Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
I am tethering on the edge again
plagued by decisions, too many
the path to travel is nowhere in sight
all that I have left is melancholy.

I remember how I got to this place
it was certain that I would always be right
yet at every fork, I went wrong or left
now there’s no going back, try as I might.

At sorrow’s end I see myself again
as a farmer trying to grow his future
drawing from the well of memories
tilling the fields like a Repugnant Creature.

The choice is simple when I think about it
to savor the moment, or to sacrifice
yet the edge I stand on, rocking back and forth
I cannot find happiness, regardless of the price.

“Fly”, screams the wind, pushing me ever so gently
“Stay”, say the memories, holding me back in place.
“Fight” mumbles my own inner voice
“Pray”, says the world that put me in this cage.

Weary, I sit down on that cliff
staring for answers in that dark abyss
fighting to undo the chains that bind me
all I ever wanted was a little bit of bliss.

This place is cruel, but so am I
unwilling to give up or to fly away
to go anywhere, just not here
my will won’t be undone, it will not sway.

This is another fork, just like before
a battle to be fought before I have recovered
a question that needs an answer right now
To sever, or to be severed?
Contemplating some tough decisions in real life, this is just but a reflection of what's going through my mind.
Soldiers don’t cry on battlefield
They don’t run back to their camps
Nor ponder upon how hard the war is.
This is war and it is tailor made exactly for you
So, don’t run back to your room, kid
Nor ponder upon how hard life is
For soldiers don’t cry on battlefield
And neither should you
Limem ALi 15h
I had a dream of an angel
She was waving her wings to fly
But in a minute she stopped and started to cry
She looked so tired
and i really felt sorry for her
made me wondering
she might lost her direction
I went straight up to her and talked to her,
Please sit down and take your breath i said
Can you fly? Me asking her.
I don't really even think i can she said.
I said no, no you know the way.
You know where you have to be.
You came from the sky and you will come back to the sky.
But you choose, land and stay down the ground or raise and fly again.
It's all about you.
Either way live or die.
She came from the egg that was cracked and broken
Brought with her language that was unspoken
Far north she she found land of ice and fire
that quenched her soul's deepest desire
It washed her away with wind and rain
to forget the sorrow of her silent pain
*
The moment that came then faded away
She now looks for more to come her way
Amongst darker days and longer nights
Resumes she stronger her darkest fight
Testudo. The Turtle forms, we

Stand. Hunker down under your shield/my shield
Now and then shifting smartly left or right to kill/hate
the enemy.

Could it be
Enemies you love?

Ought not so to be.
Something's wrong,
the Turtle's misformed, deformed, in form

the center cannot hold...

And that was the lesson, war don't make things better,
ever.

Nobody, God Almighty included,
ever looked on war's results,
at a human-dirt level, and said "That's good."

If I am average,
I may make certain assumptions based on self evidence,
things mine own eyes witnessed, as it seemed.

I can stand ready to give answers to every challenge to the faith.
(Stipulation, mine, the faith
That is in me.)
I cannot so stand for the faith that is in you.

Rise to the challenge.
It’s your faith you’re defendin’,
I got mine covered.

Your hate shan’t hinder me, I shan’t let it.
Letters can naught contain.
Your hate has not to gain. Spell o' respect,

on you. R E S P E C T find out what it mean.
D I V O R C E, curse on you.
Spell o' bitter'n average stupid in yo' mouth.

Tammy and Aretha walzin' wit Matilda,
put a spell, on you, onus ennui, pay attention, fool.

Gainsay that.

Beyond the shell of your belief is all that’s called unbelievable,
Beyond the bubble of all you know is all you don't.
Simple to sublime.

Here’s this deal:
Your fair share of everything,
in return for nothing. Grace for grace.
Take it or leave it, makes me no nevermind.

Thank you, Knower of all, for what's granted.

You could stop there if that were your childhood prayer routine.

Amen makes it so.

A command from the bridge, “Make it so, Mr. Solo.”

Testudo.
This tortoise may bear the weight of the world, but

Can we believe it?
Standing on such tortoises all the way down?

Ready. Sistere.
(Google it, f’Cry’sake. E’en scientologists know
you gotta know what the words mean
when you read ’em or hear ’em or say ’em.) Define yer term.

Lies powerless, the idle word, bleeding from the wounds,
redeem them all. Sense and sensibility,
Pride and pre-
judging
next, like yo judgment changes the future.

Sistere's the command to stand
given prior to the command to form Testudo,
the Roman version of the tortoise
military engineering adaptation
young Alex used to maul
Persian  shieldwalls. A human tank, back then.

Wallbuilders! Sistere.
Shield of faith.
We have the mind anointed for the appointed time.

Build another wall, or we will loose the mob,
after the futbol game.

Can you believe that?
Test u do, then wait.

Cool, it’s shady under such a cloud of witnesses.
Toying with lead soldiers. That, and lead paint. Maybe I am mad. Or only old.
Maybe, no, wait and see. Let patience have her perfect work.
It's always a criminal time to fight/
To fizz away our furies and our fears
in violent interactions within 'The Warrior Play'/
To unite in bouts/
Put personalities in liberty/
Releases
to bring about the death reaction

Untangled in all this
Is an eye/
a void/
It paces and turns
forgetful and lost ;
a powerless ghost and a witness
to these mad spoilings and energy fits/
This pinball of the battlefield
is catalyst ;
The untouched spirit of the weapon-head/
a war chime
and the thirst of all of us 'soldiers'

                 - in pattern & in population
Crystal 2d
Without you gone
I can barely think
My brains go to mush
As I drain another drink

The days go by as a blur
As I stumble home every night
My family says I need to take it in
But I take on the words with a fight

I've been sober
For a day
I've taken your death in
Not knowing what to say

You left the world
Without a sound
Why didn't you ask for help
All the happiness you could've found

But without you here
I'm just lost
I would bring you back
No matter the cost

I am going to bring
Memory in your name
Make it a brave, strong one
Make sure that no-one puts your name in shame
so far this year I have lost 5 people in my family. They weren't all old too....
I keep forgetting that I am me.
That I am ‘Kiara’,
Smart and immature and competitive and deeply flawed and conceited and shallow.
With no actual purpose.
A being meant to only convey emotions ‘I’ would.
I keep forgetting that I can’t be reckless,
I keep forgetting that I can’t be brave.
That I can’t just one day decide to snap and break no matter how much I want to,
So I sink.

I think of it as a dream, one I cannot escape,
And do not want to escape at the same time.
Pinching myself doesn’t make it any less of a dream,
But I keep doing it to comfort myself.
I keep forgetting that I am supposed to be me.

Sometimes when my mind gets lost in the storm,
And the thoughtless sails have broken off,
I sit motionless, waiting for the next command,
except I am wearing the captain’s clothes,
Yet I command no one.
As if my body, my being is no act of resilience, instead, a vessel I am not allowed to control.
Here, I stand still. Here, I keep waiting.
They force and push, poisen our water
We see in plane sight plenty of manslaughter
We get out our phones, notebooks or watch tv's
Than deal with these necessities
They manipulate extort and rape
I tell you what they won't escape
Where they're going
To much of an ignoramus for knowing
This realm or next your sins will be showing
A poem about afterlife and how you should not have an imbalance between your ying and yang. The ones in power will not win
For every mind that's set ablaze
Every hurt beyond expression.

For every Treasure lost to madness,
Every piercing, crippling doubt.

For every priceless Soul,
Who's lost all hope.

Fight like hell, you are beautiful.
#MentalHealthAwarenessDay2018
Next page