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Ten Mercado
you write
poetry on the
and expect me
to read
I cannot speak, I cannot hear
I shall not feel, and I do not think;

For I am a stone,
that is better to be thrown away
I just don't know the problem; Maybe right now, I am too desperate to be liked by people and fill that void of my unknown desires

I hate it.
Martin Boško
Sitting in the dark
Wanting back what was stolen
Holding his heart tight
Kelly McManus
A club or a gun
are still the weapons used by
primitive cultures

                       Kelly McManus
in my cold room, my plants grow slowly. their stems push through the damp soil, and their leaves turn toward the light of the sun. i watch them cautiously. i let april pass by, taking its gentle time. for now, i must be quiet and alert.
I don’t want to be sad anymore.

I want to feel happy
For more than just a day, or a few hours at a time
I want to be happy

I don’t want existing to hurt anymore.

I want to wake up in the morning
And want to get out of bed, or at least want to exist in my bed

I don’t want to live anymore.

But I want to want to live
I want living to stop hurting so much that I want it to stop
keeping quiet
seems to be what I'm best at.
while my thoughts are screaming
and my pen is moving furiously to let them escape.
my mouth does not betray my secrets
but my eyes are another story.
if you pay attention,
you may see everything.
the quiet can become the noise
to someone who might take a closer look

Yesterday I cried to the moon
as she wiped my tears away
made my worries disappear
so I could sleep again.

Today I smile at the sun
and it shines back on me,
what a wonderful world
to be alive;
to be me.
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
Shubhankar Mathur
Our complexity is what we think
separates us from everyone else,
our vivid dreams seem so different
yet ultimately meant to collapse into one.
Random thoughts for a crowd-less world.
Maria Mitea
for each seed growing in a strong tree,
half a million other seeds will bite the dust,
except that
to taste the dust they must believe in the power of usefulness,

- unable to think that they will never germinate
they let themselves be carried away by exotic dreams:
dreaming of being nibbled by sparrows,
washed by rain, smelled of sprinting squirrels,
beaten by hot-cold winds, swaying in foamy waves,
touched by a second chance,
than rotten in the mud under a tree, (be it and strong)

- in other words
who cares about a vigorous tree,
when you are a survival  arch/canopy,
arched up to the white canvases.
Creature of the night
Howling at the moon
Creeping in the dark
Alone and never lonely

Free at night
Prisoner of dawn
Waiting to be free once more
Despise the sunrise
For its madding crowd

Died under the sun
Yearning for another black sky
Only resurrected by night
Even the biggest fool
would have cottoned on years ago
that its design to create emotional destabilisation
which in turn could exacerbate stress and fuel depression
creating a feeling of constant irritability and anxiety
all one should state at this junction
with sublime grace and aplomb
and the usual wisecrack....cheeky
'Man, its great to be underestimated'
As they say in the Army
No battle plan ever survived first contact with the enemy
A perfect tactical plan is like a unicorn, because anyone can tell you what it looks like, but no one has actually ever seen one.......
You were once my paradise,
you were once the piece that I like to keep and never let  go, but now you're just a nightmare that I want to forget  and a memory that i never wanna remember.
Grace E
I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille
Waking up in the mornng,
the sun has dimmed its light,
Its a day of mourning,
The moon wont shine tonight,
Everyday your smiling,
someone lost their life,
This world is such a small one,
But feels like were barred in tight.
Robert Gretczko
full dinner and wine
tasty healthy and filling
reflect on the day

the night was quiet
until a siren's loud blast
someone has problems

a pale white full moon
you feel it in your quiet
it rouses ideas

smooth out the bedding
hmm the pillows are perfect
now it's good night time
when I die
do not burn me
or bury me inside the ground
instead cover me in ink
and surround me with papers

- a poet never dies
erica lynn
i never understood why people always say roses are red
to me, they come in different shades of cream
fleeting buttery softness
that allows dewdrops to roll right off their tongues
just a quick one from my notes app :)

hi!! so sorry i haven't posted on here in forever, i haven't really been in a poetry mood recently for some reason...i have lots of updates

i got into a performing arts high school that i've been wanting to go to for forever!! so ******* excited for that!!

i have a lot of caffeine coursing through my veins right now (i literally had four shots of espresso today) and it's six am and i have just pulled my first all nighter in a really long time. during my all nighter i: sewed a dress from scratch (sort of, i traced one of mine), sketched a drawing, did some homework, and listened to five or six full albums during all of that. so yep, definitely too much coffee.

um i've been extra into movies recently and i've watched SO MANY in the past month

i disastrously failing at turning any of my work in for school but somehow i still have okay grades and my teachers still like me so i don't know what's up with that

what else...oh! i got to perform live for that first time in ******* forever, it was so fun!! the place i take my piano and voice lessons at puts on this show every year that i've always wanted to perform at and i finally got to so that was super fun!!

um yeah i don't know what else. sorry that was a lot. anyway, i hope you all are doing good and i'll try to work on writing poetry again i guess <3
i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much
self care is extremely important. most days I fight my depression by putting smiles onto others faces, but forgetting about my once bright smile.
Unknown Girl
The roses have wilted, The violets are dead. The demons run circles, Round and round in my head. The parents are crying, Their kids keep on dying.
Because that's what modern society bred, And nothing was said.
My entire life,
I have been waiting.
For years,
Almost two decades now
I have been waiting.
For the better parts.
For the “soon”.
For my life to begin.
I don’t feel like I have lived.
In the nearly twenty years
I have been alive
And breathing
I do not feel
In any of those years
That I have been alive.
I don’t feel like a single breath
That I have taken
Has been real.
I feel as if
All these years
I’ve been stuck
Behind a window
Watching as my life unfolds
Before me.
I feel that
I have had
Zero control.
That I am in the backseat
Letting someone else drive.
That someone else,
Is writing on the pages
Of MY life.
But no more.
I will break that window,
I will take that wheel,
And I will write
My own pages.
My life has begun,
And now -
I’m in control.
Yesterday, April 8th, was my birthday. I wrote this poem two years ago, when I was 19 almost 20, and on my 22nd birthday I find that the website selected it as a daily and I have all these wonderful people saying wonderful things about my poetry. Thank you Hello Poetry, and thank you everyone else. This was the best birthday present I could have even gotten. (04/09/2021)
She was a thrifted sweater and denim and jersey knit sheets
Pizza breath and red wine and toothpaste
Alabaster skin and knotted hair and freckled shoulders
A tangible dream and my favorite good morning
She agreed to let me kiss her and I agreed to let her slip my shirt over my head before she became
Blood and tears
"I trusted you" and "I’m sorry"
Midnight poems and a drunk "I need you"
I’m afraid I loved you like the way I wrote
Michael Perry

signs of spring revealed
while the frog croaks for a mate
the owl will feed

by Michael Perry
I saw you going down the wide path,
The path that leads to destruction and hell.
I tried to stop you, I tried to save you
But good deeds and evil mix like
Water and oil.
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
I'm sinking farther into the sea
Air cut off, unable to breathe

But it's not all too bad
The water's warm
and the fish look nice

It's a shame I can only see this
By myself
at the end.
He stood strong
when he decided to love me
he admired all
my broken parts,
my hideous sides,
my wildest roars
and my demons asleep.
My heart mysterious of all
and yet he found it solved
Jon York
You are because I am,
I am because you are.
We are lost in a dream,
this is the place we meet.

As  long  as  we  can
see  the  same  sky,
breathe the same air,
step on the same planet,
you and I are not impossible.

Your body is away from me,
but there is a window open
from my heart to yours,
and whenever I close my eyes,
forever I will see yours.
                                                                                   Jon York   2021
Pranjal Singh
We promised we'd walk together
Till we reached the end of road
Bearing the notorious pangs of weather
As we faint and our memory erodes.

The forbidden quest was doomed from inception
Our hearts pounding with guilt and shame
Of the debilitating deeds driven by deception
To engrave our names in the hall of fame.

There is no heaven, no hell beyond
Neither blessed angel wings nor cursed devil's horn
Our souls exorcised, drowned in the pond
Of humble arrogance, as we stand still and mourn.
This trail
Of an ink
Into a black canvas

Only the same coloured
can reach the ecstasy
Of this hidden treasure

That which pains unlocated
Waiting to be discovered
Only for being cherished by life
fray narte
we are
a highway kiss
away from madness —
tonight, you burn
what's left of my breaths
and i stay and sit
and hold the matches
to this roadside fire
in total awe, darling

like an angel after his fall.

some things, too raw to die for heresy —
some things, too raw to be an anomaly.
lost cause
if i wrote my future
all would be changed
from the way i was raised
to the thoughts in my brain
if i wrote my future
no love would be lost
so i’d stand right beside you
no matter the cost
if i wrote my future
i’d bring nothing but peace
and save you from sorrow
and the darkness that creeps
if i wrote my future
you’d still be here
but you wrote my future
and i did nothing
but stare
There are approximately 470,000 words in the English language

4 syllables in “Hey, How are you?”

9 letters in “Beautiful”

3 words in “I love you”

And still

I can’t find a single thing to say

When your smile accidentally makes my day.
Free Verse.
I was reading too much
in your care, affection and boundless touch

Acting based on my sixth sense
I was excited and awkwardly tense

No seed of doubt
I was ready to bloom
You cut me off
Not your pick...I assume
His5Her is a series of poems with different points of view of fictional people
Isn’t’ it just strange
That as humans
We are more animal
Than we care
To admit
We act on instinct
Thinking we
Have control
In actuality
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

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
Savannah Kajdan
I finally found it
A place I have longed for
A place I might be forgotten
Or possibly remembered more
Either way I don't dare care

What for?
Because if I do
I might no longer belong there anymore then before
                                                   ­    S.Kajdan
I still cringe when I meet someone with your name

Your name

Like the slowest poison
It never leaves me

Just slowly eats away

Ah your name

How I wish I could eradicate it from my soul
we are but the sand and the ocean.
you are the sand
warm, fine, comforting, golden
people always seem
to walk all over you,
but not me
for I am the ocean
deep, brave, pure, peaceful
and I try so hard to get to you
but every time I push myself
I always end up trickling back to where I belong
it's not fair
I want to belong to you

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