Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Maria Mitea Nov 2023
criminal touch,        infractor that kills on paper,
torment me,
                    torment me,
                                        and let me dream of you,
- have you below the air

      i will  fall on my knees, like a leaf, when
the earth cracks from one end to the other, half awake,
half asleep,
        let me learn your firmness,  drown my eyes in every word,
- a blind man, with the tip of my  fingers i read your blood,
                                                          ­                    your lips -
chaotic, whispering:  - what a calligraphic writing, organized and
without mistakes,

let your rigor entice me, like a spear piercing you,
          passing through the air                        until we become experts,
specialists in criminal law
Think Sep 2014
Am I the only one who wishes upon a star

Am I the only who smile when they feel sad

Am I the only one who craves for a touch of happiness

Am I the only who searches for nothing

Am I the only who just wants everything

Am I the who wishes for sweet nothings upon a star
Your hell is different,
It extends to be a semi-heaven,
But I can’t belong,
It burns all the paper and ink.
I've got nothing there to be a half-sinner.
I’d rather be a completely miserable poet, in an uninhabited void.
Thomas W Case Jul 2023
The civilization of
poets has thinned out.
There's a drought of
metaphors and symbolism.
We are all prisoners in
a musty attic.
Where is Emily when
you need her?
I'm afraid they've gone
the way of the graveyard.
Too much ***** and
too many broken hearts.

Where have all the
painters gone?
Sunk deep in
cobalt blue.
Artists resurrect!
Come out and play.
These are days full
of sumptuous sunrises,
and nights laden with neon.
I long for those
Jagged edges and brush strokes
that bleed pain and love.

Art changes our world.
It makes the brutality
bearable.
The smell of paint and old
books, transport us to
a gentle place laced with
ambrosia that we all
should drink.
My Dear Poet May 2023
Some throw themselves to fire
Some to a raging wave
We throw ourselves at words
Doubly as dangerous…but brave
We string along a sentence
We bleed line by line
Scraping along defences
We grind the grit and rhyme
Defying the babblers battle
Waging war with a world
where words have no meaning
or power when they’re hurled
We’ll never decay or go rotten
We’ll be writing till we’re read
They may shut us till we’re forgotten  
But they’ll quote us
when we’re dead
A tribute to all poets
Benzene Apr 2023
Once many beautiful souls came here to share  
Their words of beauty, love, and despair
From every corner of the world they'd write
Pouring out their hearts with all their might

Their words would weave a tapestry
Of human life and history
But lately, something strange has occurred
those souls start disappearing, their voices unheard

No more verses from those who once wrote
No more stories, no more anecdotes
Their words have faded into the night
And their absence leaves us without light

What happened to those lost poets, we may never know
Perhaps their hearts grew weary, and they had to go
But their legacy lives on, in the words they've penned
Their voices still echo, in the hearts of friends

Yet still we hold a glimmer of hope
That one day they'll return and we'll elope
With their words and stories, once more to share
And their presence on the website, we'll again declare

So let us not lose faith in those we miss
For their absence may just be a momentary abyss
And one day we may find them, writing anew
Their voices once again joining the poetic crew
Dedicated to all those Poets who stopped writing or left HelloPoetry for some unknown or personal reasons . We all are here waiting for you to start writing once again and fill this website with your beautiful presence  . Hope it reaches to all those lost Poets .
Unpolished Ink Mar 2023
Poem
a drink of words
sometimes shaken
stirred with thought
the cocktail
is you
Unpolished Ink Mar 2023
Adrift on a rising wave
not made of sea
or silver hum of distant bees
nor wind
or leaves on waving trees
not earth not sky
nor singing birds
but movement made of living words
that float and curl
and dart and hide
strange fish to catch on a poets tide
Johnson Oyeniran Mar 2023
The ballad of Nalum by Johnson Oyeniran



Under a Sakura tree on a warm and pleasant day,
Sat a battle hardened soldier, trying to stay awake.

''Arise, you must stay vigilant'' muttered the combatant,
''Or youll suffer the same fate as private Melicent.''

But her eyes grew weary then she fell into a deep sleep,
Before the enemy quietly slipped into their keep.

They were bested by ruthless devils more savage than beast,
All the while the sleeping soldier slumbered against a tree.

Luckily for her, she was mistaken for a body,
So they left her be and continued with their killing spree.

Time passed since the enemy took the army by surprise,
They outnumbered them nine to two and left not one alive.

When the enemy were done having the time of their lives,
They merrily marched home with plunder and kukri knives.

In the midst of her fallen comrades, the soldier woke up,
In a state of shock at what she had just seen, she choked up.

''This isnt a prank nor am i dreaming'' wailed the soldier,
''My...brothers and sisters in arms are six feet under!''

''Before long, their mangled corpses will be food for scavengers,
Then nature will bury whats left of these warriors.''

Alone and orderless, the soldier randomly went west,
A tragic choice she would ultimately come to regret.

Now up ahead, roughly half a kilometer away,
Was the entire enemy, camping beside a great lake.

''This can not be happening'', whispered the protagonist,
''How did I end up near the camp of these terrorist?!''

But before she could try to sneak away, she got captured,
Embarrassed by her mistake, the soldier felt so awkward.

After hours of abuse, she was brought before their leader,
He demanded to know how she survived their massacre.

However, the female soldier preferred to stay silent,
Which caused the commander to get extremely violent.

He ordered his guard to pluck out one of her amber eyes,
And use an urumi to render asunder her thighs.

She was no stranger to torture and refused make a sound,
Though she was covered in a pool of her blood in the ground.

Her hands were bound in bronze chains by the commanders order,
But little did he know he had made a deadly error.

Whilst a male guard lead her to a human sized cage at night
She slipped out her chains once she saw he was preoccupied.

Immediately, she wrapped her chains around the guards neck,
Fueled by rage, she choked him with her might till he dropped dead.

Nearby was a deep hole she used to conceal the dead guard,
But first, she took his uniform and cut off his male part.

Later, she blended in with her enemy in disguise,
Her plan was to destroy them all with a fatal device.

Now in an empty tent, she performed a ritual,
Her special blood was needed to make her wish possible.

Soon after,12 ghostly heads hovered out of her symbol,
They were ancient wish granters who were all ethereal.

''Your request?'' asked the 12 heads floating in the air,
''Fashion me a bomb'', begged the female soldier in despair.

''As you wish'', answered the 12 heads she summoned from heaven,
''With this, Ill avenge them'', declared the servicewoman.

Just then, word had quickly spread that the soldier had escaped,
So the enemy searched high and low for her in great haste.

Suddenly, they were bewitched by the soldier's melody,
One by one, they mindlessly marched to her tent, slowly.

Out stepped the female soldier standing firm and unafraid,
Wrapped around her body, was the bomb the 12 heads had made.

At the cost of her life, she ignited her lethal bomb,
And at last, the whole enemy both small and great, was gone.

Nalum, Nalum the brave and mighty female warrior!
May your story live on within my poem forever!
wes parham Feb 2023
If I wanted to take a little time,
If I wanted to share my inner mind,
If someone said it had to rhyme,
I got no time for that ****…

Paint for me, in your chosen words,
The lines are branches; the letters, birds.
Sing to me songs sublime; absurd,
Just don’t tell me it has to rhyme…

Settle the bitter, ancient scores,
Make the audience seek for more,
Make the shoes I stand in yours,
Do not make me repeat myself…

Write me a letter, I long to hear,
Your poet’s voice in my mental ear,
Till the world does shed a collective tear,

I think I’ve made myself perfectly-  uh…

Clear.
Do it!  It’s fun.  Come on, everybody else is writing poems, you know you wanna, how about just one stanza, it could be free verse, rules? there aren’t any, that’s what’s so liberating, so democratizing about poetry, bring it, bring it, bring it, show me what you got…!
Next page