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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.
hellopoet May 2015
'

a grated gate in midnight's light 
once fell upon a sorry sight 
as rain washed out the scarlet stain 
and skies bowed down to hear their pain 

a voice without a body heard 
the sordid tale its waist did gird 
one witness found, torn leaf by leaf 
Creation's glory then sank to grief 

a tale no word was writ nor said 
into the ground the silence bled 
a soaked and orphaned quill remains 
fraught with want of trilled refrains 

a poet's tome thus lay ungathered 
wispy strands of dreams, untethered 
if Heaven cried its tears that night 
set up our quaich by candlelight





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hellopoet Oct 2015
The reason for my articulation
is simple and utilitarian-
not to seek perfection,
but to seek ablution.

Perfection is reserved for those
with time to spend and money to burn.
My soul requires much more than these,
its ransom necessitates release:

Expiated expeditiously, in a flurry
of words that scathe my every thought.*




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hellopoet Apr 2015
Rough is the wind that flattens
a tree from its anchored moor,

a destiny not too quick to ruin
presents a whispered word to me:

on we traverse without respite
that weary road we take,

what imprint is left behind
that sweeps relentlessly against these walls--

a spectre of bygone landscapes
whose blustering gusts are raptured calls
hellopoet Nov 2024
In the wreckage of trust,
we gather the fragments,
each shard a lesson,
each splinter a step toward light.

Let us speak the unspoken,
words hung like low clouds,
unraveling the knots of resentment,
finding courage in vulnerability.

With open hearts,
we can bridge the chasms,
threading honesty into our seams,
weaving new patterns from the old.

Forgiveness is a gentle river,
flowing through the cracks,
softening the edges of our wounds,
drawing us back to the shore.

Together, we can map a path
through the overgrowth,
reclaiming the thoroughfares
with kindness as our compass,
compassion as our guide.

In the distance, new bridges await,
bold and unyielding,
built on the promise of understanding,
on the hope that we are stronger
when we rise together,
turning the ruins of yesterday
into the foundation of tomorrow.
hellopoet May 2015
'

You have been much more 
to many a progressively 
ailing heart, 
in the eloquence 
of whispered words - 
watch them alight on 
the pages of a poem. 

What in the waving 
of waxing thought; 
words copiously flow 
in the effervescent 
glow of lilting rhyme - 
solitary images 
march the desert storm. 

Amnesty provides no relief: 
no human deed can make amends, 
the speed of apologies fail 
to outrun the steam roller 
of resolute demeanour. 
Once the balm of intimating breath 
now asphyxiates tomorrow's hope. 

Put forth in plain speech 
what now in riddles present 
then lay a poignant wreathe upon 
this wailing, bardic crypt. 
Underneath its gravestone, find 
wispy embers of yesterdays 
awaiting phoenix wings' climb. 

Hence in its turn let generosity provide 
this grievous dagger a sheath to hide.





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hellopoet Nov 2024
Keep Writing, Whatever Comes

Just keep writing, day by day,
Let words fall out, however they may.
The ink will guide you, though unsure,
In every line, a voice grows pure.

2. Engage with Poems and Poets

In the world of verse, connect, be bold,
Talk with others, both young and old.
Their words will teach, their lives inspire,
Fuel the flame that burns your fire.

3. Embrace Rejection, It’s Part of the Game

Expect the no’s, the "not quite right,"
Rejection’s a shadow, not a blight.
We are not all the same cup of tea,
Nor is every poet meant for thee.

4. Grow in Your Craft

With every word, with every line,
Grow your skills, refine your mind.
Knowledge will deepen, wisdom will show,
As you practice, your art will grow.

5. Control Your Rewards

Don’t wait for praise, don’t seek the gold,
Satisfaction’s yours, in stories told.
The joy is found in what you create,
Not in others’ judgment, not in their rate.

6. Welcome Good Critique

When feedback’s good, embrace the chance,
To learn, to grow, to dance the dance.
But discard the noise that doesn’t speak,
The truth is found in voices meek.

7. Be Kind to Yourself and Others

In the struggle, in the fight,
Be kind to self, keep the heart light.
Give grace to others, as you’d ask,
For kindness, friend, is its own task.

8. Keep Your Eyes Open

Look within, and look outside,
In both the still and the rolling tide.
The world will speak if you just see,
The poetry in all that’s free.

9. Enjoy the Journey

The path is winding, slow at times,
But joy is found in rhythm, rhyme.
Even struggle’s scent will lead the way,
In verse, there’s beauty in the fray.

10. Trust in Your Process

So write your truth, and write it loud,
Your voice will rise above the crowd.
The world may not understand just yet,
But keep writing—you’re not done, not set.
Was approached rather directly by a young & emerging poet about the craft & its process, out came this admonition that covers quite a spread of the territory; it’s far from being the be-all & end-all.
hellopoet Apr 2015




as a child once, to a favoured toy,
countless hours of pristine joy;
but specifications of 'all growed-up' ploy,
memories of past pleasures, now destroy





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hellopoet Nov 2024
There is somewhere you belong,
a realm where the echoes of your youth
dance with the whispers of time.
As a wee one, you wielded words,
the mystery of thoughts made tangible—
not just happenstance,
but purpose, power, a pulse
running through each phrase,
each heartbeat recorded,
etched in the canvas of your heart.

Lift your soulful gaze,
eyes ignited, ablaze,
travel back to that moment—
the bedimpled smile,
the laughter swirling like autumn leaves.
Face the sunrise that beckons,
the bold step forward,
tear-stained cheeks,
yet still, the joy remains.
For in each line lies a journey,
a truth that screams:
words unwritten leave us incomplete,
less than whole without you.
hellopoet Apr 2015
'

The well has not gone dry, 
less frequented maybe 
by both the drawers and 
the occasional passers by. 

The stones are loose; 
between them, mortar dissolves- 
by clement or contrary 
weather on seasonal cue. 

The vessel is parched 
and longs for its lover 
by pulley once lowered 
its rope frayed with disuse.






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hellopoet Apr 2015
'

squashed cabbage leaves, 
crushed petals, broken stems 
strewn along grey slush 


wind whisks cobbled street, 
gravel crunches under 
hooves and booted feet 


rain-drooped marquees 
whisper freshest gossip; 
clock tower tolls on the hour




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hellopoet May 2015
~


I look at this body of work
and recognise the amount of effort & devotion
that have perseveringly been invested
and in the same breath, realise that this is a man
whose poems shall never be celebrated or cherished.

But it had not deterred him from writing his thoughts
and baring his heart on lines of verse; oceans of metered lines...
His love of language and thought and life evident
in an overwhelming voluminous compilation of nurtured words.
This is a man who knew honesty to the inner self and his Muse.





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hellopoet May 2015
~

a single drop
however large this pond might be

shall ripple
until its furthest bounds
for all the whole, wide world to see

each drop
a poem's clarion ever sounds




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hellopoet Sep 2015
in his hand,
bedraggled --
a bunch of what
once was flowers;
in all his plodding
& all his daring do,
he was found out
a blundering fool*




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~ of adolescent woes and woos, no one swooned
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.
hellopoet Apr 2015
You have the right
NOT to remain silent
Everything you say and do
Has been and will be
Used against you
Time and time again,
In the court of corruption.
So say and do it anyway,
like it was truth and
life and death to you.
You have a right
To an audience
If you can't afford an audience
Hello Poetry has been appointed to you!
Do you understand these rights!?
Word up and speak out
Even when your not spoken to!
Let out that primal scream of the soul.
Only the speechless rescind their rights.
hellopoet Oct 2016
was it grafted interference
or was it redolent curse;
all this time, scraping moss
across unguerneyed pavers

each exercise a shocker
grating petitions scour the air;
a dragging fence-gate
badly in need of repair

on either side, stand on a lean
dripping candles and wilting flowers;
suited sentinels vacuum
a freshly emptied hearse
hellopoet May 2015
'

He sometimes feels he may be blind, 
or just afraid of what others see. 
And what he speaks or sees or thinks 
is never what they reckon it should be. 
He is careful, vigilant, and repressed 
'coz in their light he is forever undressed







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hellopoet Dec 2015
your tears water another's garden
your eyes shine with longing upon their yard
no wonder your grass has gone paler
by the day your ministrations tend theirs
while all the while your own wilts & withers*



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hellopoet May 2015
'

would you 
for the love of 
me 
tie this lace 
upon a tree 

when the wind 
upon it blows 
my heart 
on yonder river flows






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hellopoet May 2015
'

I am never without Ludwig 
that mess of tangled hair 
accompanying me with his 
fifth, ninth, and moonlight 

• • • in my now unplugged ears 

for his remains forever
resonant silence against
blaring cacophony of mind
bars on vibrant circus

stereo muted, no longer 
blasting at my need to hear 
thousands of times before 
now lilts, indelibly sealed 

o, but he moves me still





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hellopoet Jan 2015
Not all upgrades are welcome,
Many don't do much to improve;
But one's status quo would
Have been bettered when
You are now deemed "a waste of talent,"
More than previous reckoning:
A waste of space and breathe and time.
hellopoet May 2015
'

Love of the unrequited type... 
Ah! How paradoxical it be! 
Even more paradoxical 
Than that of the returned type... 

return to me my boomerang 
if ironic paradox be 
bring on your wings an offering 
return to set this captive free 

Love is love whether returned or not. 

It gives all meaning to life, 
But when not returned 
It drives us into insanity! 
Constantly contemplating 
Upon what may or may not be... 

provide a reason, supply a rhyme 
keep despair exiled forever 
to hearts a breathe of gentle clime 
elixir to heart's endeavour 

If you have not experienced 
This type of love, 
This unrequited love 
Then you shall not understand 
The joyous part. 
You will think it all tragic. 
But there is a joyous part! 

you freely give from joyous grace 
once prisoner of love withheld 
escape on wings of kiss' embrace 
receive twin souls, tender fire meld 

Love is love whether returned or not. 

my need reaches to the heavens 
despaired reply from there to find 
where is that spark this chest quickens 
love without truth is love unkind 

Whether that person feels the same or not, 
I still love her, and to have someone 
That I love so much, 
Brings certain joy unto me... 
But certain grief to not recieve the love in return... 

It is the most tragic grief 
And the most joyous joy 
At the same time! 

Love, paradox of paradoxes!





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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.
hellopoet Apr 2015
High on an olive grove
overlooking Aegean blue
rests a punctuated thought
a life caught, media caesura
a breath | paused | eternally

Hover above a whistle
memory's wind, it blows
sunburnt reminiscence
where the gods sequestered
Muses interment softly glow

Why the folly, in this--
sending a poet to war
Before charging the shore
struck a fatal kiss in Gaul
felled by a bullet of fate.

How does one farewell
a flame thus whisked away
or have the deities misruled
a more gallant death for him
on the shores of Gallipoli

Perhaps it is as it should be
your life as brief as poetry
on breeze kissed Skyros *****
under shady windows and
fragrance of sage and thyme
In memoriam,  Rupert C Brooke, 100 years after his demise.

He returned to England at the outbreak of World War I and enlisted in the Royal Naval Division. His most famous work, the sonnet sequence 1914 and Other Poems, appeared in 1915. On April 23, 1915, after taking part in the Antwerp Expedition, he died of blood poisoning from a mosquito bite while en route to Gallipoli with the Navy. He was buried on the island of Skyros in the Aegean Sea.

Following his death, Brooke, who was already famous, became a symbol in England of the tragic loss of talented youth during the war.
hellopoet Dec 2015
here witness, arising
among us, divining
with brazen words
dividing

cloven footed
wandering
self-confessed Judas

blood-money filling
vending machines
keep this world
ever spinning*



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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.
hellopoet Apr 2015
Spendthrift,

malingering
along
uncharted frontiers
liquid sorrow
bastes
unformed words
whose crystal
resonant vibrance
reverberates
within
a pilgrim soul
gaze once more
upon your
lint-filled navel
and share
the blossom
of heaving *****
therein find
a brokenness
with no need of mending
hellopoet Nov 2015
stood tall with chest
puffed out, so proud
to be this big boy, now
your dependable little man

'you're man of the house, now
so take care of mum and the kids'
all seven years of life straining
to comprehend what's going on

but all that was forthcoming
was a handshake,
a clap on the back,
fading footsteps,
and two swinging
khaki duffel bags*



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hellopoet Dec 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.

Perhaps tomorrow
we'll walk in the light; 
behind us a memory
of a dream of night.*




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hellopoet Oct 2015
in the aftermath
silence echoes
rising above our mushroom cloud

after all's been said and done
there is no more of you
now, than there is of me*




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hellopoet Sep 2015
water bearer to the gods
exiled to a galactic canopy
whose tender kisses graced
Zeus' chalice rim, brimming
with supplicatory libation

Hera's jealousy raged on
ending in genocide for Troy
Ganymede, the lone Trojan
bearing upon his shoulders
drink, to quench Mt Olympus*




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hellopoet May 2015



Less than a bell's ****** 
fainter than a whistle 
stars in the sky twinkle 
your breath a hushed whisper 

O the tiniest sparkle 
dapple on glassy water 
far from distant heckles 
my soul freed from shackles






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hellopoet Apr 2015
somewhere
in the sky
on a moist day
you may spy
a rainbow
hanging high

let that always
remind you
one shining
moment true
friendship's
promise renew
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