Captain Hook
i know, you've got scars that can be seen with an open eye,
and yet, when i look at your long curls like stalactites, i wonder
why don't you tell me more,
i know for sure, you'll have fun seeing my relatives,

hope the numbness in your right hand is gone,
it's one thing when peter pan cuts your left and quite another
when you die with the sword in your right,

are there eyes bluer than the sky to see through the waves
and salt
when i bite your nails, devotee,
when my lips cover your lips, silently (the only way to survive)

but if your right hand dies how will you carry your cross,
how are you going to gather yourself at one point when
the pinky/ring fingers sit nicely in the middle of the palm like yin/yang,
forget-me-nots,

Note: Mr. Hook, if you really want something the desire must be greater than the column of infinity or the tip of your nose.

it is always the same
restless and sad
one for all, like the sun
like the moon
flowers
tears

only the words change

Hello everyone at HP,

Starting this month, we hope to bring something new to Hello Poetry: a spotlight on our fellow poets here in this community.

Each month we will highlight one poet by posting an interview with them complete with a little background, how long they have been writing, what inspires them, etc. We will also highlight a few of their best or favorite poems (with a link to each one).

If you have any thoughts or questions you would like us to include in these interviews or would like to participate, please feel free to let us know via the comments section or direct messaging.

We hope this will be well received and provide a way of getting to know one another better.

Thank you,
Mr. & Mrs. Timetable

I sit in the dayroom of
cell block one in the county jail at
4:30 am.  It’s quiet, almost serene.
All the other inmates are asleep.
I wait for breakfast: two hard boiled eggs,
a doughnut, juice and milk.  
Once a week we can order books.
They will deliver them today.
I’ll get Bukowski, Steinbeck, and Cervantes.
The remaining six days will
fly by.
When I’m released, I’ll go under
the bridge—steal wine and
stay drunk.
I’ll eat every three or four days.
It’s January with record setting
frigid temperatures.
Survival will be a challenge.
There will be the ex-girlfriend to
contend with.
I’ll try to get what little
clothes that I left at her place,
that is, if she didn’t throw them away;
she’s somewhat of a **** like that.
My two best friends that stayed under
the bridge with me, died a day
apart two months ago,
so, nothing but
ghosts and memories there now.
I’m going to miss jail.

I know this woman well
from the curl of days
each day I write
a love letter to life
I strive to allow anything as
it is unfolds emerges
aliveness deadness blindness
foolishness fright ignite
the gloaming of thought
the expiration date for
the hade of dreams
I welcome every pain with a smile,
white hair and a glass of wine

this kind of love nested
in the voicelessness
of uncanny zoons
hues tunes lagoons
in the silence of soles
when you step so carrefully
not to disturb the unformed truths

pain love, neighbours
in the flow of synonyms
they taught myself to me -
the density of ribs
the depth of skin
the electricity of muscles
the tautology of heart
the logorrhea of thought
the temptation of beauty

moon is to blame
it hid its unforseen tales
inside the blueprints of
songs under the skin

My autocrat of a
cat
sat on the pedestal
and watched me type.
His eyes, slits, like
slivers of emeralds.

He took a paw,
licked it, and
washed his despot face.
He owned me.
I did whatever he
wanted.
He sauntered off,
then turned and
watched , as I
took liberty with
truth, for the
sake of
imagination and creation.

I dreamed last
night that he could
talk.
He just said two words.
"Beautiful lies."

There is a gravity to
sadness; it pulls me
downward into a
deep dark well.
I can't climb out.
It's my own private hell.
I pray for levitation.
I jump, only to fall.
I feel forgotten.

I put one foot in
front of the other,
and I will rise.
I move on.
Hope returns like
a long lost friend,
and I find my sanctuary.