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Bethany M P
The sand shifts beneath your feet,
Your heart relaxes to a quiet beat,
The waters seem to breathe day and night,
Close your eyes take it in do not fight,
The wind satisfies your soul,
Just relax now you've played your role,
Touch the sand now scoop it up,
Hold it in your hands and form a cup,
Now let it seep through towards the sandy ground,
Your soul was lost but now its found,
The weather you desire will come your way,
Just stand closer to the bay,
Soon life will be eternal for you and me,
Look beyond the ocean and tell me what you see.
                          -open heart poetry
J Poggi
Did someone tear
the pages from this story

then try to piece
it together but it was too late?

So they threw it away

Now we feel
upside down

and inside out

Brian Turner
Like some kind of Irish David Lynch
I awake, words fuse together
As my synapses spark

Nanosecond choices
Picosecond bonds
Served up to me
Shall I offer to others to see?

Phrases of alien tongue
'The Pernapalise principle'
'The Goodwin ghost'

The day goes by
More synapses fire
Less frequently this time

Normality resumes
I give in to reality
Time for bed
On a daily basis words fire off in my brain and I love the surprise they give me. I love creative people and am shocked when I meet people who don't live in other worlds outside of ours.
When I tell people
I have my time
In the Sun
Now I am the
Roll up
On me
And you
gonna blow
a feud
roll up
On me unless
You leading
with love
Because I do
that everyday
I’m not perfect
I make mistakes
But I try to
lead with love
That enough
Alo Veera
Am I borrowed for your fantasizing?
Or am I merely just another pawn on your board?
There are times when I ask myself,
“Will I be played in his game today?”
“Will I suffer the same antagonizing threats from the very beginning of time?”
My road is getting narrower,
I have no place to run,
His road is only getting wider-
Enough to catch me.
I try to get out,
But what can I do?
I run obstacles and some days I feel myself overcome.
Other days I give up and let him take over me.
The sun is setting, the moon is rising.
It’s almost too late.
I try to escape but his beauty only makes me swoon, and fall within the same cycle.
I am in his trap once again..
What is done is done.
He won the game.
I had fallen for a boy in high school, but influenced me in the wrong way.
Jeremy Stacy
A depression had me gloom
from the loss I presume
an exhaust would resume
until I saw you bloom
Instagram jst490_poetry
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!
I wrote a love poem
And it is yours to read
Just bare in mind
It is all about me
Keith Strand
In lonely rooms
the end comes too soon

But hey,
not such a bad way to go

With a bullet in your head
blood splattering your pet succulent

At least it's not suffering
in the pale sunlight

Watching it glint
between the panes

As they tell you
that there's so much to live for

When you know
the opposite is true
•                               •

•                                                 •
9         «———  >§<  ———»         3

•                                                 •

•                               •

“Struck is the hour from its ivory tower,
At sixes and sevens, the stars in their heavens,

As minute hands dance at twilight's advance,
To the cadence of time, the archangel’s chime;

Listen closely for me at a quarter to thee,
‘Twixt the tick and the tock of grandpapa’s clock,

Unquicken thine pace, for run is the race,
Hear the pendulum lock, ziccoty, diccoty, dock.

‘There was a sudden stillness like the gap between ticks on a clock, but the next tick never coming.’
- Sadie Jones, The Outcast
She’s afraid.
Cold hearted they say,
Not good enough and insecure

She’s never felt love,
She can’t love
Real love doesn’t exist.

Alone and afraid of being broken,
She cries wishing she could love.
Breaking her own heart once again,
She can’t love
She left me with a bouquet of
flowers that never bloomed,
and a muse with bleeding
verses that never rhymed

At nights when her name
is dancing on my tongue,
I hunger for the cherries
she once promised to feed me
Another version.
callie joseph
he is as blue as the rising crescent
warm as the phantoms marine
and cold as the rain, dripping over
my cupids bow i am refreshed

he is
She's granite old and fossilized.
She lived too **** long. She knew.
The doctor told her today.
It's cancer. She said so all along.
Her stage is set for her final act.
Her coach awaits stage left.
Salmabanu Hatim
I almost died in a car accident,
I saw the Angel of Death take my
husband with him,
I desired to leave the world too
with my beloved .
The conductor refused me to board the bus,
Saying my name was not on the list for almost twenty years to come.
So here I am writing poetry on HP.
Broke my wings
So I couldn’t


So I stole his soul
So he couldn’t

Birdsong at sunrise
Rising sweet on the clear air
A hymn of morning
keila skie
I know
You care about me
10 more people do
Yet I can't get rid
Of this feeling
Of doom

I know
I have you
10 more people too
Yet I can't find a person
To talk to
late at night

We are all but
In the eyes of others
In one’s own
The truth
The lies
Fire and ice
Sugar and spice
Ingredients to life
Writing  makes her happy.
When the pen.
Feels her pain.
And the paper.
Understands her words.
Without patience,
There is no love.
little she did know,
her bruises had been
the fertile soil of
wildly beautiful flowers
and, her tears had watered them
to not just be a season bloom,
but a forever spring.
Word farer
Until you never understand yourself
Believing people will understand you is worthless...
#todaysrealisation #truth #bitter
Jason James
I await the sound of your scooter
I pray for great things.
Eshwara Prasad
Someone said my poems look
like etymological puzzles.

But honestly I don't know
the meaning of etymology!
I have nothing to say,
Nothing to write.
My hands work and I sit back and watch.
I watch what THEY come up with.
Delightful it might be,
It's like the angles took my hand,
And started writing my own feelings out.
Letting my blood flow
Like silky red wine.
Letting my flesh be visible,
Along with my feelings that hide a bit deeper than flesh.
Palak Datta
He asked me- "Why are you still a ******?
I smiled and said- "I'm good at DIY"
The science of our body is such that it doesn't distinguish between ******* and ****** ******* since, the end result is the same.

Then why do we lust for people? Why do we look for mates even when we aren't planning to prove Darwin's Theory of Survival of the Fittest!
callie joseph
i couldn't tell you where
but she was surfing on her own
salty water in her hair
and a ribcage full of stone
the lit cigarette was smothered by the sand as the rains came in
Not everything needs a poem
it’s already

good enough.
Jake Phillips
I awaken to
The fall morning
Frost everywhere to be  
The sunbeam
Brightens the color
Of the fall scene
No green.

Is out!
Terra Levez
When I got lemons from Life
They told me
to make lemonade
I tried and tried
But the yellow drink kept coming red
with my hands burning
from the cuts that Life left me with
Now burning with acid
your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you
if only i could chase you with pizza but shots don't work like that
A friend of mine told me
I write when I’m sad
She said it is as if I am in pain
And I said when I write it rains
When I put the pen on paper the clouds get dark
And when I stop
The birds of the sky sings
Coming out to play as the sun is out
Christina P
I was unhappy
and I know you felt it.
Because one day
with no warning,
you said goodbye.

Without looking back,
you just left me
on the side of the road.
With a shattered heart
and broken dreams.

Your last words to me
still ring in my ears,
before I go to sleep at night
and the moment I wake up.

"I can't stay.
Because if I do,
you'll walk away.
If there's one thing
I've learned in life,
it's to leave
before you get left."
Andy Hewitt
Just like the number of the stars,
our days on Earth are unknown to each of us.
But if we shine our light on others' souls,
When we pass, we live on in their hearts.
dream poetry - write it down on waking!
My son does not understand fear,
he is 3,
he thinks in color,
he believes in magic,
he says that our dog Smokey
controls the weather.

Watch him as he goes!
Jumping over cracks on sidewalks,
pretending to fly,
attempting to get near electric outlets
because he saw them spark once,
and fire,
fire is cool!

"Watch me Mommy!

watch me."

Some days I stay in bed all day,
I tell everyone I am catching a cold,
a sinus infection,
another migraine again.

It is easier to lie than to explain,
that it is too difficult to shower,
to find an outfit, to brush my hair,
to make food,
to chew it.

Friends jokingly call me a hypochondriac,
my Mother thinks I am mellow dramatic,
My son asks me if I need my temperature checked.

It is too honest to say,
"I am fighting monsters, and they won today."
Who would believe me if I did?

We are taught since childhood
to not believe in the things
we can not see.

The day we buried my Grandfather,
I wore my favorite gray dress,
I was scared to taint it
with such a sad memory,
but I was 8 months pregnant
and nothing else fit.

We threw dirt in a hole
as three strangers watched us grieve.
They stood with shovels ready to do their jobs,
ready to get home to their loved ones.  

All I could think about was how much
it aches to love anyone,
even in the good times, it aches.
Loss dances outside our window
like flames, waiting to engulf.

I vowed to protect my child
from any unnecessary pain,
I vowed to make him feel safe.

Now I fear I am the one
tainting him in gray.

Not every day is bad,
most days are nice, in fact,
some days are so good
that the bad ones seem
like distant memories.

On the good days I feel brave,
brave like my son;

I tickle his tummy and show him
which lights are stars, which are planets,
and tell him I love him, always,
no matter what.
Rupert Pip
Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.
Get to know me like I do you; inside and out.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a thousand papers
Filled with broken poetries
And deadbeat proses
Full of woeful verses
With mournful pieces
Of unfinished stories
That are yet to be written
And failed to be spoken;
If you could read my mind,
You’d hear horrible screams
And earsplitting weeps
From shattered dreams,
Kept in a nasty notepad,
Scribbled on a bed
Of bloodstained words,
Ringing in my head.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the shadows
That lurk within me;
You’d hear the bellows,
Screeching the words
“I’m tired,”
“I’m a failure,”
“I’m stupid –”
I know it sounds stupid,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems like *******.
If you could read my mind,
You’d feel the tears
I had ever failed to cry;
You’d see the people
That make the weak weaker;
You’d see the monsters
That consume my head;
You’d hear the hollers
That failed to be freed;
You’d see the heart
That still bleeds and bleeds.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see the face
I’ve failed to show back then,
The face I’ve faked back then.
If you could read my mind,
You’d see a character
I had ever failed to become
If you could read my mind,
You’d be able to read
A book you never wished
To touch and read,
But sometimes I still wish
Someone could read my mind.
Ashley Jerome
Red were the roses, the ones I left on your casket,
Orange were the leaves, the ones in your tree,
Yellow were the bruises, the ones that covered you head-to-toe,
Green were the stains, the ones left on the hems of your jeans,
Blue were your lips, the day you were found in your noose,
Indigo was the night sky, that night that you died,
Violet was that bruise, the one you wore around your neck
by Alice Thyne, but i can relate so much
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