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 Mar 27
Zeno
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I don't know what I was looking for,
in the honey draped lights flashing
in my eyes
And the sound of music
that keeps on playing and playing

And the wind that laps over my face
as the world turns,
Like horses running on axis,
weaving through the lines of shadow
and fireworks
And in their trail, I found
stardust that shimmers and shimmers

I found it confusing sometimes
In the endless mirrors and lights
that spirals in my mind
Like vines coiled around poles
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And the looming sweetness that lingers,
like pink foam swirling in my mouth

I smiled towards the dying sunset,
thinking it would last forever
I try not to close my eyes
and not be blinded
by the world slowly slipping
away

Before the music dies
Before the yellow stars burn out
You might not hear my voice
or even remember my name
But I just want you to know that

I was here

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 Mar 27
Nishu Mathur
The copper bells glisten
Swaying in the sunshine
I pause as I listen
To the tinkling
Of the wind chimes

In the distance, they ring
A gentle melody -
I hear their songs
The unsaid words they sing

How sweet is their music
Sweet the joy they bring
Such is the wonder -
The magic of little things
 Mar 27
Unpolished Ink
The year has turned,
time to plough and plant and sow,
on what seemed dead and lifeless
just a week or two ago
all manner of things have begun to grow,
a spectacle, a carnival, a riotous sight
a free-fall jump to returning light,
the showiest of mummers,
a costumed cavalcade
flowering minstrels
a harlequinade,
life as we should live it,
a wild abandoned dance
nature will lead us if we give her half a chance
We climb the Koro hill.

Forty years and still ascending
gives a good feel.

We stand under a Madhuca tree
blossoming in March heat and rain.

From the hilltop
the valley down below
looks dreamy grey.

We've greyed and graded
past full bloom.

In the wafting fragrance of Madhuca
we pray to hold on
for some more.
Koro hill, March 22, 2025, 2.30 pm
My love and gratitude for my fellow poets and friends for being with me this long 12 years on Hello Poetry.
 Mar 22
Steve
All things have their end
This rule of life won’t stretch or bend.
Living is a blast
For as long as it can last.
And you, my love, the cherry on top,
The horizons edge, where the mountains stop
I’m standing here, on a ledge
And watching, while the words slip off.

22.2.25 Lanza
SE
A Silly Love Song!
Just off the cuff
Enough is enough
Your autonomy
Your reality
A megalomaniac
A despot
A fool
In the school yard
The fat boy bully
The fool
Bamboozled
Disturbed
And I'm sorry to say
Into the asylum
You should be interred
Floating high above the skies
               wearing
                                nothing but a pair of wings  
I untie all emotions
                                  and let my hair loose;    
Gliding gently *
                          o'er clouds
                   I soar like the birds of the sky do,
  
           and when the sun begins to die,
                           Oh, I just fly !
 Jan 20
matt r
a low hum like a mouthful
of bees. my love, she sings
like static dives. still, wing
-less and stingless i grab
my net. this apiary is no
home for honey nor sleep.
The sun rose and with the birds and with you
scooped up in its light
you who toggle out of bed

the sun rose and the plentitude of steps
to the kitchen counter for water become
morning pilgrimages murmuring sweet thanks even when your mind  cannot articulate
its daily gratitude of satiating
your body’s needs

you write about everything because everything is life and so even this still peaceful morning deserves a poem, a morning drink of water.
 Jan 9
bulletcookie
words tumble, soldier like
even the alphabet forgets their place
as each letter musters for duty

Sargent Eraser scoffs at laxative crawl
under barb wired meters
in the conscripted muddy penses

seeking freedom from rank and call
in that one more turn of phrase
a falling veil or vale, that surprise

-cec
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