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Karijinbba Jul 2021
If you don't find me
It's because I became the singer's Timbre love poetry.
A hundred violins in her orchestra dig deep beneath the core to heal
Any pain felt within.

I too become the music
vibrations piercing in soul
singer of lover's poetry

In memory of a tantric Spanish poetess who sang poems for lovers all her life.
my great friend
Rocío Jurado's healer song
linked in song below.
By Karijinbba
Mykarocknrollin Jul 2021
maybe you will think
maybe you will feel
we all have reasons
we all have decisions
we all have explanations
does it count
does it matter
will it evaluate who we are
will it assess our personality
sometimes it will take seconds
or minutes
or years
what if it takes 100 years
to get back again
to turn that chance again
to hug her again
to say you love her
to say sorry
to make her feel
she's the one
she's the only one
of all the hundreds

Kairosclere Jun 2020
There's so much I want to do, almost infinite time, the right resources and a hundred ways. 

There's so much I wished I could do, but what are wishes, without a will?
Connect to me
Via Instagram @_kairosclere_
Via email
On Pinterest  @_kairosclere_
On hello poetry at
And my blog

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Thank you for reading <3
Nolan Willett Apr 2019
My heart lies torn and numb, black to the core
It’s so lucky I’ve got a thousand more
Dream Fisher Apr 2019
They want to know what I want to see
Before I kick the can.
I'm just hoping to see tomorrow,
I'd be happy with just that with the life I've ran.
I've borrowed time more than twenty times
No need to remind, I'm blessed in cursed flesh
And if that casket in the back of my mind
Isn't enough to get me choked up
I'm not sure I would deserve to be re-woke up.
I'd public speak a hundred times to a stadium crowd
Than to watch this body into the ground.
I don't want to see the wonders,
I just wonder if I will live to see old age.
Turn the page.

And to a father to me, for years wasn't around,
Whatever the case, the man I am is my own,
But I give you the permission to be proud.
I watched my life get uprooted, still grown.
I promise, my kid will always have solid space.
Even if it takes me digging ditches,
His life won't be ditched for another.
He's the precident for a family hindsight me wished.
I'm a character unforgettable to strangers as I've flown
To most relatives I'm a complete unknown.

I don't look for any pity, the opposite of it
Look over the city, making every hit.
I'm a walking statistically non-existent man
You gotta kick it up because yes you can
**** the chains that you think hold you down
But be aware that when you find success
The crickets turn to fake friends saying
They have never not been around.
And that's even worse than silence sounds.
MicMag Feb 2019
Cien poemas
     In less than a year
Muchas palabras
     Flowing line after line
Looking back now
     Digo con confianza
La poesía
     Is the best "waste of time"
This is my 100th published poem on HP.

It's been a fantastic ride sharing in this poetry community, reading brilliant works of art, sparking new ideas, and seeing the power in our words.

Poetry and other forms of art are sometimes derided as a "waste of time." I already disagreed with that sentiment but this past half year or so has shown me again the real value in both reading and writing poetry. So thank you, fellow poets, for making this a great artistic community truly worth our time!
Mil gracias and here's to hundreds more!
gabrielle Feb 2019
if i have hundreds of eyes
i would only gaze at you

if i have billions of hope
i would continue to hope that you'll love me too
if i have thousands of hands
i wouldn't let you go

that is if i would have the chance to hold you
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