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Jessica Kolb Oct 2016
Every year, leaves grow attached to the love of their life. They hold on, never letting go. They stay despite the hardest of days. Overwhelming wind, rain fall, and the loudest of thunderstorms. But as the seasons begin to alter, and the air starts to crisp, the leaves burst to flame. Fiery reds, vibrant oranges, and soft yellows paint the trees. Eventually, they learn to let go. One by one, day by day, they gracefully move on and reveal the skeleton that has kept them close. Yes, they may have fallen, but that only means there is a new beginning. A fresh start.
It's okay to let go.
  Apr 2016 Jessica Kolb
Kunal Kar
A Paris night, with all it's sweet endeavours,
Blurred by a face with emerald eyes,
Out shadowed by the shades of her hair,
She must be the truth of beautiful lies.

With a cup of warm coffee in her hands,
With the gentle wind unfolding her hair tress,
The waiter with bewildered bones,
Greeted her 'Buenas Noches'

She grinned and with tender steps lead her way,
While a pair of eyes was at sea.
In the wild calm of her imperfect picturesque,
The shackles of his heart were set free.

Behind the looking glass, the boy stood subdued,
In the utter waves of her essence,
The euphonious ripples of the angel's visit,
The graceful gift of her presence.

The night turned into a hopeful day,
With the pair of eyes still seeking in the streets,
Searching for the beat of his heart,
The earth to his feets.

With desire clocking to despair,
Those eyes grew wet,
With the clock beating seconds,
He had a journey to get back.

The bags laid still on the room,
The food untouched at the bed,
With eyes lost in that night,
He raved the streets of Paris till a miracle shed.

And his eyes met that lovely face,
The girl you can't stop from falling in.
The blood rushed once again through the veins,
Working the muscles to bring a smile,
The smile of an answered heart,
The smile that explains the mystery we call Love.

But the face was lost again,
In the same old Paris streets.
With a hidden smile, he turned back,
Hoping their small worlds would meet again,
In a place where hearts reigned.
Kunal Kar
  Apr 2016 Jessica Kolb
Cheyenne
I am distant.
Like the stars.
I burn slowly,
I burn dully,
You will see me only
If you take the time to stare.
For I am the kind of light you might
Not even know is there.

Cup your hands around me--
But very softly--
Leave some space,
Not too tightly.
Just enough to halt the penetrating light.
Peek between the gaps,
See if you might glimpse
The faintest glow of... something?
Just against your fingertips.

Obtained at a time of whimsical fancy.
Stuck to the ceiling/wall whilst chasing youth.
Left to be there--
Near forgotten--
Just another fixture in the room.
But when the light has grown weak,
Lying there, cannot sleep,
Mind too full to count sheep:
I'm here for you to affix your eyes.

A reminder of who you once were
And who you'll never be again
And who you are.
A symbol for... for cosmos
And questions and answers
And stars.
All within a glow.
Which, in any other circumstance,
Wouldn't even show.

This is the light I have to offer:
All that I can be.
And I can give you something simple,
Subtle magic,
But only if you stop to see.
Only when the lights are off,
The sun is gone,
The dark opaque.
Only then: you'll see my glow.
Even then: it's faint.

Not for wild celebration--
But rather quite contemplation.
A moment for yourself.
A moment to look in.
A quite moment in the dark:
That is what I am.

I cannot guide the way.
I will never light the room.
Won't break the darkness,
Lead the masses,
Assist a flowered bloom.
Please don't ask me to.
Please don't expect me to.
But, if you let me,
I can glow in the dark for you.
  Apr 2016 Jessica Kolb
Maria Etre
I saw her under a different light
it bounced off of her pale white skin
delicate and porcelain like

I saw her under the blatant sunshine
it gilded her hair, turning her into a goddess
of beauty
full of mystique

I saw her under the silver stars
glow
on her sleeping eyes
showing me the woman within

I saw her under the dimming lights
of the bar, swaying her hair
carelessly, becoming one
with the music

I saw her under the sheets
of instincts
when her whole body
mounted me with confidence
telling me
"it's different"

that's when I saw her
she transcended from under a different light
to a different
world
my kind of
world
  Jan 2016 Jessica Kolb
Aztec Warrior
Not A Poem: A Personal Message to Hello Poetry and A Pledge**

None of what has been going on here at Hello Poetry makes any sense but it is hurting many poets here and driving many poets/friends away (8 and counting)... my only thinking is that it is a deliberate attack not only on poets but poetry, and these web sites where poets gather and is part of a growing american culture of barbarity.. it's like those U.S. drone attacks done from behind closed doors that no one sees coming and then everything and everybody gets destroyed... it must stop and we must stop it!

For all those who are interested, I will do the same as Quinn has done and post ANY and ALL private messages that are character attacks or personal attack on me or my friends (if they allow); or **** comments left on my poetry... Walt Livingston’s  comment on Quinn’s poem should not be tolerated here at HP, and called out for its inhumanity. It has nothing to do with poetry or the poem he left it on. Not one thing he said can be verified and this kind of thing has to stop. It’s like watching Fox or CNN news- ******* opinions posing as news and training us on what to think.

Also, for the record, if anyone receives a message claiming to be me do 2 things, first ask me if I actually wrote it sent it and 2 send it to me... I do not really know (that is I do not yet have the proof needed) who or how many are behind this, BUT I WILL NOT ALLOW THIS TO CONTINUE AS LONG AS I AM AT HP. And this goes for any other site I may visit. So please block me now all who think I will not stand up against plagiarism, attacks, harrassments, trolling, stalking, and any other form of oppression.

I also know that I may lose a few friends in doing this. To them, I can only say, that this is not a reflection on or directed to you in any way and I am sorry if this has hurt you, deeply sorry...

Aztec

PS  Oh, and by the way, the friends I am referring to know who they are, so if there are any questions about this,  message me and ask me.. no one has the right to declare friendship without my say so...

Wish I didn't have to say this, but since part of the sneak attacks have been done by people using other people's names to pick fights and attacks... yes it has gotten that bad.. That insidious...

So poets of HP, Let’s write poetry, support each other with mutual respect (even if and while we debate the content/ideas of a poem); build a community of poets that is a MODEL for the way human beings should and can treat each other, with mutual respect and listening to and seeing our diversity of ideas and nationalities as a great advantage to art and society and to ourselves... this is not a call for love and peace, since this will have to be fought for, nor is it a call to live and let live... there can be no place among human beings for these attacks... as well as no “free speech” for wreckers and attackers..
Let our language be poetry
Let our words be open and honest debate over poetry and art
Let our hearts be filled with fresh new ideas about life
Lets create wonderment and awe with our pen!!!!  
Come on HP poets, Lets Go!!

Aztec Warrior 1.25.16
Well, this post has sure caused an uproar. I am tempted to say, ya'll deserve each other, so *******, but that would be foolish and wrong of me and get us no further, and the attacks on each other would continue and the real poets, those who want to actually write poetry and have it read and appreciated are leaving. So the first think I want to add to this post is: Quinn, and the rest of you (Rick who is "r'and also "woody", a few others; along with Gary L, Nagi,and I think Jack and Vicki were named in Woody's comment that is not gone) STAND DOWN!! No more poems, comments or messaging spreading rumors or attacking people for who they like or block or what happened  months ago or at another poetry site. STOP.

Look everyone who actually cares, someone (and all admit they do not know who he is or was) by the name of Walt Livingston posted and **** attack. It 's one of the reasons why I posted the above post. This WAS NOT a defense of Quinn, as it is a method being used in several poetry site to create dissention and havoc.  No one knows who this is and yet everyone thinks they know and they spread this rumor far and wide to anyone who will listen. It has to be Quinn he just wants attention. It has to be 'r" he's been attacking me forever and on it goes round and round until it is almost impossible to find the truth. The truth is someone created that account and look at the results Instead of pointing fingers and coming up with all kinds of conspiracy theories, lets put or know how together and find out.

I do not know who this is nor will I speculate. But I will say this, all of us at this point are being played!!! And attacking each other is not helping to get at this problem.

No matter what Quinn did or didn't do at WC that got him kicked off, there was continued trouble at WC that Quinn had nothing to do with. Does this mean Quinn is innocent, no, it just means this mess we are dealing with is bigger than one individual. Look I know you all don't agree with me on this, Which leads me to the main point.

I put the center or heart of the above post last for a reason. To make it stand out from the part where I was saying what I would do to prevent attacks on me and friends (if allowed). Maybe I was wrong in doing this because you all have ignore it. Or at best gave it some general nod and then went right into attacking each other trying to prove who was the real hero/heroine and blah blah. Why?? Why couldn't these points be the glue that can help sort out this "sad state of affairs at HP"  as someone put it. They certainly do not detract from the "Rules of Conduct" Eliot has posted. and everyone "agrees" they will abide by. They could actually act as a banner of sorts that people could come around and express why they like or dislike them and as a means of determining disputes. But I am also convinced that if these points do take hold it will be much easier to root out and identify anyone or someone who is provoking bs on the site.  Are they perfect? hell no. And that is why it will take many many of us to do this including CRITIQUING THE POINTS. But there will be no tolerance of knocking at people for any reason.   It's easy: critiquing points, yes; critiquing people, NO..
I hope I am not talking to the wind here...
Jessica Kolb Jun 2015
It was a romantic evening
in the extravagant city of New York.
I'll Be Seeing You drifted throughout Central Park.
As the leaves danced in the Autumn wind,
the sun began to set beyond the towering skyscrapers.
People awed at a young woman in red
wandering a long path.
Down the road, there was a man.
He spotted her and her shimmering brilliance.
In her own little universe,
she began to twirl in her rosy dress.
Her wavy, golden hair flowed in the wind
as she laughed and smiled.
As she slowed down, she caught a glimpse of the man
and her eyes began
to shine as bright as the glistening sea.
He grinned as she spun around.
As they got closer, he opened his arms wide
and she ran in her louboutin's,
and jumped in his arms.
In that moment, everything fell into place.
She was with him and he was with her.
Jessica Kolb May 2015
The world is a mysterious place.
There's people all over going at their own steady pace.
Like I am here, and you are there.
We have our own paths to follow,
but maybe some where down the road,
we'll collide and sparks will fly.
Our finger tips will touch
and the world around us will freeze.
Within an instant,
our souls will intertwine and become one.
We'll shine brighter than the sun.
"I'll be seeing you."
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