Grown beneath the sun,
Holding the occasional rain drop,
Surrounded on all sides by companions.

Snip!

Cut off forever from nourishment,
Collected with a few companions,
No clue what the future will hold.

Moving swiftly through the air,
Higher than ever dreamed, but
Fearful of sky diving without a parachute.

Misted occasionally,
Attempting to maintain appearances,
Despite being starved of food.

Enduring more body-jolting aerial swoops,
Drowned in a swift waterfall,
Losing companions that did not maintain their appearance as deftly.

Chop, chop, chop!

Sliced into innumerable bits,
Wondering if life is over,
Now that one’s shape is forever lost.

Perfuming the air with a distinctive aroma,
Blending it with those already in the air,
From other small bits of greenery.

Fears realized at last:
Falling from a great height to the ground,
But falling on a soft cushion.

Smothered with white strings,
Rolled up tightly in the soft cushion,
No escape route possible.

Dying in the heat,
Spreading into the gooey whiteness,
Wondering what the point of it all was.

Eventually cooling down,
Being exposed to air once again,
And hearing (if it were only possible):

This is the best herb cheddar bread I’ve ever had!

Was the result worthy of the chives and Italian parsley’s sacrifice?
All who partook of the savoury goodness certainly believed it was!

writing the pain away
until my soul wont ache

and my sense of humor comes back
and I start seeing color in my day

because this black and white is hurting my eyes
and the lack of energy you're giving me is deceiving

Dear friends met through HP,
Not to be confused with antlered ones,
Despite the graceful beauty seen throughout your poems,
Or the fleetness of your fingers when messaging me.

I’ve appreciated everyone’s praise and comments on my poems,
But I especially want to thank the ones who’ve privately written,
Seeking to encourage me,
While knowing your kindness would be hidden.

It’s impossible to say if I would still be writing poetry today,
If it weren’t for your kindness.
While I wouldn’t know what was missing,
I’d likely be an emotional mess.

I’m very grateful for:
Your quickness to respond—the words often brighten my day and countenance!
Willingness to discuss anything—you’ve quickly reached confidant status.
Unique perspective on life, which I would likely never have encountered otherwise.
Genuine care for me as a person, not just a poet.

Truly, it would take more words than I have to do you justice, so I won’t attempt that Sisyphean task.
Instead, I’ll be forever grateful for what you’ve done for me, and try to pay it forward.
Perhaps others will also be inspired by your example, and welcome new poets as warmly into our community that is HP.

[Thanks, HP, for making everything from poem posting to private messaging available for free and free will donations—I might have never tried my hand at poetry if I’d had to pay to join!]

I am in love with poets
so unique
I can hardly keep a grip
poets are my lovers

incognito, hiding beneath, their songs

I hear you poet
I hear  you

can you hear me?

Due to what will never be:
Dishes that wash and put themselves away,
Lessons that squirrel themselves away into my brain,
Relationships that begin and mature through no effort of my own.

Character is developing within me:
Self-discipline,
Perseverance, and
Patience with a dose of selflessness.

So even if I grumble audibly,
I am grateful to what will never be,
For the character it is forcing into me.