Poetic Angels - Hello Poetry

Jul 2018

Kayley Godek

My body somehow knows
The grief tomorrow holds.
I ache and throb
But I cannot sob;
The urge to cry
Stings my eyes.
My feet drag heavily
In the depths of this valley.
Every year without fail
I remind myself I am too frail.
"You're strong without the numbers,"
Yet I was too weak to pull you from your slumber.
Each March 22nd
Feels just like the 1st end,
When your heart stopped beating
And mine started bleeding.
I'd skip this whole day
But I'd miss the chance to say:
I miss you, lovely little hurricane.
It's all I can do to keep sane.
The smell of mint
Hurts just a hint.
The skinny jeans and hair bows
I could never disown.
I wear your effect
On my forearm *****.
The pain of loss is akin
To etching you into my skin.
My hands shake with cold,
Though not as cold as a headstone.
Oh, how my body knows
The grief tomorrow holds.

In Loving Memory of Kelcy Golling.
07/02/1999 - 03/22/2014

#loss #grief #progress #anniversary

Jul 2018

Meera

What makes you a poet

You’re not a poet because you know those ‘fancy’ words
You’re a poet because every word you write comes straight from your heart

You’re not a poet because people admire your work
You’re a poet because you write for your own contentment and not for people's consent

You’re not a poet because you feel alone
You’re a poet because pen and paper are your biggest companions

You’re not a poet because you understand emotions better
You’re a poet because you let them flow freely

You are not a poet because you’ve failed in love
You’re a poet because you’ve been in love deeper than anyone else

You’re not a poet because you are strong
You’re a poet because you don’t hide your weaknesses

You’re not a poet because you can heal hearts
You’re a poet because you know what it means to be broken

Dedicated to all the poets here. I feel happy to be a part of the community.

#poets #poetry #emotions #words #feelings #heart

Jul 2018

simone jewell

silent poet society

we write because we are told
we write because we are cold

so why write poetry?

is it to obey
is it to simply misbehave
is it due today
is it more than what we say

if not
why do you write poetry?

because I can
&
because I am

we are made to feel
we are made to speak
some people are quiet
and others are bleak

words are expressive and alive
but some words are best left to die

anonymous avengers

Jul 2018

Edmund black

Evil Are Not Welcome

This is hellopoetry
I do not dwell on
Hurtful comments
Or negativity
The insanity of the way
Humans marginalize
And hate others
Without reasons
Without merits
Is like knives in my heart
All I see is beauty everywhere
Every human on earth
Is a universe in their own right
A manifestation of uniqueness
That can never again replicated
I’m here to write and share my thoughts
With those who cares for it
Give the world a snapshot
Of my soul and it’s principles
My dream my pain
my emotion my humanity
If negativity is where you dwell
I implore you stay out of my inbox
Highly recommend you read
Motivating things
Or maybe listens to songs
That would cheer you up
I learned most storms
Don’t come to disrupt
Your life rather
to clear your path
The challenges equip you
With the necessary weapons
And tools you need to
Spiritually advance
Therefore I’m stepping
Into your hatred challenge
With confidence and much
More wisdom than I had.
Don’t let hatred dwell
In your mind and heart
For I have nothing but
Love for you my brother
If you had my life
You would understand!

love is beautiful but you don’t have a clue!

Jul 2018

emnabee

The secret life of poets

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

A little escape from the madness.
Or maybe, into.

#secret #life #poets

Jun 2018

Mike Hauser

Why Poetry

When people ask me
Why poetry
Why not pick a paying profession

Take hold this truth
That I'm laying on you
In which there is a valuable lesson

If you do what you like
You're going to find
Life holds treasure in wonder

Instead of the dough
Taking you out in its tow
And then pulling you under

When you're doing things
Think more the gifts they bring
And not money to be made

When people ask me
Why poetry
Do I really need to say

Jun 2018

Makenzie Marie

The Day I Changed My Fate.

I signed my name...

Your name
Attached to mine
I took your name in mine
Took your hand in mine
That was a different time

But back to today...
I took a pen to a page
And said goodbye
To that time
And the lying
And crying.

And now I’m not yours
And you’re not mine.

You’re free to be
And Choose how you’ll be
And you can no longer hurt me
I can be free.

I hope one day, you’ll see
All the harm you did to me
No bruises, no bleeding
But you’ll remember the anxiety, the screaming.
and now here’s me
With a little bit of PTSD.

But baby,
I won’t be there to agree.

Im taking care of me.
And taking back my name.

#divorce #heartbreak

Jun 2018

دema flutter

Dear Time,

Stop chasing me,
I see you watching me when I'm waiting at the bus stop,
I feel your presence when I'm preparing my 1 sugar 2 cream coffee,
I know you're with me when I'm counting sheep as I'm falling asleep,
you're there in my nightmares,
your reality is the maze I am trying to escape from.

#maze #reality #time #notime #beingchased #outoftime #nightmares #coffee #waiting #escape

Jun 2018

fs yousaf

Endure

Live,
so you can tell
your story of survival
to the people
who need it.

#hope #live #survive #people #need #love #story

Jun 2018

Lim Peh

Fear of Reflections

I'm afraid of reflecting on myself.

The pressure of expectations of the selves over the years leaves a bitter emotion.
I want to stop writing.
I feel cold.
Palpitations.
The fingers want to retract into balled fists.
The instinct is to curl into fetal position.
The voice lets out a primal moan of agony, of what the self has been through yet knows it hasn't gone through utter despair so the moan fades into a whimper.
The eyes want to close, the eyelids squint, the eyebrows scrunches, the forehead raised.
Irregular breathing.
The back of the hand smashes into the wall behind him.
The fingers loosen.
Silent screaming.
The soul cries out.

.................................................................Haaah...

I need a glass of water.