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 Sep 2014 King David
lost girl
I had a friend once
who taught me
what it feels like to have someone to truly care for.

I had a friend once
who taught me
the importance of not saying
"I Love You Too."
Just because someone wants me too.

I had a friend once**
who I started to love
but now it's through
cause it was too much to lose.

(a.d)
 Apr 2014 King David
Jayanta
Sit by a river,
Inquiry about flow!

Look at sky
Think about infinity!

Travel in a forest
Look at the relationship!
Reveals, how tiny and pitiable we are
 Apr 2014 King David
J
Why is hellopoetry.com black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so *viveamus per camenam nostram.
^^^let us live through our poetry
 Apr 2014 King David
Legion
When you see her cry
     you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
                                        Lovingly grasp her hand
                                               and dab its tip;
                                       dry each tear as they come.
                                                           ­                               And ask each drop
                                                            ­                                   why it'd leave
                                                           ­                               such beautiful eyes.

  If she wishes
to be in the sky,
  tell her to go.
                              Take the sun ransom,
                              and replace its shining
                                    with her own.
                                                            ­          So you can see her every morning
                                                         ­                          and wish for her
                                                                ­                  return each night.

When you see her scars
  both visible and non-
    touch each gently.
                                             And remind her
                                       that each and every hurt
                                            she has survived,
                                                       ­                                 has only made her
                                                                ­                   that much more unique;
                                                         ­                              that much stronger.

  Show her that she
  is a special person
and is worthy of love.
                                     That she deserves the love
                                            she fears to give...
                                            show her so that
                                                            ­                     one day after you're gone
                                                            ­                      she can find the strength
                                                                ­                    to go on without you.

    Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
                                          that she is amazing,
                                         for just being herself
                                    for being that beautiful girl
                                                            ­                   who thinks herself damaged
                                                         ­                         when in truth she's just
                                                            ­                    a different kind of beautiful.

   And finally, love her.
  Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
                                            that that's what she is:
                                          not a scar, not a goddess,
                                             not a star. But a girl.
                                                           ­                         That deserves to be loved.
Intermittent scribbles in a brand new leather journal.
Hoping even just one line becomes something eternal.
Searching for the perfect words, or poignant points to make,
I lay there, thinking, three a.m, and I'm still wide awake.
Pretty rhymes to pass the time, if no soul ever reads,
I write these words for mockingbirds and fun, no thoughts of greed.
The verdant, rolling plains of the space within my skull,
Spill forth in excess on the page when life is feeling dull.
Words give life to drying ink, a pause between each line,
To choose the words which through the years remind me what is mine.
 Apr 2014 King David
DAEJR
Dye the ***** water with contaminates:
                         Blue #1,
                                                  and Sucralose, too.

Bend over to spray
                         the rotting road-**** with perfume.

Perfect the recipe
                         for what was fleshed and fruited
                                                  from animals and plants.

Photoshop the starved and diseased
                         with smiles
                                                  and beautiful bodies.

Clothe the *****
                         with lingerie, with heels,
                                                  and with stones.

Paint the roses red.
                         We paint the white roses red.
                                                  We’re painting the white roses red!
 Apr 2014 King David
Megan Grace
i
a  m
positive
that   you
are  made  of
s  t   a  r   d  u  s  t
and  water  balloons,
oil  pastels  and  the
collecti­on          of
settled     sugar
at             the
b o t  t o m
of      my
c u p s
o     f
t e a
 Apr 2014 King David
Jayanta
Please repay me
My childhood!
I want to listen
My lost assonance in my mother’s enunciation!
To refresh myself with melody of eternity!

Please bestow me
My childhood!  
I want collect dew from the leaf!
To amass nature’s blessing!

Please confer me
My childhood!
I want to flee my kite to perpetuity and
mist in the hallowed invisibility!
Remembering my childhood days out of materiel world
 Apr 2014 King David
Kate
homeless
 Apr 2014 King David
Kate
i knew from the beginning
that the home we built was not structurally sound
but when they said it would cave in,
i simply laughed my most self-assured laugh
and squeezed your hand a little tighter

the day you punched a hole in the wall
was the day i slammed every door
and i suppose we hadn't built it strong enough
the roof fell on our heads
and the walls crumbled so quickly
by the time the dust had cleared
i realized i was standing in the rubble alone
you hadn't stayed to help salvage our belongings
or to see how my head was doing
you just ran with your bleeding heart
and your hand still balled in a fist
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