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 2484° 
Ray Dunn
your heart
breaks different
when it beats
alone
idk something that just popped into my head
 1531° 
Anais Vionet
My Grandmère and I have long, gossipy conversations,
where we fall into our own chatty, slumber party rhythms.

She’s met or knows everyone important, and people tell her things.

They DM her or whisper secrets of lives ordered but loveless,
of careers choked by excesses and indiscretions.

She gets stealthy, leaked business reports of purported fortunes gambled and lost or of innocence wasted in bittersweet embrace - delicious, tangled narratives that expose the gaps between facades and realities that can’t be purchased.

Sometimes we pop popcorn on our private ends of the Atlantic,
watch Netflix, share secrets and laugh conspiratorially.
.
.
Songs for this:
Us by Regina Spektor
Young And Dumb by The Bird and the Bee
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: Purport: A claim that may not be true.
 543° 
onlylovepoetry
earbuds buzz,
indic of incoming friendly fire,
another love song,
hardly differing,
what’s the big deal?
uh oh, oh no,
only transformered into an ****** boy soon
to be out loud squealing

for that’s not the way a poet’s brain operates,
a surgical insertion of a poetic inquiry brings a repetitive inquisition's painful honesty
and a new commitment commission now inescapably upfront~facing

even for the
low priestly devotee of
only
love
poetry!

Has anyone ever said to you
I want to hold you forever?
Have you ever told anyone
I want to hold you forever?

oh my god!

the brain is racked, a fav torture of the self-
inquisitors, more awful than version physical,
my balance disturbed, my soul perturbed,
which the greater, my enabled loss or
my failure?


for a detailed search of history personnelle
(of course! it is a feminine noun)
registers no results, given or received,
the hurt of the how, can it be, OLP never
uttered this most greatest
declaration of love?


and then/there, by the River East, a most public place, old man is seen uncontrollably
weeping, a non-gendered English verb,
reported the New York Post
tabloid newspaper

small thanks, photo had my back bent,
my face remained hidden, but revealed agony
of the twisted prostrate figure leaning over
the railing as he rails like an exile
or a hostage

and there’s no answer forthcoming, no coverup, just an existential howling in
recognition that the opportunity has likely
disappeared, and the sky answers not
when begged



why me, why me, for the silence
is answer enough, never was I willing to
raise the gate protective, high enough to
stand before another, unclothed and
impurities revealed

surrender myself to accept or
give out or give in to
that most
wonderful risk


and the weeping
doesn’t cease,
it is doesn’t soothe
or ease,
for the division’s remainder
remains less than a
whole integer

how can I call myself,
only a love poet?

and I answer
my self
with a teary silence
of an unanswered
curse
October 2024
nyc
 483° 
Pax
i smell your scent,
like mangoes
i tasted them,
unripe & sour.
But I like it.
i like mangoes, i missed those uripped one, well this has dual meaning ;)
 268° 
Machacha Doctor
Not sure if I believe in
Soulmates or fate

But if you'll be there

To watch Sunsets
Moon and the stars

Doom our scars

In the winds of
The blue sky nights

I might transmute my
Belief
@2024/10/13
 250° 
Thomas W Case
Jack-o-lantern love,
stabbed by the autumn leaves;
bleeding all burnt orange and sienna.
And it smells like
cloves and vanilla,
and loneliness. Kaleidoscope confusion,
that dog bite pain
in my soul.
I don my navy blue corduroy,
as I bundle up for
the great void.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ur5pZxbd7hE
Here's a ;ink to my you tube channel where I read from my recently published book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.com
 243° 
Eli
perhaps the most complex feeling
is feeling everything at once
the sympathy of a lover
the cold from a friend
everything shattering at once
residue of a rainfall

pain flares
and the cold blooms
the heat of freezing
the coldness of mistakes
everything finally stood still
residue of a rainfall

the soft pitter patter pulling me through the night
 226° 
Fabiconni
clouds are visible, efforts are not
strike of the wind and sun's heat;
disturbs the water for good and bad
blows the realism to sky's head;
It is the garden but not of Eden
through the spinal and mind is the den;
it cries out and aloud
bring me the rain of glorious cloud.
Rain of Thoughts
 218° 
Elizabeth Squires
may a lasting peace
prevail on this our planet
for all of mankind
 172° 
Hansel Reyes
Can I be the poem, not the poet?
 166° 
nina membreno
Theres part of me that doesnt know you.

Theres part of me that knows you.

Theres part of me that wants to know you.

But theres part of me that doesnt want to know you at all.



A bigger part of me.


The biggest part of me.

And over time it's become all of me.
I don't want to know you.

All of me never wants to know you.



Ever again.

but i cant seem to forget you.
help me forget you.
 144° 
Blake
I don’t know
If I believe in soulmates
Or fate

But if you told me
That something
Or someone
Had planned for us to meet
And made each of us
For the other

My darling I don’t know
If I would be able
To argue

You are
Everything I always dreamed of
And
Everything
I could’ve never imagined
 136° 
nivek
caught up in decisions
and dreams

being grounded
within attraction

knowing of paths taken
the effort of the road

travelling onward
into the unknown

and living for the moment
unfolding the dream

a way to go
into eternity.
 130° 
Adedoyin
If you're fire, I would love to burn.
If you're tears, I would love to drown.
If you're heaven, I would love to die.
And if you're night, I would be the moon to chase after you,
because, darling, I want to dwell in your arms.
I will be the waves if you're an ocean, for every bit of you is part of me.
 121° 
Peter Garrett
It's such a lovely combo
The warmth of your legs
Paired with the frost
On your heart
You're the whole package
 113° 
Àŧùl
Day & night,
I'm enticed by you.

Day & night,
I'm lost in your thoughts.

Why are you so beautiful,
Oh, plain mirror?
My HP Poem #2006
©Atul Kaushal
 98° 
ophelia
in quiet rooms where shadows hide,
celia whispers, soft inside.
a secret kept, a dream unspoken,
a song of strings, unbroken.

she waits in corners, dark and deep,
where memories fade, and shadows sleep.
eyes of silence, heart of mist,
tracing what’s been missed.
 96° 
Jeremy Betts
I'd rather completely lack a fully functioning memory
Then solely have this rapid fire slideshow pageantry
Of anguish and agony spinning violently
Come by and see
A life lost with no death genre of tragedy
And if it's like they say,
If this is the only way,
The way it has to be,
Then life is not for me

©2024
 94° 
SøułSurvivør
AI creates beautiful flowers
Velvety with dew and in all ways perfect!
Bees are disinterested.


SøułSurvivør aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
Catherine Jarvis
American haiku does not use 5-7-5 syllable count, it must be ironic. ;)
 93° 
Junévaple
When I am intern professor
you stay the same, don't forget to
marry me! Let's hero-ing side-to-side :D
Hello, Poetry! Second post!

This is my haiku "silly scenario" inspired by my teenage 'hopeless romantic' shenanigans with my liking for shounen animes ^^

Stay creative n create! 𝄞
© Junévaple, All Rights Reserved.
 93° 
Sonia Ettyang
Stars fell from his eyes each time he glanced into mine.
 91° 
A Poet
Turn off the lights,
hide my flaws,
just love me in the dark.
 85° 
Kas
Keep your feet
Grounded, girl—
Stay present.

Rock in the
River, right?
Things may change.

That's okay.
The future's
Never late.
Emotional awakenings can be a jarring experience—especially when you never saw it coming.

This is written as a tricube (three stanzas, consisting of three lines each, each line consisting of three syllables)
 76° 
Yonah Jeong
although parent loves
their children equally,

children cannot love
their parents equally.
 73° 
Immortality
Two hands softly touch,
Smiles warm under starry skies,
Love so sweet and kind.
Touch which feel electric................................
 53° 
ok okay
Lets fall apart together
No more pretending
We can watch the pouring rain
And fall in love again
 49° 
Eric Martin
The past has become scars and pains
Trapped in its bars and chains
Let's look towards the stars and move forward with what remains
 49° 
Pax
how i missed those
people who planted
little seeds in my heart.
seedlings to trees.
i have converse with alot of poets here in HP and WC. Though my brain might forget, the feelings they've given me lingers... YOU/they know who they are...
At the END of the TUNNEL,
There's always a LIGHT,
Sometimes SOFT,
at times BRIGHT,
DARKNESS SURROUNDS,
you casting the NIGHT,
keep FOLLOWING THIS TRAIL to
an ILLUMINATING SIGHT!!!
Out of the DARKNESS,
as you MAKE YOUR WAY,
TRAVELING this DARK TUNNEL,
into the DAWN OF A NEW DAY!!!!!


B.R.
Date: 10/13/2023
 46° 
S R Mats
As drops of blood color water
That certain shade.  Pink?  Rose?
Lovely in themselves.  Coral?  

While the starfish slowly crawl
Across the mighty ocean floors,
The stars in heaven swirl overhead.

And we all continue to die each day.
 42° 
Mitch Prax
One of the best things
you can do for yourself is
to become comfortable
with the loneliness.
Learn to accept it-
you might even learn
to embrace the solitude
and all the shadows
as your company.
To learn to be okay with being alone
in a world so loud, so full of
crowds and temptations is
not just self care,
it is a form of art.
 39° 
Billie Marie
the mountains cry
as you weep for a love
you knew only in dreams
a mirage you concocted
a smokey appearance
you took for real life
the world can't touch what isn't
and you can't touch what is
 37° 
Ikramo
All these poets and broken souls
found their comfort in words
words ,not humans,not god
Not anything else
But words
Isn’t that powerful
how words heal their wounds ?
this one’s for u all , I’m so proud of all of you your words really pull out at my heart strings ,appreciate youuu !!!!
 34° 
Kai
I trusted you ever since we met
You even made me in debt
You took advantage of me,
You stabbed me,
But I couldn't see
I was only so oblivious
I am still so oblivious
I acknowledge it,
But I don't care about it

I was only six years old
I wasn't old-
Enough to learn that you-
Were taking advantage of me
I couldn't see-
The knife you-
Stabbed into me until you disappeared
I wasn't open-eared
I couldn't hear,
Until a clone of you came along
It's been so long
Since I heard
I can hear now,
I can trust you now

The cycle just repeats;
Day by day,
Bay to bay.
This is just about people who come in my life just to take advantage of me

There's no ending to it. There's no ending to their endless manipulation and how much they take advantage of me. Please make it stop.
 34° 
Gavin
I cough words
onto a page,
and hold it up to the world.
They call it art, they call it poetry.
 34° 
MetaVerse
The changing seasons are not more changefull
Then my mistresse; neither more vengefull
Is the wooing autumn wind that sedvceth
A singing mood afore it blasteth
With bitter colde, angry and disdainfull.
Her scorne is lyke a scorpion stinge painfull
In my sad heart wich bleedeth for banefull
Her who presently nowe observeth
          The changing seasons.
Her cruell scorne capricious entiseth
My heart to dispaire; itt dispaireth
Dailye and dieth from disese carefull.
Her scorne doth make my harte most woefull,
And so my smartyng heart despiseth
          The changing seasons.
 29° 
aAr
...
You should know,
i could see right through your
web of lies.
 29° 
León Felipe
Y ahora pregunto aquí:
¿quién es el último que habla, el sepulturero o el Poeta?
¿He aprendido a decir: Belleza, Luz, Amor y Dios
para que me tapen la boca cuando muera,
con una paletada de tierra?
No. He venido y estoy aquí,
me iré y volveré mil veces en el Viento
para crear mi gloria con mi llanto.
¡Eh, Muerte... escucha!
Yo soy el último que hablo:
El miedo y la ceguera de los hombre han llenado de viento tu cráneo,
han henchido de viento tu cráneo,
han henchido de orgullo tus huesos
y hasta el trono de un dios te han levantado.
Y eres necia y altiva como un dictador totalitario. Tiraste un día una gran línea negra sobre el globo terráqueo;
te atrincheraste en los sepulcros y dijiste:
"¡Atrás! ¡Atrás, seres humanos!..."
Y no eres más que un segador, un esforzado segador... un buen criado.
Tu guadaña no es un cetro sino una herramienta de trabajo.
En el gran ciclo, en el gran engranaje solar y planetario,
tu eres el que corta la espiga, y yo ahora...
el grano, el grano de la espiga que cae bajo tu esfuerzo necesario.
Necesario... no para tu orgullo
sino para ver cómo logramos entre todos un pan dorado y blanco.
Desde tu filo iré al molino.
En el molino me morderán las piedras de basalto,
como dos perros a un mendigo hasta quitarme los harapos.
Perderé la piel, la forma y la memoria de todo mi pasado.
Desde le molino iré a la artesa.
En la artesa me amasarán, sudando, y sin piedad unos robustos brazos.
Y un día escribirán en los libros sagrados:
El segundo hombre fue de masa cruda como el primero fue de barro.
Luego entraré en el horno... en el infierno.
Del fuego saldré hecho ya pan blanco y habrá pan para todos.
Podréis partir y repartir mi cuerpo en miles y millones de pedazos...
podréis hacer entonces con el hombre una hostia blanquísima...
el pan ázimo donde el Cristo se albergue.
Y otro día dirán en los libros sagrados:
El primer hombre fue de barro, el segundo de masa cruda
y el tercero de Pan y Luz.
Será un sábado cuando se cumplan las grandes Escrituras...
Entre tanto, a trabajar con humildad y sin brabatas, Segador Esforzado.
 28° 
No one
It's been a while, hasn't it?

I sometimes wonder
If you remember me at all,
Beneath your stressful days
And endless nights.

Do you remember me?

I have hidden here,
Waiting
Just for you.

Because I am you.

You are not the girl I used to know,
Not the one you used to be.
But that's okay,
I have changed too.

Have we both grown by leaps and bounds?

I wish you all the best,
But please
I beg of you.

Do not forsake me.
Has time truly healed all wounds?
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