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swan glides through the mist,  

rippling glass of tranquil lakes,  

nature's breath in peace.
St Paul's feast day today we get a public holiday ❣️
Here I am,
making a fool of myself,
just to see you smile.
love's bright burst ignites,  

apologies in the night,  

lust fades with dawn's light.
Good morning again beautiful poets of hellopoetry. Already posted and deleted, hate when I wake up so unsure of myself, I feel it's going to be one of those days... but anyway much love ❣️
I don’t need your time.
I have you in my head, heart, and soul.
But if you have nothing better to do,
I would never mind your time.
“If only… in some other universe, we had every waking minute for one another.”
When you don’t want to disturb your busy loved-ones.
In that kiss, all is known,
A universe in love is sown.
Infinite Touch 06/02/2025 © All Rights Reserved by Jamil Hussain
and where he lives
his favorite color cobalt
blue, the bars he'd visited,
and the few women he went

there with. I know his breathing
when he sleeps is uneven and
the secrets that he keeps. Because
he talks in his sleep. I know

the musk he wears, and
that he hasn't underwear in his
bedroom drawers, just a bunch of
mismatched socks. I know the

pounds he can bench, his favorite
food, Indian. And who he voted for
president. I know his name. But today
as he walked by he didn't stop or say hi.
Virile salty drops fall on the hard gym floor,
    but the stud’s not crying
          among the 20 kilo plates and olympic bars:
    Andrew's sweating out one handed press-ups.
He might pull the wool over
    his bright clear blue red-blooded eyes,
          but this hunk’s core knows – he's lying.
Thoughts on toxic masculinity and male vulnerability.
Andrew is pretending that he is a hard man who doesn't cry but in reality the salty drops are tears not sweat, hence Andrew's he-man exterior is a lie.
Line 4 - Andrew's is a contraction of "Andrew is" and not the genitive case.
Line 6 Red-blooded is both the redness of his eyes (because he is crying) and a play on red-blooded as in macho.
The ambiguity of the poem reflects the disconnect between Andrew's inner feelings and external lifestyle.
Winter sun
kissed by the breeze
shakes the limbs
of starveling trees
wakes the bones
of each bare bough
and tells the spring
it’s not long now
*Finnish for awaken
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