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.
Ceryn Sep 15
It was hell, but I called it love,
And the whispers of regret became my favorite sound.
Your half-hearted love is what I look for in a crowd,
The games that you play kept me hanging around.

Like a garden of roses of black and purple hue,
More of thorns that cut, leave no mark or clue.
The worst place for hearts so fearless and bold,
Yet the perfect abode for a love that's stone-cold.

Heard my name resound; did you call out loud?
Glad you need me; you know I'm not trying hard.
I held out my hand, but where are you now?
I thought you'd be here, but you're not around.

You always surprise me, was that even fun?
Staying for today, so tomorrow you'll be gone.
Oh, how could you be that despicable someone,
To a girl who just thought you might be the one?

It was entirely hell, but I called it love,
Deep down, I know, it will always be.
But a love like mine won't forever survive,
Someday, I believe, it will set you free.
rob kistner Aug 20

search not in the brightest lights
that illuminate the field of glory
nor midst the din of exaltation
if you seek a hero's story

look instead outside the glare
in the quiet place beyond
where no accolades are strewn
no ivy laurels donned

where daily life is hard
and the living less than grand
where the strength to persevere
depends on the extended hand

where the poor struggle without
the weak endeavor day to day
it's here by selfless sweat of brow
the brave endure to find a way

willing to give all they've got
to daily do what must be done
to share when even they have not
to face their fear - not turn and run

to reach and help the one's in need
to fight the fight that must be fought
more than the words - to do the deed
to stand and smile - not shrink distraught

it's among these who seldom win
yet rise each day and strive again
it's here your true search should begin
it's here you'll find your champion


rob kistner © 2010
(revision © 2018)
A contemplation on the careless use of the term champion in today's world.
Pyrrha Aug 11
I liquidate my words with love
As I drink and dine with you
To poison you with my perfect drug
The only stable cure for a world of webs
While you may be caught in mine
I'm no spider but a simple butterfly
Meant to drink the nectar bleeding from your genuinity
I'm writing this at 3 am and I have stayed up till 5am every night this whole month. I can't tell if my words are ready or if i'm delusional from exhaustion.
And if we're ever lucky enough

we'll meet each other again.

We'll look into each other's eyes

maybe only for a split second, as we pass by.

Maybe you'll be on your phone,

and I'll have a coffee on my right hand.

And we will cross each other indifferently

but our eyes will know.

'cus the eyes

my sweet, gentle, boy,

they never lie.

Love is more than sightless we know.
Love is the whole thing,
everything in this world;
- you can do either good or bad,
right or wrong,
in kindness or selfishness
- literally just for ourselves or to anyone else we genuinely love.
Love has it all labels – it’s all about us how we give love neither an evil nor a brilliant name.
Wyatt Jul 17
Nobody's born genuine,
you gotta build that mentality.
Do what you wanna do,
not what they want you to do.
You know you doing something right
when they look at you differently.
We ain't built different to be the same.
Make waves, take it day to day.
Break the box, change the game.
Make your craft, shape your name.

I can't tell you
how you should be,
you've gotta mold
your life for yourself.
People come and people go
of many different walks
with many different flows.
Don't tame yourself for anyone,
let your fire for life roam free.

I don't wanna be in your frame,
I'll be the guy taking the picture.
I'm gonna be the moon to your sun,
making waves higher than your walls.
I wanna write with the air in my lungs,
obtaining the knowledge of old
while I'm still living young.
Waffles Jun 17
If I were to draw me
If I were to paint me
If I were to create a physical representation of me me

I would draw a dancer
One who seems in control
Like she has it together
Like she has full command of her movements, of the floor, of her partner, of the music
She knows what she is doing and she is doing it well
Her partner trusts her
The floor trusts her
She does not trust her
She is making it up as she goes
But she knows she is making it up wrong
But they can't know that.

I would draw a child
full of insecurities
Full of rebellion
Full of doubt - in herself; in the world
A black hole for love
A vessel of fear
But they can't know that either

I would draw me as a kind warrior. A commander
as I step into an imaginative reality that is aided by games, by friends.
I am confident there.
My mistakes are large, but there is nothing real to lose - we can always try again.
My compassion is a rare gem, noticed by any who get close enough to look
(mainly jagged rocks are seen in these seas)
The friendships are Real. And I am too.

I would draw myself as a child.
At least, that is how it would look at first
I would be standing next to a man, my dad.
Upon looking closely, one would realize the man is the child.
And the child is the adult.

I would draw myself as a mom
Picked by her kids. Chosen. Looked up to.
Seen as cool, wise, infallible. A great mom. One full of love.
They would only be right about that last part
And they would only be right about that last part sometimes
PoserPersona Jun 16
Garments stripped from worn bones and weary mind
Feet dragged on tile; hands grasp plastic veil
Stepping into a tub; near swoon divine
A pure, naked self emancipation,
before the squeaking running metalware  
that erases the daily equation.
Dancing, singing tunes of own devices:
Cupid, Shooting Star, Sister Golden Hair
Rocky Mountain High, American Pie
Shitty bosses gonna kiss asses here
Astronauts, cowboys, and rockstars meet here
Best yet, the individual is here

Although merely hidden by a curtain,
all for your view is but a damp shadow.
PoserPersona Jun 5
Honey see,
Honey( do/dew)
Honey do or Honeydew?
do seduces with toxic meats
dew attracts bees for its sweets
do concocts Jesus's Last Feast
dew provides succulent treats
Forsaking he who loved thee
But he can't forgive like He,
or ascend to golden streets
Honey do or Honeydew?
Are you Act or are you Fruit?
Next page