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Lia Lovedoll Aug 25
I need the best quality dick on the market, brand new
and in good condition.
The question is, “What is their sex worth?” If a man values his manhood, it would be high demand. In other words, he cares about who he shares himself with.
Bad Vibes Aug 17
I come home alone yet again.

I tell myself time and time again that I do not need somebody to complete me - that I am perfect all on my own.

That doesn't mean I don't want to curl up next to someone at the end of the day and melt in their arms - to feel the safety net, the warmth and pure love of companionship.

Just like anybody else, I want that kind of love.

Sometimes I wonder if I shouldn't have been so selective. Maybe if I would have just "gotten used to his flaws" or "moved past his agressive tendencies" I would be in bed right next to you.

I know I deserve greatness. I am told this time and time again, so much so that I almost believe it.

But you know what my greatness is? It's being independent, strong, and brilliant while still knowing I can depend on someone. It's being brave, kind, and fearless while still knowing that someone will always be there to have my back. It's having faith, caring for others, and demanding nothing but the best and having the one who matters the most show me that even imperfections are perfect.

I want an ambitious love. One that shows the movies how to be. One that gives a new name to inseparable. I know it's a lot to ask for - which is why I am still alone. Maybe I ask too much or maybe too many people fall short of greatness in my eyes.

I demand nothing but the most perfect imperfections.
tempest Aug 16
little black girl

whenever I see a little black girl, I can't help but stare
and wonder

when is the day she'll begin to hate her hair, her personal garden, her roots?

when will her mother hold her soft cheeks in her tired hands as she weeps, for the kids at school told her to go back to Africa?

when is the day she'll purchase the creamy crack, destroying her roots but believing she shouldn't go back?

when is the day her mind will succumb to the beautiful golden locks of rapunzel or the heat kissed hair of our own idols?

when is the day she'll stare in the mirror and think: i hate my blackness?

i ask not if there will be those days, but when

too many of us black women can relate
we've been taught not to love, only to hate
our garden, our history, our personal roots
afros are bad, being a nigger is not cute

if given the opportunity, will we stand together and rise?
will we tell little black girls their hair is not their demise?

My worth is not measured on what grows from my head
Your worth isn't lost if a white boy leaves you on read
our worth is embedded in our ancestors' sacrifice
love your hair and embrace this life
Kelly Truong Aug 11
The roses bloom around a house
Reaching over the roof and into the clouds
The thorns pierces the windows
And the roots becomes the floor I stand on

The living room becomes uninhabitable
With glass shattered on the sofa,
The TV split into two
And the air becoming unbreathable

The kitchen is full of insecurities
With rotting food in the fridge,
The missing knifes found in the tub,
And the family table with lost chairs

As a family we protect a single room
The walls are covered with mirrors
Gifted invincibility by our imagination
We stare at our reflection in wonder

Our shoulders are back
Confidence in our eyes
Our head is held high
And into the clouds

We became lost in our protection
Unable to see what is below
Until the dark and bright clouds part
Allowing the star to pierce the sky

It's is a fact that when there is more light
Our shadows become fed
Growing darker than before
And whispers into our ears

We believed we were giants
Taller than our house
And one with the roses
Wanting to seek the blue sky

Instead we trapped ourselves into the clouds
Becoming lost children
Who ignored the open window
And got pricked by a rose

We were smaller than our disguise
Once there was nothing left to compare to
Light shun into the room of mirrors
Leaving a broken family in sight

But we were all addicted
To the beauty of the roses
Who petals became clouds
And the stems that became ladders
Laura Jun 29
Symmetry deficits call for chiaroscuro.
Highlight the summits,
and diffuse shadows at the vertex
of cheekbone and mandible.
Colour the apples, rubescent as newborn flesh,
and soften edges for a gentle definition.

If you paint claret from bow to corner
it can create something fuller; induce desire-
Valencia can bleach the blemishes.
Liquid or matte lies in pesky furrows
and rots like carrion in warm weather:
remember to blot excess sebum prior.

Are you pneumatic? Applications can support you-
with enough you can acquire
something ample for a decade.
Look to the lens. It winks;
raise brow in a clean cut, diagonal
from nostril edge: the playful frame apertures admire.

Flash.

Share with friends:
refresh/close/open,
and sigh at affirmations.
Matia James Jun 3
What defines beauty? One can say it's your looks. Your personality. Your style. But who can define what a person's beauty? No one but God himself. Nobody can say that the world is full of ugliness because if you see ugly that means you create the ugly. Beauty comes from within. Beauty is how you see yourself and how you allow others the see you. When you show your beauty to the world they'll try to down play your worth and if you allow it, it will happen. An ugly person comes from their attitude towards others. Don't allow an ugly attitude make you ugly too. Provide the world with beauty, for mother nature needs it to grow. Look deep within your heart and ask yourself "What makes me beautiful?" and see what you come up with. What makes me beautiful is my kind forgiving heart. My sweet smile. My shy, funny personality.  My poise. My grace. My charm and my wit. I'm a loving person who sees good in all even when they have done me wrong. My beauty shines bright raising my son. My beauty shines bright in my son. He's my continuation of beauty. No one can define your beauty but you and God.
Tired of the world trying to tell us what's beautiful. No matter who you are, what you look like you are beautiful. Inside and out
Regan May 28
I don’t really like myself,
It’s true I don’t.
I don’t stand out.
I’m not any sort-of special.
I’m normal.
I don’t have a quality
that makes me stand out.
I change my hair color,
I wear makeup,
And I change who I am.
I try on clothes that make me cry,
because my body isn’t perfect.
I pick out new foundations,
To cover my flaws better.
I give into others,
To make them happy.
I have lost myself, and have found myself.
Still, through all I’ve gone through,
I still don’t like myself.
I feel undeserving of anything,
Useless, worthless, and terrible.

I’m sorry self, you shouldn’t be treated this way.

© Regan
There’s so many things on my mind and I figured it was time to publish this one. I hope you enjoy my sad poems, they all help me express feelings I have trouble expressing.
Emma May 23
This body will never be beautifully at rest

I will always have to suck in my stomach to appear graceful
I will always have to lift my chin to slim my jawline
I will always force my collarbones forward
I will always lift my elbows to keep my arms from splaying against my body
I will always push my hips back to have that coveted thigh gap
I will always wear heels to define my calves
I will always cover my skin in paint and color
I will always force my hair to lay sweetly covering parts of my face
I will always cover the scars I gave myself trying to be beautiful
I will always
I will always
I will always

I will never be at rest.
the potential that people
see in me
is the potential
I’ll never be,
like golden rotten teeth,
society setting the bar
with dominating voices
for higher purposes
and the television
had me
chasing city dreams
on the outside,
they want me to be
all skyscrapers,
monumental
and charismatic
but on the inside,
I feel like a conflagration
of condemned buildings
collapsing to the streets
they given me
the grass
and they given me
the graves
but none of it matters
because it’s what
I decide to plant
in the ground

the people I once adored
are the people I no longer
want to be surrounded
by anymore

half the world is trying
to sell you shit
you don’t need
and the other half
is just disinterested,
yet, they feel compelled
to preach about their
new found discoveries
with the best intentions
like blue herons
swimming upstream,
again the current  

I refuse to acknowledge
the aggregation of judgment
from the principals of
prosperity, honesty and integrity
and be measured by levels of
excellence and quality
as I lower my expectations
with beer cans that
lounge like lizards
aloft my bulbous beer-belly
like buoys in the ocean,
encrusted with a layer
of mustard stained
tattered torn t-shirts,
dust on my boots,
mud on my jeans,
hair messy and knotted
absentminded to the
disease ridden impurities
and set forth into the night
with delicacy
to look up at the stars
shining so bright
and enjoy myself
because when you have
no home to live in or
roof over your head
it’s kind of hard,
not to

we are all animals,
dull creatures in the
kingdom of fire,
preoccupied with perfection
and dizzy with the
unnecessary difficulties
that standardized civilization
has bestowed upon us

humanity is the worst thing
to happen to humanity
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