का। दरअसल मछली के लिए सागर का प्रमाण पाना बड़ा मुश्किल है।  मछली सागर से भिन्न नहीं है । पंछी  और आकाश एक हीं है । आकाश में हीं है पंछी । जहाँ दिया है वहाँ प्रकाश है। एक दुसरे के अभिन्न अंग हैं ये। ठीक वैसे हीं जीव ईश्वर का हीं अंग है। जब जीव खुद को जान जाएगा, ईश्वर को पहचान जाएगा। इसी वास्तविकता का उद्घाटन करती है ये कविता "प्रमाण"।
Jon York
Inside you

is where I want to



within the folds

of your mind


the sweet softness

of your soul,


as I release my love

deep within you.
                                     Jon York   2019.
i'm a self destructive person

so i relate to the lines

'fine, make me your villain'

because sometimes i'll make myself the villain on purpose

because i think it's easier than letting someone try to forgive me

maybe i really am the villain
now i've lost two of my best friends as well as my ex-girlfriend. but do i really care? i don't know. god i ******* hate myself.
Sam Lawrence
Snow arrived,
quite suddenly.
The city fell
to silence:
softness flurried,
whiteness spread.
Our footsteps
punched a rhythm:
crisp heel, crisp toe.
Steaming cars slid past
in slush, peeling back
the long black road.
The trees drooped:
tears splattered on
the streets, but
still my heart
lay cold.
Dear me,
Don't just sit
Rise, and pursue greatness.

Don't just watch
Go after what you want.

Don't just exist
Strive and start living.

Don't just dream
Work hard and aim for success.

Don't get tired
Keep hiking until you get to the peak.
We had it so good
So what happened to us
Well in came the flood
And we drifted away
On an ocean of disarray
This short poem creates a scene between two people in love who have drifted apart as their love slowly dies written from the perspective of their love being an ocean
Whether a comma, or colon:
Punctuation slows my rolling
I need no period. When I end
no Capitalization when I begin
Rulelessly I flow my art
  Not a single!
Exclamation mark
Are you not the one
Who'll know?
Where a question mark
No longer goes

Warp the structure
Bend the lines
Put in repeat
Let emotion unwind
Make yourself
Your poetry's the best
Be your own ruler
Pass your own test

Take your own road
Where ever it leads
Lover or hater
It's all poetry!
Traveler Tim
Strange, the Hellopoetry computer demanded I put two stars on this poem to repost it to the front page... But it was worth it, it’s been on here for over a year now, I appreciate it Elliot.

No matter who you are
You have my deepest respect!

All is vanity
The meanings of passion
The aesthetic expression
The lines we draw and stay within
Even love is beyond intent
Vanity transcends
Flowing from our pens
And so we breathe again
Learn how to see the beauty in life
Beautiful things are worth living for
Even if the beauty is terrifying
I am the deep, the sky in reverse
I have what you seek, for better or worse

I am the blue of infinite depth
I've swallowed the crews and cleared the decks

You are afraid or maybe intrigued
Of the place where you played and also was freed

Kiss me now like you did before
Give me your vow and the ocean is yours.
A Howell
your lips remind me of the bottle of rosé
we shared on a cold November night,
full-bodied and lush
when i kiss you, i taste hints of citrus.

my lips on yours, full of passion, burning,
it reminds me of the cigarette you smoked
during the intermission of the play we watched last January,
as bright red embers, burn bright, keeping you warm.

you are my addictions,
my nicotine and wine.
I know you.
Sometimes you say things, expecting that I won’t understand, and I think it’s strange because
I know you.
That’s what this is. I know you,
And I want you,
And I care about you
Don’t want no one else.
You might not know me,
The stanchions you use to prop yourself up eating all that I have fed you,
In the darkness,
In the night,
But I know you.
And I want you anyway.
Some people die every second
A day.
still live  even after their death.
Their life has no end.
I feel out of breath.
They’d waited too long to say

“I love you”.

3 words. 3 syllables.

Yet they held millions of emotions unspoken.

and now that they’d done it, they wouldn’t,
couldn’t, stop

they told each other all the time. In the end of the argument and before the good news.

In the middle of the storm, even though it was hard to see, and after, when the raging winds had settled on a breeze

before the rising sun turned the sky pretty colors and after it flickered out and faded away into the dark

Underneath the stars that their love had been etched into

There was no love until death for them. Because it would never stop. Their love was beyond. It rose above any border that would dare to try and stop it. There was no finish line

because they were each other’s end game.  
rig f laurel
when i died the first time
inhaling an ocean
they said
this was not the plan
turn back.

and when i did
i tried to fly with no lessons
nor wings
and they called me

but i came round
and sought a chainsaw
and then a mermaid
and then death herself
i think she was

and each time
they said the same thing
over and over and over and over:
wrong destiny. wrong destiny.
go again.

the instructions are in a language i do not possess.
Ian Dunn
I made this for you
It's not much
Just a paper flower
Folded with care

I could've gone to the store
Picked one out
Found the most beautiful flower
And bought it just for you

But this one has something special
It has my heart and soul in it
A piece of me
that's just for you

This is more than just a flower
This is my gift to you
I want you to have it
So a piece of me will always be with you
Where have you gone, little child
—my little child
You told me all your secrets
but never told me your plans
and was it nothing to you?
—all those golden weeds we plucked
and laughs that bloomed
I should’ve built you a castle out of it all—

I should’ve covered the windows with dry leaves
and letters
I know well of the temptation, but
what was ever so promising in that hazy night?
My little bird,
didn’t I teach you how to fly
didn’t I adorn your feathers with petals
—and poems
I wrote tales for your wings and
Will this be your repay?

What of the endless hills we sailed over
All the gleaming waters we kissed
I should’ve built you a kingdom out of it all—
We could’ve been queens of a starry land yet
here we are

I sit with the weeds, they chew away our lilies
you have long run away
with the dark
and the world is dry—
the world is dry without you.
bird in me—
Crystal Freda
Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.
A person addicted
an abuser of substance,
slave to poison.
Pursuing an intoxicating dream-

Is it truly preposterous,
the desire to escape reality.
Leaving behind the the grey
of a long forgotten world.

White lines, like snow
paving the path to a baseless illusion.
A ticket out
even if only transitory.

euphoric jinx
i'm so sorry if anyone has ever made you feel like its hard to love you
i love you
I poured myself
inside your cup
pretended to be tea
your lips pursed to the rim
burning kiss
bile churns
you forgot
I'm made of sins
All along I knew you were the one

From the very first day == till the very last day

A heart like yours is hard to find and hard to resist

Sleep tight ==here in my mind

All your love is all I've ever known

and all I'll ever need
Luna Maria
are the ink
for the pen
a poet uses
to write
- L.M.
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