Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
The written battles...

I cry, inside.
I scream, on the other.

The feeling of separation from that which I should not have been,
has me feeling more alone than I'm used to.

The feeling of lostness and anger transpires in my bones and
flows its way through my already pained veins.

This, I suppose, is my reality.
To find my way in the place I've never belonged.
And might just never do...

I lost the only one who had a mind anything near my own,
The only one who knew my pains...

But even she left me behind.

On the days that I don't mind,
It's as if it had never happened.

On days like these...
It tears me apart like no one ever sees.

What does "family" even mean...

~Robert van Lingen
The day I wept,
Today I slept,
I swept aside that which kept me awry,
And I breathe a sigh of relief to those who listen.

The days I wept,
Long passed,
Long avast are my tears, the yearning and the burning,
Fears abound.

A year's past and I have found that which I thought I had all along.

Yet, today I am not blind to agony, the fight,
I remember that which I lost of myself,
Now regained in a new light.

Her name?

-Robert van Lingen
Written and Published on Wattpad 01-26-2016
Your Humble coats of many colours.
Look alive Poet from whence you started out
To survey the unique position you’re in today
Perhaps find your plate piled high with doubt
A paragon of words abound use as you may
Be not beset with vitriolic gremlins plagued
Would rather stare into space or time t’say
No *** given playground, no anyone can play
Rewarding Mothers of Invention thru the day.
Your Regal coat of many colours.
You are alive and to the Manor born
The moment you discovered words n phrases
To rhyme and rhythm your lot to thrive upon
Your transport vehicle to a thousand places
Embroidered each and every line you write
Fear not a monument rides out mystic phases
Identities hid behind a thousand poet faces
Add colour to your verse by embellished traces
Your Royal coat of many colours.
You are alive and to the Kingdom born
The experience you hold with floral phrases
To offer great critique an ego thrives upon
Your golden carriage to a thousand places.
Silver threads embroider ever line you write
You are a magician now of all mystic phrases
You know the secrets hid behind many faces
Over polishes a crown worn off ...any traces .
Written by Philip.
December 5th 2018.
A trilogy of coats of many colours.
ABCDERIAN   poets Army.
Awake my giant cause and fast defend
Be proud of your selection to this human race
Cheeks to be turned , struck and turned again
Discover sooner but not too late my friend
Evil forces satirise the devils work
Fight for *** , however low the demons swoop
Gold are his tools and you are living proof.
His Holy praises sing in your loudest voice.
Incorporated within your kindest thoughts
Job satisfaction leads you through the maze
Kindred spirits guiding hands along the way
Look often then within your beating heart
Mindful slay those dragons there to slay.
Not too late to kneel and contemplate.
Perverse and foolish ? No you will never stray.
Quickly learn from all mistakes you make
Reserve your strength to lead in the affray
Stand up this day and so be counted “IN”
To the noblest Army. The Poets unity.
Useless gibberish from Satan’s next of kin.
Vessels empty makes the loudest din.
What matters is that you’re the major source
Xanadu your goal , now you are poised to win
You are the vanguard of triumphant troops
Zoila’s failure to brow-beat any poetic force.
Written by Philip
December 4th 2018.

An A. to. Z. Of a Poets Army.
The Poets greenhouse
Dwell within your beautiful greenhouse environ
Your flowers bloom from seedlings sown
Regardless of the drudgery expended.
Your pleasure in the constant mindless tease
Though birds of paradise make for you a home
And the failed verse has no time lost grieving
Not for self satisfaction pure genius alone.
Stands alongside doleful critic without reason
Poets in greenhouses never throw a stone.


Written by Philip
December 3rd 2018.
A Poets Greenhouse
Ellie 7d
welcoming darkness
with open arms
unwanted it is
yet forcing itself
invading the gates
gates of her mind
gates of her soul
Five wits hold the key.
Having been blessed with wits of five
Of common sense the product of the senses
Imagination is the wit your sense is still alive
Fantasy’s imagination to which wit condenses
Estimation estimates the absolute infinity
Memory the wit of recall of passed empathy
Bring together all five in the same proximity
Check out the licensing of this poet anyway
Common sense, imagination, fantasy,
       Estimation, memory.
Written by Philip
December 1st 2018.
The poem of the five wits
Common sense
The challenge
     (Free Verse )
Praise be to *** , we have eyes to see beyond
Befitting the wit of Mankind ever strong.
For years four-hundred maybe five
The Poets made the words to come alive.
Challenging proved me right n seldom wrong

The first rhymes I made way back at school
My fairest weather friends thought me a fool
A waste of useful time the taunted cry
Have they much better things always to do?
And to there fine X-Boxes could be glued.
Written by Philip.
December 1st 2018.
The challenge of free verse.
When I give,
Everything I have and more...

My sleeplessness' solace,
Is buried in my dreams.

My world away from the world,
Where there are no more problems to solve.

In my dreams,
Life, is just a flow,

The effortless stream of events,
That I never have to think about again.

The blissfulness of the temporary,
Escape from my woes.

~Robert van Lingen
Susie Nov 29

"she died two years ago today"

I say this kind of phrase
so much in my life now.

The coming and going
of my friendships,
in the living and dead sense,
are far too common
than I had previously
thought they would be...
than I had previously
hoped they would be.


Some of the people I know
For such a brief amount of time.

"Slow Down Lovely,
For I have only just gotten your name.
You've got me stuck,
putting together the pieces
of your life trying to figure out
who you were, Before you even
got a chance to be who you are."


they were mere sail boats
passing each other.

on a breezy, late,
August afternoon.

"Hey there, just passing through! Hope you have smooth sailing from here on out!"

I manage to haphazardly blurt out:
"Hey! You too!"
Before he's out of earshot.

He seems like such a kind man.
too bad he forgot his lifejacket today.

the heavens decided to open up the skies.
And **** came spewing out of the clouds.

Destroying, not all, but most,
of what it touched.
Three part free verse poem about grieving. Grieving never stops. It just happens on repeat but less frequently and less strong with time.
Next page