Orion stirs my soul to write
To look into the eyes of the sky and see
To hear the distant howling moon
To reach beyond the silhouetted trees
Until I stand above all this
On either side of the pinnacle roof
Oh yes, like you
I've climbed my whole life to reach this height
To stare back into the stars anew
How you look at him, would look at me?
Orion in the sky so high
Though no man is a burning star
But a constellation
For he is connected to the flickering flame
Which burns for you

Endlessly...
With perception ever turning through

O-Ri-ooonnn!
Polka 2d

when you're a part of something
it can feel amazing
everyone is so close together
everyone has a hand when another falls
and everyone is nearby to hear your call

but
sometimes there's a corrupt little bug
spreading its corrupt little drug
of negativity

and because we're all so close together
it's a ripple effect of mass proportions
and because we all feel together
we know
when someone almost dies.

Mark Wanless Dec 2017

"vivors"

its been big long years since back to dark dark
our formas and forpas done some evil ignorance
now time be hard hard and strongs dont fall but weaks do
counts of many die die no cry else never stop
sleepies sup always this but not is true
mawma say a cart moved up hill no horse naw it aint so
fun fun reckon her dumb joke laugh and laugh
we here vivors here vivors group group always be vivors

Mark Wanless Nov 2017

"The River"

The river flows on
The current is strong
I go through the rapids and eddies
Always moving forward

I have tried swimming upstream
Frustrated and exhausted
I gave up
And the river carried me on

I swim very badly alone
I must have the help of the others
The others in the river with me
I thought this made me weak
I tried for a long time to swim alone
It was very hard and frightening
Sometimes I almost drowned
I had to ask for help
Or die
The ones close to me kept me afloat
Even though I did not like them much
They scared me
They scared me almost as much as drowning
Almost
I asked them where the land was
The land where I could stop
And rest
They said there was only the river
This frightened me also
No place to rest
Ever
Always the river
Always the rapids and eddies
Always moving forward
I knew I could not do it
They told me they could not do it either
That when they were tired
Or frightened
They asked the others to hold them
To keep them afloat
So they could rest
I had never tried this
I thought they would just let me drown
I thought I must learn to swim alone
I was wrong
The others have told me a story
About another river
A river we go to after we die
They say it is very beautiful
Calm and peaceful
With a very strong person
Who holds up everyone who gets tired
I like to think about it sometimes
It makes me happy
Yet I hope
That we can still help each other
When we want to
For that is a very wonderful thing
There are many people in the river
Some are very selfish
And laugh when I ask for help
They are very good swimmers
Very strong and determined
But the river is very strong too
And there is no land to rest on
Ever
And sooner or later
They too must ask for help
Or die
I hope they ask for help
For the river is very beautiful
But I never saw this before
I was always to tired
Trying to swim alone
There are many others in the river
Many are like me
We are very weak swimmers
And we sometimes forget things
So we get together often
To help each other stay afloat
To help each other rest
And to help each other
Remember things
And it is very nice
Sometimes
Even with much help
Someone drowns
But this is the way of the river
It hurts
For we will miss them
But many of us believe the story
About the other river
With the person who is very strong
And helps us all to rest
So
The river flows on
The current is strong
We go through the rapids and eddies
Always moving forward
And we help each other to rest
And may it always be so.

Terry Collett Sep 2017

They're all of them dead
now in that photograph;
their smiles and frowns
of a different age;
the bride in her old fashion white,
anxious perhaps about
the coming night.

The groom in his dark,
possibly, demob suit,
half smiling, half frowning,
seemingly at a loss
like one drowning.

The others: fathers, best man,
bridesmaids and mothers,
and aunts and uncles
and neighbours and friends;
the vicar past his prime, aged,
wondering how long it will last
this rushed wedding:
she romantic and he no doubt
just thinking of bedding.

They're all gone now
to the grave or to ashes;
their graves unattended
or attended by children
who've grown old themselves,
with old black and white
photographs staring back
from the shelves.

On an old photo
Taylor N Culp Sep 2017

This isn't a poem...but if you want to join a judgement free poetry group on Facebook....look up Nameless Poetry! Please join! I don't have anyone just yet, but I'm excited to read some great poetry and get to know people!

Please join!
Feliz G Feb 2017

I dared not to repeat history,
To not repeat that life changing mistake, But different actions, same results.

I piece together this puzzle,
Oh so carefully.
From my experience in the past few months,
I've learned the things we did to fail.

But this isn't enough,
Not much information gathered.
And so, here am I walking on a similar path,
It feels like October 14th all over again.

I don't want this to end up like the 14th... not again... not him.
Lady Narnia Dec 2016

In this quiet, chilly room
Sit friendly faces lost in gentle thought
With comforting shadows warming their hearts
Sitting back and beginning to go

Fingers clamour, key by key
On obedient machines ready to paint pictures
Of little letters holding hands
To become a perfect masterpiece

They watch diligently with curious looking eyes
As their hands dance across the board
Step by step, checking their form
Like an actress playing in performance

This talented group of musicians, painters, and more
But muse and paint is not what they do
They are painters of a different medium
And so they sing very different too

They are intelligent minds weaving baskets of English
Baskets filled with mystical magic
They are the few destined to stumbled into Narnia
For they are a different few that we call writers

Luisa C Sep 2016

i shall remain as a hidden piece of a puzzle,
puzzling myself to pieces on why storms
swirl daily around the absence of my brain.
and on this rainy friday afternoon it should be no different;
wondering how i came to be, perched away
in the back of the room to watch a flood of unfamiliar smiles.
when did i become so lonely and outcast?
the dread of not liking most of the people i'm around dawns
and my jagged edges of a puzzle piece emphasise.
i do not fit with these people. they are
too sure on their happiness.

I don't usually do this (status updates instead of poetry) but I'm really in the mood to flex my creative muscles and share ideas and concepts with my fellow poets here on HP. I love collaborating. I would like to use kik or fb messenger since it an easier means of  communication for me. My kik is hottymelly25 and my facebook is Melanie Wilson (TGWLY).

Also, we have a thriving group of poets chatting together on kik. We're just a small group of poets who have met on here or on Poets Corner (another poetry app we like to use a lot) and we talk about life, poetry, what we made for breakfast, the importance of the decoy vaginas that ducks have to prevent rape and everything in between. It's quite entertaining and we're kinda like a family. If you're interested in joining us, just message me. :) 16+ only please.

Thank you for reading. ❤

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