Really feeling very bad to write sad always
And guilty too
To the world I can act
But here I couldn't
When I read poems
My longing increases
And think y God hates only me
When see some poems sad
Just think y am losing my sense of poetry too
Once I record my sadness as beautiful poetry
But now I hate myself
I don't want to write
So went and heard music
Still am same sad
Music is awesome
But am got some
....insane
Sort for posting

I love HP like anything
But I think I need to quit
To save lovable HP

Sorry ...

You are a lie

Don’t - life slips through your fingers
Even Poe could not grasp time
Stop hiding in illusions, coward
You are a lie
Shattering another’s dreams
Even if you don’t understand
The destruction you cause
One day you will wake up
To the reality of ‘what ifs’
As you look at withered hopes
And dreams that you hide behind
You are a lie

Kelly Rose
© March 13, 2017

I placed my hope between the wings of honey bees
To watch them fly away with it
My dreams, upon stars glittering in the velvet beyond
They've long since fallen
Thoughts of life,
given to butterflies, only to poison them
Voice, placed in a crows mouth
Only a caw
Any beauty in my possession
went to the gargoyles, they needed it more
My heart, I so gently laid upon the flower petals
Then winter came
My Love,
I climbed the mighty oak,
And placed it in the leaves
To watch it fall, leaf by leaf,
turning to dust
in the cold~A

The bees and butterflies already came
I've no more nectar,
For you to take

**** me
If you will
Go on
Take of me what's left

Ash,
Once carried on a lilac breeze

Smoke,
From a limply held cigarette
Burnt
To the filter

Me
A distant souls memory
Remaining on a winds
Left swirl

My resin fairy gave birth
Prose, Her name
Wingless *******
In my pocket

She and I
The same

Stella said," Momma, I want a jump castle for my friends at my birthday, and daddy."
But daddy won't be there
"Momma, I hate court. That judger is a meanie weanie."
I know baby, shhh
"Can I have a jump castle?"
You'll have your castle, now hush
Stella sais," Momma, why don't daddy like me?"
He does baby
"Why won't he look at me?"
I don't know, princess, daddy is sick
"He needs a doctor and a sucker and a shot."
Yes baby, shush
She said,"Momma, why did daddy hurt you, like the tangles hurt my hairs?"
I don't know baby

Call out for Love.
Call out for Love.
Call out for Love.

Repeat until it becomes
a chant, an incantation,
a summoning, a charm.

Expect no answer.

Love is a tattered,
weary ***** standing
on an unlucky corner.

Her feet hurt and she
wants to go home alone.

She is disenchanted
of desire; dog-tired of
endlessly being needed.

Love does not listen.
Love does not hear.
Love does not respond.

Love owes you nothing
and pays her debt in full.

Cold, lonely shower.
Watching the skies turn dark grey.
Soft piano notes.

I know that there have been times,
down the bruised and misread years,
when I have been hard and cold,
perhaps even seeming to be cruel.
But, please remember who I am
and where it is I've come from.
Born to gossip and scandal
and raised in the family war zone,
where the language was rage
and words were often lies.
Trust and tenderness, at times,
seem illusory to me.
Unknowable.
Like smoke in my hands.
But I still try.

                                  By Phil Roberts