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 788° 
Sparrow Junk

I feel my words haven't rung true from the start
Because crucially
The reality
is I was never that good to begin with

I only wanted to make some light out of this dark
But the emotion is
A bloatedness
Of my own self-inflated ego and pride

I could never call this as an attempt at art
Nor should others
There are greater wonders
By those who can truly inspire

But still, I try to play my own small part
In this scene
Against philistines
To fail is never a reason to retire

The main thing for anyone trying to make their way in a creative pursuit is to not let failure or pride be a barrier to keep trying. Take inspiration from others and try to make it your own.
 653° 
Christopher Harold

Through a veil, I see it all.
A building big, a building small.
Dressed up in its qualities --
An experience my sense recalls.

 460° 
Alice Chew

I can't find you at the bottom of this glass
I can't find you walking bare foot on the grass

I hear my head shouting your name
I want to hear you whisper my nickname

I won't find you by my side
I wont find you in the driver's seat as we drive

I won't hear you shout my name after a long day at work
I hear you asking me to help with children's homework

I won't feel you next to me, skin to skin
I won't see that cheesy grin

I won't smell you on my skin as I shut the door,
I won't be able to wash your clothes and put them away in the drawer

I won't be able to touch you like before
I wont be able to hold you, the one I adore

I miss your kiss, your smell your touch
I want it all back too much.

 384° 
brandalynn huling

I need you
In the mornings with my journal and my bible
On cold windy fall days
Perhaps on lazy days while watching kid movies
when i sent your smell i feel comfort
the smell fills my home, fills the streets and cities
i want you

 309° 
Secret-Author

It shouldn't be a problem and it is.

I should be happy, but I'm not.
If I were a seaside, I'd be one time forgot.
Swings rusted still, and women of an age.
Same season all year, like dried ink on a page.

Getting overtaken, doesn't mean you lose.
It only meant you shone so more when came the time to choose.
Wind can be so vicious as it stings across your face.
A gentle stabbed reminder to always know your place.

Eventually what you will find is your heart does turn to stone.
Or constantly you feel the pain has seeped right to the bone.
Now at this point it really is so much easier to say.
Just leave me here and I'll wait in peace until you've had your day.

 250° 
Broken Arpeggio

A complete state of well-being
Is something we all hope to achieve
Though my mind constantly questions
If it's nothing more than an idealistic belief

What is truly well
What definitively is not
How does one get better
When the mind intentionally forgot

Will I ever find what I'm searching for
Will I set my demons free
Can I allow my will to loosen its grip
Just enough to find inner peace

Somewhere there must be a blueprint
Stamped upon my soul
The mind and body connection
That can one day make me whole

For now, I ponder the questions
Cause answers I have none
Yet staying true to my intent
Of finishing the journey begun

Steps forward are simply that...The size of the step doesn't matter, the forward movement does!
 242° 
liv

i am the resemblance of a scab
that healed your wound
you kept picking at me
because you thought i was bothersome
and a sight for sore eyes
but i just wanted to help you
to heal that wound you had
to be your natural bandaid
but one day i left
left you with a scar
for you to look at and remind yourself
who used to be there
and only wanted to help you heal
and now i'll never be seen with you again
but hey, you look good
better than i thought you would
with out me you wouldn't look so pretty
hell you'd probably still be in misery
bleeding out i fell for you
but that's all i was such a shame
only used me to heal your wound
but that scar looks nice on you too
hope you don't think about me too soon

 237° 
Kim E Williams

Sweeten condensed milk
        -Thick, sticky, needy
        -Captures time, slows development
Two large lemons
        -Squeezed expectations and strained desires
        -Dried motivations, self-determination lost
Three eggs separated
        -Unbroken yolks bind even the strongest will
         -Whipped, hand whipped, arms aching whipped bring firm
           supremacy
A dollop of vanilla
        -Plain Jane, never too much flamboyance, stay calm
        -Drama in small measure, essential confusion
Store bought frozen crust
        -Stayed, dependable, constant tried and true
        -Often acceptably broken, deniable flaws, ever deniable
Mixed, layered and baked
         -The heat of family, stoked to chaotic fever
         -Fervent struggles rise, burn and yield
Tasty pie and sour lives

family always impacts us most
 236° 
Elise Jaco

and there they sat
each passerby
with vivid lives
the urge to cry

magnificent words
on some of their tongues
and a song to sing
in each of their lungs

the hand they bear
some never know
and I think we
must learn to grow

sonder: the realization that each passerby has a life as vivid and complex as one's own.
 161° 
sage

She began to paint one night,
Never having taken a lesson in her life.

She didn't know what she was painting,
She didn't really know how to either.

But she picked up a brush,
And began to speak.

Her bristles spelt out words,
Her colours make the canvas scream.

The works she had done before spoke the stories of her heart,
The tales of her memories.

Anyone who had seen her canvases saw genius,
Saw light.

But when she looked at them,
She saw nothing.

She knew what they meant,
Each story embedded in her brain.

Her pain, and her hurt,
There for people to critique.

And the paint she used,
Seemed so bare and bleak.

She had been so desperate for colour,
She had tried to draw it from her skin several times.

But no one knew,
And no one ever would know.

Because in the end,
the only colour she really wanted to see was black.

Because these greys she saw as she stared at her work,
Told her she would never be able to understand how beautiful her words were.

this was supposed to be happy but nothing really goes my way.
 145° 
Aleah

I'm either too much,
Or not enough,
It's never in-between,
And when you,
Look at me,
I don't know,
What you see.

 142° 
Yūrei

he said there'd be no secrets
we'd share everything
our lives together however
were never quite so clean
first came the letters
claiming debts in droves
then the phone calls
from women in their homes

I realised his secrets
greatly dwarfed my own
and given all his actions
there was nothing I could do
wanting a divorce
the only secret
I kept from you

just take I'm not sure this works for everything I 'write'
 114° 
Sukanya Sinha Roy

Standing on our rain swing
Face to face
Pushing slowly in moistened rhythms
Higher and higher
Through the misty droplets
Wet eyelashes
Slippery smiles
Higher and higher
Into the grey skies
clouds laughed,
The rain pierced
Thunder growled
Higher and higher
Through sheets of rain
Tearing curtains of pain
Laughter galore
Washed ashore
Higher and higher
Laughing eyes
Fingers clutching
Lips brushing
Higher and higher
A lightning sparked
Tore sky and earth
We disappeared,
Together
Higher

 110° 
The Year of Words

There are two half-full cups of coffee on my desk
(and one in my car).
But you'd make me more in the morning
If I asked.
Like how you would drive my car in the rain,
Because I can't see the road
(even though I never told you I couldn't)
And then make me watch bad movies.
You're better than the rain,
You're the whole monsoon season,
Shaking the whole world up with yourself,
And making it better every time.

 105° 
Jobira

Everyone comes
crying to this world
alone.

Everyone leaves quietly
from this world
alone.

However, true loneliness,
only ever comes and goes,
when one’s heart is broken
at least once,
for falling in or out of love;
And if you never felt neither one,
You have never been alone!

 100° 
Sarah Richards

Way back when
when the porch was
caving in
and the creek had never been
so empty,

I went back
to the rabbit
hutch
kicked the sick-sweet bags, the
sticky cans of
Pepsi

Way back when,
when our love was
growing thin
and your hand could no longer
be steady,

I went back
to the edge of
Deer Creek -
& threw hay
like poverty
confetti.

 92° 
mk
-

everything's breaking
and i'm running
to the only place
i've ever known
to the only place
i've ever called home

i'm running to you-

it's time.
 83° 
Emily Grace

she's got a broken smile
for a broken heart
she likes to hope
her brokenness
is a work of art
lost in herself
she cannot breathe
around him, around her.
too many people
who aren't falling apart.
a broken smile
with a broken heart
her father says
she's a work of art

tired labor
screamed at greedy capital
why do you always exploit me?

i toil
long and hard
only to make you
lots of money

greedy capital giggled
and then shot right back,
i only do that because
i really think i can

so stop your complaints
and get back to work
before I really lose it
and become a total jerk

© 2017

 77° 
Lips of Dust

Silent as the drift of death
The bones become fragile after time
Unvisioned, they take the rule
When towards the end all left are signs

Towards the infinite
Insidious memories, turmoil of fire
Gradually dwell in the center of obsessions
When she starts to fade forever

From the beginning I start
What was sealed to be fated
I have lost all the senses
On how life is supposed to be lived

Solitude is a cold bed
Surrounded by rocks and bone remains
She came into a desert lost
Then trembled the firmament

Early on every substance was blind
Designed to lost its imageries
Designed to sight for freedom
Existed to break the chains

Now I am lost in an oblivious temple
Fading with the picture of your dress
Pale as the dark sky painted
Letting no sign that you have been here

There are words but they are gone
Apologies that are unjustified
Pushed caresses, forced kisses
To the departure embitter

I hope between your sheets somewhere
There is still an anguished mark
Occupying what once was me and mine
To protect you from the universe of lies

I possess the urge to keep you near
Resting your head where bleak roses lie
But both saint and lion are gone
Between the whirlwinds of jaded times

I still feel the polluted breath
Of the blood upon me burning
Silent and untamed as the drift of death
Entirely to take me in... the pain is ready

© Lips of Dust

We make love in the Oasis
Of our hearts
Our souls entwined
Through time and space
Inseparable....
In love's sweet embrace
I kiss your heart
In devotion to The Beloved within

Oasis, of our cosmic dream
In crystal-clear waters
We bathe
Palm trees exhale peace
Spirit within flesh
Exotic flora, fragrance Divine
Refuge from the desert
The sands of time

Stars explode in bliss
Iridescent, lustrous delight
Lay me down beloved
Beneath the midnight blue
We merge as one
No longer two....

Sometimes all I wanna do is
be sad
It's all I write about
It's all that I am.
.
Sometimes all I wanna be is
Blue
It becomes my mood
It becomes my truth
.
Sometimes sadness washes over me
And I let her
Like welcoming an old friend
Knowing they will soon leave
.
Sometimes all I am is
Nostalgia
It drowns me in sorrow
It drowns me without color
.
But it's okay, they're a part of me
There's no denying it
.
But now they don't linger
They just come to greet me
To know about my life
.
And then they say goodbye
.
Sometimes all I wanna be is sad
And I'm alright

 65° 
Isabella

My father’s cousin
Died just days
after planting tulips
Purple red yellow and orange
Scattering the yard with bulbs
To burst through the earth
Come next spring
When he knew he would not be here to see them
Fore he knew of his coming death
They have told him frank
The cancer its terminal
They had told him to do enjoy
And Every day he must have seen his body
In the mirror
Growing gaunt
And weak
with his wife not at home
He planted 200 flowers
A going away present
And that same day
His body gave
Tremors and shakes
A seizure turned to coma
Which turned to the closing of his eyes
And the silent tears of his wife

Two years later
I saw her at a reunion
She spoke fondly of the tulips
How beautiful they are
How they remind her of him
And his love for her
She is with someone new now
She explains
A pilot
Who treats her well
She tells me he is a great man
But with tears in her eyes
She says
he isn’t Shawn

We are standing in a church cafeteria
Surrounded by people
But I feel it is just us
As she cries
I hug her
And she cries on my shoulder
He was my best friend
It is so hard
I miss him everyday
She released me
And apologized for the tears
I told her
I understood
And I missed him too

Later that night and for years later
I have thought of them
The tulips and the tears
In that cafeteria
I have since been afraid to fall so much in love
That I wouldn’t be okay if they had to leave first
But later on
While lying in embrace
I realized that vulnerability
Is what makes love worth it

 63° 
Maria Etre

If my hands
knew no limitations
to what my mind
speaks
papers would
blush
at the intensity
of what
a fire sign
feels

i saw you yesterday.
you were a seed
capable of growing
into a climbing plant
sticking to all thought
and turning it a little bit more
dark green.

but i yesterday,
a clay pot,
painted in bright colors,
purple mostly,
wasn't able to grow anything.

i don't know
if the reason was
i watered you
with alcohol
and indifference,
or because my soil
is not that fertile anymore.

 58° 
Anne Molony

you know the look
the look
when you feel eyes on the side of your face
but you're not completely sure
so you turn
instantly catching them
looking
their addictive
ice blue eyes
staring
and then quickly they're gone
looking somewhere else
like the floor or  
out the window or
pretending to be deep in thought
but
you know that they've been looking
because you've caught them twice before

 55° 
Rand

Dear depression
I'm writing to let you know
That I don't have anything else to give
You took away all my hope

What more do you want of me
The few breaths that I take?
They're not even for me I swear
I just don't want them to break
The ones who still care about me
Somehow you weren't able to push them away
I guess they're stronger than I'll ever be
But I don't want you to make them ache

Hurt me bruise me take my soul
But let my body here
For them , not me , I'm miserable at my best
But I can't let them live in fear

Dear depression
Please subside
We can live together
Just don't make me die

 55° 
SøułSurvivør

Thirteen roses in a row
Red rain falls,
Don't you know
Down the window
Pain it goes
In the gutters
Through the nose
Where's the thunder
When it flows...?

(Chorus)
Wrapped around
The gauze that's stained
What difference snow?
The same as pain
When it melts
It's just rain.


Withered flowers.
Falling leaves.
It's a howling in the eaves
It's the cult the
Maimed believe
No one cares.
No one grieves.
Cover up.
Long jeans & sleeves.

Razors are a water slide
On track like
A carny ride
Over arms & over thighs
Release all
The pain inside

(Chorus)

It's an ocean
Where we sail
A coin that can be
Heads or tails
A lover's letter,
Or junk mail
A piece of garbage.
Holy grail.

(Chorus)


SøułSurvivør
(C) 7/23/2017

This song I REALLY want to release. Cutting is a terrible epidemic in our young people. It has almost replaced street drugs as the scourge of youth...
 48° 
patty m

As a child I loved getting crayons. Every special holiday I got a new super big box filled with beautiful colors. I'd sit for hours, tongue in cheek trying so hard to stay within the lines.  I soon learned that there was more to it, that life itself is a color book and every time you step outside the line you pay the consequences and no matter how hard you try you can't color life picture perfect. 
I loved looking at them, seeing them lined up neatly in the box, before they were broken or worn down. I guess to me at that time old and broken meant discarded.  Then one year Christmas rolled around and my Dad was out of work.  My uncle let us cut a small tree that was growing on his farm but there would be no presents that year, not even a box of brand new crayons and I was deeply saddened by the prospect.   Mom encouraged me to help make decorations, we made popcorn to string, and long colorful paper chains and I stuck cloves into an orange filling the house with a  delicious scent.
Then Mommy suggested that I might want to get my crayons out and make some presents for those I loved and I could do it all myself.  My crayon box was no longer crisp, it looked flimsy and the crayons were all different lengths, not standing tall and many of the colors were missing.  Mom brought out a shoe box from the closet, filled with all the crayons I had discarded.  I saw them then, a jumble of pieces, a rainbow of delightful color.  I drew my own pictures, where whatever I created was always right.  I drew a giant sun with rays radiating across the corner of the paper. Happy houses with window's that were not necessarily square but sometimes curving into smiles. I made sure to fill the yard with flowers, every color, and every shape and there was always a tree hung heavily with huge red apples, and a Mommy and Daddy who would always love me. 
I still feel a tug in my heart when I smell the wax or feel a crayon warm between my fingers.  Memories flood back to me of the three of us sitting at the kitchen table.  I remember feeling so safe in the warmth and love that surrounded me.
 
This feeling was brought back ten-fold last year.  My Mom and Dad moved in with me because my Dad was dying and I was going to do hospice for him at my home.  My daughter and I had to move things out of my house so we could make room for Mom and Dad, along with their countless possessions.  While going through stacks of things we could discard or give to charity, I found one of the booklets I'd made that special Christmas.  It had a not so centered hole in the margin, with a brad holding the whole thing together; it was all there just as I remembered it, the house, the sun, the tree, mommy, daddy and me. Evidently my Mom considered it treasure.  Needless to say it's still here and so is my Mom but my Daddy has moved to heaven.  He went softly, gently, nurtured and loved, just the way he wanted it.  He was never shut away, nor discarded, but surrounded by love and a family who cared. My heart aches with his passing.

Since I wrote this little story my mom passed away and my husband
;But my life has been colorful, not always picture perfect, but loving and so very precious.  My care giving  was extended over an 8 year period in which I learned to exist with only 4 hours sleep.  It was a labor of love, one that I'd repeat if only they were still here.  
I would like to say thank you to everyone who takes the time to read this piece I know its longer than usual and all of you have busy schedules and many poets to read and poems to write.  I truly appreciate you all.  
much love
and big hugs
Patty
 45° 
Candice

I believe at the end of my life,
the credits will read tragedy,
that with the last blink of my eye your face will cross my mind,
and I'll go back to that day
in the dead of winter,
when I was warm,
because I had your arms,
but for that moment they were mine,
that night all you wanted was me..
and my last breath will be taken away at the realization
that all I've ever wanted was you...

 43° 
Kristine

fireworks never amuse me
it's just like watching colored smoke up in the skies.
but then you came along,
and became that colored smoke in my life.

i know you won't do any good for me
but i would still choose to inhale you
to keep you alive
inside of me.

 39° 
Pax

im used to
being left
behind.

so it doesn't hurt anymore.

6words story.
 39° 
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.
Francie
 38° 
skyler

she built a home for him in her heart

but he moved out and left it empty

so now her insides feel like a ghost town

with a haunting vacancy from lost love

s.s

 37° 
Sanny

Lost in my mind once again.

The past comes back to haunt me.

To remind me, preventing me from forgetting.

I've felt enough pain.

Where's my peace? Still searching.

I need to breathe, I'm suffocating.

I hear the familiar screams inside.

The burning in my lungs.

Please let me be.

I need a place for my head.

Another way to feel alive.

 35° 
Stephen E Yocum

I dwell alone here,
a prisoner within
my own mind and life,
encumbered in burdensome
shackles of my own invention,
locked restraints of self-delusion
to which solely I possess the keys.

To all of us who sell ourselves
short, who give up too soon,
who hide in self imposed prisons
of the mind.
Life is what we make of it and
thus perhaps what we deserve,
unless we endeavor to change it.
 35° 
Nadia DeLevea

Like a statue I stand,
I cannot be broken.
Sharp as a blade,
I have not misspoken.

I'm already there,
All desire awoken.
Quick as lightning,
Furry bright and smok'n.

One step ahead,
I'm the whole damn ocean.
I'll get in your head babe,
So let that shit soak in.

Sweats like a boss,
That's why I get chosen.
I am the machine,
Don't need your damn token.

Confident words,
Each one that I've spoken,
Fierce as a lioness,
I can't be heartbroken.

Beauty is a Beast™  By Nadia DeLevea
 34° 
Cyprian Van Dyke

Packing bags.
Catching planes.
Playing music.
Playing games.
Young.
Slim.
Pretty.
Vain.
Thinking.
Drinking.
Watching rain.
Phone off,
Tv screen,
Headphones,
Whispering.
Plane shaking.
Wings breaking.
People crying.
Head aching.  
Island awaiting.
Camp fires.
Scary stories.
Live wires lurk
In the ruins.

Packing bags.
Catching planes.
Playing music.
Playing games.
Young.
Slim.
Dirty.
Vain.
Thinking.
Blinking.
Watching
Rer­uns
In her brain.

History repeats.
Reality settles in.
July 24.2017, March 10-11.2017

 33° 
anshika gehani

I am a teenager,
I fight for acceptance,
Every day I try to flaunt the hours I didn't sleep,
And every night I dream of being abandoned.

I am a teenager,
I have to listen to each song,
Coz I don't want to be left alone,
When my squad is rapping "Stoned".

I am a teenager,
I have to take care about my skin,
Coz some people say there's too much of makeup,
And others criticize of not knowing what makeup is.

I am a teenager,
Either I have to be hot or act cool,
There is no other choice,
Coz then I won't be in the school news.

I am a teenager,
I respect my teachers,
But just because every one makes fun of them,
I am blamed too.

I am a teenager,
And people expect a lot,
In this run of expectations and reality,
I  get pissed off.

I am a teenager,
I can't be me,
Coz today's teenagers,
Have got a definition to be seen.

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