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 1157° 
Arrow
You once said
Your love for me
Will never die
That you would love me
For evermore.

And now you tell me
That it is all gone
That nothing is sempiternal
Nothing lives for eternal
 466° 
E B K
It's just one moment
of forgetting
and then suddenly
the world is ending
 320° 
written by me
That wicker furniture on the front porch,
it just silently sits there waiting to be sat in, to feel needed.

I gaze at it in passing with my German  Shepherd, and I picture things in my imagination, sights and sounds.
It squeaks and makes this crunching noise when someone does sit down into it.

Almost as if it were old and tired like the very idea of making wicker furniture is.
When it rains, it still sits there upon the porch.
It doesn't care if it gets wet.

It knows soon enough the sun will warm its brownish tan exterior, almost sun bathing and furthering it's golden shine.
Funny thing about this wicker furniture, well I think anyway.

It never makes a sound until you sit down in it.
When you do, it almost always has a story to tell.
Simply listen to it next time because perhaps, you haven't been listening closely or hard enough.



written by me... ..
 250° 
Nina
All
We could have had it all
the rainy kisses
the long nights
the warm tights, the love, the storm, the screams, the fights the lights
in our eyes
when we found what we were looking for in everyone else
we could have had it all
but when we almost had everything
u just f*cking cut everything into pieces
and now I'm only left with
my own mind
kinda messy one. imagine it read out loud :)
Isn't it funny how we want to hear certain things from people, things that we can actually tell ourselves.
Well i guess it just feels better when it feels like someone else cares enough to tell you what you needed to hear from yourself but they say it anyway.
 237° 
Nikki Danilov
there is an air in you,
i feel it is too much.
 194° 
Lonely Devil King
A glance into the mirror that led me astray
The phantoms of my mind whirring
and with no delay, the tears drip
The tight grip around my chest
A writhing conniving visage stares back
and with no thought to others, I let the tears drip
All it took was a glance and here I am someone else
The Phantoms have stopped whirring
and with no one left, not a tear can be shed.
 170° 
Alice
how long has it been?
what year is it?
where is the ruler- the queen?

this place.. miserable, one might say
it's very exquisite, I feel blind
it's only been a day,
these modern things fined

it's so futuristic, gold.
yet so very filthy
just like mold.
Silly.
 159° 
Arlice W Davenport
stones rise to the sky
red canyon walls box me in
sated on colors
 159° 
Gianna
Now I’ll always wonder
Does he love me for me
Or does he love me for my body
Does he want to be with me
Or does he just want to sleep with me
Does he mean it when he says he loves me
Or is he telling me what I want to hear
Does he just want to see me bare
Or does he really care
 142° 
Kai
when my lungs expand
it feels toxic and choking
like every panicked breath
is another gallon of water
weighing me down under
Based off another poem of mine titled "Deep Breaths".
 138° 
Apple on a Rose
I don’t even want you.
I just wanted to reject you.
 125° 
em
dreaming big
dreaming fast
i take my terrors
at full mast.
my breath is light
my blood comes thick
my hand in sight
to catch my death
palms outstretched
to carry souls
forgotten people
forgotten goals
i bring the sun
into my skin
so i may die with
little sin
so i may die in
peaceful plight
i breathe the sun
in all its light.
 102° 
Blckstr
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 ****** –”
I know it sounds ******,
It’s pathetically foolish
And seems too *******.
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.
You'll get hurt and disappointed too much
That's what you get when you care too much
When you expected too much
 100° 
Jayantee Khare
***

hold me not
touch me not
maybe I'm clumsy-clumsy-clumsy!

have headache
want chocolate shake
maybe I'm lazy-lazy-lazy!

feel me not
mind me not
I'm cranky-cranky-cranky!

the mood is swinging
find me clinging
I'm touchy-touchy-touchy!

may be crazy
sometimes hazy
I'm moody-moody-moody!

stay away
go your way
I'm feelo-feelo-feelo!

just be there
patient listener
I'm despo-despo-despo!

here i contradict
have conflict
I'm ******-******-******!

changing hormones
troubling estrogens
tell me not a fatso-fatso-fatso!

maybe I'll be ok again!
maybe you'll love me then!


Maybe few females relate....resonate....rate .....
A big thnx to all readers and those who appreciated, thnx hp, thnx Elliott
 94° 
sheila sharpe
(A WARNING TO THE CURIOUS)

Distance yourself
from this world
before you
into its troubled atmosphere
are hurled
 93° 
George Raitt
Love, said the rose, is a perfume.
Love is a murmur, said the water.
Love is a sigh, said the zephyr.
Love, said the light, is a flame.

Oh, how you have lied! (Quanto mendito!)
Love is a tear.
Josefa wrote in Spanish. I read her bio on Wikipedia only after posting this!!
 92° 
ohellobeautiful
no matter how hard
these winds blow and shake me
i stay  r o o t e d  with the Earth

storms exist to awake me
one of the first few
rhymes i ever wrote
*and still my favorite*
 78° 
Peter B
Her eyes
reflect my moon.
In her eyes
it's always full.
Both can ****
        The only difference is
                      Cigarettes shatter lungs
         She shatters everything

            I remembered the first moment
my lips pressed the filter
     as I lit it up breathed it all
                savored every smoke
       as if we covered up painful lies
        in a container of painkillers

The same way  
we used to pressed our lips
     sparked something between us
           savored every moment we had
    as if our love was a rose
               in a valley of tulips
Gold
 59° 
Rama Krsna
the nectar of love
only comes with
the poison of pain,
two
for the exorbitant price of one

standing
at the chasm
of life and death
destroyed by love
grief remains
as life’s sole friend

the memories of love
now
belong to time
and this aging body
to the five elements.

© 2019
 58° 
the dirty poet
i see the flyer at starbucks

"are you caucasian?
without mental health
and drug problems?"

wow
i don’t know the answer to any of these questions
is a jew a caucasian?
is the occasional *****, ****-slamming drunken rampage
a drug problem?
as for mental health
i’m a deadbeat poet and unpopular pop musician
i’ve got a job fighting death and boredom
and i just changed my facebook password to "eat ****"
my frustrations have driven weaker souls to homicide
but are these PROBLEMS?
 57° 
Data
duo:
blue flute, red drum
quantum harmonic
singing
vibrating string
in infinite
black

_______________­__


By Data © May 2019
 55° 
a silent chaos
Is pain considered a drug when you keep coming back for it? For more?
 53° 
Perry
Before the sun could tell time
I became an expert of her
My instrument is her eyes
It took ages of practice
I learned from the moon
And all the colors of the sky

All the stars fall
Our eyes in between
The wind is real
No pain is free
The air is hers
She lets me breathe
Her words are the light
When she talks I can see
Now the window of her
Has unlocked for me
Through a million past lives
Together was the key
 52° 
JR Falk
so I noticed that we both drink coffee.
just like anyone, we both like ours a certain way.
i like mine sweeter, with just the aftertaste of coffee there.
caramel, sugar, creamer.
i think about when i’ll have my next cup, and the idea of it alone makes me happy.
i don’t care what time of day i have it, i almost always have a cup.
i make time for my coffee.
it might be safe to say i think you like your coffee black.
you might add just the smallest touch to soften its bitter taste, but never too much.
sometimes i think you just pour it and carry on, as though it’s nothing important at all.
as though all it is, is just some quick fix.
like you just want to get it over with.
we drink it in two different ways.
i drink it slowly.
i note every flavor in every sip, i enjoy it.
i note the warmth it brings me.
i like it all hours of the day.
you drink it quickly.
quicker than me, at least.
you don’t care if it burns your tongue, or perhaps you’re used to the pain.
you accept it.
you never let it last, you move on to something else soon after.
i lay in your bed, watching your eyes as they skim the screen in front of you.
your mind is somewhere else.
i savor the moments you look my way, if even for a second, and smile at me.
i wonder if you even notice them.
i feel your laugh vibrate my bones, making the hair on my arms stand on end.
do i make you feel at all?
i reflect on it every time i drink my coffee.
i think about it with each and every sip, taking my time.
something tells me that you don’t do the same.
after all, it's just coffee.
but i put my all into this coffee.
i think you like your coffee black.
3:06am
08.09.18

im actually drinking coffee rn. rip
 51° 
Derek
I write about the things I'm missin
I'm on a mission
to make you listen
I have no doubt in this decision
Our love will solve our long division
 51° 
Hg
wri
ting is
threading
your           life
thro             ugh
a ne           edle
and         if
you sew
secrets
you'll
get
po
ke
d
a
l
i
t
t
l
e
.
©Hg
 50° 
written by me
I am but
one star
in the
universe
that you
deserve.
I am but
a rain's
puddle
when
it is
the ocean
that you
need to
swim in.
Wish
upon me.
Dance
and jump
within me.
I long
to be
enough
for thee.



written by me... ..
 46° 
SomeOneElse
Tonight I hugged an angel
And it made my night
As she looked me in the eyes
And held me real tight
I sang to her a song
And I saw her dance
As her stunning beauty
Had me in a trance
Tonight I met an angel
And she made me so happy
Tonight I was in heaven
Because she talked to me
A poem I was in a pored to write
Copy right
Copy write
Copyrights
Copywriter
Copying and writing
Is copying right
My work is not copied and written
My work is not copyrighted
Except in my mind
To write
Is to Cope right
P.S.
The above piece is purely a work of fiction
Again, in the mind
So, please don’t mind
No one was harmed in the making, including me!
Nor is meant to be
 45° 
Bee
she was the moon
radiating the night sky
and dancing among the stars

you were the darkness
the shadow that waxed and waned
through the phases of her life

she grew to believe
that your presence
is what made her whole

but like the full moon
she shone brightest
without you


x.
 45° 
Ariana Bagley
I love him
I tell myself
I know that
We will be together forever
I don’t believe that
We could be separated
My thoughts tell me that
He’s the love of my life
Sometimes my heart lies and says
I could live an eternity
Without him
Like my friends say
“We’re perfect for each other”
And you can’t tell me
He’s not the one.

Now read from bottom to top.
 44° 
aquis
your fears are not here
now

the last time you met them

they told you
‘on your knees’

and you were

but then the fire
in your chest
started to burn
so fast

the lion in your breath
started to roar
no rest

and you rose
from your ashes

you left them
behind

in that moment
you knew

‘now’ has no fears
I started writing poetry not a long time ago, but ever since I started I just can’t stop writing - the words are flowing in my mind as I desperately try to catch and put them together in a meaningful way. It truly surprises me to discover this passion and constant urge to write poetry inside me.

However, as I am new in this and English is not my mother tongue, I sometimes have trouble finding the right words, and have doubts whether what I wrote is good or ‘poetic’ enough, whether I should share it or not, and so on..

But here on HP, the support I received from wonderful people liking, loving, reposting and commenting on my poems has truly helped me gain my confidence and trust in myself and what I write from my heart

Since this poem is about facing your fears and leaving them behind, focusing on the “now” that doesn’t have any fears, just the pure moment itself, I wanted to share my experience of getting out of my comfort zone, facing my self-doubts and sharing what comes from my heart, in the hope of touching and inspiring someone somehow

Thank you to Hello Poetry and all the kind people here for your support and encouragement, it means a lot to me

☀️❤️
 44° 
Sav
There is a tattoo
of a wolf
on my thigh.

A tattoo I had been planning,
for a long time.

Underneath is not what I would call
bare skin.

It is graced with
and possessed with
scars.

Of one kind.

That kind.

I am grateful that now
when I look down

I am not met with harsh lines,
but instead the eyes
of a kind wolf mother.

She now bares the scars that I carved.

Be kind to yourself,

she says.
True Story
 43° 
Raziel
They’ll check your wrists,
But not your thighs,
They’ll check your smile,
But not your eyes
They’ll avoid the truth,
Believe the lies,
Nothing to sooth,
No reason to cry,
Our smiles are bright,
Eyes are a bit dull,
Wrists are clean despite,
The blade with an emotional pull,
And we’re emotionally unstable,
But they say that’s okay,
We are all a bit of a riddle,
But that’s the only thing we can convey,
And the world will open to swallow us up,
But that’s okay, at least our habits remain,
And when their arms finally open up,
We will show them the reflection they taught us to shame,
So we paint a smile with the color of red,
From the thighs they didn’t check,
And from our eyes we bled.
And they'll only understand,
When the noose hold us by our necks,
And if they had thought twice,

Maybe our eyes they would have checked.
there's a thin white line
between "glad because of it"
and "sad without it"
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