yonah-jeong-4 - Hello Poetry

If there is a parting in my love, No wound Will ever torment my love My love will not turn away from you and me Parting will not become a bridge But a flowing river Between you and me.

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2h ago

Jun 4, 2026 at 10:30 AM UTC

If There Is a Parting in My Love

If there is a parting in my love, No wound Will ever torment my love My love will not turn away from you and me Parting will not become a bridge But a flowing river Between you and me.

7

It protects the wounds on the body heals the wounds on the body seals the wounds on the body absorbs the wounds on the body soothes the wounds on the body and removes the wounds on the body Today, for the woman next door who is heartbroken after losing her young daughter Ellis bought a Band-Aid at the pharmacy to put on her chest and is walking toward that silent house.

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3h ago

Jun 4, 2026 at 9:22 AM UTC

The Band-Aid of Love

It protects the wounds on the body heals the wounds on the body seals the wounds on the body absorbs the wounds on the body soothes the wounds on the body and removes the wounds on the body Today, for the woman next door who is heartbroken after losing her young daughter Ellis bought a Band-Aid at the pharmacy to put on her chest and is walking toward that silent house.

11

mist, mystery, marble than ordinary evil things to the world teach, take, and think.

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19h ago

Jun 3, 2026 at 5:29 PM UTC

Writing

mist, mystery, marble than ordinary evil things to the world teach, take, and think.

4

As buildings in Manhattan sprang up like mushrooms, seagulls on a journey gradually lost their way or, disoriented, crashed into glass walls, fell to the ground, were trampled or burned, and vanished into the dust of the landfill The streets overflowed with cars, and the light on the Hudson River grew dim. Amid the deafening noise, the seagulls, startled by gunfire, stopped from venturing into Manhattan. Even as time passes, a few seagulls still appear morning and evening, picking up bread crumbs tossed by employees of run-down shops and scraps of food thrown by heartbroken drunks. Even today the seagulls of Manhattan survive as they pass by.

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22h ago

Jun 3, 2026 at 1:57 PM UTC

Manhattan Seagulls

As buildings in Manhattan sprang up like mushrooms, seagulls on a journey gradually lost their way or, disoriented, crashed into glass walls, fell to the ground, were trampled or burned, and vanished into the dust of the landfill The streets overflowed with cars, and the light on the Hudson River grew dim. Amid the deafening noise, the seagulls, startled by gunfire, stopped from venturing into Manhattan. Even as time passes, a few seagulls still appear morning and evening, picking up bread crumbs tossed by employees of run-down shops and scraps of food thrown by heartbroken drunks. Even today the seagulls of Manhattan survive as they pass by.

23

The greatest race one where every horse can run its best A race where conditions are adjusted according to the condition of the horse and rider Heavier loads for the exceptional competitors Lighter loads for those who are less prepared Taxes A thrilling race For that beautiful life.

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1d ago

Jun 3, 2026 at 11:14 AM UTC

Handicap Race

The greatest race one where every horse can run its best A race where conditions are adjusted according to the condition of the horse and rider Heavier loads for the exceptional competitors Lighter loads for those who are less prepared Taxes A thrilling race For that beautiful life.

10

Love is a rock Love is a rain shower Love is mist Love is a cloud Love is last year’s calendar Love is a thief’s glove Love is the present of the future Love is the roots of a tree in a *** Love is a new path in a life that holds nothing new.

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1d ago

Jun 3, 2026 at 9:10 AM UTC

A Song of Love

Love is a rock Love is a rain shower Love is mist Love is a cloud Love is last year’s calendar Love is a thief’s glove Love is the present of the future Love is the roots of a tree in a *** Love is a new path in a life that holds nothing new.

9

Who is the president who kept the promise made that day to the very end? Were they our masters, or our servants? Today is a day to consider these two questions.

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1d ago

Jun 2, 2026 at 3:26 PM UTC

While watching the grand parade

Who is the president who kept the promise made that day to the very end? Were they our masters, or our servants? Today is a day to consider these two questions.

9

Tomatoes Watermelon Cantaloupe A small, old cabin surrounded by vines As the breeze blows in from the bamboo grove far away I sit on the edge of days gone by and murmur like an elevator chime— only my soliloquy heard by no one spreads out toward you.

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2d ago

Jun 2, 2026 at 11:44 AM UTC

A Cabin

Tomatoes Watermelon Cantaloupe A small, old cabin surrounded by vines As the breeze blows in from the bamboo grove far away I sit on the edge of days gone by and murmur like an elevator chime— only my soliloquy heard by no one spreads out toward you.

14

At that moment as the sunset erases the buildings and conceals the old houses shops and streets crowds that had already vanished are gathering walking working without shadows without fear and without thought.

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2d ago

Jun 2, 2026 at 9:25 AM UTC

The Plaza of Time

At that moment as the sunset erases the buildings and conceals the old houses shops and streets crowds that had already vanished are gathering walking working without shadows without fear and without thought.

14

Until now, no matter how beautiful a poem I came across, I never underlined it. But recently, I’ve started doing so. If you love something, you should leave a mark. But the truth is, when I’m lost in a poem, I don’t even notice the underlines. A mark. It’s my beautiful mother tongue, which I’ve finally had the chance to reconnect with. Yesterday, I discovered the word “consistently”—a word that is not only beautiful but also precious. Discovery: it’s the feeling of realizing something was right beside me all along, yet I didn’t even know it was there. I think love is like that, too. Thank you.

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2d ago

Jun 1, 2026 at 5:56 PM UTC

A Trace of Love

Until now, no matter how beautiful a poem I came across, I never underlined it. But recently, I’ve started doing so. If you love something, you should leave a mark. But the truth is, when I’m lost in a poem, I don’t even notice the underlines. A mark. It’s my beautiful mother tongue, which I’ve finally had the chance to reconnect with. Yesterday, I discovered the word “consistently”—a word that is not only beautiful but also precious. Discovery: it’s the feeling of realizing something was right beside me all along, yet I didn’t even know it was there. I think love is like that, too. Thank you.

1