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I love poetry.
It gives me the chance to knowingly be me.
Words fall onto a page uncontrollably.
Allows you to express yourself openly.
Write properly and you'll be known globally.
So, believe me when I say,
I love poetry.


Not again
You have that pensive look
the slurred algebraic expression
that algorithmic stench
Molten into confusing matrix
Geometrically weirdly shaped

Please shut up
I can't take it anymore
Your meagerly written poems
the frustrating metaphors
baked with suffocating syllables
dude, what the heck is a pensive look

There's a huge probability it won't
delve out any logical statistics.
the equations alone will alienate you
the calculus involved is far ahead of your time
just stick with trigonometric thoughts
C'mon you already know the plane of your thighs are sophisticated

is that a compliment
Painting splendid imagery
that nobody else understands
a poet lurking in words
always writing  
Unfiltered intricately worded poems


I was 10 when my parents took me aside to tell me why befriending you was a bad idea after a certain incident of saying the wrong thing at the wrong place and time.
They said that you were "a naughty girl" and for me to "don't friend" you.
I was your only friend...
At 11, I continued to be fast friends with you despite it all.
11 is the age all the cool kids get into cliques and bully those who don't belong.
You were my clique.
None of us were cool...
Sure, everyone at church whom we grew up with or watched us grow up thought we were "cool" just cuz' we spoke good English (which none of us do anymore because it got tainted with the colliqial jargon called 'Manglish' - which in itself is a bad joke, by the way) and could draw and act well.
Otherwise, if you think about it...we were the real-world rejects.
The weirdos.
At 13, I made the big mistake of seeing my parents' point.
I nearly "didn't friend you"
13 is the age where your reputation matters the most.
And your eyes are open as you awaken from that sweet slumber called childhood to start seeing the world for the ugly reality it is in adolescence.
Suddenly, I started to see your faults.
And you were becoming an embarassing accessory that was out of style.
So we drifted apart.
As I started distancing myself from you and befriending other people.
The "normal people"- who see pearls as pearls and stones as stones.
Unlike us.
Unlike you...
Trying to convince myself I was "normal" too.
But of course, I never was (don't plan to be either) and none of them were like you.
I only ended up getting kicked to the curb in my attempts to fit in with the "normal world."
So I crawled back to you.
But you'd already left.
I deserved it.
No more bounding out of nowhere to give me excited hugs everytime I visited or you came over.
No more "catching up with Dav"
No more long-ass phone calls on our respective home landlines.
No more sleepovers.
You'd grown up and realized your worth.
And that you were worth far more than this - to be clinging on to an old friend who was starting to drift apart instead of letting me go too like the piece of floating trash I was.
Soon, we stopped liking the same things.
You got into anime - when I'd dropped that interest long ago (once I'd found out how satanic and perverted the industry was. No offense, otakus).
In fact, I'd stopped liking anything at all. Depression does that.
My younger sister picked anime up too and now it's almost like you're her best friend instead of mine because of this little common ground you both have.
At 19, you'd even stopped having my back or defending me in front of people who were treating me like the piece of shit I feel like half the time.
And you mostly still do.
And that was when I realized I'd really lost what we had.
...that I'd really lost you.
And no matter how we try to go back to the start, things can never be exactly the way they before this
No matter how much we try to put the broken pieces of this mirror back together, there will always be a few cracks and missing shards of glass here and there.
Just like trust, friendship is like a mirror.
You can fix it when it's broken but you will always see the crack in your reflection.
Ours falls right between us...
...where our linked hands used to be.

Her 21st birthday is coming up soon and this is her present
Em MacKenzie

Goodnight to all, it's time to die,
I'm going to join the stars in the sky,
you'll see me if you truly stare,
even when the skies are bare.
Just think of me, and I'll be there.

Bring me home and don't cry for me,
I was the weakest branch in the family tree,
and it's time for new life to grow,
you'll feel my arms in the wind's blow,
yes you must know, it's hard to go.

We did laugh, we did cry,
we gave each day our best try,
but as the moon relieves the sun,
everyone has their time come.

Farewell to the girl I love,
you made my life all I ever dreamed of,
and within you I found my home,
you made darkness gold and sadness chrome,
but now it's time for my soul to roam.

But we did love, we did live,
we gave eachother all we could give,
but as the moon relieves the sun,
death makes exceptions for no one.

Goodbye to all, return me to the earth,
to the planet that gave me birth,
you'll feel me in all of the seas,
you'll find me in every tree's leaves,
so you see for me; you need not grieve.

We did laugh, we did cry,
now it's time for my goodbye,
but as the moon relieves the sun,
it seems my time is finally done.

We did live and we did more,
but there's no chance for an encore,
'cause as the moon relieves the sun,
mortality's a battle never won.

Nature Blue

The most delicate form of beauty
plucked from a metaphor
a simile for beauty
made from the softest fibers of earth
the eyelashes of the mother herself
positioned to perfection
framing the faces of flowers of every stem
the petals turn to look at me
and I dust their existence onto my cheeks

Akira Chinen

Stars swimming in
the endless ocean of the night
Lost songs of infinity
dreaming of a forever
that never never ends
And I wander between
the things I never said
and the smile
I can not forget

P Julianna

I look at you like
You put the stars in the sky

When you drink its as if
You tear them all down and
Right before my eyes

You change

jeffrey conyers

Criminal minds faces reality.
A prisoner sits behind walls summarizing his case.
Without comprehending your decision put you in this place.

Maybe from murder.
Maybe from robbery.
Maybe from rape.
Maybe from various illegal crimes.

You , now ask for counsel to get you off.
Crying to family's members about your circumstances behind the prison walls.

Crying about rules and regulations governing you.
And the correctional officers enforcing them as required.
But while you pondering this or that about serving your time.

Remember, your decision placed you there.
Not your mother, not your father, not your woman.


Hi, I'm Jordyn.
I have this ex boyfriend named Mark.
See, Mark leaves this... well... mark, on the people he dates.
A mark that lasts for a long time.
When Jessi dated him, he left a very painful cut on her heart and mind.
And then he dated me.
It was pretty great until we broke up.
And it hurt for a little while.
I felt a little betrayed.
And then I felt jealous.
And then angry.
And then I didn't care.
There was all this legal stuff because he was 18 when I was 15.
So it's illegal for him to even speak to anyone under the age of 18.
Which is ironic.
Because then he dated this girl named Victoria.
Victoria is extremely vulnerable,
And that's why she was his easiest target.
He made her purr like a kitten.
She fell head over heals for him and even convinced
Her mom not to tell the police what they were doing.
She would do anything for him.
Even after they broke up, she lied to say nothing happened.
And she kept it like that for a while.
She pretended to be over him.
It was all a façade to get the public to believe her.
Because now, it's very clear that they're seeing each other.
Because I know it.
Jordan Falk knows it.
Jessi knows it.
We all know it.
We also all know that she has to testify against him in court.
But the fact that they're seeing each other could
Lead to her obstructing justice.
And her life is a huge mess.
But me?
I've not a mark from Mark on me.
My wound healed.
I stopped looking for him in other people.
I started focusing on what I wanted in someone.
What I wanted in myself.
So I don't care anymore.
Not about Mark.
What I care about is the fact this girl
Won't stop bringing me up in conversations that Mark is brought up in.
So yeah, I'm his crazy ex girlfriend.
But that's it.

Crazy for other reasons. Like the upcoming school year, marching band season, family issues, abandonment issues etc.. not because of some petty bullshit from years ago.
Emily Dickinson


Sweet—You forgot—but I remembered
Every time—for Two—
So that the Sum be never hindered
Through Decay of You—

Say if I erred? Accuse my Farthings—
Blame the little Hand
Happy it be for You—a Beggar’s—
Seeking More—to spend—

Just to be Rich—to waste my Guineas
On so Best a Heart—
Just to be Poor—for Barefoot Vision
You—Sweet—Shut me out—


you're not doing well
with skin like bed sheets
ebbing tides in your forehead
and the malady that keeps your mind guessing,

these next six nights
of not having to feel
so alone will make you
fall back into sleep
to grow roots.

i'll cut holes in the ozone
to put your heartache in

i'll walk you to the hospital,
i'll wait in a white room,
place your sad eyes in my drawers
until my hand breaks

the universe is twice as big as we think it is
and 'you are so important to me'
is easier to digest than
skipping heart beats

i miss you like a dart hits the iris of a bullseye,
or a train ticket screams 4:30 at 4:47,
i've fallen in love

you're the only one that made that idea
less devastating.

cut-out poetry i made for a project back in november 2016. i used lucas regazzi's poems called small and bedside table.
Elise Jackson

there's always that tired morning candlelight of sadness
that washes over my existence and reminds me to stay still.

because if i were to move, what's left of my rib cage
would collapse.
the empty pit of my torso would be nothing but bones and regret.

but this is nothing new.
but sometimes i crave this collapse because maybe the cave
of my body wouldn't be so empty.

In a galaxy far away
in time we will see
The world we live in
in  time this will be
Climb into summertime
I'm in the future

Going through time
      I lite a candle
I have a handle on this
In time, in time

My tears will dry
   I know your gone
you were special to come

In time my tears will dry
     I'll never know why?
In time
In time
In time

Love everyday
Don't worry about someday
everyday, everyday

Every day
Every day
Love every day
Today is the day

In this time this will be
     The past made me see
I lite a candle for you
I finally have a handle on this
Love everyday
In time,


Burlesque fatuous is the implication of your emotional daily pretentiousness. I am seldom, otherwise a psychopath, able
to own fraternity which I can't
discernment or jester because there is an art to love and murder and it's a conventional edit to your own dullness. I am vivid,
Debris to impersonation.
I am absent but identical
to thin air. I am a Prometheus
Arabian night in Lysistrata premise.
My words may remind you of the day I held your eyes in infinite cluster. Perhaps my love isn't enough for you to understand. For example, the glassed vain is paralysis iridium illicitness which is svelte to inadmissible synthesis.
The cloud let are torsion, assail with cypress and impossible solariums; and the propane was a sensation of disjointed loveliness.
Every time I go for a walk, mosquitoes understand my lonely talks because they sip my blood at a quarter past ten but these glazed roads scrutinized my wrist, escorted vernal preposterous blue/purple relentless ghostly cheekbones.
Thought I could festive the blaze among the cedar bridge road
but take a pause and look at my skin and thighbones,
Preterists to flowered unless I smile and tell you
"This is heartbreak"

Unable to keep up with their facetiousness, personality failed me, temporarily. Mind melting in a moment of dissonance,
this cognitive refrain refracts the 'I' that oscillates accordingly.
One's morphology, tuned to its own metric of change.
Hypnos whispers and sleep beckons, taunting insomnia (which makes a mockery of all humans) but Morpheus has no time for anything less than grandiose archetypes.
Last night I may have dreamt or drunk some foolish things, told people the truth untruthfully, let slip more than I should have. What a pity, secrecy. They say
information wants to be free.
Who lingers in the details?
Past memories are liberated only by the present. I stand here in the downpour, soaking it all in.
Compassion, god is in the rain.
My fulgurite heart resting on the palm of a deity, at a tilt, slowly it's sliding off; when it fell I gasped.
The reflection of wide eyes in each of its atria, emotion flowing through these venae cavae, those
dilated eyes shimmered before it shattered, gleaming with passion. Us, in the blink of an I.

written on May 13th, 2017.

Keep it closed,
Keep it locked.
Don't let them enter,
Don't let them.

But it was foolish.
You need the bee.
You need to bloom,
So let it enter.

Let it enjoy your sweetness,
Your beauty and your grace.
Enjoy it as well,
For once you had him.

But when he's done,
It is done.
He'll go.
Hell comes.

You'll remember him upon your petals,
Among the soft drizzle of the afternoon,
But you'll live.
Until you see him with another rose.

It'll kill you.
But you'll live.
Painful than death,
Is living with pain.

But you're still sweet,
Still has beauty and grace.
Another bee shall come.
He'll take the pain away.

But accept he'll go again.
He'll choose others over you.
But again enjoy it.
For once you had him.

dan d

the words they wrap around you
the lies
they weave
I believe
the words they wrap around me
with lies
they weave reality

the words they wrap around me
the lies
they weave
you believe
the words they wrap around you
with lies
they weave reality

we seek the edge
it separates me
and you
let the blade cleave
skin from flesh
we bleed humanity

we seek the edge
it guides me
and you
together anew
let the blade cleave
skin to flesh
surface to depth
we breathe humanity

we found the edge
and it cut me
and you
and the blood we spilled...
deep enough to drown in

Francie Lynch

I wish to age like a wrap-around porch
In a thunder storm,
While generations tell tales,
Sipping drinks.
A porch of blinking stars,
A place to run out of rain,
With wooden steps for deliveries,
With ascending and descending friends.

I will age like a tree, grow stronger in the wind;
Give shade and shelter to all
Beneath my ring-aged limbs.

I wish to age as a river bends,
Contiguous with all shores;
Floating everyone I know
On eternal waters defying death,
A current winding with no rest.

I will age like a star,
Burning bright, giving light,
Something to reach for.

I wish to age like a mountain,
With secret caves and riches.
And you can rock your soul
Around, over or through,
Solid, snow-capped summit,
Beckoning you.

I will age as the moon,
In stages, full and new;
Each night different,
Unnoticeable fading,
As all who age will do.

Thank you all very much for your thoughtful, insightful and kind comments. It's a wonderful surprise and honor to be chosen for the daily, as there are so many damn good poems written by the poets here every day. And especially a sleeper like "I Will Age." I guess it's a lesson to be learned. Thanks again to everyone, and especially to Hello Poetry for giving us this marvelous opportunity to publish.
Peace to All.
Hanef Alinor

I hope every time the sun sets
Reminds you of the first time we met
Maybe that will change your mind
Maybe try the love you didn't find

I hope every time the sun sets
Memories that I should forget
Would go along the dying sun
For they have caused us no fun

I hope every time the sun sets
The orange tinted sky will reset
The installed feelings I had
They only made two people sad

I hope every time the sun sets
My heavy heart filled with regrets
Find its acceptance for the real
And eventually make time to heal

wrote this last night when I can't sleep
Emma Katka

summer is lonely
without direction
and I'm stoned
I prefer living in the shadows
and imagining dreamy tones
lost on auto pilot
foggy days
time is a concept that has gone away
but I still feel like I have something to say
nothing comes out or up anyway
but maybe that's okay
for just a few more days



a strange place to start
having not truly begun,
already beat down by the

own a million rose colored words,
but some assembly required,
that's when the foreknowledge truth~rules
burns brain holes

easy is never
poetry writing is
cussing hard work

spring rains cloaking warmth,
summer's stunning sunsets
demand submissive awed silence,
autumnal leave drops anointing
your refreshed humanity,
and yet,
one more time,
it is only within winter's white bitterness
lip tasting,
million tear-shaped snowflaked words,
is the crowning visible
of the head of
a newborn babe poet


Capital Hard.

in the beginning,
there was one,
a first work

and the knowing,
if it wasn't hard,
it could not be
any good,
makes it possible
to ease on
this fearful
revelationary road trip

Born May 22, 2015
My first poem.
Naima Mungai

The heavens mourned
   in my stead love.

They railed and rent
   themselves through,
   in the deep knell of the thunder,
   and the flashing light of the lightning
   as it struck in all its fiery promise.

The gods themselves
   wept my tears, my love.

Rivers upon rivers
  from those fickle immortals,
  for where they are,
  they were moved.

Because I mourned you
   my love,
I mourned you.
I mourned you,
  so deep.

But I was too far
  from my eyes to weep.
Cut off from my arms
  that I could not tear my
Closed off from my throat
  so the world would never
  hear the banshee in my wail.

For as my body mourned,
My soul sought you.
It reached out ,
  to Hades Realms
  if that was where you went.

It asked
   why would you leave us here?
   this body of mine and
   it's soul.

So I could not weep
   and I could not wail.

And so the heavens,
   they mourned for me.

Erebus The Greek underworld, in mythology, is an otherworld where souls go after death, and is the original Greek idea of afterlife. At the moment of death the soul is separated from the corpse, taking on the shape of the former person, and is transported to the entrance of the Underworld. It is not Hell but the afterlife.

Rest well, you were loved. written 13/7/2017 on your funeral

Lately I've been feeling
very tired,
condemned to the coarse shouts
curses, and vile bitterness
of the people around me

I feel
so utterly wronged,
and misunderstood,
having to question the sky
over and over again,

how did a simple thing,
come to such terms
in a complicated world

Every move,
every word, every
expression of life
is judged and
are as common as
love should be.

I find myself
trapped in endless seconds,
hours, days, years
performing the same acts
over and over again,
living the same regrets

while managing to grasp onto
the despair over
a time glass whose sands
are rushing against my will,
leading to a sad,
forgotten, fate

I can not find anything
to express joy and gratitude
of the person I am,
for it is because of who I am
the world is so intent
on bringing me down,

All I can do
when I run out of breath
to fight,
is to ask
for forgiveness,

in losing to
somebody else's will.


it doesn't matter what it is
anything we do together
feels like the best thing ever


Once, he was asked,
"Tell me what is true.
Why is it that you
write just what you do?"

He laughed, and said
with half a smile,
"I write so you'll
fall in love for a while."

After a pause, he said pleasantly,
"Not with me - I'm a liar, you see,"

And grinning wildly,
he spoke his conclusion:
"Love is a poet's favourite illusion."

As requested, the full version of the poem that long-adorned my bio.
Jaslin Goh

The moment water trickles down your body

The moment you step out of the showers

The moment the smell of freshly brewed beverage hits

The moment amazing breakfast washes into your mouth

The moment you put on music and hum along

Enjoy your morning all! For an introvert like myself, I take breakfast seirously, it's me-time, where I am generally undisturbed. I love my typical mornings. I hope you do too :)

No one sees you crying.
No one hears you weeping.
So they don't understand your pain.
Nor do they care for your heartache.

But you, you see these tears.
And you hear me cry.
You read these words.
So why do you let me hurt?

I thought I was making progress yesterday because for almost 24 hours, I did not cry over you, over us, over losing us, over losing you and I feel like I'm losing myself. I am hurting so much. My heart hurts so much. I don't want to do this anymore. It hurts too much. This will be the death of me.

Why she smiles
Heres the story

She smiles
To make those
Who hurt her
Wonder why
She is

She smiles
To convince
Herself life
Isnt that bad

She smiles
To keep
From sleepless nights

She smiles
To prove
She is happy
When she is not

She smiles
To keep
From darkness
Staining her mind


Smiley girl

Lady RF

She is more
than what meets the eye,

She is a pending rainbow
that's hiding behind the clouds
in the sky.

She is a warm pocket
in a cold, deep ocean,

She is a virtual art form,
She is poetry in motion.

She is thunder and lightning
in a perfect blue horizon,

She is a delicate wildflower
growing in a plush green field,
one that is mesmerising.

She is an unexpected smile
on a lonely day,

She is instant relief
when things aren't going
your way.

She is a suprising hint of sweetness
when you are expecting
something sour,

She is a timeless friend,
She is an immortal flower.

She is more
than what meets the eye,

She is a breath of fresh mountain air, causing one to exhale a relieving sigh.

She is full of substance,
empathy, wisdom and kindness,

She contains infinite layers
of universes beneath her skin,
all of which are unrecognisable
to the naked eyes that suffer from "metaphorical" blindness.

By Lady R.F. (C)2017

Dedicated to my daughter, Amanda. F XXX

they say that alcohol releases another side of you
to say the things you wouldn't say sober
to feel more or feel nothing
to bold while faded
it's intoxicating

perhaps that's why I am drawn to you
your presence challenges me
challenges me to be bold and be me
the thrill is intoxicating
but you're gentle arms invite me
like the warm feeling the liquor gives me
but then you turn cold and sour
I'm left confused and feeling hungover

still in progress please help!

Surreal heracy.
Accusing dtug parties.
Calling bluff at the roulette table

Serene, like a day dream.
I'd rather burn a thousand deaths.
Than plea pretend.

Arrogance, is bliss for no one.
Besides the afflicted.

Who's too busy stroking his dick.
To even notice.


Rising high up
the full moon
falls in a teacup.

from an image
Just a Girl

Look in the mirror
There's something alluring about imperfections
You find that little face of yours amusing
Madly looking at attributes that don't matter
While your disturbed mind suffers
restlessness, illusions and incoherence;

Look in the mirror
Every wrinkle, every little crease is an untold story
that could astonish
anyone who's willing to get close enough,
slide deep enough
Dedicate a millisecond to observe
the beauty behind the screen
Beauty non-volatile

The seconds
To hours

The silence
In between
The chimes
Than the noise

The empty
State of mind
All skin
Is bind

The passage
Of the time
A burden
A twisted game
That I must play
Without the hope
Of retribution

I had the best
Of Intentions
Of cutting ties
Before the seconds
And turned
Into bitter

There is an after
As there is a now
While the before
Has made the present
A current
State of hell

Time will always tell
The worst
And show
The drought

And the only
Wasted minutes
Are the ones
Spent inside the self

The blood did pour
But the lessons learned
Went in
And quickly out  

My soul can't grasp
The rage I have
For the lack
Of the me
I made myself


My father never drank when I was young. Never a bottle in the house. I would be proud to boast "My family doesn't drink"
because I knew my grandfather was an alcoholic
and it tore the family apart
and I know the families in town where the father is an alcoholic
and slowly it all falls apart

but when I was in highschool my dad started keeping beer in the house
which turned to vodka
only once in a while
only to relax
only on the weekends
we all laugh
"It's like you take a shot of the chaser and down it with the vodka!"
When he started drinking at two in the afternoon on vacation
we all laughed
no big deal
It's just to relax
but what i'm afraid of
is that this is how it happened with his own father
that it was all fun
until it wasn't
and it was no big deal
until it was
and they lived in separate houses
and he drank himself to death in a little house alone
When is the line where it all falls?
How do you fix something that is just a joke?

Annamaria Laura

i keep seeing shapes when i close my eyes
falling through my own disguise
i wish so bad i could recognise
my own eyes

in the mirror i just look sicker than last week
try and speak to my mind
say its fine
laugh it off
sarcastic prick

look around life is beaitiufyk
open your eyes you’ll realise you’re fine
but its lie I’m lying on my bed 6am
and its purple specks in the air
or just my head cus its my brain that makes this picture
looking looking at a screen on a screen in my head
i dont understand it but you don’t need to
but i need to

or i need you to make forget
and be more grounded
its the artificial lights messing with my eyes
or the k in my brain i don’t know
but its buzzing and its flashing
am i sick?
just a static it’ll fix
just a glitch
don’t think about it too deeply
you’ll get fixed on the idea
that you have a superpower

it looks like a tv screen
i promise you it doesn’t look real to me
its a scary nightmare maze that my mind can’t holds gaze
you could deffo say its crazy
get scared going down that road stop urself before you djalksjdlkasd

hallucination rolling off my eyelid in ur living room

is swear i know that guy its you

stay silent even this poem is ccreating fear....
dont speak about the devil

Pinilit kong sabayan, ang takbo ng panahon
Nagbabakasakaling malilimutan ka rin
Ginawa na ang tamang desisyon
Na sarili naman ang bibigyan ng pansin

Sinusubukang kalimutan ang mga alaala
Na magpapabalik ng aking dadamdamin
Idinilat ko na ang aking mga mata
Sa mga bagay na maari kong sapitin

Tinahak na ang daan ng hindi ka kasama
Nang hindi lumilingon pabalik sa iyong mga mata
Sinubukan ko
At pilit na sinusubukan

Subalit ito ako, nagaantay sa dati nating tagpuan
Lugar kung saan kita unang nakita at nakilala
Lugar na aking kinamumuhian
Dahil dito, dito mo din tinapos ang lahat

Mahal, hihintayin kita
Hihintayin ko ang pagbabalik mo
Hihintayin ko kahit imposible naman ito
Hihintayin ko na sabihin mo ulit na mahal mo ako
Maghihintay ako

Ngunit mahal, hindi ko maipapangako
Hindi ko maipapangako na hindi ako mapapagod
Hindi ko maipapangako na hindi ako dadating sa puntong aayaw ako
Dahil mahal, tao din ako

Gusto ko din na pahalagahan ako
Gusto kong mahalin ako
Yun nga lang gusto ko galing sayo
Pero sabi nga nila, mahalin mo muna ang sarili mo

Kaya mahal, maghihintay ako
Habang minamahal ko ang sarili ko
Ngunit kung hindi na kita kayang hintayin pa
Sana mahal, maintindihan mo
Dahil mahirap ang dinanas ko para lang makuha yang pagmamahal mo


maybe in another universe,
where the sun and moon
would seek comfort
in each other
every once in a while,
there was an us.

in this universe,
i wouldn't have to wish
upon a shooting star
for you to be next to me.

the only galaxies
i would get lost in
were the ones
in your twilight eyes.

we were nothing,
but star-crossed lovers,
patiently floating away
in the endless milky way.

maybe in another universe,
i chose you,
and you chose me, too.
Matthew Goff

Sunshine girlfriend
Held her hand through the blonde waves of the afternoon
Daytime explosion
The warmth of her clothing
It’s sensual sunlight

I don't pay that much attention to who is holding me
As long as there's someone to keep the pieces together for a night
Whoever's arms they are doesn't really matter
I'm not looking to fall in love
I'm trying not to fall apart


Its been a while,
since i finally accepted
the end.
But my heart still aches,
everytime i think
of how we ended.

And if i could go back,
I wish i could tell you:
I stayed for so long not ,
not because i was weak.
But because i believed
in the good person in you.

I left, not because you
stopped wanting me,
but because i no longer
loved myself by loving you.

Valsa George

In my yard stands a tree
tall and sturdy
lone like a hermit,
regal like an empress
her roots dug deep
her branches touching the heavens
peeking behind the skies veil
She has a coy dalliance with the Wind
Sometimes he comes tickling
her tender parts, whispering
sweet nothings in her ear
Overall she is still
like waters without ripples

She stands upright
brooding over the saga of struggle
from a sapling to a towering giant
Indeed a tryst with destiny!

Under the summer sky
braving the smarting beams
she remained uncomplaining.
Below the thundering clouds
bearing a thousand needle pricks
she stayed nonchalant.
When the wind swept across
bending her branches in all directions
she stood on firm feet unwavering.

She tells a tale of struggle and survival
She had stood there before I was born
Now she displays every scar and every stripe
on her knotted bark as a proud trophy

Sometimes I feel her pain
when wet and dripping in pouring rain
or scorched in the sun’s fiery rage
Yet she holds an umbrella over all
who come to her in sun and rain

This is a poem to highlight the beauty of trees and to show how they are important to each one of us.... Also the need to be like trees giving shade and shelter to others, holding an umbrella over many heads!
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