Best of Hello Poetry - Hello Poetry

Apr 2016

Mark Parker

Grapes of Wrath, Vintage 1939

A battered head,
a bleeding brow,
washed in silence.
This is a prayer
for the victims
of ignorant violence.

You don't know when it started,
you began feeling half-hearted.
The peace within is broken,
you want speak but your choking.
And you can't let it go,
never be unspoken.
Often you're left in stitches,
yet your soul is worth untold riches.

A dusty street,
where the children meet
that have no alliance.
This is a prayer
for the sufferers
of ignorant violence.

One day they're safe, then they're not,
wars are not what we sought.
Explosions only leave what you believe,
while the helpless mothers grieve,
crying for help from God.
The angels aren't coming,
their sounds are leading to nothing.

This is a prayer
for the shattered vagabonds.

My grandfather was an old Okie thrown from his home who joined the military and became a front line engineer during the end of WW2 and continued to work in the middle east and Africa until he retired. From the day I knew him until the day he died, his fridge was stacked fuller than a supermarket. He said make sure everyone eats at the very least. It was the most important thing to him that everyone ate. He smacked one of my cousins upside the head one time for taking food away from a younger family member.

#god #alcohol #angel #help #angels #wealth #violence #ignorant #riches

Apr 2016

strawberry fields

spring broken

woke with hypothermic and shaky skin
a thought: we are made of street lamps
and damp grass feet dripping dew tonight

we live in the color blue under electric moon
and my skin and clothes will be lined up
on top of the dresser for you to sink your teeth in later

my hands are cold in their lipping grasps but your
hips are warm, and desert breathes dragonfly
and smells of chlorine, our legs kaleidoscope

in the pool's reflection.
i am still cold, i am still in spring breaks
broken and inviting your scent back in my life.

this girl and i went a little off during break

Apr 2016

r

Lanterns of the lost miners

Last night I woke up
to the light of 1000
dead children from other
places where faces have
forgotten how to smile
in ***** white shirts
and smudged skirts
holding up lanterns
like lost miners looking
for answers in a dark hole.

You know the world is a sad place when the Pope Instagrams a request for our prayers.

@franciscus

#franciscus #prayforme

Apr 2016

r

Blackfly blues

When the dark days come
and a man searches
for high ground

like a lost explorer,
a man going nowhere,

a wanderer with no ballad,

a man who dreams
to the beat of the dark
night's drum

playing light
of the moon, yet
out of tune

like the gloom only a poet
feels alone in a cold room.

For a friend who has the blackfly blues. Tomorrow is a new sun.

#blackflyblues

Apr 2016

Dylan

Love, I'm Lost

Love, I'm lost in typhoons scattered
to the fiercely rising wind,
where currents flow together
throwing my heart into a spin.
Now my mind is getting dizzy
from loops of ragged thought
as I follow what I see,
but what I do is not enough.
Go and strip me of my senses.
Scrub this essence to the core.
Deconstruct these walls and fences
with ruthless promises of more.

Love, I'm lost to tidal tempests
with emotions as the sea
crashing huge and reckless,
flooding every part of me.
Now my resolution's blurry.
I don't know what I've got.
My stomach's churning worry
to a frantic endless knot.
Go and ease this journey.
Build an island from my bone
reinforce it with some mercy,
where no one has to be alone.

Love, I'm lost to wildfires burning
up and down the golden coast,
destroying years of learning,
consuming what I love the most.
My lungs are getting heavy
from sighs and acrid smog,
from preciousness gifted already
to ungrateful, petty mobs.
Now I'm getting cold and numb
to the tragedies I see.
I'm stunned deaf and dumb,
and that ain't how it should be.
I'll go and get the shovel first.
Then dig a hole somewhere within.
Deep enough to be immersed
in the fountain 'neath my skin.

Love, I'm lost in my own universe,
and don't know if I'll see you again.

Apr 2016

TERRY REEVES

COMFORT 1

I WANT YOU - I'M HERE AS ALWAYS,
LET'S THINK OF YOUR DAY TODAY - THEY SAY
THAT A WALK IN THE SUN IS GOOD, CAST
OTHER THINGS ASIDE - I KNOW YOU CRIED.

I KNOW THAT YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO;
ANNE TALKS SO MUCH THAT I NEARLY MISSED THE GULF WAR,
YOU SEE, WE HAVE TO DEAL - I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL,
HOW DO I KNOW? I'VE BEEN THERE, I'VE FELT LOW.

I'LL WRITE A WORD NOW AND THEN - IF I
HEARD YOU CRY - PICK UP 'COMFORT,' YOU'LL KNOW
I'M THERE - YOU'LL SAY: 'WHAT WOULD YOU DO?
I SAY: 'THINK OF GREEN AND RED - NO MORE BLUE.

THINK OF ORANGE AND PINK - HOW NICE YOU LOOK,
YOU'LL WONDER WHY JUST HOW LONG IT TOOK.'

#think #wait #deal

Apr 2016

nivek

10w % water

you will evaporate
in the end;
cloud riding blue skies

Apr 2016

TERRY REEVES

PLAYING WITH WORDS

WHAT DO YOU GET IF YOU CROSS A ******
WITH AN ESKIMO? ANSWER: YOU GET A MASSIVE
VASSAL WITH A PASSIVE TASSEL AND A FRIGID
****** WITH WITH A RIGID DIGIT. COLD COMFORT.

DO YOU LIKE IT IN CIDER? THERE WAS A BIG
BLACK HAIRY SPIDER WHICH CHASED JUSTIN G.,
DON'T YOU SEE THAT'S SO COOL - SO APRIL FOOL!
OF THE NILE A JEWEL, NOW I'LL DROOL AT YOUR POOL.

I MUST BE EMOTIONALLY OFF COURSE, OF COURSE
IT'S NICE TO EXPAND YOUR HORIZON, PUT EYES ON
DIFFERENT THINGS, DIG INTO WHAT'S BENEATH, YOU
MAY NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT'S ABOVE YOU UNTIL
SOMEBODY SAYS THAT THEY LOVE YOU.

LET'S HAVE SOME NO SADNESS, LOTS OF GLADNESS
EVEN THO' THERE MAY BE **** IN MY MADNESS.

#fool #cool #april

Apr 2016

Javier Garza

Family

Daddy said to love him, all it would take was a touch
To not disappoint him, a kiss would do
That to be a man, first you have to know how to please one
If not, then he'd tell mommy and she'd hate me

Mommy drinks her days away
Doesn't see when daddy's too rough, when daddy leaves marks
Mommy's too busy seeing the pretty colors I can't see
Says the happy pills are our little secret,
That the silver water is to help her heal;
Tells me to go bother my big brother instead

My big brother,
Oh he's always ignored
Not even when he comes home with trophies and medals do they care
They don't even see the slices on his wrists...
Or maybe they just don't care
Maybe that's why big brother decided to watch me from above
Maybe that's why big brother gave me one last hug, one last 'I love you'
Before he closed his eyes for the last time
To sleep the eternity away

As for me
Oh the years have passed but I still have a smile on my face
Daddy's in prison being treated like how he treated me
Now he'll know how to please a man, I know I do

Mommy's six feet under
The pretty colors were too strong
The funny smoke didn't want to say good-bye
So it took mommy with it
And now neither can hurt my lungs nor my heart

But here I stand as I place flowers on the grave of my cowardly brother
How long did it take before it all became too much?
Did he please daddy too? Is that why daddy would beat and hate him?
Did he see the pretty colors like mommy? Is that why he fell in eternal slumber?
Or was he too weak to endure? To survive with the filth left from our parents?

Now I walk away, free of sin
Free of love
Free of pain
Now, I'm all that's left of my broken family...

Like daddy, I now yearn for the touch of a male, but a man, not a boy
Like mommy, I know see the pretty colors, but I'm not shackled like she was by them
And like my big brother I too have matching scars on my wrists

A depressing piece, but it's not like it's not something that doesn't actually happen. Life and can be cruel, especially when you try to hide it from others, and deny the ugliness. Don't be a coward, if you see abuse, do something about it. Maybe then society wouldn't be comprised of broken souls who hide from one another.

Apr 2016

woelita

What it's like to be touched when you've been a victim

“Tell me if it burns” you said
“Not after this” is what I want to say.
No, never.

But my mouth hasn’t moved.
46, 47, 48.
The seconds crawl like my skin
I haven’t spoken for almost a minute.
I smile,
the curve of my lips put you at ease.
Good.

“No, not at all.”
Your hand inches forward, fingers slim like sharpened knives
I am reminded of my mother’s favourite kitchen set.

“Keep going.”

Mar 2016

Emma Elisabeth Wood

Hip Bones

Old enough to know better but young enough not to care,

I hold onto you like water clings to rose petals

a heavy due

in the morning, we take coffee with cigarettes

we exhale, eyes watering

two smoke rings blending then disappearing into the

ether

a missed opportunity, passes

we are joined at the hip, hip bones grinding against each

other

and in these shattered bones we build

a fire, a house

a home

Mar 2016

Eminence Front

Inner Chaos

my most common pain;
the tear in eye;
when I get overtaken by emotions;
I can't describe;
everything seems so far off;
the peace of mind so slovenly cast;
the ire of self;
the music of my soul;
overwhelms everything else;
the clash of instruments;
symbols of my thoughts;
the large bonfire of passion;
that can't be tamed;
the love I feel for my breeze;
that can never be fulfilled;
the loneliness;
but...like with all things;
endings create new beginnings;
but I feel like;
I end everyday;
and the line is so blurred;
between start and finish;
a tidal wave;
no footprints left in the sand;
no footsteps to follow;
just a common cause;
and an uncommon burden;
no order in the misery of life;
no substance;
I want to wrap you in the shelter of my soul;
it aches for you;
a storm brews;
and lightning strikes;
with no sound of thunder;
a whirlwind;
the fury of gusts;
as dirt and sand and debris;
circle us, taunting;
demanding to be allowed;
to whisk us away;
with no restraints;
no direction;
just the splitting cuts;
of micro origins of glass;
rain;
to wash us clean;
the fear is, no matter how long I try;
this will never be complete;
no matter how strongly I feel;
I will never be able to put it to you;
fully;
so there's the issue my love;
I only want you to know;
that I have to try;
to embrace the chaos.

Mar 2016

The Dedpoet

Your Silhouette

The wind wears your body;
I open the curtains of your being,
My touch wears your skin,
The spectre of your silhouette
Is a ghost of my desire:

We tear the night apart.

#dedpoet

— The End —