When no one is looking, words burst from my head
Inside my skull are colours, scents and sounds
And my life is played out to a relentless sonorous soundtrack

Sometimes the music collapses with waves of resonance
And in others it is plucked like strings, individual and soft
It’s perceived by my inner ear, it’s not for others to hear

When I am out of sight, I’m truly at my very best
For life is like a swirling whirl of different shades
Different shapes and forms, some almost difficult to perceive

I try to put these on paper, shape the thoughts that I have
But the best, these arrive in the depth of the gloom
And in the early morning, they are once again forgotten

These words that slip through the fingers of my recollection
Flowing with the brightest of sparks, glowing embers of ideas
Impressions lost in the falling mornings sunlight

In front of my keyboard I then sit, puzzled chin in hand
Fingers tap the keys and yet nothing of excellence appears
So another day, with the words remaining inside my head

Bring your empty words
I will re-charge them again
And make them potent;
The hollow words---
Bring them to me and
I will make them sing,
In the summer afternoon
On the glistening lips of
The workers in sweat
Working on construction sites;
Bring your faded words
I will make them shine in the forge
Of blacksmith whose sinewy hands
Will form them into forms that appeal;
Bring your sad words,
I will make them smile
On the faces of war-orphans
Street children
And cancer patients,
Because when sterile words
Of poetry come into contact
With unsaid suffering of the
Larger silent humanity,
They become fiery,
Gleam,
Mesmerize and
Truly become
The sweat-soaked words and entire syntax
Great transcendental poems!
@Sunil Sharma

I will pen a real long poem,
One that goes on and on.
It will  be Universal,
Get added to all categories:
There's two thousand plus
Themes we write on,
From first breath
To the dust we lie in.

My poem would weave
The Fabric of Love,
Dripping from
A Heart that Hurts,
To offer solace and love's comfort.

It couldn't be one of
Ten Words,
But myriads in
A Sea of Thoughts;
Added to
All Time Favourites,
And Words Worth a Thousand Pictures.

If you like Beautiful Tragedies,
I'll jot a verse on Life Stories.
I'd pen a stanza for Love for the Moon,
Lines to make An Exceptional Poem.

The keen reader adds it to Genius Speaks,
The younger hearts to Sweets for the Sweet.
The darker side clicks Macabre and Mayhem,
They too are Becoming Human.

I'd accept a like for Best Sweet and Sour,
I'd  be happy with Whatever, Whenever.
The weird add it to Psychopath,
The regular to Treasureworth.

It may contain the Inspired Word
To advise those trapped in Parenthood.
Oh My Goodness, it's A Poem to Keep,
One to read, then Read and Repeat.

But mine will lie in Buried Treasures,
Disappear in Endangered Species...
Hey, I got a Thank You For Sharing,
This Made Me Smile.

I think you get my drift, indeed,
I've written The Best of Hello Poetry.

So, Poets Speak Loud on **** Good Stuff,
Write The Story of Life, The Ultimate Poem,
On Love is the Purpose, or Who We Are,
I'll add your verse to Top Notch,
And yours is one of *My Favourites.

Ghosts of the day
give way
to the gloom
between street lights
where shadows move
in the sourness of solitude
when little changes
except time, tides
and dreams
with a variety of themes.

Little boys
unsupervised
genetically designed
like toys
beguiled by fantasies
spontaneously play
improvised games
like actors
with imagined scripts
depicting violent scenes
as common themes
reflecting personalities
blooming slowly
in the park
at the bottom of the street.

Crumbling stone towers
And withering flowers
Stormy skies
Breaking my trust with all their lies

Racing through the Forum roads
With every breathing second breaking their code

Codes of ruling and giving
And living and loving

Black shadows with silvery daggers
Around my crimson lover, who staggers
His golden laurel crown
Clashes and clangs as it falls to the ground

How many throats have they slit?
Or poisons given?
Or pushed strong men past the bounds of heaven?

To dark and shadowy and desolate lands
Where light flys fleeting from open hands

It pains me now as I hear him scream
With an unearthliness that sounds like a dream
A horrible dream where things are
Nothing as they seem

His beautiful starry purple robes
Fall between the Tiber and a thorny rose

Yet somehow even as I see them make their mark
I believe in nothing but the beating of his heart

Cherish these memories.
                                                                ­  Precious as can be.
                                            Blindly chasing goals,
                         has is own penalties.  
      And your enemies,
will swipe your knees.                                  
As best friends,
won't always be.
I'm proud of you,
You not proud of me.
   A bond formed, with trust
    Will always be most important - you'll see