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 the community to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
We were once seventeen,
When everything is at its finest
With our first taste of champagne but
We prefer lemonade instead;
and our
Bodies with so many hormones,
o shit!
To learn we are naively in love;
with some boy who outwits you.
We play
Video games and eat too much.
The finest seventeen days were when we gave our fears a beating.
After two music festivals,
we would walk around the hills,
and then go to beach where we would talk in the cafes in the evenings.
At night,
we would be in her house with the windows open,
and the stars bright,
and after that we would say goodnight.

It'll all end in April.

We were once seventeen,
When everything was at is finest.
Inspired by Rimbaud’s poem Novel.
Knowledge has ahead of it, forgetfulness.
The crow does not stop to examine his wing,
His gaze would surely cause him to fall out the sky.
Yet there is a time when knowing is fruitful.
Reflective verse for a work in progress - Crows Cage, a graphic novel about a correlation with the life and works of Vincent van Gogh
Josh G Aug 31
Numerous titles spanning an ocean of literature
Offering stories of grandeur and knowledge
Voiced from the thoughts of artistic and powerful minds
Expanding ones curiosity to dive
Luicdly into the greatest works of past and present times
Eyithen Aug 29
If my life was a book
Would anyone read it?
Would it be happy or sad?
Romance or Action?

If my life were a book
Would it be like a John Green Novel?
Or would it be morphed into Fantasy?
Would it be filled with Mystery like a Nancy Drew volume?
Or filled with Drama?
I think i would be a trilogy; possibly more,
Because one book won't even cover a day's worth of thoughts.

If my life were a book
Would it be made of experiences and feelings?
Contemplating the small stuff
and finding the beauty in everything?
Would it be like Narnia?
Everything metaphorical
Filled with personification and anthropomorphism.

If my life were a book
Would my inner demons become monsters or a curse?
Would my love interest be a charming prince?
A rouge outlaw? Or someone i would least expect?

If my life were a book
I can only hope it would be a great adventure.
One with foreign lands and exotic animals.
One that defies gravity
And goes against everything we can imagine

If my life were a book, if one were to read it,
They would learn more about me in a hundred pieces of paper
Then they could in a day.

If my life were a book
One could possibly know me better then i know myself
Because we often reveal more than we intend to without ever knowing it ourselves.
When I try to write poetry I write a novel instead
I can write a full page of how I'm feeling  or I don't know how to express my feelings with words and it's hard for me to write it down on paper
What if,
You are a main character
Of the upcoming book
And you know it

Will you,
Be the same?
Or, will you try,
To make it worthy?
Or, will you disappear,
Holding nothing left?
Keeping the chapter

Tell me
What will you do?
Genre: Experimental
Theme: Character can be you
My tattoos are memories
Rights of passage into manhood
Homage to the family name

A novel in the flesh

Every one has it’s own story
Good times and bad
People and places

I remember every chapter well

There’s nothing like that first one
It roped me into an underworld
And I had found my tribe

I never did fit in too well anywhere
Until spending some time under the needle
It was as if I had finally come home

But after I got one
It opened the flood gates

I felt unbalanced
So I got one on the other side
That lead to another
And another

Yet I loved every hour of pain

The noise of the machine gave me chills
Plus it always payed off
In the form of something permanent
A tuff lookin’ badge of honor
That I could take to the grave

I was hooked
And I still am

People ask me if I regret them
What I regret is not having more

They also ask how I think I’ll look at 80
My only answer
Way cooler than you

To me
They’re works of fine art in pigmented skin
Beauty in the form of a colored scar
My life in a picture book illustration

If I could go back
I wouldn’t change a thing
I’d even add a few pages
©James Dennis Casey IV
duncan Aug 2
its an all time
line in the sand.
a prize fighter with
a weak chin. swings
so fast he knocks
himself over.

if i could write the next
great american novel
maybe i could get
some rest. but i do enjoy
the comfort
in knowing
how out of reach it
all feels.

i can finally die
on the highway
while every other
fool like me
gets to ride
the tread in my

its always been
about the chase.

dont forget.
You emitt a sense of dignity
You display beauty and excitement
Your appearance is a sight that can heal any brokenness
Your spine holds together all the stories of your innermost being.

Your structure aids your courtesy
A flip-style lid that uncovers all your experiences
A passageway to your inner workings.

Your appearance is mostly a façade;
One that enlightens and softens the viewer
When the lid is flipped and your inner self uncovered, everything seems different.

Your inside displays short bursts of anger
Punctuation is used all over
Complexities in understanding display uncertainty
A sense of broken and relentless suffering;
One that is nothing less than negative.

The shell around this inside is solid, rigid and safe.
Without opening the lid up, the inside would not be exposed.

These two entities are completely different and independent from each other.

You are like a book:
The outside - the lie
The inside - the truth.
Rote, just for you.
I can't help but
bear repeating.
What's gone cold,
is worth reatheating.
Speech is there,
in silence it drowns.
All I do is,
think and stare.

An eye for an eye,
across the room.
Or should it be;
A you for a I,
and I for you?
Next page