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 Jan 2018 H A Vitatoe
anon
the poet
 Jan 2018 H A Vitatoe
anon
loved and lost a boy
who wrote the most
spectacular poetry

loved and lost a boy
whose words
softly suggested
hopelessness

loved and lost a boy
who made me forget
me
and helped me see

romance has no
i
or
me

it has only
romance
love
care
truth

the truth of a poet
who was
loved and lost

who
i
loved and lost

i
i loved
and lost
a boy
who didn't let me say
i
so i started this without using the letter i to avoid bringing it back to myself but i failed because i'm selfish
 Jan 2018 H A Vitatoe
Ryan Holden
The imprint you leave on my bed
is marked for my comfort -
The intangible smell
on my unwashed sheets -
I would wear them like a coat
if it meant I carried your scent,
I would wash them if it meant
I will see you again -
But most of all
I want this imprint to be,
an everlasting dent.
 Jan 2018 H A Vitatoe
mk
oh sunshine
 Jan 2018 H A Vitatoe
mk
oh sunshine
  how do i tell you?
  i am flying so high
  above these clouds
  weightlessly mine

            **oh sunshine

                 how do i show you
                 the butterflies that live in me
                 my veins full of ecstasy
                 the warmth of that summer breeze

oh sunshine
  the monsoon comes closer
  and that rain is here to purify
  everything will find its place
  there is so much to see
  so little to say

             oh sunshine
                  how do i show you
                  there is so much more warmth than cold
                  these golden rays never get old
                  the grass blades sway with hope
                  there is so much more to live for

oh sunshine
  the morning is yet to come
  the dawn is where you're from
  hold my hand and let me show you
  together we'll run
  straight into the sun
good music, good vibes
To behold the full glory
of the pearl,
open your heart
to the oyster's
pain.
 Jan 2018 H A Vitatoe
ryn
Regardless
 Jan 2018 H A Vitatoe
ryn
the symphony
played by the water
upon the shore

punctuated at times
by that errant wave
that crashed a little too hard

dislodging half-buried notions,
revealing pint-sized dreams
and tabulating forgotten score

serving watchful eyes
a fistful of sand,
and pays concerned hearts
with total disregard
 Jan 2018 H A Vitatoe
victoria
I play both roles of us
Whilst lying back on my bed
I make believe you’re lying
within the sheets and the dreams in my head

A few moments and I am lost
In the vision of you and I
Then the ****** ends
Reality sets in
My loneliness returns to cry
imagine a world
with no humans left

without
    man-made sounds
    street noise  airplanes
    laughter shouting fussing babies
    cars  radios TVs machines
    pop songs string orchestras
    
instead
     birdsongs  leaves blowing in the breeze
     sounds of rain  of springs and rivers
     deer splashing through a creek
     wild pigs snorting through the forest
     the sharp cry of an eagle
     owls hooting under the moon
     anmals rustling in the underbrush
     ivy decorating empty window frames

imagine
    all those poems
    nobody can read
Inspired by the recent movie **** SAPIENS
____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­____________________­______________
Finally. I'd been striving for a one word poem. After achieving it, I wanted a no word poem. Here it is. I guess this is no longer mine, but ours.

"The Invisible Poem" was selected as the Daily.
I'm humbled... to say nothing.
But I believe a response is necessary.
To all those who liked, loved and commented, I say thank you. I've read all you've written, and most of it is very creative and complimentary.
There are others, detractors, who claim "*******," etc.
Well of course, this only begs the question, "What is poetry?"
I can't answer that. I've written on it. But what I do know is what poetry should do. Its purpose.
If a poem should arouse emotions, bad or good, make people think, have people want to write, to express themselves (and I believe I'm on the mark here), then, anything can be a poem. Even a page with lines on it.
Thanks again to all the readers.
And if you're still *******, don't attack me... go after Elliot. :)
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