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Corey Jan 2016
Your words, with their rhythmic lack of time,
Your metaphors, which some I cannot forget
They leave me breathless

My favorite by you, The Giver, is printed and framed. Sitting on my bookshelf.
Silly, I know, but at the time I read it the words just spoke to me. All your words seem to resonate

I've read everything you've shared up to date. I have so many I absolutely adore. So many, in fact, that while collecting poems that I love (to eventually be put into print form for myself) I made a specific section just for yours.

[Currently there are 43, or was it 53…]

On the other hand, your music (which you have so graciously let me be a part of (a new experience in of itself)) ties in the freedom I feel in your writing as well as the structure of popular music. A feeling I haven't been able to replicate. I've tried.

And to be a part of one of your songs thrills me. I just imagine myself in ten years watching the Grammy's one day and saying, “I played piano on one of her early songs.”

I find myself singing your melodies from time to time. Though I'm still awaiting for The Giver to be turned into a song.

[You did say you had a melody in mind when you wrote it…]

I wanted to write something very heartfelt but it really boils down to this: I have never experienced a relationship like ours. Miles away and never having spoken one word to each other. Yet, we connect through music and poetry.

It is this kind of friendship that I admire. In such the simple form of being connected through the arts. No matter which one.

If it were up to me, you'd be sitting in a studio right now recording your first professional EP. And I'd be waiting to hear the first track.

[“If it were up to me,”]
Thank you. Bless.
Helen Jan 2016
So I stumbled upon HP one day,
not really, I fell face first
with a glass of wine in my hand
giggling like a school girl
except that uniform hadn't fit in
30 years so it was kinda more like
a 50 year old stripper pretending
she can actually still giggle without crying.
I made a few friends, well, I say friends but we were all ******
working the same lame dead corner

Of course, some of us went on to marry well and some just felt they
could no longer worship a vengeful
God and probably stuck a knitting
needle in their eye, or something.
I'm not going to name names here!

Let's just say one went onto fame,
self publishing was cool way before
YOU ever thought of it and another
just yanked the chain around their neck so hard you never even heard
their spine crack and then one dear
friend got ganked by their own self importance.

Trust me *******!!! THAT is a loaded gun.

But this is all Ancient History to the
those that were born during the
I Love Myself with Hate or
I Cut Myself with Love era.
I'm talking about friendships
that fossilise over time
creating deeper bonds than
I love you, no, I love you, no I love you times

So, watching all those that couldn't hack the pace of the streets died
one by one.
Marriage, Suicide, Shot in the Foot
until the brain bleed out,
they all fell like over bloated flies
gorging on the rancid meat left lying around.
A few survived the sickness by purging,
You know, when you stick your fingers down your throat and expel the garbage from within except,
that kind of concept can be deadly
when you have blood red ****** nails...
The remaining 'Oh Heavenly Father, why do you forsake me' ones
retreated to the HP Elysium Fields, passing on their wisdom to a baby kind that will never care about anything but their own grandiose style of taking a dump in the wilds of cyberspace.

So ****** days sadly came to an end at the fork in the road,
yes peeps, pun intended
until one day, I met a guy that ran me over,
literally hit me with a car and left me
a ****** mess, stood over me and said
"How much ***** and you better deduct dollars for the dent in my front fender"
As I chewed on my blood red ****** nails and spat teeth into the street
I offered him a hand and he said
I'll take that and your mouth and
let's see what you can do with
that heartbeat
We drove to the Motel Dive
and I asked him if he knew where all the other hookers had gone from the same lame corner where we all carved our own slices of heaven and he threw me down to the ground and ripped off his shirt.
Upon his flesh was carved each of those names that I had once kicked up heels with, ****** around and laid under the street lamp with,
watching all the little preppies in their pretend Oldsmobiles cruise by without a single worry on their shoulders except for the boulder sized chips and
their own inadequacies riding shotgun on their lips.
The one HP friend that threw me to the ground and carved my name upon their flesh is also the one who resurrected me.
But I think he may have killed all the other ones but, they were dead before they knew it!
But hey!
Hell is where all your friends are right?
taught me everything I know (and a lot I didn't) would gladly follow my friend into the fire.
Richard Riddle Jan 2016
Friends, there are many(I think, I hope). So, to be fair, I will respond with this.

"Stricly an Opinion"
October 20, 2014   8:40a.m.

On August 28, 2013, strictly as a novice, and not having posted anything, anywhere, I posted my first two pieces of "literary art" on the HP site. I had previously searched other similar sites until finally deciding on posting with HP. I'm glad I did.  Why?

Not knowing what to expect, I threw "1894", and "Folklore and Fairy Tales" into the "mixing bowl". Pradip and Sally were the first to comment, and I will never forget the encouragement their words gave me. Never! Quite often, I go back and re-read them, particularly when I get a little discouraged when the "writers block" syndrome decides to attack. Thank you both, so very, very much!

But that is the core of the HP Family. There is an aura, a special atmosphere of cohesiveness among its contributors, willing to offer(in most cases) constructive criticism without being cynical, and always encouraging each other. Making friends whom we may never see, whose hands we may never shake, but a friendship none the less, that is spread throughout the globe, with the thoughts that will always be there. It is a feeling I did not sense with other sites.

One thing is for certain. We never know what our readers are going to like/dislike on any given day. When we post a piece, of what we may think is the work of "pure genius" could go by the wayside in seconds. On the other end of the spectrum, what we believe is not so great, could trend in minutes.

We will keep trying.

Richard Riddle
copyright: October 20, 2014
I have a Friend
And he has Me
We met right here on HP
He is noble and strong
A good man, through and through
Humble, insightful and gentle too

Complex stories he does tell
From experience and diaries
kept so well
Extraordinary accounts, he shares
Creating poetic stories
that shows he cares
He's witty and charming
He is oh so brave
Many a life has he saved

He came to Hp
wondering if this
was a place for him
Safe to share his heart
and tender skin
At first, shy and tenuous
to learn his skill
Now he commands his work,
Weaving words at will
Our fascination he does hold
With gritty stories so well told
Epic adventures, first hand accounts
Alway a moral, insight abounds

Yes, I chose him
And he chose Me
Mark Cleavenger,
My Poetic Friend here on HP

        In resonse to Elliot's #HPfriend Challenge
                        (please read his latest Blog)
Mark Cleavenger was my very first friend here at HP.
Hello Poetry has opened my world to many fascinating
Poets, from all around the Globe. (How cool is that?)
I appreciate all of my Friends here at HP. I love being
a member of this amazing, supportive community.
                    ThankYou  to all my HP friends
Elliott's #HP friend challenge
ThankYou Mark for caring for me.
My life is blessed by you, you see...

☆ I chose him and he chose me ☆
WistfulHope Jan 2016
(Rest in peace)

True Courage

Thomas Rex

Purvi Gadia


Víctor Manuel Serna

Liz And Lilacs


Ember Evanescent


Closed Story

Andrew Quikkes

Amber K


Peter Robert Hamilton

Karl Franssen aka Bryson Flegg

Creep that Loves You

I miss you...

And of course
You've all touched me in some profound way, either through your work or through our conversations, and I will never be able to thank you enough. (And I'm sorry to any of you I may have left out, hopefully that helps to exemplify the number of you I've grown fond of -- there are too many to list!)
- - -
For Eliot York's #hpfriend tag
Lu Lu Jan 2016
Mark Cleavenger and SPT,
kairos and Weeping Willow,
Seona C, and L'Obscurité ,
Danni, and Jack,
Kalypso and Mike Hausner,
and many, many more,

thank you for writing such inspirational poetry that strikes home every time. You inspire me to be a better poet, and I couldn't ask for better people to admire, especially as I watch your work continue to grow and change, improving all the time.

Lu Lu
Nigel Finn Jan 2016
"Write a text about someone you're glad to have met"?
There's not anyone who doesn't fit that bill yet!
How could I choose one person who's reached out to me,
Through private conversations or their fine poetry?
Oh, dear sir, I wish I knew how to explain,
How I love even those who would wish to complain,
About my writing style or the person I am,
Or who write things about which I don't give a ****.
Each one's caused a change with how I see the world,
With each word a new perspective is unfurled,
Each as important as the one that came before,
My only regret is there haven't been more!
I must reject your challenge before I've even begun,
I won't choose one person - I'm glad I met each one.
(Although, if I were forced to choose, then Jane Bennet and Brent Kincaid are two amazingly friendly people who have actually encouraged my long waffling rants about everything and nothing in particular. The fact that I love their poetry is just a bonus.)
Harsh Jan 2016
this is just
a small piece
dedicated to
the sweetest stranger
I've ever met online
(not that I make a habit
of making new friends
on the internet).
Thank you for
always giving me
kind words
and warm wishes
and appreciating
the love that
I have to give.
To Sukeerti. Thank you so much for always reading and appreciating my words; I'm sorry I don't seem to reciprocate the gesture.
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