Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
it's too early and too late

the blood dries, you have more

the story continues with every breath

walk along the depths of your mind to discover that losing someone other than yourself is probably best

(sorry to the girls I've made feel miserable)

(hate me for now, not forever)

the tears stop at your cheeks, not at your death

there's tissues right at your fingertips
 Jul 2017 Halsea Callis
Hannah
Black birds fly,
raven's sing,
there's ash on
the window sill

red bird's wing,
feathers white,
time slows down
as we pass by

salmon swim,
black bears cry,
as slowly
she closes her eyes

nighttime falls,
red wolves howl,
way up on
the mountain peak

fragile bones,
fallen trees,
a hundred years of sleep

someday you
may just find
a woman king,
a hundred years of peace.
 Jul 2017 Halsea Callis
Aditi
Don't.
 Jul 2017 Halsea Callis
Aditi
Don't tell a rose how to grow,
And The birds how to chirp.
Don't tell your daughter to be soft,
Don't tell your son how to hurt.

Don't tell the sky what color to bleed,
And a person, the right way to grieve.
Don't try to tame your daughter's tongue,
Don't tell your son the manly ways to love.

Don't tell the wind which way to blow
Or the clouds how hard to rain.  
Don't teach your daughter how to soak,
Don't show your son how to easily reject.

Don't tell the sun to adjust its light
Or the truth how to show itself.
Don't tell your daughter it's feminine to shy,
Don't teach your son how to reign with fists held high.


Don't tell a heart how to beat
Or the mind how not to soar.
Don't clip off your daughter's  wings,
To make them a foundation for your son to grow.

Don't tell a rose how to grow,
Lest it decides to turn its petal into thorns.
Don't tell the birds how to chirp
And have their voices turn into rebellious growls.
Finally, one of my many poems was chosen as a daily.
Just been a 5 years.

I still can't believe it.

Also, thank you for all your reviews and love. I still don't think I'm a poet, I just usually ramble. But I'm so glad you guys gave this poem such love.
Means a lot.

Again, thank you very very much.
I wish to age like a wrap-around porch
In a thunder storm,
While generations tell tales,
Sipping drinks.
A porch of blinking stars,
A shelter out of rain,
With ascending and descending friends.

I will age like a tree,
Grow stronger in the wind;
Give shade and shelter to all
Beneath my ring-aged limbs.

I wish to age as a river bends,
Contiguous with all shores;
Floating everyone I know
On eternal waters,
A current winding with no rest.

I will age like a star,
Burning bright, giving light,
Something to reach for.

I wish to age like a mountain,
With secret caves and riches.
And you can rock your soul
Around, over or through,
Solid, snow-capped summit,
Beckoning you.

I will age as the moon,
In stages, full and new;
Each night different,
Unnoticeable fading,
As all who age will do.
Thank you all very much for your thoughtful, insightful and kind comments. It's a wonderful surprise and honor to be chosen for the daily, as there are so many **** good poems written by the poets here every day. And especially a sleeper like "I Will Age." I guess it's a lesson to be learned. Thanks again to everyone, and especially to Hello Poetry for giving us this marvelous opportunity to publish.
Peace to All.
Francie
~

a strange place to start
having not truly begun,
already beat down by the
lowdown

own a million rose colored words,
but some assembly required,
that's when the foreknowledge truth~rules
burns brain holes

easy is never
free,
poetry writing is
cussing hard work

~
spring rains cloaking warmth,
summer's stunning sunsets
demand submissive awed silence,
autumnal leave drops anointing
your refreshed humanity,
and yet,
one more time,
it is only within winter's white bitterness
lip tasting,
million tear-shaped snowflaked words,
is the crowning visible
of the head of
a newborn babe poet

                                        ~                  ­                            

hard.

Capital Hard.

in the beginning,
there was one,
a first work

and the knowing,
if it wasn't hard,
it could not be
any good,
makes it possible
to ease on
down
this fearful
revelationary road
trip
Born May 22, 2015
My first poem.
 Jul 2017 Halsea Callis
Marrisa
Sandy hair, buzzed short,
and bright blue eyes like mine.
Just a little boy, he is;
seven years old to be exact.
They grow up so fast.
He cannot help but be energetic,
running and playing and shouting;
Curtain climbing and ant stomping.
He's my little bubble, so easy to pop.
I might be overprotective, but try my best.
We're going to be moving away soon,
he'll be the last bird in the nest.
 Jul 2017 Halsea Callis
Venga
Why she smiles
Heres the story

She smiles
To make those
Who hurt her
Wonder why
She is

She smiles
To convince
Herself life
Isnt that bad

She smiles
To keep
From sleepless nights

She smiles
To prove
She is happy
When she is not

She smiles
To keep
From darkness
Staining her mind

This
stupid
Beautiful
Vain
Concieded
Crazy
Sensitive
Easy
Weird
Quiet­
Shy
Loud
Annoying
Clingy

Smiley girl
 Jul 2017 Halsea Callis
caroline
it doesn't matter what it is
anything we do together
feels like the best thing ever
Next page