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Richard Smith
Life is change
The seasons
The years
All you can do
Is change with them
Lives are taken
New lives are created
Mourning, rejoicing
An eternal conflict
That brings us all
To the inevitable
I search for my reflection
but it is here no longer.
Amanda Brown
What if I loved you before?

What if we lived all of our stories out and there’s nothing more?

What if we’re tired of each other to the point where I don’t see you anymore?

Then what, is there anything else to live for?
The Lonely Poet
As I sit
With my back
To the locked door
So that you don't walk in on me.
But you can't escape from your own head.
The demons
They follow me
They need to destroy me.
And maybe
after you get out of my room
and out of my head
and out of my heart
and out of my life
after you're well and truly gone
then they can fix me again.
But you can't fix a window
that's shattered into a million pieces.
Even if everyone
Reach the light
Look at stars,
They are so far
I catch a shooting star
to burn fire
in my heart.

I know what I want
In me, someone
tryna be number 1 #
be the only one
great as the sun.
I know it's so hard
a pillar wish to fly,
the winds wants to find
where it belongs.
Nothing will be wrong
to follow what we love
And I'll be strong
to reach the light.
I haven't written a poem for long time
in life there're a lot of things to carry and I was kinda confused.
Skyler M
When my voice is so loud,
How do you not hear me speak?
When I tell you these words,
About the pain I have felt,
You only speak from the pain that you've dealt.
just a girl sitting next to the boy she likes
the noise of the world falls away
his quiet company wraps around her
offering a comfort and a peace

just a girl sitting next to the boy she likes
absorbing every word, every glance, every touch
just in case it is the last
no fairytales he once told her

just a girl sitting next to the boy she likes
wise enough to know it wont last forever  
yet still loves and gives unabashedly
because she is just a girl sitting next to the boy she likes
poisoned elixir
my heart twists
in misery and
agony and
these raw feelings
but today i realized
that the light is
still lit
flickering only a
long hallway away
yet 'tis still lit
it still survives
it's still HERE
the light did not
forsake me
not just yet
and it is that knowledge
that light
that is keeping this
dismal tide
at bay
RJ Romero
Oh don't indulge me

To the pleasures of Venus

To the promise of sensuality

Offered by the arrows of Cupid

that wounded us both,

Forcing me to seek your aid

And you to seek mine

Connecting through hurt

The stitches that bind our fleshes

Now seems intertwined
Sally A Lutz
The pain I hide
It's real's part of me as my finger to my hand
I can't see
I can't hear
I'm under construction unable to speak
The Pain...shhhh no one can know... shhhh it will bring down a avalanche of more devastation
Fear ... knowing I'm melting inside crashing waves of fear...  I need to conceal this pain shhhh...
Heart aches... mind hurts...  to breathe as if in deepest of the  oceans...The Pain... my own to keep... My own to feel ... mine alone for fear of sadness all abound ... Pushing ... Shaking...screaming... crying... Not me ... Not me... The Pain
I’m bored.
You’re interesting.
At a respectful distance.
Mr Shankley
I kissed a girl with a broken smile;
nothing could come near.
She carved it with a pocket knife;
slit from ear to ear.
And she wears it like her favourite scarf;
it keeps her from the cold.
So I told her its only woven by
her enemies of old.
Naveen Malhotra
Loving you
You made me a stranger
I believe you haven't changed
You just donned the mask
Loving you
You made a difficult task
Loving you
You made me a stranger
I am afraid
Some dark energy is at work
Distancing us
Akin expanding universe
It's my conviction
The universe
One day would collapse
After all
Indefinitely and infinitely
It can't expand
So is our case
One day collapsing
We would meet face to face
Sinking in love
Forever, forever!
Jon York
Inside you

is where I want to



within the folds

of your mind


the sweet softness

of your soul,


as I release my love

deep within you.
                                     Jon York   2019.
our kisses are pink
your fingertips blue
my neck purple
pop goes the balloon

my hands in your hair
you taste of cherry
and pop goes my heart
just like confetti
Thomas W Case
There's a little
boy that hides in
the dark corners of
my soul.
He doesn't want to
be hurt anymore.
I spent eight years
with Beth.
For the most part,
it was hell and
constant pain.
She made nightmares
look good.
I heard the
little boy cry
late into the
silky night,
while snails got
smashed on the streets
of Ventura.

When I drank, which was often,
the little boy seemed
at peace for awhile,
while swans were
murdered in Venice,
and I tasted the ashes
of Neruda.
Years flew by
like seagulls;
and darting.
The little boy
continued to
hide in the
dark corners of my soul.

He wanted to
come out and be loved.
He was thirsty for it,
but there wasn't
any around.
It was dry, like the
deserts in hell.
It's too late for
sorries, here comes
the plow.

He began to see
the pattern of life.
There are monsters
that walk in the light.
Vulnerability equals pain.
The little boy got mean.
And now he carries
a knife.
Dear me,
Don't just sit
Rise, and pursue greatness.

Don't just watch
Go after what you want.

Don't just exist
Strive and start living.

Don't just dream
Work hard and aim for success.

Don't get tired
Keep hiking until you get to the peak.
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
Strange, the Hellopoetry computer demanded I put two stars on this poem to repost it to the front page... But it was worth it, it’s been on here for over a year now, I appreciate it Elliot.

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
As I consume my ruin in the dark,
I am overcome by thoughts of you.
No, not you.
You too, but not you.
Today I am heartbroken by love lost,
But not ours.
He’d be just a bit younger than me.

Patrick. You are missed.
February 19, 2017
I’ve worn funeral black every day
since the last time we spoke.
Don’t know what it was we broke.
There is a mourning happening.
A sunless grey. This vinyl
plays and plays
your face on some
unforetold replay.
I think to call you and
my tongue is scalded down with
atlas stones of pride. Thick with tar
no words arise. I put the phone away
and lock you back in
endless alleys of my mind.
It’s a battle to look forward
when footsteps know
what's left behind.
Smothered Divine
I feel like my soul is looking at me,
Tutting and shaking its head.
It was an ugly face you turned on me
It was a heartbreak in secrecy...
Melanie Shupe
I wonder if you remember, sitting on your porch smoking a cigarette while I sat on mine
I am the deep, the sky in reverse
I have what you seek, for better or worse

I am the blue of infinite depth
I've swallowed the crews and cleared the decks

You are afraid or maybe intrigued
Of the place where you played and also was freed

Kiss me now like you did before
Give me your vow and the ocean is yours.
there is no clear transition,
not one i noticed anyway
triggers caused at eighteen are not the same
as the triggers at twenty four
I don’t know if that’s better

when will I get over the need to make something of myself?

what i want is only a collection
of what reflects back to me
as i find my purpose in being alive.
you can only do so much with the resources
you are born into

I do not have enough to be free
I know you.
Sometimes you say things, expecting that I won’t understand, and I think it’s strange because
I know you.
That’s what this is. I know you,
And I want you,
And I care about you
Don’t want no one else.
You might not know me,
The stanchions you use to prop yourself up eating all that I have fed you,
In the darkness,
In the night,
But I know you.
And I want you anyway.
j a connor
D  eliver

E  ach

S  oul

T  hrough

I  nevitable

N  atural

Y  earning
Beckie Davies
she made a mistake
the mistake was big
dad left mum in the bathtub
now dad is in the bin

she made a mistake
the mistake was big
dad told me that it was a secret
dad is always listening

i made a mistake
the mistake was big
i forgot to give dad his medicine
now his home is the bin
They’d waited too long to say

“I love you”.

3 words. 3 syllables.

Yet they held millions of emotions unspoken.

and now that they’d done it, they wouldn’t,
couldn’t, stop

they told each other all the time. In the end of the argument and before the good news.

In the middle of the storm, even though it was hard to see, and after, when the raging winds had settled on a breeze

before the rising sun turned the sky pretty colors and after it flickered out and faded away into the dark

Underneath the stars that their love had been etched into

There was no love until death for them. Because it would never stop. Their love was beyond. It rose above any border that would dare to try and stop it. There was no finish line

because they were each other’s end game.  
Sam Lawrence
Snow arrived,
quite suddenly.
The city fell
to silence:
softness flurried,
whiteness spread.
Our footsteps
punched a rhythm:
crisp heel, crisp toe.
Steaming cars slid past
in slush, peeling back
the long black road.
The trees drooped:
tears splattered on
the streets, but
still my heart
lay cold.
Crystal Freda
Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.
rig f laurel
when i died the first time
inhaling an ocean
they said
this was not the plan
turn back.

and when i did
i tried to fly with no lessons
nor wings
and they called me

but i came round
and sought a chainsaw
and then a mermaid
and then death herself
i think she was

and each time
they said the same thing
over and over and over and over:
wrong destiny. wrong destiny.
go again.

the instructions are in a language i do not possess.
I am not able to get the system to publish a lot of my writing. It seems other people aren't having that problem. Perhaps they DONATE MORE? I am not able to donate much because I'm on Social Security disability and I have a fixed income. Recently I donated more than I could afford. I'm still having this problem. I have many friends on Facebook. Perhaps they would like to know about this problem and find other poetry sites rather than hello poetry. I don't want to do this, because I used to like this site a lot and there are some excellent poets here. I have tried twice to inbox you, Elliott. You have not responded. Perhaps you're trying to force me off the site. You are not succeeding. Instead I shall take this to a higher authority. God. I pray for you. That your heart will be changed. That you will be blessed with everything I want for myself. But I will take this to Facebook also. I don't want my friends to be hurt by a site that does this to people. Thank you for reading.

Catherine Jarvis
If anyone else is having this problem please inbox me. Thanks.
The Dybbuk
"I don't even feel the caffeine anymore,"
said Claudio, a cigarette hanging loosely from his mouth.
"Maybe you should take a break. Then, after the break, you'll feel the rush."
He took a long, slow drag.
"No point. I've felt it already."
Some substances are more addictive and less inspiring than others.
I poured myself
inside your cup
pretended to be tea
your lips pursed to the rim
burning kiss
bile churns
you forgot
I'm made of sins
Seven Nielsen
Sincerity listens
but does not hear
when arguments lie
in hate and fear
I write when the river's down,
when the ground's as hard as
a banker's disposition and as
cracked as an old woman's face.
I write when the air is still
and the tired leaves of the
dying elm tree are a mosaic
against the bird-blue sky.
I write when the old bird dog,
Sam, is too tired to chase
rabbits, which is his habit
on temperate days. I write
when horses lie on burnt grass,
when the sun is always
high noon, when hope melts like
yellow butter near the kitchen
window. I write when there
are no cherry pies in the
oven, when heartache comes
like a dust storm in early
morning. I write when the
river's down, and sadness
grows like cockle burs in
my heart.

Tod Howard Hawks
Luna Maria
are the ink
for the pen
a poet uses
to write
- L.M.
We had it so good
So what happened to us
Well in came the flood
And we drifted away
On an ocean of disarray
This short poem creates a scene between two people in love who have drifted apart as their love slowly dies written from the perspective of their love being an ocean
Mitch Prax
To this day,
your name
still hurts my tongue
but I still say it anyway.
Sometimes I like to
hear my soul
gently tear itself
I'm dumb
for feeling lonely, ever

If I have friends
then I might have the world
euphoric jinx
i'm so sorry if anyone has ever made you feel like its hard to love you
i love you
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