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 2° 
Salmabanu Hatim
Have been created as an ATM of men's desire.
Don't let hackers take advantage,
Treat with care and gently.
3/10/2025
 2° 
So
years are funny aren't they?
sometimes they gallop away quickly
dancing and singing into the sunset
other times they dawdle
slowly fading, their bag weighing them down
too heavy with memories to run

this year or year and a half I should say
has never gone slower
a long list of pain
a heavy bag
does slow me down
trapping me in the past
when all I wish for is to run away
Daisies in a garden full of weeds
Have you ever seen such an ugly thing?
Daisies may look like flowers
But look how they steal our sunlight
Look how they steal our soil
They are not flowers
They are infiltrators


This is a garden full of weeds
This land belongs to us
Now look at those selfish Daisies
Showing off their ugliness beneath our sunlight
Wasting the nutrients in our soil
Look at how they taint our community
Look at how they defile our home

We are incompatible
Their crimes are intolerable
Are you with us or against us?
Hesitation is treason

This is a garden infested with Daisies
Take them all away
And set them ablaze
They can never steal our sun again



Classify

Symbolize


Dehumanize



Organize




Polariz­ยญe





And

Prepare



One to six
It can be fixed
Seven to eight
It is too late




Exterminate

And








Deny





Deny





Deny






­You could have stopped it if you tried
It was all advertised
For just a limited time
Before it was taken off the shelves

A limited-edition opportunity
To step in and intervene
But the event has already passed
Daisy? What the hell is that?


It was all advertised
For just a limited time
You could have intervened
A limited-edition opportunity

That never happened
It never happened
But it will happen again

And you'll see a product you recognize
In limited-edition
But no, you won't buy
Not until it's taken off the shelves
Then you'll finally miss what's gone
If you have the luxury of a memory
But even then

Will you be believed?



One to six
It can be fixed
Seven to eight
It is too late



Now all you can say

Is

Never Again























Until Next Time
 2° 
girlinflames
The soul says:
I donโ€™t want to carry
this pain alone anymore.

I want to translate it.

And so poetry
becomes a bridge of healingโ€”

what once was pain
becomes self-expression.
 2° 
Lily
Itโ€™s almost been a yearโ€”
a year since I last saw you smile,
since I talked with you,
since I heard your voice,

A year of crying,
a year of trying to understand,
a year of sinking into silence and griefโ€”
a year since you breathed.
For my family member who became suicidal
 2° 
guy scutellaro
a ballet of light
weaves golden threads
across the canvas of night.

the fabric of soul and sky
elusive dancers

wonderย ย ย ย alive at the edge of eternity

unspoken poetry breathed in my sigh
words elusive, alive within

beauty poetry
poetryย ย ย ย ย ย ย ย breathed in my sigh???

words elusive

a tear that never fell
shimmering in twilight

left me searching
a shadow running from the sun
 2° 
Dean
An angel

said

boo.

So i lied
and kissed him
on the mouth

He never came back.
 2° 
VD
Innocent naked vision,
Cradled in my shadow's fold;
Sheltered from this burning world,
A fragile spark, a sacred soul

You are mine, sweet thing
Mine for now, in dream and prayer
But soon enough the day will come
When reality rips you from my care

And what waits for you, out there?
Salted earth and rivers of fire?
Gentle lips with teeth beneath?
Cruelty dressed in kind attire?

I am complicit, yet I swear:
I never meant to curse you so
Child unborn, it's just not fair,
I cry every night; I hope you know

See, God's mistake was birthing Adam,
Cursing him with endless fear;
Clothing him in skin and sorrow:
But never ever, not for you, my dear

No. You are mine forever, always
And not for this cruel world to find;
I won't let its evil hurt you
You are safer in my mind
I love you too much to force you to life.
 2° 
cmp
Take heed though sycophant society evil in labor good at work brews more than all talk no voice
Lore rest
 2° 
Shaun Copple
Detached from the old
once more, into the fold.
Embrace the Selfโ€”Human
Beingโ€”Where โ€œIโ€ is a Man.
Sporadic emotions burst
forth, with sensation and thirst.
In the cold light of day,
realiseโ€”This is all just play!
Themes from Vipassana
 2° 
Ric
In another universe,
they sway hand in hand.
Dancing on moon dust,
In a silver dreamland.
Stars hum their blessing,
the Earth fades from view,
two souls in forever,
where love feels brand new.
No gravity binds them, no ending, no soon just endless soft laughter, dancing on the moon.
In another universe, I'm still hers and she's still mine. Hand in hand, smiling ear to ear,  dancing the night away.
 2° 
Flower
I love her poems
More than anything

They made me cry
But I smiled the whole time

Because she loves me
And I love her

Maybe a little differently
But I still love her
 2° 
Mariam
--- แƒ แƒแƒ›แƒ“แƒ”แƒœแƒ˜ แƒแƒ“แƒแƒ›แƒ˜แƒแƒœแƒ˜ แƒ’แƒแƒ’แƒ˜แƒชแƒ•แƒœแƒ˜แƒ แƒ“แƒ แƒ แƒแƒ›แƒ“แƒ”แƒœแƒ˜ แƒ“แƒแƒ’แƒ˜แƒ™แƒแƒ แƒ’แƒแƒ•แƒก แƒแƒ› แƒชแƒฎแƒแƒ•แƒ แƒ”แƒ‘แƒ˜แƒก แƒ›แƒแƒœแƒซแƒ˜แƒšแƒ–แƒ”?
--- แƒ‘แƒ”แƒ•แƒ แƒ˜. แƒแƒ“แƒแƒ›แƒ˜แƒแƒœแƒ˜แƒก แƒ’แƒแƒชแƒœแƒแƒ‘แƒ แƒ˜แƒแƒšแƒ˜แƒ แƒจแƒ”แƒœแƒแƒ แƒฉแƒฃแƒœแƒ”แƒ‘แƒ แƒ™แƒ˜ แƒ แƒ—แƒฃแƒšแƒ˜แƒ...
แƒกแƒแƒ›แƒฌแƒฃแƒฎแƒแƒ แƒ แƒ˜แƒก แƒแƒ แƒ˜แƒก, แƒ แƒแƒ› แƒ›แƒแƒ›แƒแƒ•แƒแƒšแƒก แƒฌแƒ˜แƒœแƒแƒกแƒฌแƒแƒ  แƒ•แƒ”แƒ  แƒ’แƒแƒกแƒญแƒ•แƒ แƒ”แƒข แƒ“แƒ แƒ•แƒ”แƒ  แƒ“แƒแƒ˜แƒœแƒแƒฎแƒแƒ• แƒ—แƒ˜แƒ—แƒแƒ”แƒฃแƒšแƒ˜ แƒฃแƒ แƒ—แƒ˜แƒ”แƒ แƒ—แƒแƒ‘แƒ แƒ แƒแƒ’แƒแƒ  แƒฌแƒแƒ แƒ˜แƒ›แƒแƒ แƒ—แƒ”แƒ‘แƒ...
--- แƒ แƒแƒ›แƒ”แƒšแƒ˜แƒ›แƒ” แƒฃแƒ แƒ—แƒ˜แƒ”แƒ แƒ—แƒแƒ‘แƒ แƒ’แƒ˜แƒœแƒแƒœแƒ˜แƒ แƒ—แƒฃ แƒแƒ แƒ?
--- แƒงแƒแƒ•แƒ”แƒšแƒ˜ แƒแƒ“แƒแƒ›แƒ˜แƒแƒœแƒ˜ แƒ’แƒแƒœแƒกแƒฎแƒ•แƒแƒ•แƒ“แƒ”แƒ‘แƒ แƒ“แƒ แƒงแƒแƒ•แƒ”แƒš แƒแƒ“แƒแƒ›แƒ˜แƒแƒœแƒ—แƒแƒœ แƒฃแƒ แƒ—แƒ˜แƒ”แƒ แƒ—แƒแƒ‘แƒแƒช แƒ’แƒแƒœแƒกแƒฎแƒ•แƒแƒ•แƒ”แƒ‘แƒฃแƒšแƒ˜แƒ...
แƒ แƒแƒ“แƒ”แƒกแƒแƒช แƒ•แƒ˜แƒœแƒ›แƒ”แƒกแƒ—แƒแƒœ แƒฃแƒ แƒ—แƒ˜แƒ”แƒ แƒ—แƒแƒ‘แƒ แƒ’แƒแƒฅแƒ•แƒก แƒงแƒ•แƒ”แƒšแƒ แƒฃแƒ แƒ—แƒ˜แƒ”แƒ แƒ—แƒแƒ‘แƒแƒก แƒ—แƒแƒ•แƒ˜แƒกแƒ˜ แƒฎแƒ˜แƒ‘แƒšแƒ˜ แƒ“แƒ แƒจแƒแƒ แƒ›แƒ˜ แƒแƒแƒ•แƒก. แƒฉแƒ”แƒ›แƒ—แƒ•แƒ˜แƒก แƒ˜แƒก แƒชแƒฃแƒ“แƒ˜ แƒ แƒแƒช แƒฃแƒ แƒ—แƒ˜แƒ”แƒ แƒ—แƒแƒ‘แƒแƒก แƒ›แƒแƒฐแƒงแƒ•แƒ”แƒ‘แƒ แƒ˜แƒกแƒ˜แƒช แƒ™แƒ˜ แƒ›แƒœแƒ˜แƒจแƒ•แƒœแƒ”แƒšแƒแƒ•แƒแƒœแƒ˜แƒ. แƒฎแƒแƒšแƒ แƒ™แƒแƒ แƒ’แƒ˜ แƒ—แƒแƒ•แƒ˜แƒกแƒ—แƒแƒ•แƒแƒ“ แƒ™แƒแƒ แƒ’แƒ˜แƒ. แƒแƒ แƒชแƒ”แƒ แƒ—แƒ˜ แƒฃแƒ แƒ—แƒ˜แƒ”แƒ แƒ—แƒแƒ‘แƒ แƒแƒ  แƒแƒ แƒ˜แƒก แƒกแƒแƒœแƒแƒœแƒ”แƒ‘แƒ”แƒšแƒ˜, แƒ แƒแƒช แƒจแƒ”แƒœแƒก แƒชแƒฎแƒแƒ•แƒ แƒ”แƒ‘แƒแƒจแƒ˜ แƒฎแƒ“แƒ”แƒ‘แƒ, แƒ’แƒแƒ›แƒแƒฉแƒœแƒ“แƒ”แƒ‘แƒ แƒ“แƒ แƒ›แƒแƒฎแƒ“แƒ”แƒ‘แƒ แƒงแƒ•แƒ”แƒšแƒ แƒฃแƒ แƒ—แƒ˜แƒ”แƒ แƒ—แƒแƒ‘แƒ แƒ“แƒแƒกแƒแƒคแƒแƒกแƒ”แƒ‘แƒ”แƒšแƒ˜แƒ แƒ—แƒฃ แƒ”แƒก แƒจแƒ”แƒœแƒ—แƒ•แƒ˜แƒก แƒ แƒแƒ›แƒ”แƒก แƒœแƒ˜แƒจแƒœแƒแƒ•แƒ“แƒ แƒ“แƒ แƒ›แƒœแƒ˜แƒจแƒ•แƒœแƒ”แƒšแƒแƒ•แƒแƒœแƒ˜ แƒ˜แƒงแƒ...




2024.06.7
แƒ แƒ แƒžแƒแƒกแƒฃแƒฎแƒก แƒ’แƒแƒกแƒชแƒ”แƒ›แƒ— แƒ—แƒฅแƒ•แƒ”แƒœ?
 2° 
Lillith
bad
i am bad
for wishing you'd message me
because
you're probably
talking to her.
i've told you before
i'll go
but somehow i come back
i'll go now,
properly
unless
nope nope nope, i know where this is going, and it needs to stop,
 2° 
Lucien
Every day
An overwhelming desire
Pushes me to
End it all right there
But every day
Iโ€™m dragged back
To the one reason I continue to live.
El placer de sufrir, de odiar, me tiรฑe
la garganta con plรกsticos venenos,
mas la cerda que implanta su orden mรกgico,
su grandeza taurina, entre la prima
y la sexta
y la octava mendaz, las sufre todas.

El placer de sufrir... ยฟQuiรฉn? ยฟa quiรฉn?
ยฟquiรฉn, las muelas? ยฟa quiรฉn la sociedad,
los carburos de rabia de la encรญa?
ยฟCรณmo ser
y estar, sin darle cรณlera al vecino?

Vales mรกs que mi nรบmero, hombre solo,
y valen mรกs que todo el diccionario,
con su prosa en verso,
con su verso en prosa,
tu funciรณn รกguila,
tu mecanismo tigre, blando prรณjimo.

El placer de sufrir,
de esperar esperanzas en la mesa,
el domingo con todos los idiomas,
el sรกbado con horas chinas, belgas,
la semana, con dos escupitajos.

El placer de esperar en zapatillas,
de esperar encogido tras de un verso,
de esperar con pujanza y mala poรฑa;
el placer de sufrir: zurdazo de hembra
muerta con una piedra en la cintura
y muerta entre la cuerda y la guitarra,
llorando dรญas y cantando meses.
 2° 
Flower
One moment you're alive
The next you're not
You never know
When you're reaching the end of your line

It could be moments away
Closer every second
Death reaching her cracked hand
To cut the string
That defines your very existence

We never know when we will die
I would rather live in the shadow of us,
than live in the daylight without you.
Follow me on Instagram: @incurable_poet ๐Ÿซถ๐Ÿป๐ŸŒป
Feels like a curse
An urge to work for
Getting more and more
Of things I can hardly
Enjoy anymore
I seriously need some vacations...
We never learn
Until it's too late
Until the price
Has been paid

We fill the jails
And lock the doors
While the problem
....Is ignored

Bribes are paid
Pulling the strings
Insuring consequences
That they bring

And the objectives
Of political platforms
Belong to Lobbyist
And citizens are ignored

And the poor
Are the victims of justice
A commodity of sorts
In corporate decisions
The biggest danger in Bible study
is not what I takenฬˆ out of
CONTENT
it's what's been taken out of
CONTEXT.
~
September 2025
HP Poet: irinia
Age: 47
Country: Romania


Question 1: We warmly welcome you to the HP Spotlight, irinia. Please tell us about your background?

irinia: "I live in a country with a difficult past, I have complicated memories of the XXth century. I studied foreign languages and literatures (English & German), British cultural studies, psychology and psychotherapy. I worked as a cultural journalist for some time, and as an English teacher for a decade. I love working as a psychotherapist, it is a humbling honour to get to know and be with people in a profound way. I am the mother of a spirited teenage daughter whom I am in love with. I am a highly sensitive person which is a blessing and a curse because I am often times moved by life in an intense way. I am from the Balkans so my taste in everything is rather eclectic."


Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

irinia: "I wrote my first poem as a teenager, and Iโ€™ve been writing since then discontinuously, whenever poetry came to me. There were periods of intense writing and also long periods of silence. It was difficult to see myself as a poet until relatively recent. On HP I've been since 2010 or 2011, I am not sure, I have to check my first post. This site and the community supported me to keep writing. I owe to HP the existence of my book of poetry called "Psychic retreat" published by Europe Books last year. Thank you Eliot for keeping HP running and thank you to all of you for keeping HP alive. I witnessed this community changing, growing, descending into chaos sometimes. I enjoy the diversity of styles."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

irinia: "I am inspired by everything that moves me, especially people, stories, the natural world, history. Poetry simply happens to me, words and images start pouring down in my mind, so I just write them down as they come. I donโ€™t rewrite or work with conscious intention on any poem because I donโ€™t have time to be a โ€žseriousโ€œ writer, who has the discipline and toil of writing. At some point poetry started coming to me in English, perhaps because my readings were mostly in English. I think poetry is a way of containing or transforming my emotional processes as for me poetry happens in the presence of feelings, and I am also observing a tendency to be more reflexive or abstract as if when I write there is a witness inside. I feel more and more that I am interested in writing about politics and society too."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

irinia: "It means a lot, I am afraid it is difficult to capture it into words. The poetry of other people touches me deeply, fascinates me, gives me the feeling of awe. It was my constant companion, it was a mirror, I found out about myself through resonance with other poets. Poetry captures the depth of life, our dreams, struggles, aspirations, our joy and our pain, creates alternative worlds from words. It captures the pulse of inner reality while it also mystifies it. It is a space of freedom and play for me. It is a protest. It is an attempt at destroying and recreating the world captured in normal language and used concepts. It is perhaps a measure of our humanity, vulnerability, resilience."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

irinia: "I will start with William Shakespeare as I love his use of language and wit. I love Japanese haiku poetry, their ineffable simplicity is mesmerizing. There are many poets that I adore: Rumi, Wallace Stevens, Walt Whitman, Pablo Neruda, Charles Bukowski, William Blake, Robert Browning, T.S. Elliot, the English and German Romantic poets, Nichita Stฤƒnescu (Romania), Ana Blandiana (Ro), Florin Iaru (Ro), Mircea Cฤƒrtฤƒrescu (Ro), Ioana Ieronim (Ro), Gellu Naum (Ro), Nora Iuga (Ro), Paul Celan, Mary Oliver, David Whythe, Anne Sexton, Tibor Zalan (Hungary), Jean-Pierre Simรฉon (a wonderful poet), Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Ana Akhmatova, Viktor Neborak (Ukraine), Marjana Savka (Ukraine), Hrytsko Chubai (Ukraine), John Oโ€™Donohue, Rachel Bluwstein, Yehuda Amichai, Nathan Zach, Wislawa Szymborska (Poland), Mahmud Darwish (Palestine), John Donne, Friedrich Hรถlderlin, Reiner Maria Rilke, Joseph Brodsky, Marina Tzvetaeva, Octavio Paz, Garcia Lorca, Giuseppe Ungaretti, Primo Levi."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

irinia: "I love art in all forms, it moves me and it bemuses me, it stimulates my creativity. I love photography and taking photos, I attended courses in my youth. I am fascinated by cosmos and cosmology, I love physics. I love stand-up comedy, music, dancing, hiking on the mountains. I am interested in history, I am fascinated by the becoming of the world. I am fascinated by the individual and collective psyche, I think this is something that has left a mark on my poetry."


Carlo C. Gomez: โ€œWe would like to thank you irinia, we really appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! It is our pleasure to include you in this Spotlight series!โ€

irinia: "Many thanks to Carlo for this series and to you all for being here!"




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know irinia better. We most certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. โ€“ Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #32 in October!

~
 2° 
Murray Roberts
You are beautiful;
Your T-shirt says "religion":
Everything makes sense.
You say I'm childish
For freely professing
All the words that are
Etched on my heart

As if I had any
Other choice but to
Be buried by them
I'd much rather to be childish...
 1° 
girlinflames
When I read
poems from the past,
I barely understand them.

I try, yesโ€”
but they are minds
from another time.

It takes time
to connect with them.

Then I imagine myself:
will they, in the future,
read the poems I write to you
and understand
anything at all?
 1° 
paul sheridan
who doesnโ€™t like eating out
it beats cooking
and thereโ€™s no washing up
 1° 
Nat Lipstadt
I skip, across a streaming, upon random~laid
flat and comfortable flat flagstone stepping stones,
from poet to poet, color to color, poem to poem,
Auden to Whitman, Schuyler to
myself, a dingaling notion, an errant word,
the here to there, all randoms, yet,
oval chain linked all,
a question posed, an answer unknown,
a reference to an old Italian myth,
and there, and here, a body,
comes to rest,
& also,
comes to restโ€ฆ

<>

led not by the nose, but the single fingered
tip that guides across a landscape patterned
painting, lost but never a loser, each implants,
each imbibes, and the H&H^ alternatively
rumbles, pounds, vibrato burns erratically,
and the difference between a life in love,
and a life in poetry,
is not a line dividing,
but a path combining,
and the only sign
upon the road,
is never a reddened "stop!"

always just a soft lavender, so tender, inquiring,
requiring, deep thoughts and reckless abandonment,
the only guide inspired when ecstatic adrift in
a season, a sea, any one of nature's designed
unlimited
schemata's of vista creations,
      is this, simply stated:


What?
<>

postscript

6:27 Sabbath Sep 27
nyc
after a sunrise glorious, where
the windows eastern facing
make an irresistible irrational
pattern of golden yellow reflecting,
mirrors, and
after reading much,
and so I too, reflect, vista, vista,
what do you see, I seeโ€ฆWhat?

after reading a poem by James Schuyler,
entitled (yes, we are)
"What"^^
^ abbrev. for Heart & Head,
also, H&H, a  "dairy" restaraunt, on second ave.,  where I lunched,  in the Village in 1960's, when it was NYC's   drugs, rock n' roll mecca
of cheap rents, fashion, and West 4th St folk rock, the Village Voice,
a coating of many colored ethnicities
and still there(!) as "health restaurant"

^^ https://wikipoem.org/2017/12/19/what-by-james-schuyler/
 1° 
Kaitied
She no longer soars
Agony in every stroke
She beats broken wings
 1° 
Elena M
if you see my poems
that define your name,
but I donโ€™t read them to youโ€”
Iโ€™m not being rude,
Iโ€™m not ignoring you,
I love you so much
that you can read
each poem
right from my eyes.
 1° 
ZACK GRAM
Weeks ago I had no idea it was the rapture everyone said nothing happened but unknowingly I went to sleep that night for 5 years and woke up and it was only the next day ....
It really happened Mariah knows im not lying... God works in mysterious ways.....  I had no idea it was the rapture but it happened the same day and I  went into a coma except I documented it..
Wrath
 1° 
lana
i cant bring myself to apologize for something
iโ€™m not sorry for
i used to then
but not anymore
 1° 
Mark Bell
I miss my friend
He came to the end
He was good at one
Liners and silly phrases,
Now in the ground heโ€™s
Pushing up daises.
I miss my friend
He was full of life
But then look on the bright side
Im now with his wife.
Always a good ending
From a sad story
Life for me
is hunky dory.
Hey **.
raised voice, the slow crumble of
my own self worth, they grabbed
me and screamed into my face.
"You could never understand!"
Maybe you're right,
but I know one thing.

you didn't need to hit me
to have been abusive.
I've sat on this poem for a while, not wanting it connected to my name. It's one thing to admit a relationship went sour, or sensitive feelings, but I always struggled to say the big A towards one of them. This is me taking that power from them, refusing to be quiet about something that cut so deep. Abuse is a deservingly strong word for that entire relationship, and I refuse to dance around it anymore.
 1° 
JRF
Northern Lights

I saw them the other night
Just beyond my doorstep
In the still of the night

Dimly lit streetlights couldnโ€™t smother them
There they were
Dancing and walking across
The night sky.

What a marvel.
Here in this place
right now.
 1° 
Natasha
Iโ€™m sorry for letting you down
Our life is not what I wanted it to be
I have discovered something wonderful
Live within yourself to survive
The world is better inside
Where you can control everything
 1° 
Liz Volker
My heart longs for the slow paced life,
found in the cadence of the porch swing.
Wrapped in a blanket, nestled into you
while my red panted toes gently press
into the dry and worn porch boards
that creek as we sway,
while we talk and watch the fireflies
at the end of each day.
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