Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Jan 2016 Flo
John F McCullagh
He never regained consciousness
In all the hours I sat there.
The only sounds were the monitors’ beeping
And his staccato gasps for air.

Each breathe more labored than the last
as feeble hope turned to despair.
His extremities felt so cold,
as I sat and murmured wordless prayer.

A good life, certainly, and full;
Honor and glory both were there
As that old soldier slipped away
and his last breath rejoined the air.
 Jan 2016 Flo
Richard Riddle
Friends, there are many(I think, I hope). So, to be fair, I will respond with this.


"Stricly an Opinion"
October 20, 2014   8:40a.m.

On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did.  Why?

Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much!

But that is the core of the HP Family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, with the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites.

One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes.

We will keep trying.

Richard Riddle
copyright: October 20, 2014
 Jan 2016 Flo
Taylor Poole
Sadness
 Jan 2016 Flo
Taylor Poole
I try to hold my tears as long as I can,
So that I can drown out the world in front of me.
 Jan 2016 Flo
Purple Rain
The closer we become
The more I feel numb
I forced the thought of love upon my skin
Gripping her body in the motion of love,
Attempting to feel something I can't feel
Such unreserved distance others would think its real...

Our love is real

So much realness,
that the brain of She and I can't feel a **** thing
That when our lips touch
I sense the warmth of a blanket
And not the softness that her skin brings
I go **** it
I can't even love the simple things
Because the mind of me still thinks
We our "we"
Together
"Me and she"
My mind can't process that we went our separate ways
Long ago
But still the nightly visions of her stay
It's been 2 years all I can say
Is *Our Love Is Numb
 Jan 2016 Flo
Mystifying Chaos
Love is indeed the most tragic form of art.
If I should die for my country,
and no one comes to place flowers on my grave,
would I make a sad poem?
 Jan 2016 Flo
Lark Train
You were an alcoholic,
And I was just another bottle.

Maybe you won't break
The next bottle you drink from.

I doubt it, though.
You will drink and break until you wobble.

You are an alcoholic,
And I let myself forget it.
Each couplet is a 10 word poem.
Next page