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I have a negative outlook on love
It's too much trouble to pursue
I'm trying so ******* hard
But I'm invisible
And you're intangible
I can hold you through every night
And you'll look through me
It doesn't matter what you try and say
This is how you've made me feel
This is how I see love now.
I'm so in love with you.
A love that's breaking me
A love that I want to work
A love I don't want to give up on.
Maybe if I give up on you
I'll be visible.
Maybe if I give up now
You'll want me.
But probably not
So I'll just keep loving you until it puts me at the edge of life and death
And walk away so broken giving up will be easy.
I wish you wanted me the way that I want you.
But in real life, wishes don't usually come true.
Love has to be tended....Like a garden...
Without watering, it dies...
As the weeks pass and I don't see you...
I don't speak to you...
I don't know you anymore. ..
Time pulls love apart...
I miss you but mostly miss what we had...
What I thought we had...
You continue living your life and I get farther away...

Will you notice when I'm gone?

E.J.M.
October 20, 2014   8:40a.m.

On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did.  Why?

Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much!

But that is the core of the HP family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, and the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites.

One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes.

We will keep trying.

Richard Riddle
copyright: October 20, 2014
Icicles hang from the cannons of my love
The bridge was taken , lost , and retaken
Many times before it was blown up

Now ice lays at the bottom ,
my forkless will
Cold rock kisses freeze lips
Brushable embraces hide their warmth

The harsh abandoned illusions
Come cold chested to breathe
Sparrows come reciting Bible verses

They flutter leaving debris
Of fractured nominclatures
Destined not to be

If I fire the cannon's of love
The icicles will shatter
****** to the ground of loud booms

But no one will hear
The shattering of hearts
Nor catch the falling icicles

Still the icicles remain
On the cannons of love
For all time
it loomed like a ghost in the falling day.

an hour past the town on the way
the old man's eyes bore surprise

i wouldn't advise it, sir, not wise
waking them up is no sport

they who're sleeping in the dead men's fort.


All along i've been a phasmophobic
they ceased never to rule my head
lurking in nooks and under my bed.

it sounds nice to talk about spirits and souls
but at nights when hollows of burning coals
mistily appear and not in a dream
choke me out of scream
to that terror i fall an abject slave.

but my companion on that dusk was brave
looking at those eerily towering spires
he said let's try meeting a few vampires.

there was no door opening with a creak
but inside was a musty dark hole
where daylight made a quick retreat
as if to let the dead peacefully stroll.

we climbed up stairs strewn with dry leaves
amid sensing a storm brewing on the wing
for the awakened dead in anger seethes
to have their rest broken by the living.

soon swept us a gale of the squeaking dead
driving us out of that well occupied well
surely startled by the intruders' raid
the winged vampires were fleeing like hell.
a true story, my cover photo is the place where it happened.
Zindagi ko jina sikh lo,
Zindagi se ladna sikh lo,
Hausla rakho sabse uper,
Zindagi me jitna sikh lo,

Bana do apni ek alag pahachan,
Naam wahi par kam alag **
Visva me tumhara ** ek alag kirtimaan,
Karke apne kul ko rausan,
hansna aur hansana sikh lo,
Zindagi ko jina sikh lo,

Dikha do duniya ko
Kanto jaisi raho par chalkar,
Pa lo apni manzil ko
Ek misaal bankar,
Etihas ke panno pe
apni pahchan likh do,
Safal hokar jeevan me tum
Zindagi ko jina sikh lo,
Zindagi ko jina sikh lo....
TRANSLATION FIRST PHRASE :-
Learn to live in life,
Learn to fight from life,
be courageous top,
Learn to win in life,

This poem dedicated to student like me.
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