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Mar 2015 · 257
water music
hellopoet Mar 2015
Consider the song of a chirpy creek
or a bubbling brook
and serenading stream
or a rushing river rapid;
tis but a prelude to the roaring
symphony of the mighty ocean.
Mar 2015 · 278
why so serious?
hellopoet Mar 2015
scowling as a threatening storm cloud
sombre as a brooding sky
my errant thoughts stumble
and leave my tear ducts dry:
exhuming an abundant cascade
of strained expressions that reflect
a stained and bedraggled soul
whose fond recollections failed to connect.
Mar 2015 · 576
it takes only a touch
hellopoet Mar 2015
I wash my face of an overly busy day
and your fingerprint on my wash basin mirror catches my eye
then it all comes back to me
how we spent the afternoon 
in each other's company
in a flurry of panic 
to conquer yet another deadline.
But that imprint seals an inwards part that becomes my final assessment
and without uttering another word
I conclude without doubt or reservation
that whatever you touch becomes part of my history, becomes a milestone in my life's journey and that part and more of me has been absorbed by all of you.
hellopoet Mar 2015
Not many a man
consider themselves mysterious.
And the few that do
are quite deliriously deluded.
The real mysterious guy
doesn't mean to be so,
is often misunderstood;
and once you get to know them
isn't quite a mystery after all.
To that, the adept female has the key. 
All is quite simply as you plainly see.
hellopoet Mar 2015
it has been said that poetry 
is the straight and narrow road
to a girl's heart of hearts;
for me, alas, it has been an escape pod
from that girl that once 
but no longer has regard for me
so here, strewn among broken branches
severed petals and crushed buds
are what remains of love's labour lost
it has also been said that it's better
to love and lost than to have never
loved at all
perhaps they never felt the pain
or cried bitter tears that freely fall
Often we learn by scraping our knees...
Mar 2015 · 786
song of the sea
hellopoet Mar 2015
Deep within me
lay a poem of the sea
from a long while ago;

where air is fresh
but blusters wildly
when southerlies blow,

slick and slimy
mud between each toe-
mangrove's brackish home.

Whitecaps dance
in the open channel
close to where corals grow.

But further than fond distance
of childhood recollection,
where starfish-lined parades
demanded retrospection:

Gone are those carefree days
along with sands, white as snow;
somewhere deep within me
lay a coastal tale of long ago.
If you enjoyed 'song of the stars' then thus poem is a must read too!
hellopoet Mar 2015
I guess it all should make sense
When they'd never lose their wood
Their arms always outstretched
And always firmly based at its root
So what's all this fuss running about
It's the one thing that floats their boat.
From a news article this week.
Mar 2015 · 425
butterflies are memories
hellopoet Mar 2015
Butterflies are but pretty memories
Greeting cards flying in the breeze
Fondest thoughts and worthwhile care
Recollecting pony tails and braided hair
Plastic tiaras, capes, and sceptres
Dress up games, now hallowed spectres
Wings renewed throughout new days
Nectar to this soul, filled in many ways.
For my daughter Kayla Jaclyn
Mar 2015 · 416
digital appreciation 101
hellopoet Mar 2015
Fourteen billion ears
And not a pair to listen
Fourteen billion eyes
Ignore the running captions
Seven billion tongues
Wag 24/7 on worldwide web
Still, bosoms burn and burst
Ne'er a lack of words to display
Keyboard fingers clenching:
Cacophonous asphyxiation.





______wsd__
✴The Wimpole Street Devils✴
words, words, words, you'd get sick of words from them now from you
all night long, all day through
that is all that us blighters could do.
Mar 2015 · 336
a nag called Time
hellopoet Mar 2015
An untamed spirit
She's been called
She waits for no one
And to none bow down;
No whisperer nor wizard
Could ever break her:
She goes on at her bidding
Deadlines send you reeling.
Tangle with her and your done for,
How you'd come through, no telling.
But brash or brave
I must face her
Each second hand
A pulse raiser
And time harnessed shall be my steed into some future sunset
that I still should meet.
Mar 2015 · 159
World Poetry Day
hellopoet Mar 2015
Had I known much earlier than I have ,
It would most surely have been spent
With more intention and purpose.
Then again, there is always next year!
Resolved during the 30th UNESCO session to proclaim March 21 as World Poetry Day.
DIRECTOR-GENERAL'S MESSAGE ON THE OCCASION OF WORLD POETRY DAY (21 MARCH 2000)

Paris, March 15 {No.2000-22} - On the occasion of World Poetry Day (March 21), celebrated for the first time this year, UNESCO Director-General Koïchiro Matsuura is launching the following message:

"Among the many different forms of human expression, poetry has a major and distinct place. It has always stood apart in the temple of literature. The ancient bards often expressed themselves through this rhythmic construction of words.

"But poetry is more than a rigid codified literary form. It is the basis of every branch of literary and artistic expression. Do we not say of novels, paintings, musical compositions and films that they are poetic?

"Poetry is not very demanding; a voice or a sheet of paper are enough to give it life. We meet with poetry at all times and in all places, thus proving its universality and transcendental nature.

"Every culture identifies with its poets through their ability to give life to its underlying yearnings, it most secret dreams and its shared hopes.

"Yet, poetry is also an incomparable means of intercultural understanding. Learning it in his earliest years helps an individual to develop his sensitivity, deepen his understanding of the complexity of the world, to understand others, through the refinement of art and to steady his feet on the road of life.

"Since its creation, UNESCO has developed a programme for the translation of poetic works from all over the world to make them available to the greatest number and so participate in international dialogue and understanding.

"And so, celebrating this first World Poetry Day, I invite the authorities, associations and civil society everywhere to do everything in their power to restore poetry to its traditional role in the life of the community in order to pursue its universal vocation in the service of cultural diversity and peace in the world."
Mar 2015 · 321
if we had wings to fly
hellopoet Mar 2015
Much like Icarus, off they go; 
until condensation metes them 
reality's condescension:

Whose goals and objectives
are minute in life's greater scheme;
wings fashioned from floss harps-

Yet they soar each firmament;
nary a doubt would sway resolve;
no tempest or tumult could dissuade.

If  you chance upon a cloudless day
catch their echo of jubilant cries
and contemplate your turn to fly.
Mar 2015 · 612
mind games
hellopoet Mar 2015
Once or so a day I go, to
gather together my thoughts
And let them hop upon a page
Where they perform on stage
Each post, each comment
All a merry figment
Once bumped off
The dream is dead.
'Gig's up!' So it's said.
A game that's all in my head.
Or is it, really?
Mar 2015 · 481
The Ballad of Billy McGee
hellopoet Mar 2015
With disdain they looked upon one Billy McGee
a boy that promised never to be
a rep that's scarred and scratched
for sure his name's mismatched
as darker skin ya'ever did see
on blackish hair with reddish flecks of Billy McGee.

A red haired aboriginal boy
matches were only a toy
and he was caught red handed
and always branded
the troublesome fire starter.
poor boy had no farda
he was stolen in a generation
trouble, his one destination
for any of his wild sown seed.
Never had a chance, Billy McGee.
Mar 2015 · 409
waterfront recital
hellopoet Mar 2015
ribald footprints 
of a silent, broken guitar 
rendezvous with an ebbing tide:
recalcitrant thoughts wash away
along this sandy shore.
Mar 2015 · 185
what lies beneath
hellopoet Mar 2015
Masks are real, masks are useful
But they aren't the issue
to be perfectly truthful.
It's more beneficial to pursue
The trajectory of a shoe;
And before we've lost our teeth;
What's truly important, you see,
Isn't what covers but what lies beneath!
http://i.imgur.com/bzdrdNZ.jpg
Mar 2015 · 573
of a butterfly and a rose
hellopoet Mar 2015
There she flits, this butterfly
Flutters by, alights on blooms
With certain grace and eloquence.
But no more to a petal of mine.
Once, she did, many moons ago
Favour flowed upon my seasonal rose;
She'd tarry awhile, row upon row.
These days her wings soar gaily
On other climes, in other garden beds,
With the distinct exception of mine.
Perhaps this rose by any other name
Has lost its nectar, has lost its rhyme:
This garden unattractive and dry.
Farewell, fair butterfly, farewell.
Without fanfare this scorned rose
Shall shrivel away and surely die.
hellopoet Mar 2015
You have a right
To bruised knees
And broken dreams
Disappointments
And promises kept,
To casts, itchy & graffitied
On either arm or leg
and tears on reddened cheeks;
Elation and defeat,
Snotty nose and blistered feet.
Yes, to these you have a right, and more,
Life's every essence, outside your door.
Mar 2015 · 364
digital effrontery
hellopoet Mar 2015
Back in the day it was horrible
to make a public spectacle of oneself.

But these days we've outdone ourselves -
and though we march to our own drums

more than ever before -
we do so "in your face,'

snapchatting, webcamming, wickrdly off:
and that can be a never ending disgrace!
Mar 2015 · 371
when less is more
hellopoet Mar 2015
A rock by life's shore met tidal strife,
Thrown about each season's page

Safely in Poseidon's mighty hand
Turns into its pure form - sand.

Each grain hewn, a silicate image
of God's dreams now come to life.
Life's experiences have a cutting, forming, shaping and polishing effect.
Mar 2015 · 160
spectres in the hall
hellopoet Mar 2015
I would have died some time ago,
and several times over, since.
Lost upon myself, my day of birth:
As well as of the reason to be born.

In a gruelling process of ascent,
There upon this ever wearying rut;
mind and heart raised white flags,
Leaving behind an ill-worn tune.

Perhaps it explains this spectral jaunt;
my erstwhile existence from me torn.
hellopoet Mar 2015
Minuscule ants make a flightless
beeline along a sandbox perimeter.
In their wake, a few grains of sand

Fall out of their confining place.  
One day, perhaps, they shall be free,
back to a convivial reunion by the sea.

One could traverse the length and depth
and breadth of this and back and still
have more to ponder on and discover!

But as the grains within that pit
outnumber the billions alive today;
only stars of night can reflect their gaze.
hellopoet Mar 2015
Disused and abandoned here
a connection no longer clear
of one once to heart held dear.

Water freely runs through, clear
alongside, & around mounting pier
now that the bridge is broken, peer.

Hence across both banks, tarry
an inking of what its currents carry
post traumatic sighs always vary.
Mar 2015 · 249
near of far of love
hellopoet Mar 2015
All this who-ha about
Distance in relationships
But what of short-distance
Instead of long, or even
Point blank relationships!
Too much space, so-so-**-hum,
And claustrophobic, let me get
A breathe, tight of chest and
Body parts gone to sleep
Only you can suffer as
Ants crawl on pins and needles;
While all along your love
Looks on with a hurt and
Quizzical look!  So down it goes
You sink in a puddle of woes.
It really don't matter the distance
True love should always pull through.
Just a random outburst. Hope you don't mind.
Mar 2015 · 263
on cloudless sky
hellopoet Mar 2015
Much like Icarus, off they go;
until condensation metes them
reality's condescension.
inspired by Haydn's repost of NV's haiku
Mar 2015 · 281
one st patrick's day
hellopoet Mar 2015
Where did you get that hat!?
Folks grind on  me each day.
"Keep it off, tis not funny!"
Sorry, but it's staying on this way!

Tis the hat my father never wore
on St. Paddy's day, you'd swore
Tis but me spiked up hair, y'seen
Doused with a lot o'spray on green!

I haven't me a hat, let alone respect;
So I'll bug off with me head *****.
And just as well, I'm on me way
I haven't a shamrock on me today.
Not your everyday holiday poem.
Mar 2015 · 237
sleep on it, they say
hellopoet Mar 2015
Once prismatic brilliance;
brilliant only through borrowed light.

Alone again in darkness, gleaming; glum, instant companion of night -

blind to grief and deaf to joy,
save by song on lone-ward height.

Ever calling, feline caterwauling;
In distant horizon, burning bright.

That sparkle in the eye is rekindled; Fully renewed, at dawn made right.
Mar 2015 · 195
song of the stars
hellopoet Mar 2015
Sing, through the flowing tears,
And laugh though it aches,
ask again for love in rejection's face
into the sun's first brilliant rays

Peer into that song and hear its heart
take along these raindrops' prisms
let them glow in the dark of night
its tune your comfort and companion

Hold your friend deep within your soul,
journey into the promise tomorrow holds,
fear fades with the passing of the storms,
the clouds disperse in the breath of hope.

Sleep softly, gently sing your lullaby
Wipe those tears that no one spies.
For sure your smile glows bright gold
in the sun's fading glory at twilight's dawn.

Into the distant shimmering sea
let dreams sail into the misty dusk
fond thoughts and dewdrop wishes
cared for by the twinkle of starry nights.
If you enjoyed 'song of the sea' then thus poem is a must read too!
hellopoet Mar 2015
Fourteen billion ears
And not a pair to listen
Fourteen billion eyes
Ignore the running captions
Seven billion tongues
Wag 24/7 on the web
Still, ******* burn and burst
Never a lack of words to say
Mar 2015 · 191
searching for that song
hellopoet Mar 2015
Spectre of once ago celebration
Shadows slither on pages, marked
Silence syncopated fonts mêlée
Scream for a song now similarly lost
Where within these words will
Soul's centre be again found?
Mar 2015 · 137
who might i be?
hellopoet Mar 2015
If I told you who I am,
Would you believe me?
Would you listen? 
Would you care?

Maybe I've learnt well to tell 
What you want to hear,
What you can believe;
What you are comfortable with.

So, ask me again:
Who might I be?
Mar 2015 · 542
captain, my captain!
hellopoet Mar 2015
It might the flying Dutchman be
Or the fame of those fishermen three
How it we walk planks of our own making!
Mar 2015 · 409
all in the eyes
hellopoet Mar 2015
Teary-eyed tattle tale
Spazzing fingers
No way to hide it
Streaks on cheeks
Zigzagging onto lace
And leather zipped atrocities
You look with steely eyed gaze
But then again you'll never know.
Mar 2015 · 330
creed
hellopoet Mar 2015
Poetry is...
companionable eloquence
faithful throughout eras
gone and yet to come.

It's benefits outweigh whatever
real or imagined opinion,
critique or complaint.

Our prattle shan't hinder
the blossoming of flowers
in their rightful season.

By whatever standard and
measurement, Poetry is...
Mar 2015 · 665
wirelessly nude
hellopoet Mar 2015
Data,
meta data,  
metaphysical privacy...
Intrusion by access free for all
Though you've nothing to hide
All of you is on display
Wirelessly
****
Mar 2015 · 231
no such luck
hellopoet Mar 2015
There are shadows all over
Shining darkly in reverse;
Pointy ears of impish horns,
Whose stalks ravaged worn;
Chant rondeaus of curses
On a sea of four-leaf clover.
Mar 2015 · 524
kairos
hellopoet Mar 2015
Time arrives at the station
and hops off that train;
through clearing misty tendrils
one can but notice
its bright travelling cape.
( Who wears these anymore? )
Those caught in Time's gaze
are wrapped in a moment supreme,
where eternal lapses into present,
brilliantly, ever out of sequence; 
whose master conjures curiosities,
making this drudgery worthwhile.
Mar 2015 · 220
Poet Wars
hellopoet Mar 2015
Popcorn is flowing
buttery bright;
Write sabres sparking,
left and right. 
Many have fallen,
many have fled.
Some remain faithful
like voices in my head. 
A few now frozen
in Merlin's stead.
Tomorrow perhaps
we'll walk into the light; 
behind us a memory
of a dream in the night.
Pardon the mixed metaphors and imagery salad. It's quite a toss up, really.
Feb 2015 · 281
Last day of summer
hellopoet Feb 2015
Farewell, days of summer
Your sweat stains remain;
And the fading tan lines
Blend into a chalky frame.
Let's point to autumn leaves
To hide the pale underneath
Folds of warmer sleeves.
Maybe our winter hibernation
Shall blossom into sparkly spring.
hellopoet Feb 2015
The world, indeed, is too much with us...
There is a rumbling in the distance
and he turns around to see shadows;
stunning and seductive in form,
unrelenting in its melodies.
Belatedly it dawned on him,
his imagination was hijacked with permission.
And still they rumble, ever closer; on and on.
Feb 2015 · 1.2k
orphaned pages
hellopoet Feb 2015
Expatriated.... silence swallows whole,
enunciated expression:
Fists pummel at an empty sky.
A voiceless scream tears anaesthetised night.

Who needs gravitas,
what piety awards accolades;
why strike a solemn clarion
where dignity and virtue fail to roam,
when last breathe approaches?
How can we repatriate orphan, edulcerate elocution?
hellopoet Feb 2015
What have you done:
Given voice to silence,
Wings to unspoken thoughts,
Face to emotions deeply masked;
Solid darkness now made bright
When words unutterable take flight
Making them no longer alone.
Feb 2015 · 465
this is just who i am
hellopoet Feb 2015
Called a pain in the neck .
-                                    always in the way
Deaf in the ear
Stubborn and strong willed
It's time they realised
That's the way it's always been
And that's the way it'll always be!
                                        I call the shots
I was born breech.
Sorry, Mum; just a bit of irreverent humour.
Jan 2015 · 223
do you remember?
hellopoet Jan 2015
Would you know my gait
If merely my words parade,
While everything else lay hid?
Perhaps, should you have shared
In my thought and conversation.
Perhaps your soul recalls-
Once, some time ago, I know
We rode the waves of my verse.
Jan 2015 · 194
abandoned at the mall
hellopoet Jan 2015
Gone underground.
You have turned and walked away.
It's not that there's now
Two meals on this tray.

So that is the score;
Don't come back,
Begging for more.
What's left is emptiness.

Go on and don't look back.
You've ravaged me to the core.
In view of which,
I can't say much more.
Sometimes you witness excruciating interpersonal moments in public; and it registers with an inward resonance.
Jan 2015 · 326
meditation
hellopoet Jan 2015
On powd'ry grains of sand
At genial island's narrow end,
Morning gently breaks:

I cast stones at crested waves;
Cheeks still moist in briny breeze.
Jan 2015 · 246
reminiscent
hellopoet Jan 2015
Tendril-wafted dunes
of barren sands waffle,
swirl across mile
upon mile in every direction-
your face appears a horizon away,
there is little comfort found
in accompanying echoes.


Drifting sticks
wail in the pitched wind,
stretched on distant recollection-
stylus of the scribe named Regret;
each flurrying breeze
turns a new page,
taking with it freshly shed tears.


Foetid droppings
of some wastrel, desert vagabond
provide a vivid reminder
of how it can never be again,
to kick it away
would only contaminate
these well-worn wandering shoes.


Head facing forward
wherever the nose points
except in the back of the mind
where the oasis burbles-
each leafy frond conceals
intimate moments now buried
within the unmindful desert's belly.
Like a mirage, some things return to play on the mind, like past relationships and broken dreams.
Jan 2015 · 179
flamebouyant
hellopoet Jan 2015
Here, at my desk
I find myself,
pen in hand, again.
But now, bereft of faith,
no longer knowing why I write:
a moth returning to naked flame.
Jan 2015 · 371
recital
hellopoet Jan 2015
Ribald footprints
of a silent, brooding zitar    
rendezvous with an ebbing tide:
recalcitrant thoughts wash away
along this sandy shoal.
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