Great poems - Hello Poetry

Mar 2016

Matthew Berkshire

Our humanity does not lie in our goodness,
but rather it exists within our flaws,
for it's our flaws that make us interesting,
and it was because of this that I found
my aunt to be the most interesting person in the world;
for she was flawed in the most exquisite ways.

She was nothing short of a legend in my family.
Her deeds were not spoken of in day-light,
but whispered about late evenings
amidst closely clustered kitchen tables.

I remember hearing lurid tales:
she's been married twenty times -
she's been arrested before -
she's knocked out a boy's front teeth.

I never knew if these tales were true or not,
and I hope to never find out either.

I'll believe them; I'll believe in HER -
as she believed in me before:
as she believed in love and excess.
We talked shortly before her death,
What good is a life without regrets?

Patricia Berkshire let the wings of angels bear thee to thy rest 3/29/2016

#sadness #death #loss #flaws #beauty #sorrow #family #believe #memorial #aunt

Mar 2016

Sisilia

Just Smile

'Just smile'- she said to me, just smile
And so i did...For her,
For 6 years my smiles were forever genuine,
For 6 years and only 6 years was i happy to be apart of this world,
For 6 years oh how my smile was genuine.
However, Little did i know that those 6 years were only a tease of happiness,
Little did i know that my genuineness was to be replaced with a cold façade.
6 years gone in a blink within only a night.
When 'he' came in and took my innocence with him,
'Just smile' she said just smile.
And so i did. For her
12 years i stand here smiling without emotion,
12 years i stand here smiling without the women who had given me such a demand,
12 years i stand here smiling when she never stood by her own words,
12 years i stand here hurting,
6 years stolen and never returned
12 years of keeping a constant, hard façade,
Praying for a change in the future years,
For i still stand here smiling, yes i'm just smiling.......
For me.

#Smile a genuine smile. #for yourself

Mar 2016

Sally A Bayan

...nature's clock...

...5 X 5...

Rooster prepares for early waking
content with just chicken napping
breathless: wings are powerfully flapping
each morning, weird song playing
waking us with endless crowing.

Sally

Copyright 2014
Rosalia Rosario A, Bayan

...it is just after midnight, the neighbor's rooster, roosted on a guava branch, starts flapping its wings, gathering air and strength, for in a few hours, it would sing its morning hymn...

Mar 2016

katie

Paper skin

With a
thin sheet
of skin we cover
each limb,
bury
the heart
beneath flesh
& hope for
the best,
but the cracks
still come, air finding
its way in via
eardrums,
lungs,
then finally
a soul & you know
when you see
them, more
paper
than
people, you
look in their eyes
& don't see hopes
& dreams but
city streets,
industrial
skylines,
no sign of sun
coming over the
horizon.

Mar 2016

Pax

ashen smog

loneliness has defined
this old soul.
Bittersweet melody
has tuned my way of
living.

I don't know how much
my heart could stand
the weight and wait
for that simple moment,
that single spark
to feel alive
and stop breathing
the ashen smog of reality.

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1410725/ashen-fields/
from ashen gray to ashen fields
comes, ashen smog...

do they care if I'm loved?

perhaps I'm too comfortable on my
own space and too confined to be bothered.

thank you for reading,
me...

#love #feelings #life #alive #reality #live #spark #smog #confined #ashen

Mar 2016

Sourodeep

Just being Lazy !

If necessity is the mother of invention
then killing time is the mother of **discovery

Well, I am a staunch believer of this phenomenon !
and that I am pretty jobless at my workplace today :)

#procrastination #lazy #jobless #nothingtodo

Mar 2016

Jake muler

Sad world money blues

Money makes the world go round, that is sad.

Mar 2016

Onoma

Accolades of Rebirth

Wisps of fog dragged
upon the ground, as errant
raindrops bided gray time.
Eyes fixed afield, sharing
an inertness that revitalized
our gray matter.
Robins and blackbirds scattered
their weightless will upon the
damp field.
As nearly imperceptible twinges of
sunlight interrupted the air, then
vanished.
This occurred in confidences, everytime the sunlight gained
upon itself.
The fog began burning off in
decrepid scraps...put asunder
by the field's thundering
anticipation.
The fog was lifted to spring's hierarchies of light...as blackbirds
electrified puddles in a flurry of
wings.
Spraying droplets of water
adorning the sunlight, then flying to
a favored branch shaking dry.
Eyes fixed afield, I was showered below
by accolades of rebirth.