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.
Much like at the end of the night,
when the drunken feeling has faded
along with the lights,
we were no longer blazing
with the mad joy of youth.

We did not become geniuses,
but we could've,
and that was almost enough.
Maybe we were all fools,
but it didn't matter then.
We drank and we laughed
and days were simple,
as youth always should be.

We were horribly unhappy,
eternally dissatisfied,
and yet it was a joyous time
of discovery and rehabilitation.
How I long to return,
and yet never would.
Feedback? Thoughts?
Sand, sand and dust, dust
These stones you thought
You built unbreakable, no
These in turn will turn into
Sand, sand and dust, dust
And all towers and castles
With time, become ruins so -
The cycle is a cycle for ages
What stops the destruction
Or what delays it, resets it,
Though futile, so to extend it,
Is love; palaces and hovels
fragile letters and trinkets -
Statues young, statues old,
They all stay preserved with
They all last longer long with
A little bit, or a lot, of love -
I'm no one to judge, give it
All or little of the love you can
to watch it stick, to watch it stand
Or slowly crumble in the end,
Dust, dust and sand, sand.
you touch me and the cracks in my lips bleed I bite them so hard
no one has ever been this close
your fingers draw circles on the back of my legs
you kiss every part of me I say I'd like to change
then your lips drip honey on all of my wounds
(the same ones he used to call a burden)
how can you forget,
what made up so many years?
ditch the regret;
the unnecessary tears.

it hits you sort of sudden,
when you're perhaps unprepared.
looking at a memory,
and the joy you shared.

the tug on your heart-string,
the shortness of breath.
this isn't a sad thing-
yet it feels like a death.

a grieving of pastimes,
a reminder of youth.
they stick like nursery rhymes,
the don't give the truth.

who would've guessed
that these ****** things began a
childish quest
now it's bittersweet nostalgia
Sami 2d
A place
That only exist
In the heart
Of those who believe
A heart that is young
Such as the single rose
beautiful, but needs
To be cared for
For those who feel
Like there's no hope
Close your eyes
For there is a Peter
In everyone
And Neverland
Is inside our spirit
Waiting to be found.
I feel the warm concrete
As warm as your chest pressed on mine
I feel the bright summer sun
As bright as your smile

Tangled up like lily pads
Hidden below the surface
Sprouting problems like weeds
Fighting through the cracks
As invisible as the trash littering the ground

Catching feelings
Quicker than a flame enveloping
Those corny love letters

If we had only two hours
I’d hug you till we saw stars
Feeling every inch of your soul
Melding into mine as our time slips by

If we only had one hour
I’d hold your face to mine
And pour out whispers of my heart
Filling your ears with nothing but my love

If we only had half an hour
I’d kiss you so fervently
I don’t want you to go

But we couldn’t spend half an hour
Nor did we get an hour
I wished we had two hours
But all we have now
Is six thousand
Four hundred
Thirty five kilometres
Between us.

There is crinkled wrapping paper
Littered across the mahogany floor
And untouched presents seem more like delicacies
For this twelve year old girl
As she sits alone
Again on Christmas morning
In a house too big
To hold such a small girl
Our youth is ending,
   ****** beer and snickers bars swapped        for cheap ***** and cold laughs
                Drip drip, the bottle spills
           Drip drip our limbs spread out
    A harmony held high over our heads
We swim down stream
   Our stomachs to the sky
    All scales and notes and melodies
A song composed in an series of summers
  A song sung through the rocks, our finger     tips glow
A stutter, a song stuck in motion
    An unspoken emotion, stays behind
All I want is to be back at the creek, with you, loving me
Sophia 4d
the mist is frosty and cold
my finger draws upon it
tales and myths of old
i wonder if they bought it

the lies of loving who i am
slide from off my tongue
i ran and ran and ran and ran
to get away from blazing suns

my childhood calls like a mother
waiting for her precious child
as if she knew the others
had been abusing me with smiles

i told them over and over again
that i was grown and truly an adult
that i truly didn't need my friends
disproved sorely by my childish sulk

the window panes are cold
and it hurts to touch my memories
i felt so young i feel so old
i'm just a heartbroken trilogy

i was a babe and then a teen
i grew into my full grown skin
so hard-hearted and awfully mean
that i couldn't ever fit in

i hated growing pains
they reminded me of my age
that i was always always changing
always always a newly flipped page

it hurts it hurts it hurts
these unbearable window panes
it hurts it hurts it hurts
these horrible growing pains
Next page