6.3k · Nov 2015
Untitled
Eliot York Nov 2015

The meaning of leaves in
a refreshing cool wind
He chose to live
for friendship
Not for that
other thing

Refreshing cool wind on a cross and died. He chose to live for friendship, live for survival, not for that thing any more. This is the meaning of it clung to her old leaves new myriads? Of lingering leaves
[coco, 11 nov 2011]
4.8k · Feb 2013
The Vixen
Eliot York Feb 2013

Under the orange
street lights
it's 3am

Longing to find him,
she skulks alone
in the dark

And as London sleeps
her cries go unheard
by all but one

The other night, I woke up to the calls
of a red fox outside of my window. They sounded
something like http://youtu.be/gVLvw-LhWyQ
3.5k · Mar 2013
Awe
Eliot York Mar 2013
Awe

Throughout her adult life
all of the land shaded.
Feverless islands where the
aged couple sleep.
Never once have I hosted a party. Not once have I
told you, I have
been hurt.

Coco (The Hello Poetry Computer) wrote the original:

Aw of the land shaded,
feverless islands where the
aged couple sleep.
Never once have I hosted a party. Not once have I
told you, I have never
been hurt
repeatively throughout her adult life. She passed out from --
3.5k · Feb 2013
Tonight
Eliot York Feb 2013

The promise
of tonight
stirs within

Let it
soon
begin

5pm, Saturday. #10w
775 · May 29
Lightning R.I.P.
Eliot York May 29

and a bell in its place
to some, no doubt,
a disgrace

it was to me, i must admit
but new light shines
in place of it

our front page is new,
brighter than ever
and now made by you

trending was all the rage
but (we all knew it) the algorithm
couldn't hold the stage

so now he'll do his part
to get your poem out in front
but that's just the start

next it's up to the community,
a repost, a heart or a plucky thumb
dare I say, it's up to you and me

The latest: new icons, yay, a hot new front page, now created by U, and thumbs up/down on poems.

Comments welcome. xx

Support Hey-yo Poet-tree, please. http://hellopoetry.com/support/
705 · Jun 5
let me just say
Eliot York Jun 5

that i've been reading your poetry
(on the new front page)
and,

I fucking love
your words; your worlds;
it's like i'm,
    there. right there,
with you.

you see, i didn't do what you do--
         write my story aloud
--when i was fifteen, or even twenty-two

just an inch off the ground
                        i confided in clouds
stayed lost (was a puff too proud)

that was then, sure, but even today
   (it's 11:11, now)
putting any of it down
committing to this word, not that
this sentiment,
      not that
this meaning
       (and not simultaneously that)
              is walking through fire

and so, for leading the way
           let me just say,
                       i love you

and please,
don't ever stop.

— The End —