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Colm Dec 2016
Sometimes I seek the solitude of a quiet room, just to hear my mind speak aloud. To question all that I've built in this world, and whether or not I am allowed, to act on it.

Should you ever find me doing this, don't judge me for it, and don't question it.

Because believe me if I knew why my mind requires this. I wouldn't have to close the door, or lock myself externally in.

I guess sometimes what is inside, is not always willing to coincide, with what the heart tries to keep alive. And this is why sometimes I hide.

In order to unlock the locked away inside.
Troof!
Maria Etre Dec 2016
Fall in love with a writer
they say and you will never die (quoted)

Fall in love with a writer
they say and you will find yourself
embodied in words

Fall in love with a writer
they say and you will find yourself
stretched over lines and pages

Now,

What if a writer falls in love with you?
What happens is that their untamed mind
becomes an asylum where
words smash themselves
on the walls of their brains
summoning
their hands just
to let them out

What if a writer falls in love with you?
What happens is that their addiction
to falling in love is amplified
and when they love
OH THEY LOVE,
they get a certain high
that numbs their inhibitions to reality
and shuns logic to a very far away land

they  reach a mental state
that lifts you to high enough
just to see a glimpse of their world
just to taste a drop of their
potion
but not all of it

What if a writer falls in love with you?
What happens is that their eye *****
birth and harness flames that burn the coldest
of hearts and warm the strongest
of selves

What if a writer falls in love with you?
What happens is that their mind soaks up
every bit, every breath
every call, every cell
every touch, every talk
just to embroider it
in the quilt of thought
that's weaving endless stories about you
in their mind

What if a writer falls in love with you?
God have mercy on their soul
for their craving becomes dangerously
intensified, wrapping itself
to their muses,
giving them the sole purpose
of existing

For the more they love
the more stories they write
and more they feel
the longer
they
live
Sajeer Shaikh Dec 2016
If you're lost,
Deep in thought,
And you can't find your way.
Give me your hand,
I'll help you stand,
Against every dismay.

If you can't find,
The peace of mind,
That you need to go on.
I'll share mine,
For, no mind,
Should ever be forlorn.

There is no cause,
There never was,
To go through life alone.
Together we'll go,
Hit the road,
To our way back home.
Macy Opsima Dec 2016
everything i own will age
except for my poems & page.

these words are forever intact
in the crust of the earth.

love a writer
and i promise, you will live forever.
We are the
       Awoken ones
       Our muse we hope to stumble on  
Lit only by
        Star-and-streetlight
        Somewhere between the dusk and dawn.

|b.g.|
For us, the late-night and restless writers.
Sajeer Shaikh Dec 2016
Like water held back
By reservoirs.
Like a reckless tsunami
Leaving no survivors.

Like ferocious winds
Engulfing small cities.
Like a broken mind
Trying to be less gritty.

Like a torn out page,
With a lot to say.
Like immense outrage,
Finding its way.

Like oceans with worlds
Hidden beneath.
Like a universe - vast
But also discreet.

Like pen to paper,
No holding back.
Like a mind unleashing
An open attack.

Words that are struggling,
Constantly fighting -
To see light of day,
Such is her writing.
uzzi obinna Dec 2016
I take my time to read your poems,
I value the work you put:
I do this without sentiment,
I only value what is cute;

i might never meet you in person
But i have met you here:
Every moment i read your work
Is a beautiful moment we share;

I have learnt from you
Through your write-ups here:
To make out time for us,
Has proven that you care;

Thank you for your efforts
In making this place run:
Your write-ups here
Have really kept us going on;

To those of you who have encouraged me -
I remain sincerely grateful to you:
Your comments, critism, likes and reposts,
Have helped in seeing me through;

I come online always
To be sure there is nothing to miss,
And it always proved worthwhile,
And gives me an emotional bliss;

And if you are new to this place,
I was once like you:
Just continue to contribute
And let your efforts see you through;

So to all of you i mean everyone
So many to mention in one day,
May you always find rest,
Love, peace and prosperity everyday.
I always wanted to take my time to appreciate everyone here on Hp. Including the creators of Hp.
I personally feel like i have made some friends here and sincerely i do not take it for granted. There are names too many to mention but i know that from time to time if i do not see your work, i always to try to reach you to ensure that you doing ok. Thanks all
Laura Enright Dec 2016
I pray for my younger days to be filled with adventure,
for my mind to be vast and generous
without any preconceptions or prejudice

I wish that some day my written words can stir
a non-believer,
a person who does not yet know
that poetry can change a person

I hope I will raise a family and in my own way
rectify the mistakes of my parents
but pass on the values they taught me

I hope to stray from anyone whose ideals I do not believe in,
I will be quiet when I'm correct
and I'll be silent when I'm wrong

I want to follow my gut instinct
the hollow feeling in my belly
that is there for a reason

I pray to be naive but vigilant

I pray to never be satisfied,
but to always be content.
uzzi obinna Dec 2016
What if i told you,
That the reason why i date you,
Is to make poems of you?

What if i told you,
That i never truely loved you,
Rather i only needed you?

What if i told you,
I gain inspiration by being with you,
And by breaking up with you?

What if i told you,
I write of the things you do,
And the pains you put me through?

What if i told you,
I expect the heart break from losing you,
It helps me get a better point of view?

So forgive me for ever hurting you,
My poetry always comes before you,
Only her do I trust as really true.
Sajeer Shaikh Dec 2016
The edge of the balcony
Keeps beckoning my name.
The gun in my closet,
Under layers of clothes,
Has felt my hands brush along its sides -
A bit too often,
No - way too many times.
The knife that I cook with,
Seems sharper than most days.
Not sharp enough, perhaps -
Not yet, anyway.
And they have all told me,
The feeling will pass.
And yes, it really does -
More often than not.
But when I think about,
All that I've really got -
I start to imagine:
That extra step,
The pull of the trigger,
The serrated blade.
Setting me free,
Burning me down,
Dragging me away.
My angels will lose,
My demons will stay
And come out to play.

©sajeershaikh
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