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Caitlyn Fletcher
I spend too many nights thinking
Wondering, writing, dreaming
Of someone who doesn't even think of me
David R
no person is absolute 'n pure
as the world was created imperfect
Lacking, immature
incomplete and incorrect

We're a process ongoing
developing and growing,
the stream's ever flowing
G-d's breath, in you, blowing

Use the breath to reach on high,
Touch the heavens, touch the sky,
Feel and know the embrace
Of the Presence, E'erlasting Grace.
Saltwater rushes over warm sands,
refreshing the heat.
I part the ocean with my hands
while trying not to weep.
This memory;
so sweet,
so far away,
so faded,
my last good memory.
Winds still bring the ocean breeze
to me
wherever I be and
warm tears rushes over cheeks.
Once again, you've occupied the most sacred parts of my mind.
You don't know why you're alive,
and yet you are the light of my life.
There is a special kind of hurt,
when you're forsaken by the ones you love.
An incomplete pain that feels like dirt,
that leaves you bottomless while they are above.

I am angry at them, although I was the one that did the wrong,
they refused forgiveness, and it is what makes them strong?

My atonement came with blood, sweat, and tears -
but the gods still won't free me from my fears.
Shattered Thoughts
The forbidden words,
Never to be spoken aloud
Tumbled out of my mouth
From the moment we met
And I let them.
you know who you are...
David Lessard
I used to read your poems
but lately you don't write
you're silent and aloof
you know that isn't right.
You can't close a door once opened
you can't abolish all your dreams
you're a poet of the heart
mustn't fall apart at the seams.
Say what you can in words
they speak the message true
spoken from the heart
the poems will see you through.
A hermit's not your style
a recluse, you are not
never give up writing
of things that you've been taught.
I used to read your poems
I'd read them once again
if you would send them out
(this one's from a poet friend)
Mark levitt
I want to be your nucleus, I’m nuclear and near insane.
i still
do not know
the poem i've been trying to write
and maybe
that's because
i haven't been
writing one at all
or maybe it's because
the poem i've been trying to write
is not ready for paper
and maybe
i'm the paper
that's not ready for it
A Mess of Words
Of all my regrets,
For Man is granted
Not a few;

Of all my regret:
My deepest wound,
My keenest loss,
Has settled there upon
Life seems a cruel pleasure,
The likes of which
Naught can measure.
Averi Rose
blue moon
over the marine pool
indigo dream
when i think of you

star prism
heavens view
cypress falls
in the wake of june

beige parchment
inked in blue
carrying the weight
of my love for you.
taylor styles
you told me i was pretty,
but you said i looked prettier on my knees.
Sat down to listen to the world today:

Heard a holler from the wood shoutin’, “They’re takin’ my land away!”

“They’re takin’ my fish and poisonin’ the waters.” I heard the ocean say.

And the air blew by with all the same problems ~ except it was enjoying the day.
Nathan Wilcox
don't even think about
chicks under 20
which strikes me funny
it's like then what is God to you?
Bags of money?
or something so vile it's stunning?
I think the most insidious thing you could do
Is stab someone close to you
Then tell them their pain and anguish
Is the reason you weep

Yesterday I cried to the moon
as she wiped my tears away
made my worries disappear
so I could sleep again.

Today I smile at the sun
and it shines back on me,
what a wonderful world
to be alive;
to be me.
i spend my days
pouring myself into the cups of others

only to find that
when it’s time for myself
to take a sip

all that’s left
in my cup
is the remainder of a girl
who gave too much
self care is extremely important. most days I fight my depression by putting smiles onto others faces, but forgetting about my once bright smile.

As it is brought towards completion
the boat, through my interaction
with it,  out on the lake
will then make possible  the access
to fish that I,  up till now
have only dreamt of

The fish  are the fire..   descended
down  from the heavenlies--
made available  solely
through the fineries..   restored
back in to  wholeness  in part
through the value I first saw in it
when in its primitive, used and
unfairly treated and uncared for, form..

But it was the deep love for that form
that helped give the vessel its access
back into the restoration  of its
own,  true glory..

And now,  all alone--  
out on the lake with it
it brings me access  in to
places and magical depths  until now
only thought of  and dreamt about
as that which exists  only, in heaven..

It is the vessel's motor,  now fully restored
that brings the boat and I  together
out on to the lake
but it is the boat's very  uniqueness
within it's own  natural state of beauty
that helps to give me access  into the magic
that lay currently undisturbed
deep in that glorious lake's depths

The boat has always carried within it
the rarest of gifts
and somewhere buried in my   deep
love for it..  those gifts, while out on
the lake  with it, will make themselves  known
to me  as we together find those fish
that so beautifully represent,  this..

the Holiest of all fires.

Those trophy fish are the magical moments
that up until now, lay dormant,
swimming far away from current distractions  
of the every day, mundane
accessible only  through the restorative process
and one's love of it's rare and magical beauty

It sometimes feels as if all of heaven is
waiting. (I know I am insane to talk this way..)

I truly do love that boat.

When I am out on the lake with it,
every difficult moment will be so very
worth it all to me. That is the joy I get
from the giving of myself into it's
much needed and fully deserved, restoration.

.  .  .  .

You will not sit out there,
  so all alone--
weathering, out there  somewhere
in the corner of the shipyard.  If that is
the case, and that is your current fear..
I know that you will find a way to
make yourself find-able by me. The
greatest tragedy of all would be for a
vessel of your unique and rare beauty,
to die off..  all alone,  unloved,  

scuttled, by the wind.

The energy that was meant for you  is
now,  going into the boat.

    --tho I can certainly do both.

Ann, and her father
are out on the boat--
riding the water..

riding the waves, of the sea.

<3 .xo
She said "I'm falling in love."

I said "I'm falling apart."
What's the difference?
Grace E
I traced the texture of your words
Like my heart was blind
And your voice was braille
I think
my time is near
this time
the end,
I do not fear
the whispers
that i hear,
I am calm,
my breathing,
it is breaking.

I still care
If you'd care
I exist no more
I am that vain
even in pain,
I'd seek more
as my mind
connects back to you.

The rain has stopped
my heart will too,
it is all part of nature,
the destiny,
we met,
but so unclear
we'd go
as destined to.

So here it is,
my last
it will be
a fragment of you.
And here it is,
it is the final goodbye,
fare well, you
Broken heart, painful loss.
Remember that you don't lose
what wasn't yours
or wasn't meant for you.
In time you'll understand
that it was a lesson in disguise.

What's right for you
will never pass you by.
Remember that
rejection is God's protection
for you!
My entire life,
I have been waiting.
For years,
Almost two decades now
I have been waiting.
For the better parts.
For the “soon”.
For my life to begin.
I don’t feel like I have lived.
In the nearly twenty years
I have been alive
And breathing
I do not feel
In any of those years
That I have been alive.
I don’t feel like a single breath
That I have taken
Has been real.
I feel as if
All these years
I’ve been stuck
Behind a window
Watching as my life unfolds
Before me.
I feel that
I have had
Zero control.
That I am in the backseat
Letting someone else drive.
That someone else,
Is writing on the pages
Of MY life.
But no more.
I will break that window,
I will take that wheel,
And I will write
My own pages.
My life has begun,
And now -
I’m in control.
Yesterday, April 8th, was my birthday. I wrote this poem two years ago, when I was 19 almost 20, and on my 22nd birthday I find that the website selected it as a daily and I have all these wonderful people saying wonderful things about my poetry. Thank you Hello Poetry, and thank you everyone else. This was the best birthday present I could have even gotten. (04/09/2021)
I loved you more than I hated myself
She was a thrifted sweater and denim and jersey knit sheets
Pizza breath and red wine and toothpaste
Alabaster skin and knotted hair and freckled shoulders
A tangible dream and my favorite good morning
She agreed to let me kiss her and I agreed to let her slip my shirt over my head before she became
Blood and tears
"I trusted you" and "I’m sorry"
Midnight poems and a drunk "I need you"
I’m afraid I loved you like the way I wrote
I am one with sensibilities of an adagio. There are few things
I cannot describe with words. A beautiful adagio, I think, is one
of them. Its beauty is ineffable. All are musical poems, but one
is tinged with sorrow. I am thinking of Barber's ADAGIO FOR
STRINGS. PACHELBEL'S CANON, on the other hand,
is gentle and evocative, as is Albioni's adagio. You're sitting on
the sofa holding your sweetheart in your arms listening to
Bach's AIR ON THE G STRING as you give her a sweet kiss
on her neck. You dim the lights. Vivaldi's GUITAR CONCERTO
begins to play followed by Marcello's ADAGIO IN D MINOR
and then you give her another kiss, this one on her lips. It's
getting late, but there's still time to absorb the exquisite PAS DE
DEUX by Tchaikovsky from the NUTCRACKER. Now she
kisses you, not once, but many times. You slip in Beethoven's
elegant TROIS GYMNOPEDIES, and Chopin's PRELUDE,
OP. 28, even though they are not adagios, but because they are
etheral. And before you and she go to bed to make love, you listen
to Rodrigo's CONCIERTO DE ARANJUEZ FOR GUITAR AND ORCHESTRA. No better foreplay exists.

I am
Casting down imaginations
To the pulling down of strong-holds
Gearing up for the long term
But from the outside looking in?
May seem bold
or quite
( Well )
Just referring to the thoughts
that I have
that are really not that far off
while dreaming of  REVELATION
No fabrication on my part
As I try to separate the Light
from the Dark
with high hopes and
Which is.. a sen-sational sensation of flying high.. being.. elevated
High on  Elevation
Or something like a planned
Evo-lu-tion so
Staying true to my elevation in 2020
leading into 2020 one
Now seeing  Double
Here to fix it?
Well, I beg to differ
Cause it takes.. Twice.. the listen
Care to listen?
Just to see things
And at the same time?
Shuning the carnal mind's version
of seeing  Double
May call it.. Twinning
Which is the true definition
of being  Double
So to combat this?
I just never
Mind it ( meaning )
There's no rules or
bars of
For no 20 or Eye is missing
from my
Raised suspicions?
Well., Just hoping that you will
tread.. carefully
And stay
As you enter my center of words
and.. penning
As I write the vision
I'll make it plain and simple
No Subliminals
Or either I'll keep it at minimal
While maintaining the
As usual
As I keep on gaining in
Do not follow your heart follow God
I'm sinking farther into the sea
Air cut off, unable to breathe

But it's not all too bad
The water's warm
and the fish look nice

It's a shame I can only see this
By myself
at the end.
lost cause
if i wrote my future
all would be changed
from the way i was raised
to the thoughts in my brain
if i wrote my future
no love would be lost
so i’d stand right beside you
no matter the cost
if i wrote my future
i’d bring nothing but peace
and save you from sorrow
and the darkness that creeps
if i wrote my future
you’d still be here
but you wrote my future
and i did nothing
but stare
They burst upwards

All around this evening

There and there and there

Trees, Trees, Trees

Smashing through soil

To a darkening sky

Limbs and fingers and hands

Trunk and twig

Coiling coronaries

Pressed to the sky’s last



Earths loud art

Not solemn

Not peace filled

This evening

Trees , Trees, Trees

Explode from the earth

Like Kraken from the ocean


Reminding us

Trees Trees Trees

Four hundred million years

Before you breathed

Trees Trees Trees
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!

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
Viktor Vincent
It hurts to think where, everyone was taught to fly.
It hurts when, we felt the wind of desire.
Only to find a child grieving about falling.

It hurts to feel hunger.
Reaching for your stars, with only having dreams as a meal.
It hurts to cry a handful.
When tears are just sands waiting to be a desert.

It hurts to pretend,
as if Blue will turn Red the moment we give our hearts.
It hurts to be sane,
when sanity is held by the memories of the past.

It hurts that,  
everyone chases the unfaltering pain we purposely seek.
Even if the closest I can get to you right now
Is just the subtle scent of you on my sheets
I’ll fall asleep with this piece of you wrapped around me
It calms me faster than counting sheep
Slightly Lovely
do you ever cry about me?
and if so,
do you think that sometimes,
we cry together?
I still cringe when I meet someone with your name

Your name

Like the slowest poison
It never leaves me

Just slowly eats away

Ah your name

How I wish I could eradicate it from my soul
In the sea of people,
I will find for you,
Battles I've aced, and;
Yet at the end, you're my race.
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
Check message
Check message
Check message
Send message

When did relationships
Get defined
By a read receipt?
Will we
Only measure intimacy
By a tweet?

What do we have left,
Why can’t we
Go back
To laughter
In a diner seat
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.
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