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Juno 7d
Sometimes I find myself wishing for more;
That I could make something better than before.
Everything I’ve done is a one-time exception;
I face myself with thorns rather than acception.

Surely my successes were merely chance!
Ideas don’t come to me like they did in the past.
People say they see talent in me, I see nothing—
Then again, would I even know I was good at something?
Brumous Jun 9
I want to let go of something I hold endeared,
it pains me so,
but it'll hurt me more
if I don't...
let go
I want to stop drawing for a long while...
Zoe Mae May 28
What the eff is up with this site?
Why is it most people on the front page can't write?
Folks just babble on and on...
Or spit out a two line poem
Which is fine if it's a two punch knockout
Instead of sounding like a grammar school dropout
And why do certain things get so many views?
I can't seem to get more than two
Post crap if you want, if that's what people write
But they should give everybody a chance on this site
So I don't write about flowers or blather on about paint
So I don't pretend to be something I ain't
We should all have a voice here, The good and the bad
The silly, the happy, the lost and the sad
So come on hellopetry, give gutter poets a try
If you'd rise just a bit, we could meet eye to eye.
So sick of seeing the homepage full of crap poetry.
Maria Mitea May 23
on that day
she performed the dance
in a mortal silence

lustful intensity,

the unusual
exit with the back
was hiding her face
without any wave of hope,
the eyes
seeking consolation,
her spine
became alive
like a tempting serpent,
were wavy wings
a cry for help,
legs outstretched
like two cello strings
under the guidance
of internal forces,

the pirouettes
with a great talent
the lack of courage,
as a sacrifice brought to the air
she kept doing
dozens of rotations
as if
the body
was anointed
with the dark air,


it fell into its arms
like a wet coat,

every movement
again and again
"I love you
I hate you",

sun rays
in a light
that bowed obediently
under the
the public eyes
like a forest
of frozen trees,
waiting for
what's next
Tribute to one of the best world”s ballerinas Maya Plitseskaya!
Brumous Apr 24
talents are like seeds;
they grow
with proper love
and care

it takes a while to find one
but nurturing them seems

seeing others having them is amazing
"it looks beautiful,"

actually, I have one;
right here laying on
my small, soft hands

as years went by,
it flourished; showing a
delicate flower

I am simply overjoyed
maybe I got happy too much

since that naïve I
went to them
and showed them mine

without knowing
that perfection
was the base judgment;
and I was never passing that line

"what's the point of giving all MY time?"
'So, I sat by this plant;   watered it with envy;
as it bloomed dissatisfaction
built I with standards
as a meaningless façade,'
''Mold thy style after the
Likeness of any famed
Opportunity, and tame her
With thy talent
That she may forever offer
Unto thee the fruits of thy
Labor; why should thou be excluded
From thy dues?''
David Feb 11
Drifting and silent.
Into an abyss.
But not speaking.
But not answering.
Overpowering talent,
With no action.
Seeking purpose somewhere.
Being pushed into the future,
No feeling of freedom.
Everyone around is predictable but I act clueless.
I can tell when they lie but I act foolish.
Potential, hidden and rejected.
Looking at it, but it never reflected.
A mirror with no reflection is what I kept hidden.
Something so rare, nothing could compare.
This different way of thinking was dangerous.
I questioned many things, and my questions damaged rings.
I questioned life, I questioned what was above, I questioned about love.
My questions were unanswerable sometimes.
Some of them, I did want the answer.
Some of them, I already knew the answer.
And others didn't want to be answered.
I wonder how it felt to be asked these questions.
Maybe I was coming off as rude.
For others, it was probably viewed as an attitude.
So for my own sake, I kept my lips glued.
Silent, once again.
Maybe another time I could ask questions until the end.
But what does that mean?
I am the raccoon
Oblivious I’ve been

I once was a monkey
To make laugh was to live
I still am a monkey
much joy I still give

The monkey inside me
Might act as a cloak
Was the monkey inside me
Joker or Joke

The monkey, the mask
I thought it not me
The monkey, the mask
I did not yet see
That the monkey, the mask
Is a part of me

I am the raccoon
In case someone asks
I am the raccoon
Master of masks

A fox I once felt me
and foxy I was
A hunter I felt me
slick tongue and sharp jaws

The fox he was smart
And good at love’s game
But the fox he knew
Quick love ain’t the same

The fox, the mask
Charming and sly
The fox, the mask
Was wondering why
Why the fox, the mask
So hard he did try

I am the raccoon
Though cute my appeal
I am the raccoon
Your heart I will steal

The lion I’ve played
When time came to lead
The lion I’ve played
By word and by deed

When I was the lion
The orders I gave
When I was the lion
Like a king I’d behave

The lion, the mask
With a queen by my side
The lion, the mask
At the head of the pride
Felt the lion, the mask
Was not my true hide

I am the raccoon
I finally see
I am the raccoon
The masks they are me
Yet behind all these masks
Hides my curious mind
A little raccoon
Caring and kind
When he scavenges life
Happiness he does find
He shares it with all
And leaves no-one behind
The Raccoon is my spirit animal
And an artistic lense through which I view myself
This poem is my artist manifesto
It grows as I obtain new masks
And learn to put those to good use

Bury the past behind, live the life of the current moment.

Love the
moment and
cherish the
present time,
can only
hope' for
but is uncertain.

Because no
man knows
what tomorrow
the future
is born put
the past in
the casket.

Tomorrow's unfold just
got to open
the mind and
realize on a
real eyes
where that
hidden potentials
and how to
and turn them
to fortune.

talents are hidden underneath
the soil of a
man's mind.

Mining the
which are
invisible to
the naked
eye to
Requires a sanely sensitive creative
gazes what
the brain thinks.
Celestial Nov 2020
The light bright and lime,
It was there but dull.
You found the chime,
And found your own light full.

Shining brightest among the best,
In spirit, I must confess.
Known far and wide,
To be welcomed with pride.

Telling stories, memories,
To pass, what I call, inspiration.
Tales to bring back humanities,
In times of such separations.

Keep singing your heartfelt songs,
And giving love deserved.
Hope will bring those bonds,
Your time is being well served.
A new friend
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