Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Apr 2017
harlon rivers
A sound was heard at my
garden door
A feathered smudge found upon it

There she lay in frightened
trembling dismay
   A giant knelt ...
yet still towering above her

He reached out and touched
her pounding heart
Then cupped her warmth
in his hand

She stayed awhile until
she could smile
At the kindly human mystery

This love they shared
is uncommonly rare
She knew she could be freed

Before she flew
she whispered a song she knew
into the gentle giant’s  beard :

“I cannot make you happy
You're a wounded Bird like me ―
be Free...
you must find the strength to Fly”…

"A Bird in your hand
  is worth two in the bush ―

   Come fly away with me"...



March 2012 © harlon rivers ... all rights reserved
.
Thank you so much for the special feature this simple heartfelt poem has been allowed.  It is based on actual events that happen often where habitat
meets civilization.  As humans we can mitigate this footprint left behind by lifting the weight of caring with actions that speck louder than words. Who among us has not needed a helping hand when we are struggling with the unexpected?  Moments we must find the strength to carry on with a little help from our friends?

   Find the strength to fly ―

Written March 1st, 2012
reposted from my original account
.
 Mar 2017
Edward Coles
I started leaving the door open for you.
I started to write and live honestly.
Endless nights spent chasing
another song of defeat
across the ashtray
forgetting my own words:

you can create art out of suffering;
you should never create suffering for art.

I started waiting for you.
I started to notice the decline of my moods
coincided with sublime precision to your
tail-lights in the distance.
Half-drunk
I had forgotten my own words:

suffering may be borne out of love;
love should not be borne out of suffering.

I started leaving the door open for you.
I started to expose each sleepless night
and commonplace hangover
as a symptom of a malady
and not a way of life.
You helped me to recall

peace arrives once the war has ended.
For peace, you do not have to fight.
Written after a short-lived fling with an older woman who taught me a lot about the world.

C
 Mar 2017
Eric W
If you, could see you,
through my eyes,
You would never doubt
yourself. No, never.
You would never have
the audacity to say
"I can't" because you,
yes you,
are amazing beyond anything
I have ever known.

If you, could see you,
through my eyes,
You would never be the
same. Not ever.
You would be blinded
by the beauty
that radiates from
within you, from outside
of you. The very essence of beauty
that makes up you.

If you, could see you,
through my eyes,
You would never be sad
again. No, never.
You would know why
I love you.
You would see the grace,
in every little thing
you do, say, and think.
You would see the endless
depth for which my love
for you grows. The never ending
abyss of swirling,
crashing waves of love
I have for you.
You would finally understand
the absolute perfection
of you
if you could see you
through my eyes.
 Mar 2017
Denel Kessler
Eroding brick wall
all that remains
refracted, fading
fishermen shadow
red dawn’s early light

brackish still water
shocked violent green
seeps from the desert
to be subsumed
by an unrelenting sea

restless dreamers rise
muscle sturdy pangas
into the churning tide
seeking quicksilver
at the continental edges

returning boats ride low
the shrinking horizon
race to safe harbor
cold beer on ice
under palm palapas

in the restaurant
a young man
shows off tuna
half as tall as he is
to admiring tourists

like me, seeking
the deep, slow burn
salt, jalapeno, lime
a fitting end to this
unraveling dream

Pueblo Mágico
of “no bad days”
walls of contention
in a fractured land
will never separate us

one margarita, two
another raised in defiance
of those who would try
to confine and define
free-range spirits

the Pacific touches
this contiguous shore
from equator to pole
we could catch
a clockwise current

follow Polaris up North
arrive transformed
magnetically charged
disparate souls fused
together bound
Hello and thank you. my HP friends!  I couldn't wish for a kinder, more talented group of people to spend time with.  Thank you for being a part of my life.  Apologies for sporadic reading...been drinking too many margaritas!
: )
 Mar 2017
Eric W
I have wandered a street.
A long and lonely street.
There were people, of course.
Wanderers too.
But it was still,
just a lonely street.
There was a chill in the air,
and the ever falling mist.
It was dark, lonely, and cold.
The people were just people,
so I was still alone.
I made acquaintances,
many of them,
along the way.
But I never meant much to them.
Nor they to I.
Because they were just people.
They could not understand me.
The could not love me.
And I never understood them either.
And loved only a select few
that I thought were different.
I walked with them.
We walked together.
But we were always different.
Yes, I loved them too much.
Perhaps I still do.
But we always walked different paths.
Except for you.
We crossed paths,
many years ago
when I was discovering myself.
We walked a while,
we talked a while.
I knew you were different,
even then.
Something was between us.
I felt it,
and I knew you did too.
You professed that it was love.
And indeed it was.
For a while afterwards,
we walked together.
But then something happened.
My path diverged.
Or maybe it was yours.
Either way,
we both walked alone.
The road became treacherous.
That dark and lonely road.
I was overcome with loneliness,
soaked to the bone in misery
and heartache.
I was molded in ways
no soul should ever experience.
But I endured.
I learned many valuable lessons.
Most of them the hard way.
I fought my own demons,
again and again and
again.
During this time,
our paths converged several more times.
We walked together again,
for some too brief times.
While our paths were split again,
I tried to survive you
with others.
But in my heart,
I always knew it was futile.
They were never different.
Not the way you are.
They were never..
you.
And I walked on.
On and on.
For what seemed like forever,
down the long and winding road.
I stumbled, I fell,
I hurt, I cried,
until I realized.
It's you.
I need you.
Our paths once again converge.
We are walking together again.
Hand in hand.
Together.
Finally, I accept that we are meant
to walk together, to talk together,
to laugh together, to live together,
to love together,
down this road.
Forever.
And, although my demons still haunt me,
at least I'll never face them alone
again.
And, though my road is still
terrifyingly dark,
at least I walk it with you.
I've found you.
Finally.
This could use some editing, but for now, here's the "rough draft."
 Mar 2017
Chloe Elizabeth
What a beautiful gift to have the ability to be happy in the hardest of times
 Mar 2017
wordvango
have you heard the wind
the trees rustle
the wings fly by
the sea roar
watched the mountain
and wonder
sink down
on your knees
knowing this is life
the end the beginning
we are no more
than a bird a mountain a tree a leaf
a wave crash on the shore
a shell
maybe a sunrise
or a moon on the horizon
but nothing more
 Mar 2017
Traveler
I will always feel your presence
Through these quantum
Ethereal waves
These strings they bind
Through our time lines
Beyond the conscious states

Countless questions
Reasoning why
Staggeringly suspect
Those subtle lies

It seems quite complicated
Yet it's as simplistic as can be
Along came a wind of change
And blew two spirits free
...
Traveler Tim
Hay folks thanks for stopping by
Come on over and visit our side of Hello Poetry!
See ya there!
 Mar 2017
Miranda
I've learned that Time is only the indication of one thing: Time.
It determines the seconds, minutes, hours as they pass
But it can't determine the rate at which a person falls.

First sight;

first smell;

first touch
,
Important factors in the drop.

First laugh;

first kiss;

first hug,

Time doesn't get to determine how quickly he learns to make your heart stop.

I've always had these rules because Time told me they were right.

"Can't eat until that time."

"Can't shower until this time."

Can't give my heart away to a man after 28 days
Because Time claims, 'Too soon.'

But Time doesn't see the details.
It can't stop it's ticker, pause,
and see the way his hands make your body quiver.
No,
time doesn't get to take a break
to feel the way his eyes gaze at you
as if he has never seen anything more beautiful.
And time can't feel the breath your lungs take
at the simple sight of him.

I've always had these rules because Time told me they were necessary.
And when he told me of the love he felt after 21 days,
I looked to time who yelled,
"Too soon, too soon, too soon, he can't possibly feel that now."
But then I look at him
and I can see the way he looks at me.
I get to feel the gentleness of his touch
and the intensity of his kiss.
Time can only pass.
And I've realized that time will pass,
whether you let yourself fall too soon
or if you allow the passing minutes
to inform you of when it's okay to start loving someone.
Time can only indicate the time.
Time counts the seconds.
But time does not get to tell me when it's okay to feel anymore.
 Mar 2017
matthew
She was like a cup of coffee.
A plain, black, cup of coffee.
She kept the world awake.

Her personality was warm,
But she had a bitter aftertaste.
 Mar 2017
km
Sometimes I just need a break
A break from this crazy life
Wanting to go to somewhere peaceful
With nature all around
Instead of flashy city lights.
Is that too much to ask for?
With all that’s going on,
Each day gets overwhelming and frustrating.
Told to do things I'm not interested in
Yet I still do it for them.
Wherever I go,
All eyes are on me.
Always expected to do my best
Even when sometimes I can’t.
I always ask for forgiveness
And think I’m never good enough.
With all that’s going on,
All I need is just a break.
A break from this crazy life
 Mar 2017
Michael Blonski
The world
as we know  it
loves to tell us
who we are
and what we will
become

But the world
doesn't see the truth
in our minds and
the love in our
hearts

We are guided by our
passions
And the romances
we have are with
the search for
our being and not
with the world's
desire to dress
products in human
skin
Next page