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.
Jim
Now I know,
how I can see the sun.
It is not my eyes
that take in the rays,
it is you
buying us Mike and Ike candies in the morning
on the way to school
you saying,
"Now, don't tell your mom!"
all four of us banging our heads
to classic rock.

Now I know,
how I can feel
It is not my skin
that senses the sand on the beach,
it is you
taking me to my first scuba dive
so proud of your daughter
Me, a fish!
The only one who didn't ***** on the boat.

Now I know,
It is not my heart
that feels the morning
after a dark night.

It is you, Dad, it is you.
writingsolo Oct 5
"I'm sorry, did you just say your depressed? How are YOU depressed?"
---
you see, depression is this funny thing,
it's kinda like a parent,
if that parent is a helicopter who can't let you go anywhere unsupervised.
or if they hate to let you out of their sight,
but when they do it's a picture or a text at every stop.
they have to always be with you,
know who your with,
they have to know every little word you say.
depression is that parent.
depression is what keeps you from going anywhere.
it makes you not want to leave home,
but when you do it's always there reminding you with every passing person,
you should be at home.
No one wants you to be out with them,
no one invited you, every smile you get from them is a lie.
It's a constant reminder that you shouldn't be here,
a reminder that you being here doesn't mean it's not here too.

Depression is a funny thing,
and yes,
I think that funny thing is apart of me.
A woman once
                                        Wished on star
                                        From lands afar

                              "Please oh please
                              Bright twinkling light
                              Give me a child tonight"

                    And the woman prayed
                    Every night for years
                    He plea fell on deaf ears

          Until a goddess
          Who made me swoon
          Heard her tune;
          The Moon

Begging she had heard
The mother of Earth
The call answered
With a "birth"

          Transcending her planet
          Coming to ours
          In a pomegranate

                    Inside the botanic
                    Did she travel
                    Until cloth unravel

                              Child Delivered
                              To dainty hands
                              Such divine plans

                                        Celestial now infant
                                        Baby and parent
                                        Woman loves ancient
Based around what my friend Houk calls their daughter.
Am I too early
or so so very late?
Time is but a smudge
of mixed acrylic paint.

My history, the canvas
and my pen a brush.
Time is but a smudge
dripping through my clutch.

Dreams blur into nightmares;
nightmares into day-time thoughts.
Time is but a smudge
of profits and loss.

When the end comes
my journal will be passed.
Time is but a smudge
that my children will grasp.

They will both read
of my love for them.
Time is but a smudge
in this infinite realm.

They will both know
how much I love them so.
Time is but a smudge
and if it weren't for them I would of let go.

Time is but a smudge
in an never ending orbit
time is but a smudge
and they have made it euphoric.
Anya Sep 22
“It’s in your blood”
This phrase irritates me
To an extent because
We build
All his hype around
Birth
And blood
Legitimate
Iligetamate
But,
In the end
Aside from appearance
Certain genetic qualities
Maybe some personality traits
You’re a produce of your environment
“Birth parents”
“Legitimate child”
As long as there’s love in the relationship
Does it even matter?
Basically, my inner cynic let lose. If you have more experience in this matter and disagree with me feel free to shoot me a comment or message. I’m just letting out the thoughts in my head and I’d love to understand if someone else has a different view.
BW Sep 21
I thought the bravest thing I ever did
was run.
But it turns out I am too young and
Your shadows were too large.
And if love comes at your anger, anxiety
controlling manners and menacing venom.
Then mother.
I don't want to be your daughter at all.
I have a very toxic relationship with my mother, and it's always because her own fears and anxieties make her try to control every aspect of my life.
Emma Sep 10
I am the sister
of those women
who stood in their
"once upon a time"
and demanded that their true stories
be heard.

I am the sister
of those men
who demanded that their trauma
not be forgotten
by those who wished
to silence them.

I am the friend
of those who suffer,
whether it be solitude or
in company,
and they shall know that
they're not alone.

I am the child
of those parents
that can't understand
how their child suffers,
and I am the child
of those who do.

I am what embodies
every soul in creation.
There may be no ***,
but they were never needed.
We are the ones to decide
when the stories cease.

And I am one
of those who say,
"the stories will end
with me."
Anya Sep 9
Mom
Lips pursed
Blatant irritation
Eyes flickering, like little fireflies
Shining a spot light
On every little piece of dust
Remotely out of place
In my room
Seanathon Aug 27
The leaves are dying
Drifting down like falling snow
To see the veins which grow thin and pale
To hear their weathered limbs of grey cold
And when his bark and bite is no longer feared
And when her comfortable canvas is stripped away
No branch to catch a falling hand
No root to stretch nor wrap and rest
Too many names already carved
With no new branches left to trim
The colors once which changed with age
Now stay the same till clearer days
Perhaps the spring will no more grow
Perhaps this ends a present-day
But the leaves are dying ever still
And what's more concerning is
How they know, it is their way
And they'll be gone, and I'll be here until I'm gone as well.
Next page