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Georgia Denton Jul 2020
The power of grief is crazy,
The price we pay for love.
You were here with me once,
And now you’re somewhere above.
How can this have happened,
It’s like a ******* hole.
Like someone has come and taken,
All the happiness from my soul.
I suppose at the time you were taken,
I didn’t actually realise.
The impact this would have on me,
More than just tears in my eyes.
So many things you’ve missed,
Where I wish you were by my side.
Everything feels so lonely now,
All because you’ve died.
I hope that you are watching,
And I hope that you are proud.
But now I am left carrying round,
This huge heavy black cloud.
The cloud is called grief,
The price I’ve paid for love.
Now I will try my best for you,
Until I join you up above.
So wait for me in heaven,
Or wherever you are.
But now I will have to continue,
Loving you from afar.
Jack Jul 2020
An Embrace
It brings me close

Close to your heart
Close to your soul

Bringing me to where I feel whole

This feeling
Being blessed by your touch

It fills me with a Lust
A Lust to make you happy
To help do the things you never dared

To make you see the world through new eyes
As you make your own path
With a supportive Me at your side

All of this because of the light you given
In an Embrace
A poem from the heart
To the one who has captured mine
Giovanna Jul 2020
In the middle of a war,
maybe with no shore.
Not a defeater.
But no better.
Weary with no sword.
Not metres apart from being floored.

Stuck in the thought spiral.
Tears filled in a barrel.
Your arrival, a hope,
like a climb up rope.

Still in the fight.
Now standing upright.
A finger on the trigger,
with you as my aiding pillar.
There's someone always there to support you
Sirad Jul 2020
"Everything is going to be okay, sweetheart"
These words from her Somali tongue
nine thousand miles away
can travel the speed of light

"It's okay. sweetheart"
Feeds the pit of my stomach
lulls the unease to sleep
only a mother can provide

"Just take care of yourself, hooyo"
Passes her lips and into my spine
new roots planting itself,
safely into the ground
*hoyoo in Somali means mom
Laura Jul 2020
soy una mujer orgullosa
de mí
y de tí
tú apoyo
aunque no lo necesito
lo ayuda
y me gusta
a veces me siento insegura
pero sè que es parte del proceso
muchas gracias, y te amo
- JGMC Jul 2020
If you see a family member, friend or co worker struggling. Reach out and give them a helping hand, instead of letting them sink deeper Into the quick sand.

- JGMC•¥•
- another short poem from my published book.
Hello Poetry is place for us broken hearts to vent out to other fallen souls who have no where to turn.
Hello Poetry is to share our love and emotions to strangers we don't know, but somehow these strangers we connect to understand the depth of your spirit more than those around us.
We say Hello to one another and you had me at Poetry.
We're all searching for true love, family, or what we've learned about or even something we can't have that hurts us deep in our gut.
Finally others who can relate to your feelings.
Thank you.
Thomas Harvey Jul 2020
On a dark and cold, winter's night in Omaha
I stumbled into a bar, that was well worth it's scars
The barmaid asked are you here for a woman or to just quench your thirst
I said I'm looking for Reno, he owes me money that was due on the first
She said he would be out in a minute and others were looking for him too
Reno came out with a smile until he saw the badge laying on the ground
He made a good run, but the lawmen had a gun
And ol Reno was lying face down

Reno old pal, why did you run, you know the cops and the law of their gun,
you get to leave and I must stay, it's not too fair, but it the price we have to pay

They ruled it as an accident and claimed that he tripped and fell
He was drinking too much, couldn't see where to walk to
I demanded justice for my righteous brother, they screamed and hollered at me, they said we'll send you right to hell
So I started marching to the ol' corrupt police station to give them a piece of my mind, I laid his picture down and they pulled our their guns
I tried to make a quick run, but the pain in my back could not take it as my body lay face in the ground

Oh Reno old pal, why did we run, we know the cops, and the law of their gun
You got to leave, and now I will too
It's not fair, But it's the price we pay
Dante Rocío Jun 2020
I live in some way on the edge of the world of the senses. I prolong my life with books, minute thrillances in the honourable existing through consciousness, Poetry, and I live from feelings, reflections. I barely spend time with my peers, I go to the city only when it is necessary, I don't know how to use Snapchat, Tik Tok, I don't listen to pop music, and since I don't have Facebook, you may not even consider me real. I don't engage in news, top trends or political issues. To put it in a nut shell, I am quite secluded from the global civilization.

However, something grave has recently been ignited and only two days ago did I realize what kind of slander is really happening in the country I currently am. Repressions against those who love/act differently. For what we feel, who we are with, that one wears pink or rainbow, that they are not what tradition or the wont of others expect. I saw the proud "LGBT FREE ZONE" boards on the photos. Joyful cleaning of the streets after pride marches, as if the plague of Albert Camus had passed there. Seeing non-heterosexual people as ****, like pariahs in India. That a student of one of my teachers cannot even give a new person their email due to fear. And a large part of Poland is even fine with it. To put it short, in humanitarian terms, we went back to the Victorian era or the Spanish conquests in a sense.

I do not know anything about politics. Sometimes I do not even remember who is the Prime Minister of Poland. And for many who are reading it now and don't know me, I can be nobody. But I know that I am in a way a pilgrim here and a heraldry of freedom for the world, now or later. And I have to do, give something from myself, because although words sometimes fail to express so much, at times, like dreams, they are the only thing we have left. So I write, I do what I can. Because someone has to say something more specifically.

In 2015, Chris Pueyo, a Spanish student from Madrid, published his poetic novel "El Chico de las Estrellas" ("The Star Boy") where he wrote his autobiography through his eyes and those of the third person. Without shame, he described his loves, ups and downs, the harassment from the hands  of the world surrounding him, and all the tears and his own blades of guilt and glory he had experienced and born, mainly because of his homosexual orientation, also to support others like him. So far no one has translated it into any other language and it is stuck in Spain and the countries of the South America. But I will change that. I've decided to be the first to do it. Although I'm not after any studies nor am I more than 18 years old. But I do it wonderfully, I have determination and love for the language as a person. And I have a goal. At first I thought it was because of my admiration for Chris's work and my desire to simply show it, but now I know that's not the point.

I'm doing this for You. Because in this country we lack books that free love from definitions, frames, books that discourse about our bodies or passion with their due admiration, truth and purity. So know that from now on I dedicate my work to You. To those to whom are clipped wings, words and hopes, to those who hide and want to love madly and without boundaries. To the colourful girls from my class who are not afraid to be all the shades of the rainbow with piercing and who supported me in difficult moments. To the aforementioned student of my singing teacher. I'm almost halfway through the book, I'm still waiting for an answer from the next publishers. I won't rest till I publish it for You and other personalities, even if, like J.K. Rowling, I have to go to 12 of them, because maybe those people are afraid of publishing it.

Less than a year ago I didn't know anything about LGBTQ+, I still haven't experienced any romantic perturbations in my life or ever fallen in love with any human. But thanks to the work of writers like Benjamin Alire Sáenz, Becky Albertalli, Chris Pueyo, many fanfics, articles or my own questions, I have seen how beautifully infinite, complex and simple love is, that there is nothing in it against the nature. I study God in the world, the Bible or the Koran, and I’m telling tell you that even there, in the depth of the verses, there is no absurd condemnation! I have gone through the issues of  defamed *** or nakedness into taboo and I’m saying to you: it is not unclean, forbidden, it is simply a corporeal act of devotion, our naked body is pride, not shame! Gender equality is not only the equality of man and woman, but of every person with the rest of the society. I have never experienced any serious harassment, pressure in the matter of my objects of affection, I admit it, but I do know what it's like when society wants to nail you to your biological age, body, gender, name and other ephemeral content on your ID card. Literally existential ****, in blood-stained handcuffs.

The main part of my being is The Poet. To be more precise, a "non-writing” one - poems are only a necessary medium to save my Poetry from the time, and the real one are my gestures, the doe eyes that the sky is clad in, thoughts, breath and feelings. So my task here is not forming rhymes and things into empty beauty yet bearing myself again and again in intimacy and metaphors more literal than the prose, between the verses. It is not a job, yet, for me, the most honourable identity. The path to my Home in the tears, grass, the Sacrality of Life, Myself. For this is My Love, Lover. I’m not joking. This is why I know such love and devotion though I’ve never been with any human in an intimate relationship. This doesn’t have ***, borders. Ergo I’ve never gave myself any name of my orientation, I don’t know what it would be and I don’t need to name it. I’m also a revolutionist at heart, I adore the vocal expression of the rebellion, therefore this is why I’m here. And I hope that I will be given the honour of being seen as one of You. Because this is pride. In the pride month.

I’m giving to You support greater than the word “YES” does it. My stance. And, finally, my poems. I dedicate them to You too, written partially especially due to the events taking place right now. I’m giving to Your hands my confessions entitled “And Who Are You To Be?” and “Of Feminine Touch, Of Masculine Sight”.

Don’t you ever let any being constrict your incalescent beauty of wonder. Don’t you ever let anyone claim you to be only a part of scheme, your job or any other miscellany in the bin. Just like You, I am the greatest wonder the history could have ever seen. Each one of us, on our own.

And one more thing, in reference to “The Star Boy”:
In this dead world, where dreams come
barefoot and unkempt to Nowhere,
let’s dance, like Lady Madrid,
with anarchy in the hair.
This time I'm not writing in poems or any literary style. I'm giving a discourse I want to share with all the LGBTQ+ people and many others who might need it, even if it seems to be little to some. Yet I gave something from myself. This is my English version of it since the original one was in Polish due to all that macabre taking place in Poland right now the most. I invite all the eager to read it and keep it in their heart.
I am with You. Wish you all the greatness. Hope I did well.
Dave Robertson Jun 2020
To be ginger in a heatwave
is to know that a surfeit of energy
that enthrals the populace
has consequence

Like any addict with an allergy
landed on a thing they love
you learn to skirt and sample
knowing sickness follows

The uninitiated will gorge and fall
swearing off the juice for good
and withdrawing a raised voice
which is bad

Pace yourselves for the longness
of an unexpected summer
so that when winter hits
we continue to burn
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