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 57920° 
Nishu Mathur
The sea is still today
It's cerulean blue and gold
I think of the thoughts it carries
Within its hidden folds.
It's  touch is soft and gentle
It soothes the ache of years
And I wonder how many waves
Are made from fallen tears.
Dear everyone,

This is such a surprise! Thank you all for your likes, loves and responses. I have not been very active on Hello Poetry, but will get back in action soon. So much appreciated. Thank you Hello Poetry for selecting this as a daily. Thank you so much my friends and fellow poets for taking the time to read this poem of mine. It means the world to me.  Love to everyone xx
i love you, i love
you, i love you, i love you
these, i tell you not
 739° 
Liz Balise
I don't think about it any more
I take out the trash
noting
Sticks caught in the crotch of a tree
The wind does what the wind does
breaks weaker branches down
does not care where
it leaves
them
on its invisible way

Days do what the days do
they don't count themselves
worthy as they go
to release
the afternoon
to evening—
an artless
emptying
to a low spot
where tears tend to pool
if I'd let them down

“You know,
in that low spot
out there...?”
Where it's hard to see
Where its hard to care?

They take heart
out
divide it by energy
for sadness—
I haven't got

Watched the clock go round
wipe out my little plans
with relentless hands

...and I never got dressed today
6-12-18
 543° 
Ruben
I followed the same road
my Father did, the one
he said turns boys to men,
and I know I’d do it over again,
mostly for him, some for me,
until there came a time I strayed,
found myself a different path,
one that’s lasted to this day;
I know my Father’s pondering
somewhere up yonder in planted
field, wondering if in my own
wandering ways, I’ve found
the peace i’ve always needed;
I can’t say that’s quite the case
these days, you see, peace seems
to have a way  of eluding me,
my Father’s son in much the same
ways as it did he; we were alike
like that, though he was made
of stuff that creek and field rocks
are; a hard man, my Father was,
but soft in heart, patient, and kind,
loving towards his sons, and for his
daughters, oh! what an everlasting
ray of sun; I know he’s smiling down
on us, hoping there’ll be no rain to wet
our cheeks when tomorrow comes,
he wasn’t one to dwell too much
on sorrow for a life well lived;
though  now asleep in the fields
he loved, once again growing
and mowing the hay with one eye
to the sky, he sighs, the clouds are gray,
and gathering tonight; he knows
that the rain is surely coming,
heading my way on this sad day
for some, and me, but I’ll try to wipe
away the drops; I have my Son to see.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. You are saddly missed. I find comfort knowing you aren’t alone,  
Give Mom a kiss, tell her the kids are doing fine. Lift her spirit up, take her dancing  tonight and for a long hayride. Oh, I know you’d both like that. I’ll try hard to not let the rain fall too hard on this special day. Love and miss you, Old Man.
 527° 
wordvango
voices manner and off the dock waves splatter
on the beach that night
two steps more we'd have been in love
but we spoke in patterns
waves slow ebbing flows
moon tide growth and glowing embers
stepping close then flowing  back
the night tide growth the
humid strife
we never met
or spent our time
together on these ancient rhymes.
But, in a scent, a moment meant
a drama of a moon crescent,
we'd tried to touch like mariners
the sea and all her
frothy crests.
 298° 
InfranGilis
I will always be a monster.

Life sentences you harshly of an existence without clarity,
Without rarity, and with an all-encompassing scrutiny.

What becomes of a man who was blessed by the light,
Only to learn that his shadow grew far bigger?

What becomes of a beast that was tamed, a bird of hermes,
What of the heart that was shattered on its day?

Defeated, unbecoming and undeserving of love,
That is what a monster eventually becomes,

If I were to shout about the calamities,
Empires would line up to deny the atrocities,
Proving once and for all that it all fell under liabilities,

For when a monster begets a conscious,
It tears his soul apart,
Yet only those who revel in darkness,
Can truly cast it aside,

And when I shout from the mountain tops:
Do you not see what I've done?
Do you not see that it is I who suffers?

The light whispers: what of me and my tale?
Why is it that I see you moving like a snail?

To which the darkness responds: I cannot change after all,
If after moving mountains and worlds you believe so,
If after all that I've endured and sacrificed,
If after all this time, it was you I hurt the most,

Then it is true. I will always be a monster.
To anyone who feels combated and wronged, to all who are trapped within a sorry past and hoping for a light to come.
the lights of a cop car gave me hope
I wanted them to take me away
from the pain
and tears
home was no longer home
it was a prison
mom and dad were guards
dad did nasty things to me
I kept silent
mama threw things
and slammed me against cupboards
she was unaware of dads behaviors
I blamed my body
if only I was unhealthy
sloppily so...
then maybe he would have left me alone
mama hated me
I saw it in her eyes
before she erupted and came down on me
but there was always a calmness before the storm
bipolar
it seemed
laughter and praise
rarely so
but still there
sometimes I wish I knew my real parents
but they weren't much better
cocaine lovers
I knew though
if I waited my sentence I'd be out free
one day
someday
I'd run free
I survived
I endured
and now I'm free
 275° 
Lyn-Purcell
Take    
my hand      
Walk with me      
through dalihian    
fields      

                  Vast
                  gardens
              ­   under the
                   crown of gold light
                   blooms

By            
the lake            
Under trees            
A silvern rope              
swings            

             Hold
             the rope
              swing to pond
               Swim beneath the
              stars

See              
Northern            
Lights dance past            
Strokes of painter's              
brush              

        Blues
          greens, pinks
          Pure   in  beats
          Music    for    our
          eyes

Tears                  
well  up                ­  
and  fall  at                  
the beautiful                
sight                

          Let
        love fly
        on the wings
          of hope and peace
        free

High        
to     the        
world of  dreams        
Ride   the  winds  of      
hope      

       I
        embrace
          hold  hands  with
           my  lost  inner
          child

Face            
towards          
the dark skies            
     Shadows behind              
me            

                                Heart
                          ­        is  now
                                   tender   flame
                                Don't hang,  lantern
                                  Fly
Lanterns poems, my lastest obsession!
I just let the words flow here. And reading it makes me feel so happy.
Like I'm lighting the lanterns of my inner child's dream...
Makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside, it's almost unreal.
Truly. These poems are making me happier. A level of happiness I haven't felt in such a long time. I'm definitely going to do more of these! ^.^
Love you, everyone! Thanks so much for 84 followers!
You're the bomb!
Be back soon!
Lyn xxx
 249° 
Ryan 'The Sad'
The leafless tree never stops growing
water among the rocks never stops flowing
Feathers of a fallen bird and the empty shell of a snail
the sound of a vacant world, the empty destruction of man’s trail.
A limitless mountain coated with snow
the empty wind no one will know.
The prints of the following herd and the holes of many snakes
We’ve forgotten the naturally learned and left the marks of our mistakes.
We’ll travel to the forgotten lake isle
We’ll travel to the land of the fertile
The cleanest snow on the top of the great mountain
The oldest oak overlooks the greatest fountain
The rugged owl emits the loneliest howl
The deepest roots that touch but never meet.
The wisest seed rolls down the oldest tree
The waters toss and make rocks moss.
The bullets of a forgotten hunter
The footprints of a greater confronter.
The deep cave with endless bowel
The largest fruits without treat
The highest speeds of the winds that will never be.
The bridges still cross as the seasons begin to toss.
The copacetic cliffside corroded by the rain
The old oak cabin with a great wood stain
A monstrous thistle hidden away
A marvelous crystal deep in a cave
 249° 
jul
i continue writing your scripture along my fragile skin hoping that you’ll understand the words that I devote to you.
in the hopes of forgetting you, i’ve desperately tried to erase the idioms that i’ve created with the images and ideas that are engraved into my mind,
but i’m stuck staring at the shavings that you’ve left behind.
my hands tire from the constant motion of trying to erase even the smallest mark left on the stained paper.
its stained with memories of you.
of us.
my fingers tremble and lead drips down my face onto the castles i've made out of paragraphs.
my breath rushes from the bottom of my lungs and overflows the tiny broken down, brick walls.
i've built thrones which sit unused.

i know that you look upon me with disgust while my hands are covered in dust and graphite but i cannot help write poems about us.
i've used this pencil down to the very tip foolishly believing that my words affect you.
i know that this poem is a mess but it is what i became.
because of you.

because while you obliviously sit
i knowingly, absurdly, continue writing with a pencil in my hand and shavings dispersed across my lap,
creating fantasies.
 240° 
Isabella Cavan
My hair, soft as silk, but falls like rain from the sky.
Oh! How I wish my hair had roots like a tree!
For a restore, I'll fill it with honey.
But when honey doesn't work and I end up bald,
I will drown my sorrows with the help of marshmallows.

It will never grow long like algae, but at least it is there.
My poor comb is filled with knots, the brush is strangled by my broken hair.
When I go to the stylist I say voila!
They say buy this product or that, but my hair doesn't cooperate,
I say enough!
I prefer to waste money on marshmallows,
Then on products without hope.
repost of "mes cheveux" in English because its funnier in English
 231° 
Brother Jimmy
You should create
Write something down
Sing something out
Paint something golden

Make a new thing
Take hold of your voice
Or unique way of seeing
Your impulses, bolden

Your ideas are butterflies
That want to be caught
Grab your idea net!
Do what you ought!

Share with the world
Before they fly away
(If you wait too long they may fly away)

So what, you think it's already been done?
"Nothing is new under the sun"...
That may (or may not?) indeed be true,
But no one has done it EXACTLY like you
Is my perception becoming coherent now that I barely recognize you?
Is my brain becoming coordinated now that I realize I cannot hypnotize you?
I still spend my darkness delirious, longing for you to crave me,
and analyzing all the misread clandestine messages you gave me.

I'll be a liability until the time I am too old to lose;
until I choose for you to no longer be my shameful muse.
I'm no longer amused, just bemused and confused about how you could choose a sharper muse over my bitter heart which is drenched to the core in shameful booze.

I apologize for not being the durable woman you thought you appreciated.
The casket I built for my heart is too small for it to grow into a durable heart to be appreciated.
I wish I could be the new damsel you stumble into, but now you're wavering with a new damsel crew.

Is my perception becoming coherent now that I barely recognize you?
Is my brain becoming coordinated now that I realize your eyes told more lies than my empty hole, which only stubbornly cries?

I wish I could settle inside an insignificant casket with yellow birds and albino rats.
My hat's off to you for being my frozen rat that's in my exposed and taunting freezer, congrats.
Let me bury you like my frozen albino rats.

If there's anything I can do for you, you will not have to beg me.
Let me. I beg you.
Be indigo blue for me and I'll be true to you with nothing better to do than you.

I want to dimple your smile and file you away in the mile deep corners of my unkind mind---
even if it means bruising my dusty knees.
Please, be my hopeless Hercules with equally dusty knees.

Is my esophagus so full of shit that I have to purify it just to please?
Do I have to clear it just to breathe properly?
I fear I can merely wheeze miserably.
I hope it's just a stage; a torn out page in my autobiography that's theme I can no longer gauge.
Imagine the heart I could be able to manage successfully if I could only manage to grow gracefully with age.

Hello, see me.
Be with me and then free me.
Believe in me.
Bereave yourself of me.
Heave dust with me.
Believe in rust with me.
Be faithful rust for me.
Trust in me.
This must only be lust with me.
 206° 
Harlee Kae
sits,
at the edge of the world,
desperate to be brought in
to the warmth of the pack.

but when invited,
declines politely.
preferring to sulk in solitude,
and wonder,
why aren't i good enough
to be a part of the group.
 168° 
Valerie
art
in a world full of colour,
i am a blank canvas.
 162° 
Sophia Haber
As we sit down to our dinner
As we open our romance books
People around the world die

We sip our water
Their guts spill open
We study our notes
Their planes crash

We live
They die
We breathe
They suffocate

We are testaments to chance
To luck
To possibility

We are not products of God
Or divinity

We are blind goats trotting on our path
Before we perish
Suddenly
And vanish
Into death
 145° 
Ask Eirik Thorsen
I feel an uncertainty when it comes to you.
Not because you want to do something that will destroy what we have between us,
but because you want to hurt me.
I clearly see what actions you do,
and I ask myself why you do it?

I'm afraid you will continue doing that.
That thing I clearly see you do.
I understand why you do it,
and I understand you never mean to hurt me,
but I'm afraid you'll do it anyway.
Because regardless of whether I'm sure why you do it,
and that I'm sure you never mean anything bad,
it hurts anyway.
That you want to hurt me,
hurts.

I'm here for you.
Here to fulfill what you want.
Your needs.
If you feel inferior,
I'm still here.
Here to fulfill what you want,
your needs.
I would never leave you if you felt inferior.
But you wish me pain either way.
Make me feel what you feel.
Make me feel inferior.
And I'm afraid you'll do it again.
Show that you are better than me in some way.
Make me unsure of myself.
Doubt myself.
Even though I see it clearly.
Your actions.
Your result.

I'm left thinking and thinking:
why would you do something like that to make me feel inferior?
To make me unsure of myself?
To make me doubt myself?
When I am here for you.
Here to fulfill what you want,
fulfill what you need.

There's a difference between results and consequences.
 131° 
Stephen E Yocum
Two aging message senders
and receivers, circumspect
men of reflective thoughts
and words spoken, written.
Wayfarers from divergent
oceans converging.

Both Harpooners of the
unexamined life, seekers
of truths and wisdom.
Kindred spirits different
and yet the same,
A spiritual awakening,
a brotherly bond in the making.

Both touched and renewed
by a voyage taken
upon a common sea
of curious self discovery.
For Nat and his effort to cross a
continent to extend the hand
of friendship and discover "Oregun."
 128° 
Alex B
Someone stole my color
And threw it to the wind
Scattered like ashes
I don’t know if I’ll ever find it

Someone stole my color
From the face I know so well
I saw it in the cotton candy clouds
And the teal ocean swell

Someone stole my color
I guess that’s where it went
The world looks so much brighter
Like something heaven-sent

Someone stole my color
And that’s what no one knows
Depression isn’t black
It’s the color of a rose

It’s the light orange in a sunset
And the yellow of a peach
Light blue, my favorite color
So simply out of reach

Purple like my favorite eyeshadow
No, lavender, I’d guess you’d say
And my favorite music artist
Although he has passed away

Someone stole my color
Now everything’s too bright
I suppose sometimes darkness
Isn’t the opposite of light

Someone stole my color
So I’ll wear grey and black
As if in mourning
Until I get it back
 93° 
Rowan
You know I go to places,
Ones in my mind
Where i feel free
If you could walk with me ,
I'll take you on a trip
But pardon me for some mess
For my mind have the audacity
To ask questions that have no answers
But it sometimes stops the guess
.
Take me away for a while
Show me wanders
I'll hear the songs....if you write
Let me ponder
Talk to me about your thoughts,
I'll tell you my own
I'll tell that I'm not much of a poet,
But I melt for the  Shakespearean sonnets.
.
I hope our colors bind,
Violet is splashed in my soul
maybe your blue would be fine
Like the sea
You see
I write about it in all my poems.
.
If I got to meet you
Future love
I'll write ,
Asking the stars for some space for my words
Asking the sunset for some shades
.
If you let your eyes talk,
May I find my lost pieces
In your unspoken words
May you prove wrong my doubts
Those insecurities towards love
May you show me that a pearl can still shine among the dust.
.
Show me that care is not all roses
Show me that love can outweigh all causes
Bring back my trust in originality
Show me that among that mess in reality,
There still exists a real mind
A pure soul
Let me believe in love
Without lies .
 77° 
Alice Lovey
I know we've never been "together."
I know you said to move on.
I tried to be fine with wading this weather,
But the love in my heart still tells me it's wrong.

Now, I'm not saying I'm resentful,
But you did treat me like I was special.
Lately has been so uneventful.
And I'm starting to think this isn't a game...

I get a little jealous when you look at other girls.
I know we're not together, but... You are my whole world.
I get a little jealous when you talk about them too.
It's because we're not together, but...
You told me that you liked me... You told me that you do.

Now, I'm not trying to be weird, but call me, I'd give you my time.
Actually, I'd give you everything, cuz I just want you to be mine.
When I got too lonely, I'd just stare at your photos--
Soundless replacements for you, who knows.

You said I'm obsessive—come on now, don't play.
You like it when I'm open, you preferred me this way.
You said we'd be great together, don't think I forgot.
I cherish every sweet thing you said, so my heart doesn't rot.

Now I've deleted all of your things, cuz I can't bear to see your face.
My prized possessions... I should've given you space.
Why wouldn't you make me yours, like you wanted to?
Now we're apart, now we'll both just be blue.
And now I regret this—now I really do.
True, I'm a little weird, but we're both crazy.
I know what you're afraid of; I know it isn't me.
 72° 
Pete McIntire
My Holy Ghost came
In the form of anxiety
In the night.

She said, “You’ve got to
Start moving until momentum
Gets you by.”

At first I began to question
Because; I guess that’s just
What I do.

Than I ran to look in a mirror
To see the person that
Gets me through.

ie, myself
Everyone leaves
When you’re stuck in the mud.

So I listened to my heart & started
Pushing; thanking an apparition
That I wasn’t where I was.

Sometimes; the grass isn’t greener on the other side.
& it took renovating
My mind to finally feel what that was like.

& now I’m flying &, I should be dead.
Pete McIntire
1/3.5
@RedLightWriting
 72° 
PoetryJournal
To
      be
            loved
                        is
                             simple,
                         ­    simply
                  begin
              to
     give  
love.
 71° 
Katy Miles
i love you for all that you’ve done and will do
you are my sun, forming morning dew
and i pray one day you’ll shine as you want to

sweetheart, i beg you not to go dim
take off the mask and worry not for them
for if they don’t love you, they also don’t love Him

in my eyes you are brighter than any star
and i bask in your radiance from afar
thinking, i love you, i love you, just as you are
 70° 
Mike Hauser
When people ask me
Why poetry
Why not pick a paying profession

Take hold this truth
That I'm laying on you
In which there is a valuable lesson

If you do what you like
You're going to find
Life holds treasure in wonder

Instead of the dough
Taking you out in its tow
And then pulling you under

When you're doing things
Think more the gifts they bring
And not money to be made

When people ask me
Why poetry
Do I really need to say
 69° 
natalie
" That's just me "

You’ll hear her say

" I am lesser than beautiful "
I refuse to believe that
I am of worth
What exactly am I?

A courageous soul who is unapologetically herself

Well, the truth is
I look in the mirror to only see
My reflections disappoint
No longer can I say that
My beauty radiates from within

now read from bottom to top
 66° 
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.
 65° 
destiny
If I could capture happiness in box
It would go something like this,
It would smell like freshly baked cookies just coming out of the oven.
Take a sip and it would taste like a cold glass of water after a day in the thick sticky heat.
If you listen to it you would hear the most alluring song sung by the most mischievous of sirens.
Pour it out into your hand and it would feel like the kiss of sunlight through the chilly air.
But hat would this box look like?
This box would look like you.
To the person I’m yet to meet
Oh no you don't, website.

I want no part of this selection process.

Please remove this.
 59° 
Hanaa
How can emptiness be so heavy?
 55° 
Edmund black
She
        Shouldn’t

Be

           Mine

But

        I’m

Glad

              She

Chose

              Me
She doesn’t need me, but she wants me, And she chose me
 53° 
Amber Lynn
Rainbow glass panes paint colours on the funeral floorboards where children would play hopscotch like the did with playground chalk.
Playing tag with brief touches of luck before the bang broke it all.
Of course, the school bell still rang before miss what's her face would call roll call.
That day, however, she did not.
Instead, she plays hide n go seek, choosing the coffin walls as her hideaway.
This is what I imagine anyway...
 52° 
Victor
The past will not reshape my future
But my open wounds will
My heart aches
My soul descends into a
Perpetual abyssma
Tears shed over what I couldn't control
Through struggle I understood love
But without motherly love
I understood nothing at all
The only constant is change
With nothing to erase time
Nothing to erase my scars

Tell Me Why
 52° 
Jack P
teacher sent me to the doctor's office
teacher sent me home
teacher sent me to the place
where all the foul things roam

teacher gave me tic-tacs
to swallow when i'm sad
teacher said the chemicals
will make me sorta mad

teacher dries my eyes up
with platitudes enough
to even console all the kids who
are made of smarter stuff

teacher says confusion
is not a cause for shame
i'm not quite sure what teacher means
but i listen all the same

teacher treading tip-toed
lowering the tone:
"i'll help you with the theory here
but you'll practice on your own."
if you are sad, get people to help you not be sad, thanks
 51° 
tc
of one thing
i am sure
and that is
that i am
unsure of
myself
and it’s funny
how i can’t
sleep but my
chest closes its
eyes and hums
with a heartbeat
that is unsure of
itself, too.
i try to morph
into a body
i don’t feel
belongs to me
just so i can
fit somewhere
fit in somewhere
and i tell so
many stories
about the
universe, it
forever feels
like i am trying
to remain lost.
i am unsure
of myself;
connecting the
moles on my
skin as if they
will spell out
something bigger
so i can feel
like i matter,
at least for
a little while.
i sleep beside
myself, stare at
a reflection
so unfamiliar
i couldn’t even
identify it in
a crowd of
strangers, but
i am trying.
and one day
i’m sure i’ll
be sure
of myself but
until then,
i’ll morph into
someone i can
be proud of
and hope that
the universe
sends me back
to myself.
 51° 
She Writes
I’d rather write than speak
My pen is always responsive
My ink doesn’t judge my mistakes
My paper doesn’t argue
My lines never cross me
My sentences never disappoint
And my words will never leave me
 50° 
Edmund black
The truth
        Is
Love doesn’t
  Recognize
All the artificial
Man made restriction
    We try to place
           On it

       It simply
flows between
    Souls and overwhelm
The hardest hearts

     Love is power
            Love
          Is peace
Kindly choose love
 50° 
Amy Krencius
There is nowhere to hide,
When the dark comes alive;
And it's all in your mind;
And they whisper inside...

[What is offered: denied.]

In each breath that you take;
In between every sigh;
In each fear you can't shake;
Where the whispers reside...

[and the
whispers,
whispers,
echo inside]
...

She stared down her demons - dead in the eyes;
So softly they murmured (such beautiful lies);
They taunted, declaring she must choose a side.
For in light and in darkness her soul did reside...

[deep in the dark, where her monsters would hide]

Behind the masking of dark she wore light;
Her demons - like shadows - were lost to the night.
Though deep in her heart (in a place born of fear),
The darkness would beckon, enticing her near.

In each ragged breath;
Caught between every sigh;
In each little death, where the whispers reside...

[where the
whispers,
whispers,
echo inside]


And she said she did know she was wicked of heart;
The monster within, recognized from the start.
And though she had witnessed, she never did fear;
The darkness that fell, as the whispers drew near...

They beckoned: she followed.
[down into the black]

There was nowhere to hide.
[there was no turning back]


For it was all in her mind, she no longer denied;
The whispers, whispers, that echoed inside...
 49° 
Brianna Love
Beauty
        comes
                at
                  Midnight
                         as
                           hopes
                                 and
                                     dreams
                                              take
                                             flight
                                       peaceful
                                 feelings
                                      of
                              safety
                          and
                      love
                guild
          through
                 morning
                            light.......
Dream Sweet!!!
 48° 
novia
knock knock
there is someone who want to come in
but the fact is
i don't want it
because the guest is not you
i still want you. but you don't
 48° 
emmie cosgrove
She felt like she was on ecstasy

Whenever he was next to her

He felt like he was high-

She made him float

They became addicted to each other

For their company to one another was

Endless nights of euphoria
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