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I wandered deep where the night forgets,
Through shadowed doors in silken nets.
The moon wore masks of grinning gold,
And time stood still, yet centuries old.

A ticking cage inside my head,
Whispered secrets the silence fed.
My thoughts were birds with backward wings,
They sang of clocks and burning springs.

A mirrored sky began to weep,
Each teardrop birthing eyes that sleep.
They watched me dance on fractured glass,
While hours curled like blades in grass.

The forest breathed in riddled verse,
Each leaf a curse, each root a hearse.
I asked the wind, “What path is mine?”
It answered, “All, and none, in time.”

The stars spelled names I’d never known,
Carved deep in dreams not quite my own.
I kissed the lips of reason's ghost,
And drank with fear—a maddened host.

Yet when I woke, the world was sane,
But something laughed behind my brain.
It wore my voice, it knew my face—
And left me tethered in its place.
dream insanity
 Apr 29
badwords
I did not rise.
I unburied.

Fingernail by fingernail,
from beneath the collapsed arches of who I thought I was.

There was no anthem.
Only the slow recognition
that the sky still ached for me,
even after I forgot how to look up.

And there—
in the first true clearing,
where the ashes no longer smoked but simply were—
stood a figure.

Not a savior.
Not a siren.
Not a cure.

A mirror, carried in human hands.
A lighthouse, burning not with rescue, but with recognition.

She.

She did not find me.
I found myself,
and there she was—
already waiting.

Not as prize,
but as witness.
Not to my ruin,
but to the slow architecture
of something holy rising from it.

She touched my hand, once.
Lightly.
And the earth did not tremble.
I did not fall.

Instead, the bones beneath my skin hummed
with the strange, quiet music
of being known—and still free.

I realized then:
I had not been climbing out of the past to reach her.
I had been climbing to reach myself.

She simply stood at the gates,
smiling like someone who had seen the stars rebuild themselves before.
 Apr 28
Harry Gione
I wish I was a poet
But I'm just another person who learned that putting the letters of the alphabet together, forms words.
 Apr 27
Blue Sapphire
We don't know each other,
We have not seen each other.
Yet, we are bound together
by an invisible thread of emotions
in this world of words .

Together we stand ,
   with each other ,
    for each other.
A humble tribute to all the members of our beloved Hello Poetry family.
 Apr 25
Immortality
They still carry love,
from lives once lived,
walking paths with
belief in destiny.

Their love so surreal,
kissed by every wound.

She cloaked in petals,
with a bleeding heart.

Just as tree waits
for spring to bloom,
he waits for her,
to heal him.
'Love is immortal'
An eternal love between her and her past lover, waiting to entwine again.
 Apr 23
Prevost
The nakedness of spring
We were raw and ******
What the winter had drawn from us
Went into hibernation

Turning the soil was fresh
It placed us back into
The lineage of mother farmer
Of both love and dying
The scent of being human

I always dreamed that she had dark hair
And brown eyes
Her dress would be of summer
Standing at the end of the field
Free of undergarments
And bleeding into the earth

We would lunch on grass salad
I would crave her lips with every bite
But dreams are blind
 Apr 22
irinia
Books we've never read are opening for us.
Towns shimmer in the night air.
Cold dawns. Warm autumn train stations.
The roads turn like pages. Eyes reddened by wind.

Nothing now but the bookmark of a horizon.
You hold my little finger tightly.
Dew prints ellipses on our path;
Later, coppery shadows line the grass.

The day's reborn. I yearn for longer books.
The Lord plays his music on the wind's viola.
We are as pure and strange as Sanskrit words.
We greet the sun, whom we resemble.

by Marjana Savka
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