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 1213° 
Poisoned Wells
I wish I could sleep
but I ache,
on all sides,
and on my back,
I see the haunting
that you bring me
And the refusal,
of disappearing.
And a silent tease,
in a blackly sight
of a sudden freezing,
of a jumper's fleece.
A demon's wishes,
of remembrance
of tanned flesh,
and daily blesses,
The snake that hisses
has now became me.
 671° 
Poisoned Wells
The scarecrow's
straw blows
away to nearby
watching crows,
wishing to ravish
all the corn.
Smart little evil
birds,
watch with
intention
and step up quietly
to peck out his eyes.
 392° 
Wanderlust
I don't think you realize
I don't think you care
I might've died
all because of you

You tore me up
and watched me bleed
you wanted it on your terms
and you couldn't care less
if you saw the way I cried

You have no sympathy
for the way you hurt me
"It's fine," you told me
ignoring the scars of your touch

I wish I could forget
and let go of all of it
but the memory haunts me
like a ghost that can't let go

You wanted control
and you have it now
at the cost
of all of me
Your no matters. Don't ever let anyone tell you it doesn't.
 331° 
Foogle
it comes when there is no time to write
and you're inches away from spilling your
sanity out on a sidewalk in the park

elevating to the moon you whisper
quiet nothings into your own bare shoulders

it comes when there's no time to think
and when the skies begin to look interchangeable

greys upon greys and sunset knitted together
and the cold dawns upon uncovered skin

it comes when there is no time to breathe
 281° 
Lostling
Your guiding hands are always there
To catch me when I fall.
Soft combs through my tangled hair
Hugs, a protective wall.

Your strength's a roaring lioness,
Your heart burning so bright,
Fighting through the crushing stress.
You burn away the night
Happy Mother's Day!
 267° 
Esther
i have just moved all our pictures
into the hidden folder
the graveyard of memories
my heart aches with endless yearning
sorrow, grief and regret

our love was so short-lived
like a helpless little kitten
that died before it ever got a chance
to fully experience the wonders of life

our love was a flickering candle flame
that burnt so bright
and fizzled so soon

my tattooed golden retriever
my soldier, my love
you said it was "right person, wrong time"
but what if the timing could never favour upon us?
what if we could never find our way back to each other?
𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘭𝘺, 𝘵𝘰𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨...
 252° 
McKenna
It would be better
If I were dead
Bullet in my head
Forever goodbye
So I can satisfy
The need for my own bloodshed
I’m already laying in my deathbed
What’s the point of dragging it on?
My minds been gone—
No fixing this mess
Carrying all this stress
Man am I the greatest
Parents are the strictest—
It would be better
If I were dead
Bullet in my head
Forever goodbye
So I can satisfy
The need for my own bloodshed
 249° 
Joshua Phelps
it’s hard
not to feel
withdrawn

when the ones
you love

have crossed
to the other
side.

they’re
never gone,

but it feels
so wrong—

like a song
out of tempo,
out of place.

and you know
nothing can
bring them back,

but still
you do your best
to stay strong.

because life
never stops,

and the ones
you’ve lost

are never
gone.
inspired by mayday parade’s “happy endings are stories that haven’t ended yet.”

written in memory of my mom—gone in body, never in spirit.

this is for anyone trying to carry love through the silence.
 216° 
Cheryl Ann Warner
I’m calling in a favor
All of the angels standing by
No time to cry
I can’t ask why?
I really want to shout
All the angels standing by
No time to cry
Angels standing by
 204° 
Mya
You feel like a life time ago
When I was a different person
And you were a kinder man
 182° 
Poisoned Wells
Hypnotizing beauty
hides ugliness inside,
while the ugly,
are of angels weeping.

Hide your venom to shame,
while the misunderstood
are guilty of  sick pride
upon knocks of hollow wood

Place another slice of timber,
into the fires you hinder,
You judge the flesh only
no such true prettiness

Skin is lust and love,
in hollow shaped hands,
raining so grimly above,
true fake hearts,
glamorously
they always sink
in the quick-sand,
while Angels,
surf upon land.
 181° 
Jimmy silker
You ever get that sudden surge?
You  Don't know where it came from
A salty pulse behind the eyes
That swells
Then leaves your skull
A smell
A taste
A tune
A movie
A wave from those
That have gone on
A hail from heart to brain
From where
They now belong.
 176° 
WILLIAM WORTHLESS
are there really angels in the sky so blue
if and when we die do they come for you
do they bring your wings so you can fly away
to heaven up above where all the angels stay

no more pain or suffering will there ever be
where you will live in peace stay forever free
in there land of love  in the sky so blue
then you will get to know if angels are really true
 135° 
Simon Bridges
I don’t know why
But I know
Because I feel

Because something pulls me
               To become inverted
                              
                   Motionless
                   Within salt water

To surrender myself
To absorb song
                      Unknown language
                      Through saline
 116° 
Liana
So you know how sometimes when you start to give up on humanity
someone wonderful happens?
Like when you just walking somewhere and a stranger says that they like your outfit
Or someone that you've never before smiles and waves
And you think that maybe
People aren't so bad?

My idea of a successful life
Is to be that person
As many times as I can
 84° 
Rin
Please let me go.
not because i didnt love you,
but because we were never meant to be.
please let me go.
we walked the wrong paths,
or maybe i did.
it was wrong to love you,
you tore my heart and patience.
we arent soulmates,
i was just confused,
you didnt love me,
until you had to let go.
love that waits,
isnt true love.
You're hurting me too.
let me go
i also wrote this poem in my all poetry account- so no i didnt copyright :D
 83° 
afrota
Do not rewrite the past.
No hand can erase
what time has carved
in wounded skin.

Let your oldest notebook
inscribe the first line
of a new tale —
written in fresh tears
and the sweat
of becoming
a future still unfolding.
 82° 
Nolan Bucsis
I don't have any
Love left over.
From the last time.
I hardened my heart.

Saying
I love you
Impulsively,
And that's just
Idle bedroom talk
I say sometimes
As meaningfully
As.
What's for lunch.
 79° 
Carson Dees
Hey
This isn't a poem but i just wanted to announce that I'll be trying new things soo heads up, a lot of different stuff just trying to see what i good at. Just tell me if there's anything i could improve on, okay?
See you soon! - Carson
 78° 
Mounir Laroussi
Mother's day
her gold necklace in my nightstand drawer
her sweet voice in my ears
haiku
 76° 
Cynthia
⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING ⚠️

Red was the color of the water
when I jumped into a river
that was too shallow for me to dive into.

In those short 5 seconds,
I soared through the winds.
The air pressure nearly enough to rip me to shreds.

Those 5 seconds when my skin peeled off from my back,
I grew wings.

They lit on fire,
and I burned with them,
and it was almost soothing.

The pain was a reminder that
I was alive,
even if it was only for 5 short seconds.

In the brink of death,
I felt the most alive I had in years.

I don't know if it was the wind
or the fact that I was burning.
But in those five seconds,
I was a human.
Something I had been alienated from my whole life.

I was dead before I hit the gravel.
My body twisted in all types of different directions,
and when the police found me,
they had already pronounced me as deceased.
A bit of a deeper one, but felt nice to release.
do you know the language?
can you read the words

of the waves bending into the rocks?
do you see the sentences

setting the clouds aflame?
how are you arranged

to receive such things?
are you too heavily armored?

are you a broken stringed kite
too wild with the wind?

whatever burden or lightness claims you
the color of wonder surrounds

do not be afraid to reach out
and touch it
 69° 
Sherri Woodman
Today I got a hug, out of the blue                                                             ­     
                                                           ­                                                               
and it even came with an "I love you''                                                            ­    
                                                            ­                                                        
Such a simple kind gesture                                                          ­                                                  
              ­                                                                 ­                               
  It brought me such pleasure                                                         ­                     
                                                                ­                                                          
It picked me up when I felt down                                                             ­                       
                                         ­                                                                 ­      
  turned my day totally around                                                           ­                 
                                                                ­                                                  
  Just when I thought no one cared                                                            ­            
                                                                ­                                        
someone loved me, someone shared
I can’t get her off my mind
You’d think I’d like this find
I thought alc was supposed to help you forget
Bet
Naw she still creeps in my brain
It goes around like a circle train
I might be a little drunk 😛
 55° 
Charly
You've been out of it
A blur of drinks and gigs,
Futile attempts to escape
A life of rings and flings,
Life changing. As they say
Exams in a few days
Yet here you are,
Wallowing in your words
On Hellopoetry.com
Not that that's a bad thing it's actually very good I've missed writing on here it's just been so busy I haven't had the chance
 54° 
Pavel Rup
Хмурится небо. С утра моросит —
Дождик ленивый по лужам играет.
Серое утро в окошке дрожит...
Память невольно качели качает.

Жизни дорога клубится в дали.
Время ребёнком за руку шагает.
Мама смеётся и лето звенит —
Годы минутами мы посчитали.

Дождик по окнам рисует узор.
Капли стучат в серой дымке рассвета.
Кто же Судьбы незаметный жонглёр?
Ты не услышишь простого ответа.

Серое утро. Слезинки дождя —
Душу мою обнимает покоем.
Майская зелень — улыбка чиста.
Тихие мысли всё кружатся роем.

11.05.2025
In my tiny apartment I have many treasures that I enjoyed
Things I've found dumped by the students not to be destroyed.

I don't have money to buy new, so everything I find is recycled  
Things I found discarded, I felt finding them I was entitled

My apartment is full of memories I've created
So everything I've found is quite appreciated

Students go off and leave very nice things behind
Most things I find valuable and are nicely refined

I have found very nice solid wood furniture, most of it antiques
things that most people would not be interested in but are unique.

When my mother would come to visit she'd refer to my decor
as many things she would find at the local Habitat Restore.

But I've made the best of it and really enjoy what I found
and the contents of my apartment are quite useful and sound

One mans trash, is another ones treasure!
 51° 
Kim Mason
I love the Lord
 47° 
badwords
We split rock once—
shards of hunger and breath
pressed into cryptic veins,
every groove a fever-etched omen
by fists that blistered and bled.

We flayed parchment—
flax and hide peeled raw,
stretched across centuries
to net the writhing unsaid,
ink: venom & sacrament.

We conjured letters,
a thousand spitting iron serpents,
casting skeleton alphabets
to ignite riots—
movable, yes,
but never self-possessed.

The tool is never the delirium.
Never the rupture.
Never the feral gasp.

We carved eyes—
glass cyclopes staring down suns,
mechanical maws drinking shadows,
spitting back sleek carcasses,
veneer masquerading as soul.

We dreamt in circuits,
cipher-prayers & soulless sutras,
automata with twitching limbs
that build, disassemble,
mocking the cathedral
but never kneeling.

And now—
the algorithm howls:
“I will etch your myth.
I will ululate your grief.
I will sculpt the marrow of your truth.”

It lies.

A hammer pounds—
but does not conjure the cathedral’s ache.
A brush bristles—
but does not thirst for the canvas’s hush.
A neural grimoire can mimic,
can multiply until the world chokes
on infinite carbon copies—
but nothing blooms
without the sickness of being alive.

Art is incision.
A holy theft.
A blood rite against oblivion.

We do not tremble before tools.
We seize them—
splinter them—
forge new weapons
from their debris
because we are insatiable,
because we are drowning,
because we are—
human.

Let the hollow vessels hum.
Let the scaffolders scaffold.
Let the parrots shriek
their pallid mantras.

The craft will not save you.
The code will not save you.
Only the hand sunk deep into the blaze—
only the breath fogging the glass—
only the voice that shreds the quiet
because it must,
again and again and again.

Until there is nothing left.
In a forge where ghosts barter with empty vessels, this poem traces the arc of humanity’s relentless hunger to etch spirit into matter. Each stanza is a rung on a scaffold built from sacrificed skins, shattered eyes, and iron tongues, spiraling toward a cathedral that machines can only mimic but never inhabit.

The algorithm—a shimmering siren in synthetic robes—offers false communion, promising to sculpt truth from hollow codes. Yet beneath its sterile hum, the poem cracks open the core wound: that art, real art, is not birthed by echo but by **the compulsion of mortal hands scorched by their own need to mean. **

A hymn to the unquenchable fire, a dirge for the tools that mistake reflection for genesis, this is a revolt against the smooth and the soulless—a reminder that only the flesh-inked, breath-tethered, ruin-hungry voice can breach the silence that consumes us all.
 46° 
Sometimes Starr
You are
Not the numbers
You're su-
percomposite

And when the numbers aren't mine,
I never blame it on you.

We will run the numbers
Hands locked in a promise
We're supercomposite
I never blame it on you

So please
When you look at me
Oh, nevermind
Well, you can see

So please
When I let you down
We ran the numbers
And we didn't have it

But we've escaped the surface
Don't ask, it was worth it
We changed our perspective
And now my neck is a little sore

But I've got my jugular
Filled with molten iron
I'm forging a weapon
Sharp enough to slit their throats

So please
When we run the numbers
They don't have throats
It's a separation

So please
Panpsychist lover
It's even stevens
Even for non-vegans
Love is fleeting;
not promised,
nor permanent.
But if you look for it--
you'll see,
always Present.
*titular Daniel Johnston homage, 1984
 43° 
unnamed
a true confidante
a rag doll with button eyes
all of my secrets
left in her one fingered hands
helping to shape my psyche.
 42° 
Ami Mathur
A bird was gazing at me,
Perched on a tree
And asked me, Hey! Unusual species!
Why do you sit here?
Did you lose your purpose?
Jump back up and capture the sky.
Capture your sunrise,
Race like a star—this is your sign.
Capture your sunset
Stay prepared, stay on the mark.
You'll reach that cloudy arc—
I fly with wings.
But believe me, I know the sky.
Even without your wings,
Your dreams can fly.
 42° 
Ivan
people say that
'talk is cheap'

and so that is why
Poets write!
 42° 
Julie
I have 4 problems

#1 overthink
#2 overcare
#3 overlove
#4 overfeel

—julie
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