#poetry poems on Hello Poetry

Yu Jul 19

when i die, do not desecrate my body
by laying to rest with those fools
i rather live an eternity in solitude
then to see your ruined face again
to confront this wretched reality
that you, and i, we were never loved
not once, never.

#poetry

lisagrace Jul 19

1. Discovery

Dust motes catch the light
The world sighs in shades of grey
My hand reaches it—
A blue cover, curled edges
One sharp breath, I turn the page

The first in a four-part tanka series inspired by The Inheritance Cycle.
This one marks the beginning: the moment when everything changes.

Watch for the next poem in the collection if you like—each follows a different stage of the journey.

#tanka #poetry #inheritancecycle #fantasy #discovery #beginning #awakening #magic #saphira #eragon

kortu valentine Jul 19

a kingdom, or this.

(a tribute to C.S. Pacat)

on a bed
of white flowers,
etched on my wrist,
i wear it as a vow,
above the place
my pulse
tenderly blooms,
forgetting to lie.

her soft handwriting
is a reminder of a journey
i had once taken
between the lines,
forgiveness forming,
from lashes to petals,
on bruised pages.

i carry her with me,
their story, her essence,
kingdoms folding into skin,
her words marking
not only a change,
but a becoming —
the slow-burn
of identity
i can finally place.

July 19, 2025.
this one is about the tattoo in her handwriting, etched on my skin.

#captiveprince #cspacat #poetry #tattoo #identity #book #fangirl #fanfiction #tribute

lisagrace Jul 19

Honey, Lemon and Ginger

I must look ridiculous
to these other café patrons—
just a woman with orange-dyed hair
blinking back stubborn tears,
trying not to cry
into her honey, lemon, and ginger.

But I sit there, half-failing
to maintain my composure.
I look anywhere else—
up at the ceiling,
out the window,
trying not to meet anyone’s eyes.

These tears dare to seep,
but this sadness needs to steep—
not pour.
Or else they'll overflow
in overwhelm.
I must take the helm.

So I take a sip:
that warm, sweet bitterness
rights the ship.
And the gentle calm
soaks back in.
They may glance over and wonder
What must be on her phone
To evoke such emotion?

Oh, don't mind me
I'm just writing poetry
about a silly girl,
and her hopes for understanding
Falling onto deaf ears yet again
and again,
and again,
and again
One more long swill
A sharp intake of breath
They prickle at my eyes,
Again

My teacup is empty -
I think I'll need another ***
For the sake of my sanity
I cannot let them see it pour
For a flood, an empty teacup
Has begot

A poem about writing a poem in a café – literally TODAY, trying not to cry. It's about holding it together when your heart is steeping in too much.
Warmth, near-overwhelm, and one more *** of tea.

#poetry #grief #softness #overwhelm #healing #tears #cafe #vulnerability #warmth #processing

irinia Jul 19

silence

silence swings over waters as if...
it rehearses its unseen so...
to fill in the depth of blanks
a stratified time inhabits the landscape
orphic dreams morph into your flesh
the wind collates its courage and rage
like someone who falls into a self
my words bite the shape of a scream
the hunger of love descends language into crumble
the beauty of lungs full of air is misleasing
when I am waiting for silence to miscarry its void

#poetry

lisagrace Jul 19

Silly Girl

Ah,

The cyclical effect
Of generational trauma
The incessancy of his
Encroaching dark aura
He refuses to look past his umbra
He cannot perceive the pain he inflicts
I'm sure that
He doesn't even wallow - only wails
A piteous cry. A melodramatic howl
And he dares to sit there and wonder
Why no ties prevail?

He is an old man now
And still he believes
That the disease that was he,
Was nothing more than
An elaboration. A tease.
The last so-called apology he had given
I had somehow still accepted gladly
The girl, still clutching one last note
She slid it under the door
And hoped

Silly girl,

She should have known
That hope is dead
There was never any perception
No conception of his venom
Two decades later,
And still he wails
This woman does not feign indifference
Moonflowers abloom,
Defiant in their noctilucence

**** him and his darkness!
How dare his mere presence
Make my stems cower
I'd thought those memories
Had begun to wither
Fading, obscuring into evanescence
But he'd made my leaves quiver

And here I am again,
Trying to bloom
Again

A poem about the long echo of abuse, and the girl who hoped—
until she didn't.

For anyone who's had to grieve someone still living,
and grow anyway.

#poetry #trauma #healing #abuse #generationaltrauma #survivor #hope #family #selfgrowth #moonflower

Sophia Jul 19

The Poet

A poets a lost musician
the talents a gift
the ability to compose poems
arrange words in a fitting way
to evoke strong reactions

However their doomed to a life
searching for their band
a group of people
to accompany them in life
the void of which
will grant the depth of sadness
deep into their writing

The music they've lost
forced to live without
haunts their poem
dancing between the lines
of emotional burden.

#poetry #human #emotions #music #words #writing

Neha Srivastava Jul 18

Not Everything has a Why ?

Not everything has a why.
Somethings sometimes just are -
like an uninvited eerie silence,
a fading smile,
the unanticipated shout of merriment,
the receding footsteps.

May be the ache
isn't seeking answers
Just a place to rest

Maybe the roar of the mirth
is just meant to be cherished

Not everything has a why.
To let it be -
is its own kind of peace

#why #poems #poetry #life #motivation #hope

Vazago d Vile Jul 18

Unblinking

Stand before your mirror.
Look yourself in the eye.
Don’t blink.
Don’t flinch.

Ask the question
you fear the most.

If you dare to listen,
truth won’t lie.

Some truths don’t come from others — they come when you finally stop lying to yourself. This is not an accusation. It’s a mirror.

#truth #mirror #innerdemons #selfreflection #poetry #psychological #rawtruth #healing #unfiltered #vazagowrites

Akhilesh Bhure Jul 18

Moon 🌕 and Rain 🌧️

Moon & Rain

A boy gazes at the moon.
Suddenly, he imagines her
the way she’d step onto the terrace,
Letting her hair fall through her fingers

As the memory drifts,
he recalls how he once saw her as the moon.
Likewise,
she saw him as the rain.

Though he was life
soft, cleansing, gentle
she called him bad weather,
and brought an umbrella.

He/rain could fall on everything:
rooftops, rivers, roses in bloom
but never on her.
(Even though she stood on the rooftop to begin with.)

Rain was never meant
to touch the moon.
*She was never his to begin with

Just feel it

#poetry #poem #poet #writing #words #heartbreak #broken #lostlove #goodbye #sorrow