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A blinding light from the phone the teenager wakes up to at one in the morning - everyone’s been there, technology advances as our moods considerably decrease.
Smooth waters at the bay, a pretty blue light reflecting in the sailors eyes - but he wants to be greater than he already might be, so he sails out to find more difficult places and larger waves.
And one should never make a promise they know they can’t keep because words can cut like knives, if not worse, leaving deep, horrid scars everywhere they might so softly touch.
But then the new mother looks down at her gorgeous newborn angel with beautiful bright green eyes, realizing things’ll now change; for infants bring hope to a cold, hopeless world;
Yet there’s another new mother across the world somewhere in which is checking her balance, seeing which item she should buy though she can’t afford - diapers or baby food.
We all know how pictures can speak a thousand words, floating gracefully within the air - but too few words can not paint a colorful picture at all, it’ll just be grey and empty and sad and pointless.
Sometimes the person you'd take a sharp bullet for is the one that pulls the trigger of that dull handgun, and you were just on the wrong end of it...and you'll end up talking to them later, asking them how prison food tastes, saying "hope you're doing well, I'm still in the hospital, haha."
But what? Have you eyes in the back of your head? No? Well then why are you walking backwards, my dear?
Even when one runs into those low self-esteemed bullies thinking they can fix themselves by breaking everyone else, physically or mentally, get suspended for a fight - because constantly getting in trouble is funny and cool, right?
There’s a teacher across the empty, echoing school hall, one who wants to be more; have more classes; help more kids succeed with their sometimes outrageous dreams.
There’s a beautiful rainbow stretched across the bright sky in which is waiting to find its end; waiting to find its clouds to complete the breathtaking, aesthetic, panorama picture...
She sits there staring at empty cups, hoping to fill them all up one fine day but saying that she can't do it alone...and that’s the reason they will never be filled with any thirst-quenching liquid,
With rain softly falling, a homeless man on the side of the street with his empty hands out and a tearful look in his eyes, sign sitting next to him,
People stop, people stare, then get upset when they see something a little too violent for their taste although they asked - no, they begged, for it...
Feel the burn of the scorching hot fire made from the lies everyone can’t help but tell.
But still, there’s that little light of hope. The yin-yang symbol doesn’t lie - that little sliver that keeps us going, the 'what if' statement we all hold onto and keep close like a golden locket given to us passed down for generations.
I once came across a seemingly dead tree with but a single flower somehow still growing beautifully, vibrantly, peacefully as if the rest of the tree was still alive.
Those who are non-believers sitting alone, believing in the fact that there's nothing there...those who are believers, though...still. Sit. Alone. Because they're not always all that different from those who don't.
Confident singers are engraved with hallelujahs, just as the guilty, depressed, warn-out poet may write about pain, possibly from their dead members gone too soon, now lying under a rock engraved with their names.
Don’t only feel, but also see his guitar shooting musical notes like bullets across the room, reaching the crowd, hearing them roar louder than an untamed lion, for he remembered his dreams and never gave up on them.
These sentences all ask but a few questions; who’s good enough, who’s not? Who’s going to make it, who’s not? But it’s a trick, because everyone who reads this imperfect line in a book or on the screen of a device, is in fact, perfectly imperfect.
Still don’t believe it? Then go and get all the canned goods out of the pantry - whether it’s beans, carrots, corn, soup, anything. Just get everything. Big cans or small cans, taller ones or shorter ones. Get all of them.
Place all those cans on the smooth, tan countertop, look back at the pantry which should now seem far more empty than it was before - that’s what the world would look like without you...without the reverberating sound of your footsteps. It would look empty.
Sitting on the bus stop bench all alone, with nothing but a broken, bleeding, but still beating heart in hand - look down and see that you’re still holding on and it’s for a reason. And for a very good reason, at that.
These words are meant to cut like knives, not on the wrists of those who think pain is the answer, but on the heart of those who realise it’s not…
Picture daddy telling you how to act tough, how to take a punch right to the face...imagine mama telling you to let go of things. It’s fine, just sweep it under the rug, let it go, it’s fine. But it’s not fine, is it?
Trust me, you want to make a footprint in the sand, not a ****-print. So get up off of your *** and start walking, feel the warm, golden substance tickle between your toes, and it doesn't even matter if it’s the right direction or not - just walk. Keep walking.
Walk if you don’t want to feel empty or alone anymore. Walk and don’t you dare stop.
Manage your time wisely
Do not waste it away
Always remain focused
Let no one lead you astray
Get your mind set on the big picture
Be willing to accomplish more
Make great usage of opportunity
There is much more in store
As you live your life
A bump in the road may appear
Rise above those treacherous terrains
In order to make that path clear
Situations never come easy
You may have to go through a maze
The light will overtake the dark road
And you will have those sunny days
The big dance with life
Is the ultimate exam
Do your best to prepare
In order to get your share
Always keep your head upward
And take everything in stride
Strive for success
In order to relieve yourself from stress
Always use your voice
To uplift and inspire
Continue to be courageous
Teach the students to reach higher
Be that motivating force
Enlighten their world a great deal
Boost their inner spirits
With wisdom, knowledge and zeal
JDL Nov 2018
You must do it the right way
YOUR way is the only write way

They say nothing rhymes with orange
Well I am here to encourage

Yeah, go ahead and laugh at it
You don’t even know the half of it

Our poetry is for us, ourselves
Whether you’re ninety nine, or twelve

We commune within our souls
Another etch upon our scrolls

Our soul inverted, exposed
Something only we compose

Don’t ever be discouraged
Your writing is encouraged!
HePo seems to be a very positive place for poets, but for those of you who have dealt with negativity about your poems, this is for you.

Also, for you critics out there, this is only my second “rap” poem so be nice plz. ;)
Positives feedback is of course always encouraged. :)
With each day
There are new lessons to learn
The edification process is there
It provides the knowledge for us to earn
This my friends
Is where our visions become sharper
We take in the valuable information
In order to get brighter
Maria Monte Jul 2017
When graphite meets the silky threads of paper
Or when ink drips upon the golden sheet
A beautiful artist is born.

There are many kinds of artists in this world
Although today I shall speak of only one..
A neglected kind that does not wish to
Gain fame or to capture the spotlight
But rather to share to listening ears.

There be people
Who see the world through the eyes of a painter
But are capable of stealing the elegance
Of a dancer, a fighter, royal blood, and much more
And condensing what they feel and see
Into a narcotic thread of words.

There be people
With broken and shining hearts alike
That run on wheels of ideas and epiphanies
And feed on overstuffed buffets of salty tears and sugary kindness.

Idealists and realists,
The poor and the rich,
The hungry and the fed,
The broken and the salvaged,
The logical and the emotional,
This beautiful art is not limited to anyone.
It is the echoing voice of the heart
It is the pleading cries of the soul
And the smile of our childhood innocence.

This art we call "poetry"
It is the life itself whispering ideas into ears.
And if that isn't beautiful.. I don't know what is.
Utilize your mind
For it is a sharp tool
Do not waste your time
Your mother did not raise a fool
Learning is a lifelong experience
Continue to open those books
Fill your world with more wisdom
So that way you would not hang on a hook
NM Mar 2017
I once hated the dark,
Because it was not my friend.

We never spoke, and everywhere I went, the light followed me.
Just my candlelit lantern and I.
We were friends.

One day, the light did not go on, nor could I find my matches or a spare.
As I searched, I had also lost with it my favorite of rings.

"I can help." The dark spoke.

"No, thank you." I replied, hiding my fear with bitterness.

"Please, you might hurt yourself."

"I said no!"

Going about angrily, I stumbled and cursed, turned this way and that, stumbled and hit myself into a plethora of things and ended up tripping down the stairs straight onto my bottom.

-at the bottom of the dark and cold.

I hated the dark you see, because it reminded me of the former things.
The lost things.

It reminded me of evil and sadness, of misfortune and all fears and scary things.
It reminded me of my mother who passed and my father who is gravely ill,
It reminded me of being lost without a hand,
Of pain and loneliness.
It reminded me of the nightmares I had and the face in whom caused them.

I cried.
I had never cried.
But despite all my pride, I cried for the first time.

Suddenly a voice came from the silence.
"I never was one to cause such misery, I am the dark yes, but even in the dark can there be good things.
Your mother, don't you remember the night sky you both enjoyed? The campfires and the late nights you spent with her talking and laughing? The fireflies and the warmth of the fireplace as you sat and even went to sleep looking up at your glow-in-the-dark stars?
Then in the dark, you would sit and wait for the goodnight kiss and smile given to you and wake up the next, your father there and alive still. The dark reminding you that there is a new day of light and hope.
The time where you realize that you made it passed that one night, and that you are stronger than before.
You and your friends stay up late, doing this and that. Don't you remember them?
Without me, you would have not remembered even the times you had when you weren't afraid, but brave.
Come..."

Wiping my eyes I got up and walked back up the steps, back to my room where the voice spoke again.

"Look, underneath there."

My bed stood desolate and cold.

"But I don't like it under there."

There was silence but I didn't want to hesitate no more in it.
With a large sigh I knelt down and looked underneath.

Piles of random things as well as dust, but there I had found them- a spare box of matches and my ring on top.

"Thank you."

"The next time you are afraid, remember who you are and all the smallest things. Without the bad, we cannot appreciate the good. Without the dark, we cannot appreciate the light."

That night, I slept without my latern.
I never hated or feared the dark again.
That night, I slept soundly,
The darkness a comfort.
For those that need it most. (:
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