Blooming in my hearts delight
In the Garden of Eternal might
Peace sprouts from a drop
Of sincerity
Sun shines rays of clarity
Spring thriving in blooms once again
Through God's secret
So simple
Love one another, forever be friends.

Some call it somethingphobic and bellicose
Crude masculinist supremacy (by far)
Insensitive, sexist, and just plain gross –
But it’s righteously vegan – my weekly cigar!

If not for hellopoetry
I would have given up
The writing was starting to take its toll
Left me emotionally exhausted
I was forced to take a break
For all my energy it had drained
Sleepless nights, endless lines
Trying to switch off my brain
Left me depressed
When sentences formed
A story I'd tell
About my life in hell
Sometimes dramatised to a new level
Sometimes I have seen myself become the devil
All my emotions that stain the page
The blood, sweat and tears
Written into each line
Left me losing moments in time
And for this writing became a crime
Didn't feel like I was utilising my mind
Until recently I realised this was the only legacy
I would leave behind
I've seen this art in a whole new light
Through words on a page, I've shown my fight
I've shown all my emotions, I have been totally open
Gave my all in every line
Sprinkled in a flavour of rhyme
If not for hellopoetry all I'd have is blank pages
A mind full of lines, forgotten in time
Took some time to unwind
And that is when I realised
These writings and I are bound for life
I've learned to embrace this now
Finally proud of all my works,
how has it taken me this long
To fall in love with this art
If not for hellopoetry
An appreciation I would never have tasted
And this whole community I've embraced it
Don't care if you love or hate it
It's made me make some changes
If not for hellopoetry
There are talents I may never have uncovered
Some of us are still so young,
Still, more room left to improve
The elder ones raising us up
Understanding a whole new love for this art
I once said These lyrics were written in blood
Straight from the arteries from my heart
That metaphorically speaking
I spread all I am, all across the page
Bled the led with what I felt  
So much heart into every verse
All this time it was never a curse
It was something special I've been gifted
To get all these thoughts out of my system
If not for hellopoetry
I wouldn't be here...caught within this poetic atmosphere

©2018 Written By Benji James

The Poet

The poet is a thinker:
He has to be.
The poet doesn’t only think:
He is a visionary.
He takes us from the lower to the daily,
To the higher daily quality;
A vision of reality:
The underlying daily.

He makes us see us all
In feelings large and small.
He is important in the sorting out
The whole assortment of our sentiments.

He steeps us in the deep
Without our knowing,
Showing us through images and pretty rhyme,
Rhythms in and out of time.

Showering the reader
In the afterglow of beauty
It is his duty
To be leader to a higher self:
That is the poet in a nutshell.

The Poet 4.2.2018The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Arlene Corwin

They say willow trees are weeping because
their branches sag towards the ground
while all the other trees
choose to reach up and up
towards a gorgeous sky


But perhaps willows just know that
you gain nothing from
grasping towards an endless horizon
and no matter what you do
you will never touch the clouds
nor will reaching them
do anything for you

and instead they let their branches bend
towards an earth
that yields boundless and glittering treasures
diamonds and gold
for those who are willing
to put in the work
and keep their feet on the ground

I see
the moon, in its fullness
surrounded by curls of clouds

I wait
...for the frog to croak
....in the mist of early evening

i wait,
but...it seems, there's no hope
in hearing its sad song tonight

i hear,
instead, the dark roof creaking
followed by calculated footfalls

and then,
i hear soft scratching on the gate,
soft voices......seem to be calling

i rise,
to see three stray cats lazily slouched
on the sidewalk, purring, looking at me

quickly,
i see this black dog....joining the crowd
its glimmering eyes...looking...asking

and through
the moonglow, and scant light from the
lamp post...i see its *******...all swollen

my God!
where could her puppies be? my eyes wander in
the dark midst of mango trees and banana plants

t'was fed,
along with the cats...black dog ran when its
share was brought there at the dark vacant lot

tonight,
as in past nights, time is slow as a snail,
while i.....am thinking over and over,

how i,
can bring that black dog and her puppies
to safety..........here in my own backyard

in life,
we're like horses rushing...stopped in midstream
by homeless cats, dogs, kids, old, disabled people

either
we keep running...............or, we screech
we halt...and allow them to touch our lives...


Sally

Copyright March 2, 2018
rrab