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 Apr 22
Mr Xelle
The little leaves !
The blossom pushing life thru the wind!
You know how flowers bleed?
The Little steppers dance on your hea-eeeey-eeaaad!

So sweet
Better than a cotton candy ornament.
Honey !
Yellow jackets with transparent wings  on them
every Flower opens up for them
Every branch is holding pain for them
Why wouldn’t you taste and see that The Lord made it just for them.
I mean just for them !
(So what’s here for you ? )
(Bone of my bone flesh of my flesh what’s here for you?)
(What is sweeter then man that loves life? )
What is tasteful then a woman that takes times ?
Well…
The Lord isn’t he ?
(So what’s here for you )
Here I’ll help you
It begins with a breath and it ends with a relationship
 Apr 22
EJ Aghassi
this feeling that thrives
neither dead nor alive
is not something
to be taken lightly,

a cardinal sin
with no near end
begins, and there is
mostly
ruin left

for you and yours.
this feeling is different,
mostly if you let it,
like scraping down
the side of an
aluminum can

that's skyrocketing
towards some other
dimensional

depth, neither
approachable
nor
within the realm
of touch.
where has sense gone? where does it thrive? is it breathing? is it alive?
 Apr 22
A W Bullen
I swear
there was a garden here

before the breaking winter
won the blades of shorted glint

through hazy recollection
swims a watermark imprinted

of a simple tangled haven
at the shaking of the World
relieved to feel the Eden need still breathing
 Apr 22
A W Bullen
Seeing all

becoming

distant

Feeling time

giving, taking

seperating harmlessly

not longing for the velvet nothing.


Something
parsimonious

embittering
the marly glow

an antiquated
melancholy

speaks a name
I know
All in Time
 Apr 22
Kurt Philip Behm
Shepherds
of echo  
sirens
that call
Masters
of legend
trapped
in the Fall

Moonlight
on ice fields
whispering
still
Voices
stay buried
destiny’s
will

Sunlight
awakens
mountains
that sigh
Hidden on
summits
new answers
there hide

But with
every Spring
a melting
ensues
Flowing
life’s message
recalled
— and renewed

(Memories Of Absaroka: May, 1997)
 Apr 21
Ahmed Gamel
She looks just like a dream, the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,
Like a cover of a magazine, she shines, so serene.
Her eyes held a world that i couldn’t understand ,
A vision of beauty, slipping like sand.

I stood, caught in that fleeting, fragile space,
Where nothing was real, but I still gave chase.
She was the sun, I the fading moon,
In her light, I lost myself too soon.

"She looks like a dream," the words echo in my mind,
A perfect illusion, but no place for me to find.
I tried to fit, I tried to be whole,
But I didn’t belong—just a shadow, a soul.

I reached for her, but she slipped through my hands,
A face in a crowd, lost in distant lands.
I never showed her the depth I had inside,
I hid my true self—kept my heart denied.

And now I’m here, trapped in the past,
The dream’s a nightmare, and I’m outclassed.
I see her face, but she’s never near,
A memory, a ghost I hold dear.

The silence screams louder than words,
In my head, the pain echoes like birds.
I wonder, could I have made it right?
Or was I always meant to fade from sight?

This cage I built, too tight to breathe,
I locked myself in, no way to leave.
And now she’s gone—no touch, no sound,
Just an echo, a feeling, trapped and bound.

I dream of her, but she doesn’t see,
The boy I was, who could never be.
And so I stay, haunted by a face,
The prettiest dream, but I don’t fit in that place.

I wish I could forget, wish I could flee,
But every night, she’s all I see.
Trapped in the dream, with no way out,
Loneliness whispers, it’s all I’m about.
This poem is a reflection of love lost, a love that never truly came to be. It’s about the pain of being trapped in the memory of someone you could never fully reach, the regrets that linger long after the person is gone, and the suffocating feeling of not being able to move on. The dream-like quality of the poem contrasts with the harsh reality of unspoken feelings and missed opportunities. If you've ever felt that your heart belonged to someone who could never truly understand it, this poem is for you.
 Apr 19
Nishu Mathur
The sea is still today
It's cerulean blue and gold
I think of the thoughts it carries
Within its hidden folds.
Its touch is soft and gentle
It soothes the ache of years
But I wonder how many waves
Are made from fallen tears.
Dear everyone,

This is such a surprise! Thank you all for your likes, loves and responses. I have not been very active on Hello Poetry, but will get back in action soon. So much appreciated. Thank you Hello Poetry for selecting this as a daily. Thank you so much my friends and fellow poets for taking the time to read this poem of mine. It means the world to me.  Love to everyone **
Repentance is more than a one time event

It is beyond all of the words that you have spent

It begins at one time , matures and continues to grow

Repentance is a process
that has a beginning
without an ending to go
Green is the color of the steps in shangril-a ,
The hue of peace in a troubled mind ..
The carpet of the valley floor and the rugged-
divide ..
The weeping willows of childhood fantasy
Tall grass bordering the waterway ,
Definitions along the walkways that lead me home ...
Copyright April 4 , 2025 by Randolph L Wilson *All Rights Reserved
 Apr 18
Nick Moore
The wonder of
A bird’s nest,
Their songs, so beautiful,
Put the mind to the test.
How do they know?

"Oh, instinct."

The mystery
Of electricity,
What is it, truly?

"Well, it’s just... electricity."

Have you caught
A stranger's gaze,
Felt a friend’s name rise,
Only for them to call?
Yes! And?

"Coincidence."

Have you noticed –
No matter who’s in power,
The rich grow richer,
While the poor
Sink deeper?

"Are you a conspiracy theorist?"

All matter
Is merely energy condensed
To a slow vibration,
That we are all
One god consciousness
Experiencing itself subjectively,
There is no such thing as death

"Hippy ****"

And so we circle –
Words falling short,
Walls unbroken.
"All matter is merely energy condensed" is borrowed from a Bill Hicks show.
Heart of gold,
Your hands grow cold.

Heart of gold,
This is not the end.

Heart of gold,
You are invincible.

Your memory will be,

𝐸𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙.
 Apr 18
Carlo C Gomez
South coast days on end

The ante meridiem
Married to summer

People in constant motion

To the merry-go-round we go
To the merry-go-round we go

In the center
Like the mobile over my bed

Where the heart beats
Where our eyes see in teleidoscope

Inside the lines are brighter
And wider and envelop

The journey in itself
Is the gift
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