Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Want to submit your work? Request an invite
My dear friends
Go on and enjoy yourselves
Slumber the morn away!
It seems early on Saturdays
I've always far to much to attempt to convey

While my few kind heart-ed followers
Tend to sleep their mornings hours
Peacefully in and out of REM
While I'm at the computer rhyming again...

It's late
You passed your chance for early waking
Hell you miss out on a great early baking!
And now it's far past time for eggs and bacon
The munches, as you can guess
Have all been forsaken

And what did you achieve
With extra sleep
Morning dreams of distorted thoughts
Poetic themes now subconsciously lost?

I know, I know
You made wonderful love the night before
And you need your beauty rest
I read your writing, I get it
you are so blessed!!!!

I went to bed alone and played
With the thoughts of someone wanting me
I wish my poems could reflect
But all they do is bleed

How I envy all my followers
If I offend
Give me a holler
You've been hanging out late
With a habits to itch
We all have a role to play
But by the time you get around to reading this
I'll either be asleep
Or on my way!
Traveler Tim

Victoria Kvist
Melancholy paints my skin red, my soul black.
I am a painting.
No one ever asked her if she was okay.
She was the one they could go for when they needed help.
No one ever thought about her problems..
How would they know she hid them so well...

She always had a smile, and made everyone laugh. She was the sun, the epitome of silly and kind.
But as cliché as it was she was also the one who hurt the most.

The emotions bottled up, the issues she heard from everyone else almost felt like hers. The weight of being everyone's hero she barely had time to deal with her own..
Put them away she said, your friends need you. But on this day it was too much. Everything she'd repressed came to light she was miserable she was completely exhausted.
Energy lost.
Hope gone.
The will to help was non existent.

They had taken all her energy and left an empty carcass that once was a smiling and actually happy girl. And who was there to be her hero?

No one. Not a soul. She was left all alone in the darkness in the shadows of her friends and family. Because without her they were nothing.
Don't tell me I'm pretty
Tell me that I'm passionate
That I have drive
Tell me that I make you laugh
That I know how to make your day better
Don't tell me I seem nice
Tell me that I'm kind and compassionate
Tell me that I'm not afraid to dream and to dream big
Don't tell me I'm perfect
Tell me the you love me despite my flaws
That you want to spend the rest of your life with me
Don't tell me I'm beautiful
Tell me that you'll be faithful and forever true
Path Humble
left my phone unlocked
on the taxis back seat,
won't be the last time

called it a few times
finally, the driver picked up

he had a fare immediately after mine,
and was now headed way downtown,
and would call later
when fate returned him nearer my office

and so it came to pass,
very shortly thereafter,

we met on the street,
he rolled down  the window
and with the greatest smile of pleasure,
as if he had won the lottery
handed me my phone

I had two $20's to cover any expense he might have incurred,
neatly folded in my hand  
and offered it right up, right away;
but the driver repeatedly pushed my hand away
as I insisted,

"No sir, no no, not necessary!

Allah sent me a fare
that took me soon back close to you, so,
  no loss of time did I suffer,
so your offer is kindly unnecessary!"

to which I replied,

Allah sent you to me
so I could reward you!"

and with an equally, beaming smile continued,

"our ride and meeting today,
together was pre-ordained it was

Inshallah!" ^

something he could not dispute...

  we parted ways
   each believing,
   each receiving
a heavenly check plus,
each, credited with a mitzvah^^
on our
respective trip logs,
our humanly divine balance sheets,
kept by the
supreme taxi dispatcher
Arabic for ^"God/Allah willing" or "if God/Allah wills," frequently spoken by a Muslim

^^a meritorious or charitable act in the Jewish tradition

NYC taxi cab drivers are suffering economically by the explosion of ride hailing app cars, many unable to pay their bills, earn a living, have committed suicide over the past few months

true story, poetry is there for the taking
Her days stretch into faded minutes and tired yawns
            Should she let it all go to chase sunsets?
        To pursue lost loves and forgotten road trips
   We dream of times without time clocks and wages to earn
Yet we neglect all the moments we’ve earned.
          Too soon,
              Too late,
                Too young,
                  Too old
         Too everything and anything, and yet never enough
             Today I’ll close my eyes and taste the rain
                And wave to the sunrise that’s calling my name
                        I will be everything, and anything
                                          Always enough
Thomas Bodoh
What are you doing
Black and white and gray
You twist and turn and rage and shine
My love, your love, our love
My brokenness, your tatters, she crumbles, he shatters
Closed eyes, open mouths, poisoned words, lusty words
Dates, times, places, people, smiles, faces, masks
Him, her, you, me
Talk about people, talk about people
Use them and wear them, win them and hang them
Elegance, poverty, hurricanes far away, imaginary crucifixions
Look at me, look at my scars, look at my hurt, look at my heart
Words and words and words and tasty, tasty words
Names, names, names, a thousand souls, a thousand stories
Changing, twisting, turning, losing, loving
Emotions, complications, complexities, perplexities
It makes me want to say
What are you doing
Elizabeth Zenk
As I sit here and stir thinking about how much I miss them.
I begin to realize.
They have been replacements for the two people I missed and loved the most.
KD and CB.
But it still hurts.
All of this still hurts.
I crave emotions stability
What is the cost of loving you, sir?
A slap, or two, or three or four?
Even more than that
If I tip my hat
Can we make that none?

What is the cost of loving you, dearie?
I can see you're asking for quite a lot of money from me.
Can we make that none?

What is the cost of loving you, Ma Chérie?
Another lover, but one who I think
Is not your lover?
Can we make that none?

What is the cost loving you, sweetheart?
You're not so sweet I see
If you want to beat me
Like eggs in a cup
Shattered, bleeding
Can we make that none?

What is the cost of loving you, handsome?
Some hate, not from you.
But from bystanders.
Bongani Sibanyoni
Show me your five closest friends and I will tell you, your past,
They hang like stiches to cover what life has taken from you,

You were born with eyes rotating 180’
Then the death started to walk on your back demons hunting you,
So you evolved upright, 90’ no look back.

We make friends based on what we need or what we have lost.

Show me your friends, show me your scars,
Now look at my friends, can’t you see I’m in pain.
Dev A
I went through my pictures today
And I realized I used to be happy.
Something I haven’t been in a while.

The person I see in those photos
Is not the same person looking back through the mirror;
There’s a faint resemblance, nothing more.

I used to smile and laugh, always so joyful;
I still do, but it’s no longer genuine
No longer healthy.

People used to say my smile made their day
And all I could think was
It’s just a smile, how can it make such a difference?

I never understood what they meant
When they said the smile should be seen in the eye;
That there should be a glitter, a sparkle.

Now when I laugh, when I smile,
It’s polite, lacking reassurance
Missing the light heartened warmth

I went through my pictures today
And I realized I used to be happy.
I finally know what that glitter, that sparkle is.
It’s what’s missing from the mirror.
I'm probably going to
Annoy you, and

You're probably going
To read my text message
That is way too long

And write me off
As a girl who

Talks too much.
Cares too much
Thinks too much.

I'm probably not
Your type
Because girls like

Believe people should have
Hearts like mine.

But being an empath is hard.

People are afraid
To be broken.

They pretend they are hard
And push away those
Who are soft,

To protect themselves
From everything they are
Running from.

Dont stop being soft.

Soft hearts will change
The world.

Your heart is beautiful.
You are beautiful.

Wait for the one
Who sees you
For all that you are.
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.
A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.
Madeline Thetard
Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
3. Today I smiled at someone in the hall.
4. They didn't smile back.
5. Today I looked in the mirror to see if I was invisible.
6. Turns out I'm not invisible -- then why can't anyone see me?
7. Today I made a fake Instagram account under a trendy name from the 1960s to see whether I knew any people who had real Instagram accounts.
8. All of the accounts were private save for one.
9. Today I forced myself to be happy for a particular past crush who posted lots of pictures on Instagram with his new girlfriend. Hurrah.
10. Today I looked at everyone's smiling faces and wondered why I wasn't smiling with them.
11. Today I wondered why some people are complete idiots.
12. Today I wondered why my skin tone - white as milk - should make people believe that I can't handle spice, or make people believe that I am stupid.
1. Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
13. Today I comforted someone who said she had no love life.
14. I didn't have the courage to tell her that I've never had a love life and probably never will.
15. Today I told someone I write poetry and they laughed at me.
16. Today I cried in front of a mirror while singing a made-up song that wasn't even sad.
17. Today I told people I was fine when I really was not.
5. Today I looked in the mirror to see if I was invisible.
18. I wish I was invisible.
19. If I were invisible maybe it wouldn't hurt so much 'cause I know I'm here but people refuse to see it.
20. Can I please just be invisible?
1. Today I told someone hello.
2. They didn't say it back.
Not in a fantastic mood right now.
I don’t feel close
to poetry.

It feels elusive.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.

It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.

If I call out
it doesn’t hear.

Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.
Utkarsh Upadhyay

The stereotypical society has notions of its own,
Being judgmental towards the calibre and capability of the known!

Academic qualifications pace up your growth,
Separate domains are left behind to loathe.

Touch the feet of printed pages and your success will touch its summit,
Being discreet is the hated song and you mustn’t even hum it!

Beliefs of the individual are controlled by the preceding,
They then are pushed into the crowd of unaware succeeding!

We are what we are and we believe in what must be done, yet we can never be grown,

Ladies and gentlemen

The stereotypical society has notions of its own!
how do you know when (a human is too broken?)


human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed

so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares
an unexpected poem, unplanned, needing work
aug 4-5
I wish to be the ocean
Sparkling under the night sky late July

I wish to be those moments in which we were

I wish to be the words you sung at the top of your lungs
Before they told you
You sucked

I wish to be the smile on my mothers face
When I proved all my teachers wrong

I wish to be the rainy days
When we played outside, and couldn't care less for mud

I wish to be the light in my brothers eyes
when he smiled for the first time

I wish to be the tree we used to climb
thinking we could reach the top of the world

I wish to be me
before the drugs.
She was different
In every meaning the word "unique" bears
She sought more colors
For all those in the world weren't enough for her
She sought more emotions
More love, more ache
She loved and loved
And lived searching for more
She was a seeker
A seeker for things that could not be found
Like purple eyes or angels' wings
Heavenly pure hearts
And the child beneath the skin of a man
A soul like hers didn't belong
But she adapted
She adapted to a world so pulloted
Without letting it contaminate her
Rebelling misery as water rebels grease
She fought battles hundred times her size
Coming out with scars
Which she wears like beauty marks
She was admirable
One couldn't help but stare at her
How could it be
That such strenght and such tenderness can be combined
With a smile that doesn't fade
And a heart that shines
She lived
The way life should be lived
And when the day came and she had to die
The sky mourned her with a falling star
She is water

She dance like the waves
Swaying as the wind blows
Soft enough when she's calm
And tough enough when she's mad

She is not a real water
But deep enough to make me drown
Well basically, 60 percent of the human's body is made up of water. Lol
Not Applicable



This.                        Poems
Mess.                     And
My.                         Friends
Nothing.                         More
Less.                      Than

A.                           Mess

                                                    ­     I'm a mess
I'm a mess...
Leviathan Andrew
If I die in a school shooting
I'll never go home again.
My room will sit unused,
A capsule frozen in time,
A snapshot of how I was.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my dog again.
She will sit at the front door
Waiting for me and wondering,
Why I never came home

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never graduate from high school.
My yearbooks will sit stacked
Stopped short of their goal,
Missing years that should have been

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my mom again.
She will sit distraught,
Planning a funeral
For a child taken from her.

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my friends again.
They'll sit together, missing me.
One empty seat among them,
A constant reminder of their loss

If I die in a school shooting
I'll never see my little sister again.
She will sit through high school
Knowing I can't guide her through,
That she has to figure it out alone

If I die in a school shooting
My school will be stained.
Pools of students lives will sit,
Blood tattoos on the brick structures,
Marks of death ground into it.

If I die in a school shooting
Everyone will wear black.
They'll send their thoughts and prayers
To a town marred by death,
Forever to be the home of a shooting.

If I die in a school shooting
Will the world change?
Or will I become one of hundreds  
Of kids who have to die?
What will it take?

If things continue this way
Children will have to live in fear.
They'll look over their shoulders
Always worried and wondering,
If they'll die in a school shooting.
The state of Florida is now home to the two most deadly mass shootings in American history. Pulse Nightclub was attacked in my city, I have friends who attend Marjory Stoneman Douglas in Parkland. My little sister often fears going to school. I'm afraid to graduate and leave her. I want to be able to protect her if something happens. I hate that we have a reason to be afraid... That it's reasonable to have these fears. I hate it so f*cking much.
Mr Quiet
I could give you the entire universe but then i would just be giving you yourself.
but it's true tho
vanessa herrera
why is it that i promote body-positivity for others
i hate looking at my own naked body.

why is it that i say everyone's beautiful
i want to cry every time i look at my own reflection.
I write my tangled experiences and feelings into straight lines
What if it rained daisies today?
And no one got wet
and nothing washed away?

What if the sun shone bright
as daisies flew?

What if the breeze blew
soft daisies like spinners
in the wind?

Would we all be happy then?
Ismail Nasution
I can't remember
Whether it's love or leave
That hurts the most
Adam Purchase
Lemme paint you a picture
A little boy was raised with a toxic mixture of perspective.
The same people everyday tortured him with the same phrases and words
Which always left the boy getting treated like the rest of the nerds

Later that day the boy goes home.
And hides in his room blasting music from his phone.
Just trying to distract himself from feeling so alone.
If only happiness was available in the form of a loan.

Lemme ask you something now.
Doesn’t the story of that little boy make you sad?
The way he is so defeated and beat down that he resorts to cowering in his own bed.
Afraid of everything, always lowering his head at anything that comes his way.

Courage. Hope. And potential.
We as human beings were born with it all.
The traits that help pick us up after we fall.
The things that make us seem a little less small.

The thing that helps us face our fears.
But what if your always called a queer?
For years, and years, and years.

And what if that thing we call courage doesn’t work for us anymore.
Because the toxic society we live in put you in a room with only one door.
And the door opens every once and a while
And when it opens, then comes the negativity, flying through the air and stacking in a pile.

Eventually, the pile gets to large to look above
And then out of no where comes someone dishing out a nasty shove
Pushing you down, again, again, and again,
No matter how much you try to get up, after a while, inevitably, you just can’t.

You know, the emotion that we use to cope.
But once again, I just want you to imagine being tied up by a rope.
But no matter what you do, no matter what you try, if you even try to try, you get pulled back. Further, and further, and further each time.
Maybe you can just try to climb?

Oh wait, I forgot. That won’t work either.
And here you are, a past believer.
Now, you consider yourself a griever.
Totally lost sight of how you were a steady achiever.

Forget about what your worth,
Just become another number walking the earth.

Your words always display such negativity,
That people start to forget how to even begin with positivity.
So please Stop drawing out their lives with your negatively laced pencil
Preventing them from living up to their full potential

Because just imagine.
That boy that used to get bullied every day, and every night.
Would always be caught up in this stupid fight.
Preventing him from taking his own personal flight.
And creating the cure to cancer.

He just didn’t have any of it left. Or at least he was told he didn’t.

He didn’t have and courage, he didn’t have any hope, and he didn’t have any potential.

Because those words, those harsh cruel words, made him lose sight of who he truly is.

With the lack of courage, hope, potential. Then people have no reason to try. They just want to lock down and cry. And that is how, truly remarkable things, begin to die.
I was in a weird mood. And this probably makes no sense. But I just wanted to make a point about how humanity needs to start being more concerned about other people’s dreams, and there potential. Rather than just themselves. Focusing on ourselves, aswell as others, is how human beings truly gain fulfillment. That is the message I am trying to share with this poem. Enjoy
Brianna Love
She can walk
             night and day
               never letting either
                  get in her way.
She learned this trick
                     many moons ago
                     going deep within
           and never letting it show.
Her soul is innocent
her heart is pure
she’s gone through more
than most could endure.
            She’s an angel of light
                 an angel of dark
                 you never know
              what you will spark.
                      You want to hurt her?
                         Please, go ahead and try
                           she’ll be the one to show you
                                  just how well she can
­                                                                l­
                                                                ­  y.
                                  Her soul innocent
                    her heart pure
      but never think for one minute
that she’s not secure.
                                Say what you will
                          please, do what you must
                       but your jealousy and hatred
                             won’t waver her trust!
Even Those Angels Out There Have Their Limits…..
Nade V
I'm going to be as straightforward as my thoughts.
This was poetic at first but now I just need to get it out, and I'm not sure if we're at that point in our relationship yet.
I wish we were older.
I wish I could come home from work and see you there waiting for me, and set down my bag, come over, and give you a kiss.
I wish we could lay down with each other and relax after a hard day and just rant to each other as we watch TV, eating whatever we have in our pantry and holding hands.
I wish we could fall asleep with each other, nothing else. Just us, laying in bed, without a worry in the world, except for my arm falling asleep before I do.
I wish all of this and so much more, but will we be able to achieve it?
Would our relationship have been the same if we would have met 10 years from now?
How long will it take?
How long will it take?
How long will it take?
I've never been closer to you but yet I feel so far.
I just want to fall asleep with you.
We promised each other it would happen someday so I know it's gonna happen.
And I won't stop loving you until it does.
I just want to fall asleep with you.
Melissa S
My son always surprises me...
and is way more brilliant
than I ever was... especially at that age.
Out of nowhere the other night he says
"You know we are all connected" and I say
"How do you mean?"
I can see the wheel just a turning in his pretty
little head and he says "we are related...all brothers
and sisters in this world." I agree with him and say "so
why do you think everyone fights so much?" and
without missing a beat he says "because they haven't
figured it out yet" <3
Happy Friday to you all!! :)
She Writes
You asked me why I like you
But I didn’t want to tell
Some of my reasons are cheesy...
But here is why I fell

I love the way your lips curve
When I make you smile
It makes me want to pull you close
And kiss you for awhile

I love the way your eyes twinkle
When you talk about things you love
I truely believe
You are a gift from above

I love that you are compassionate
You have such a big heart
That was the first thing I noticed
Right from the start

I love the way it feels
When you hold me tight
I finally feel safe
Like I could sleep through the night

I love that you don’t judge me
For my less than perfect self
That is more attractive
Than any amount of wealth

There are so many more reasons
But I’ll start with just this few
Maybe someday
I’ll give this poem to you

i touched your soul
and scribbled my name on it
love, you’ll never get lost again
andromeda green
Are you okay?
Are you alright, are you fine, are you good?
Are you adequate, are you decent?
Are you emotionally stable, sleeping without crying, smiling because you want to?
Are you breathing without questioning, are you waking up without trying, are you eating without throwing up?
Are you reading this poem right now and thinking no?
Are you thinking for the first time, will I ever be okay?

You will be okay.
You will be alright, you will be fine, you will be good.
You will be adequate, you will be decent.
You will be emotionally stable, you will sleep without crying, and smile for the happiness blooming inside of you.
You will breathe without questioning, you will wake up to a new day, you will eat easily
are going to be okay.
So please smile sunshine
It’s a fine new day
To be okay :)

- a.g.
just a reminder that everything gets better folks. please, please hang in there. i believe in each and one of y'all.

UPDATE: thank you so so so much for 7.9k. the overwhelming amount of comments and messages and loves make me feel so happy to spread this poem. thank you.
you said
you were afraid
to lose me
and then you
faced your fears
and left
Madelynn Nieves
As my thoughts wander,
after a night drunk on you,
I realize I can't remember a time where I didn't love you.

Not since that first conversation
seeing you shimmer
in the movie like snow
that stuck to us as we waited.

I was waiting,
I guess part of me always will be,
For that moment,
when I know it's safe to tell you,
You're the only person in the world,
I'd spend the rest of my life waiting for.

But my fear gets the best of me every time.

So I talk in questions
Sometimes just stay silent
Live in my head,
Swimming in the thoughts you inspire,
Wishing I had notation at the ready,
to get everything down,
but I only get pieces of it,
like you.

Just enough to keep wanting more
but never enough to satiate my need.

I wonder what it would feel like to take the dive,
headlong into you,
to throw caution to the wind
and stop caring what happens to me after.
Simply live in the now.

In the tangible current
that surges between us.
The feel of your lips on mine.
The fear that the world might catch fire,
through flaws in its structure,
or flaws in our structure,
in our inability to follow any rules.
"Damn the Man. save The Empire."

I'm too tired to function,
but my brain is on auto you.

I wish I could shut it off.
sheila sharpe
If you should go
from this old Earth
before me
return to haunt me
for I shall not mind
I shall a kind of comfort find
for I know that
without you close to me
I shall follow
close behind
a kind of comfort
As a child, I said hello to poetry;
but I did not know that it would
become my ultimate adult therapy.
We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists

and begs that,

if only for a moment,

our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.

A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.

The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.

The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.

We cannot write silence,
but we can try.

to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.

I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.

I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
The space I have upheld for myself.

I love to hate you

I hate to love you too.

I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.
Inspired by the Vanity Fair article of André Aciman's reaction to his book *Call Me By Your Name* being made into a movie. Specifically the quote, "I couldn't write silence."
Next page