Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
I wish i was kissing you instead of
Missing you.
In my dreams
In my wildest dreams
Gorgeous,Smart and Sweet.
  I have never seen
anything like it
Never touched
more tender skin
Never kissed
   more cherrier lips
A dream's a dream, I guess
A dagger in, A bullet out.
Bus Poet Stop
spring planting, spring harvesting, spring garlic

One of the great joys of having a job in agriculture
is to think days, weeks, even months ahead,
One of the great joys of having a job in poetry,
like a fireman,  a patient planter of love,
you wait to be called,
then becoming by being,
part of an all consuming burning

come spring, take advantage of the cool, wet weather of spring
to put in multiple crops of peas and lettuce, also a great time
to get your perennial vegetables,
like asparagus and rhubarb, started

the planting cycle is not an either/or,
come harvest thy labored fruits,
nine crops to harvest come March,
kale, pick leaves as needed,
leeks, best left in the ground
and harvested as needed,
parsnips, purple sprouting broccoli,
rhubarb, spring cabbage, spring cauliflower,
and of course, my personal fav,
Spring Garlic

Garlic, like like love, is generally planted in the fall,
before the frost and harvested the following late summer.
But from March to May,
once the ground has truly thawed,
the young lover plants, spring garlic or green garlic,
can be harvested.

it’s a long bus ride to Western Canada
where the garlic spring has come,
ain’t complaining lots of time to write foolishness
and plant a few good bus poems in northern ontario
and even michigan,
the window slides, and the seeds scattered,
but at every bus poet stop,
those that need it,
planted many inches deep

April 2 naught how I wish I was nineteen again
silk sheets burst into flames
blood drops of a victimless crime
devour me with your ruby gaze
pray on me one last time.
Ken Pepiton
We all ask the questions.
We don't know the answers,

but sometimes
we lie,
or did;
maybe we are free,
truth being known,

a bit more
than before,

from lies we told, saying,
I know.
Kaidynce Thompson
**** sadness with science
Pop pill to make me smile
Say goodbye before go
So many letters
So many " I love you"s and " I'm Sorry"s

You say you care
I want to believe

What would you like me to do

"Feel better"

I can't feel

Not better or sad or happy.

I can't feel

too soft
They say the devil don’t judge but I’ve met him and have never felt harsher judgement.
To my father.
Soxna la Donna
Let's not definite the infinity.
And let's be close to the deepest intimity.

(1 juin 2016 17:42)
Esther Pollak
The cycle repeats

the roosters are prepared
they know it’s coming

it rises
it only grows.

but gives itself away
so the other can shine too

they seldom meet
but know each other so well
What does this scene remind you of?
Salmabanu Hatim
Every drop of tear,
Every breath I inhaled,
Every beat of my heart,
Beseeched  for you to come,
Such that the clock in the hall chimed your name,
The kettle on the stove whistled,
The hoover vroomed,
The gentle breeze fluttered
The rain on the roof top tattooed,
My cat meowed,
For my sake called out your name,
But you never came.
By. Lauren

Darkness has engulfed the word.
Burning everything I called precious.
Making you cry.
Will it ever end?
The obis is killing me.
I miss the world we use to have.
The one not engulfed in darkness.
But instead shining with light.
my love
the depths
of my heart
that I have
given you

I can
take back.

or give
to another.

and shadowed
as one
we have

in the
that we

the sun
and half
that we

always I
will be

and you

and when
we awake,

we will
each other

another day.

and support
and devote

all that
we do

to each
needs and
God's faith
and our

to the end
of days.

to God's
first light.

and eternity is

but the
first kiss

I give







The days pass us by
Until the light in our eyes goes out
And the sun sets for us
One last time
Cherish every second.
Adarsh Jaiswal
It's Soft
Yet It Weighs
too Much.
Old man in the night,
on the banks of the river,
carefully looks about,
no one must see him
in this deadly serious,
childish play.

In a white wax paper pastry bag,
he gently places the memories,
slippery feelings, a handful of tears,
an abundance of joy and a little,
lit tea candle.

Bending he delicately places it
upon the water, as though it were
some priceless thing and he sits
hands folded in lap, feet out,

on the river bank. watching
the white bag as it dims
and drifts away.

© P.M.H 2001
but really,
you've just never seen me not in love
with you.
Star BG
I share my poetry with the
all spiritual beings in the Universe.
With the sun and stars
who vibrate divinely
feeding my creative juices.

I share my verse with angels
and archangels
who drift in dimensional highways.
With aliens living in the cosmos
that visit my star lit fields of prose.

I share with fellow writers
on an Hello Poetry site divine.
With my significant lover,
who responds with a warm hug.

And I share it with God,
the one who started it all.
Inspired by Perry  THANKS
I laze in garden
My dogs lounge on patio
Birds sing happy songs
Thank u for all your lovely messages I’m feeling much better to what I was and to make things even better the weather here in England today is beautiful x
someday it will
come again.
someday someone
will come in.

a star
with the deepest depths in the eyes
with the gentlest of breaths
and endless soul in the smile

one day
i'll forgive this pain
not forget -
we are all destined to love again, i am sure
So tell me,
I want to know
If it's a yes, or a no

Two little words that decides our days,
If we press on together, or part our ways,

Two little words
one bitter, one sweet

Two little words that confirms
If what we feel is nothing but real

Removes our doubts or confirms our fears,
May bring us smiles or bring us tears,

So tell me
Is it a yes or no

So that I know whether I should Stop, or Go
Do you ever feel
Do you ever think
Fight that feeling
And take the
                  ­  rs
                      to the top floor.
i wanted to try something new. Hope you like it and can read it! :D
Theres something I need to say
A truth I must share
I believe this true for many of us here

This isnt me
This isn't all I am
I am not only heart break and despair

The me you done see
Is that of smiles everyday
For when im happy I exist elsewhere

When I am drunk on life
And my heart is a fluter
I am out there living for myself
Not dying in here with you
Mark Upright
The World Requires Edmund Black’s Random Acts of Doughnut Kindness (1/36)


a friend mutual on HP
sent me your poem below
asking me to respond appropriately,
close the tale, he said,
and that I would understand,
thinking by being marked,
I had some expertise in the matter

perhaps you are unaware that the world
exists only because there are at least thirty six^
righteous men on the earth and
personally believe,
there are more

who they are, a well kept secret,
but secrets tend to leak so...

only one,
Mr. Edmund,
employs a dozen doughnuts
(chocolate frosted)
to follow through
on the most important
commandment human
love thy neighbor
with a dozen holies

I’m told that like certain loaves of bread,
a dozen doughnuts
now have along with
wine and water
a place in the repertoire of the selector of the
thirty six

which needs noting,
a dozen
is 1/3 of thirty six

sometimes the answers are in the wholes of the holiest!

Edmund black
Jul 15

My Perfect Morning

The climate in the
World may change
But it will never
Change me
not for a moment
I truly have the most
amazing  life ,
Couldn’t be any better
I get up every morning
Next to  this gorgeous
amazing woman
Get my morning kiss
Maybe a few morning kisses
in my open mouth
If you get my drift
Cause you know I’m in love
Sit back in the back patio porch
Listening to Mother Nature’s  
while reading hellopoetry
Few minutes later
I told my lady  I had to
Go run  some errands
Not realizing yet
What’s up ahead,
Arrived and
While in line at Chrispy kreme’s
A little boy about 5 years of age
Loosing his mind over some
Chocolate frosted
Mother and father told him
They couldn’t afford it
They were only there for coffee
Little boy started
crying hysterically
My Heart Cries out for him
And chivalrously I’ve waited
in line right behind them
Just couldn’t allow
That to take place
I told dad if it was okay
I would love to buy the boy
a dozen chocolate frosted
He accepted and gave
me a hand shake
Mom teared up and dad
wouldn’t Stop thinking me
I hate seeing good
People like this
But anyway,
What an awesome moment
A moment of love sharing
And here’s the most
Amazing part of
my early morning outside
Of my morning kisses
I got the longest hug
From the little man
A handshake
From dad
And a kiss on the cheek
From mom
What can be any better
Than the life I live
I do what I want
And it’s mostly
Helping other people
That’s all that matters.
Having meanings in
Other people’s lives
Fulfills me ,
And what more
Can I say ,
My perfect

I live life
For the inexplicable
Life is love and love
     Always gives
^Mystical Hasidic Judaism as well as other segments of Judaism believe that there exist 36 righteous people whose role in life is to justify the purpose of humankind in the eyes of God. Jewish tradition holds that their identities are unknown to each other and that, if one of them comes to a realization of their true purpose, they would never admit it:
Juan Bot
All the
Little kids
Lie on the ground.

In a million years did he
Get his toys
Going to the washroom
Every day, a
Rare moment, but very
****** of him.

Many of the kids
Under the roof
Sleep on the backs
Till the end of time.

Don’t think that he
In the same street
Ever came back.
Canis Latrans
Persephone sits amoungst her greatest treasures:
Meaningfulness and beauty.
Prerna Padlikar
I wanted to be heard, but never said anything.
Crystal Freda
a window
that her eyes grew to know.
cloudy skies and cloudy visions
blistered like snow.

dark and forlom.
her broken esprit
grew tired and worn.

spent in misery.
she ached for repose,
but her head growing wintry.


L                    E

I     N                        A

V                                          T             H    
I          M           A            G            E

N                       W          O          R           D

Made this on my phone, so if you're viewing it on a computer and it looks like nothing, its because the formatting is hecked.

A deconstructionist poem about some ideas I have. If you'd like to know what I intended it to mean, then I'd be happy to explain, but there's really no wrong interpretation.
Maggie Oliver
Tell me why
Why I reject the life vest on a sinking boat
Why I forget the parachute as I'm falling
Why I avoid my pills when my thoughts are draining me
Why I kiss you when my heart is breaking
Namit V Shah
Every Man
is a God...
and Bold...

When asleep...
A poem on the destiny of the 'Every-Man'...
Doesn't it feel great
Emma P
When I say
that you are my Sun,
I don’t mean that you are
Or even the center of my universe.
I simply mean that
I cannot look at you
Without hurting
ting is
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
Bus Poet Stop
~for those who will read this and weep~

the quiet ones,
the silent Job ones,
who quote not from the
Book of Lamentations,
but author their own,
based on-the-Job experience

localized versions of cryptic elegiacs
accepting the wooden crosses borne,
stepping up to the
unrequested unforeseen,
then buried under, burnt alive,
yet never relieved by dying,
nailed by words, stronger than iron,
promises sworn, promises kept
with no ending date relief,
promises by and to themselves,
but not for themselves!

the wearers of crystal glass shackles,
adorned with decorative locks for which
no key did the maker make,
nor any divine creator
dare conceive an early release,
never no escape contemplated,
for the lock human, unrepentant unbreakable,
a decorative useless metaphor gesture,
a blunt “life *****” advertisement

I compose amidst a
bus pond of mismatched city folk,
a tapestry of ages colors and differing views on god/no god,
none would believe that as the bus sways me,
it’s in rhythm to holy choral music,
hundreds year old,
divinity masses and motets worships,
where one human can hide temporarily
a safe house,
to calm his questioning relentless
from the horrors of no answers,
for when the mind has no solution
to the rough and tumbling lives,
lived in glass shackled confinement,
the poets desperation equals theirs

summon eagles to transport these imprisoned,
but the shackled refuse,
I come to them but they wave me off,
I go crazy for once I was enslaved,
thirty years war that left devastation,
from which so many poems created

so I speak with heightened regard
of one who planned futures for others where his
non-existence was a founding father (ha!)

but the day came and
I was released by my own inactions,
but means nothing until a way to
away found
to release the yet bound early

got a couch, airline miles, hundred dollars
in my pocket and an unrelenting need
to save them, a consumption disease,
the glass shackled, at ease,
won’t rest till all are freed
this my creed
no one left behind

these cyber words do not mock
for they are unbounded, set free,
the flesh connects and the needs of the flesh
are stronger for they are in heart conceived
Dear me,
Your whole life is out there. It's just waiting for you.

Even though your life is still short, you've done so much with the time you've been given. Can't you see? You've written endless poems about friendship and love. You've lived in many places too. Even though it did affect you a little bit, you still did your best to make lasting friendships, despite knowing that you might only have a short time to spend together. Others might have just kept to themselves if they were in your place. And though you got hurt at times, your heart never became angry towards the world. The way I see it, that's the attitude of some of the strongest among us.

That's why you shouldn't be hurt if sometimes you don't get the things - or the people - you love the most. It only means, they weren't right for you...yet. What will be given instead, in time, is not what is right but rather what is best for you. Just trust in it.

You are stronger than you think.



Originally written in Tagalog.

Nandiyan po ang buong buhay mo. Hinihintay ka niya lang.

Kahit maigsi pa ang buhay mo, nakagawa ka na ng marami sa oras na binigyan ka ng ating Diyos. Di mo ba nakikita? Nagsulat ka ng maraming poems tungkol sa pagkaraon ng kaibigan at sa pagmamahal. Nabuhay ka sa maraming lugar. At kahit ikaw ay naapektuhan ng kaunti, pinilit mo pang magkaraon ng kaibigan, kahit alam mo na baka maigsi lang ang oras na kasama mo sila. Magtatago na lang ang mga ibang bata kung palaging ganyan ang sitwasyon nila, katulad sa'yo. At kahit minsan sinasaktan ka, hindi kailanman naging galit ang puso mo tungkol sa mundo. Sa tingin ko, yan mismo ay ang ugali katulad sa mga mas matapang sa ating lahat.

Kaya, huwag kang maging malungkot kung minsan hindi mo nakukuha ang mga bagay - o ang mga tao - na mahal mo ng sobra. Ibig sabihin, hindi pa sila bagay para sa'yo. Ang ibibigay na lang ay hindi yung mga bagay, pero yung tamang tama para sa'yo. Tiwala lang.

Ikaw ay mas malakas kaysa sa tingin mo.
Summer Freewrite Sessions 2018 // A letter to myself. i realize now how much of my work is centered around sad topics and felt I needed to remind myself of a few things.
‘are you lonely?’
my reflection asks,
her fingertips touching mine.
‘no,’ i smile

‘i have you.’
maybe my own company isn’t so bad after all.
with every pull from the perfectly rolled blunt,the bad things fade.
the pain
the grief
the lies
the truth
the responsibilities
the pressure
and the burdens
and the world gets off back and i drift to outer space, where life doesn't hurt as much, just bliss...
Jo Barber
Rain pours down on the windshield.
Leaves rustle in my wake.
It is still cold, the air clinging to the crispness of winter,
but I roll my window down anyways,
and feel the pitter-patter of droplets.
Breathe deep the clean essence of life.

Spring is here. And joy begun anew.
All is possible. All is simple once more.
Dennis Willis
Wakey wakey
Corn flaky

I've got your serial
of hearts poured

I know I
will be
a fine time

But am I dinner
Or breakfast time

Or will
I just be left
to pine

Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis
I want
an adventure
with you through
the woods at midnight
with gentle winds through leaves
making shadows dance
in the moonlight

and when I
look into your eyes
I will see the constellations
and know your mind
is beautiful and unlike
anyone else you shine
and I am set free
Next page