#creating
vitality of peace
not to be missed
or overlooked.
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 7:24 AM UTC
you cannot lose what you’ve once begun
sparks of creation, are by nature
implanted within,
creation is a bridge between your two states,
in which all humans operate,
the conscious and the unconscious
do not tell me you’ve stop writing;
say you’ve lost that ignition spark;
drowning in a dry spell, no majestic
spires to inspire; no visions concoctions,
are you still when breathing;
are you breathing stillness;
have you willfully gone blind,
you skin no longer members touch,
the sounds of nature unheard, ignored;
burst
how do I rightly slap you to reawaken?
resize you to reconnect your
breathing and creating;
creating
like the involuntary need to breathe,
the spots of slow withering
are quick to appear
and slow to die until
arrested
your words are the collagen for a soul;
cease you selfish wrestling; write of your
battles; spill with skill the rawness inside,
that demands smoothing, massaging;
god **** it; you cannot ignore them spots,
light brown, tan, dark brown, or black,
you mind’s way of saying, your are encouraging
the early onset of your demise…
i am spent, say no more;
just this,
breathe in oxygen
exhale your self,
to me,
once more
in words
that let us weep
and smile in synchronicity
so we may both shall live…
until our words are all used up,
of a course, an impossibility!
Mar 7
Mar 7, 2026 at 6:14 PM UTC
Sundays I usually rest my tongue
-no song to leave my lips
but inward parts where creation rests
will not leave me alone
forever on the move
never fully at home
today i give reign, just a little
to creations incessant need.
Mar 1
Mar 1, 2026 at 8:14 AM UTC
a comfortable silence
can swallow you whole
down deep you can go
imagination left on a shelf
as you enter
a whole new old world
ancient before time ticked
older than thought
a babe in the womb.
Feb 6
Feb 6, 2026 at 11:50 AM UTC
Some of the best poets ever, you can read their thoughts,
That they share on Hello Poetry, every day,
Most natural creative writers, like the famous poets,
That are in history, from long passed days.
Then and now poetry, is the same, sharing dreams,
Experiences, often inspiring, others, to more positive days.
Just like those of the past, most of the writers on Hello Poetry,
Never studied poetry, or paid a non- poet, to tell us how to move,
Our pencil certain ways, we should all be thankful, to those,
Who's dreamed, created Hello Poetry, for us the natural poets.
This site is an outlet, life line, to carry our creations, into the future,
Past our life time. We all waste money on useless things, donating,
To Hello Poetry, will keep our thoughts, dreams alive.
The original Tom Maxwell/poems 11/13/25 AD
Nov 13, 2025
Nov 13, 2025 at 6:53 PM UTC
My fingers… shake,
They quiver in fear like rats when the cat comes about,
They dance like ballerinas across the keys of the typewriter,
Heels bleeding and muscles ablaze,
My mind races with ideas that will not come out,
They stick like burs on the edges of the nerves in my hands,
The crystallised artistry begins to ache,
As if my joints are rotting with colour,
Day by day, they waltz key to key,
Slipping gracefully across as they create,
And yet at the same time, they destroy themselves,
Chipped nails, stinging slivers, bleeding cuticles, and joints that feel like they may crumble to dust at a moment's notice,
Yet they continue to dance with tempered focus,
And they write, and scribble, and type, and scrawl,
Until one day,
One day, they fall.
Oct 10, 2025
Oct 10, 2025 at 7:54 AM UTC
No more days wasted running round and round
Hiding from each new unexplained sound
The negative outlook continues holding me back
It's time to get my life on track
Let past me die so I can be born once more
New confidence shining from my core
My mind will remain open my mouth will stay shut
Bedazzled jeans adorning ****
Stop creating excuses for my bad habit
My improved self is strong enough to quit!
Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 4:57 AM UTC
art is an interchangeable form.
what is poetry can be prose can be music can be art can be TV can be movies can be video games can be visual novels can be webcomics can be dance can be movement can be aesthetics can be a flash of inspiration hidden behind a street corner.
art is a connective process.
you forge new threads between yourself, others, and the world around you.
you realize the universe is so much bigger than yourself. and yet, you discover just how you can be a part of it, just how you can fit in.
through art we are not human, yet art is the most human form of being there is.
art motivates us not just to live, but to thrive. it shows us the evidence of why we should all still be alive.
and to appreciate art, is no less than to make it.
to create, is no lesser or greater than to be.
go feel art.
go make art.
go be art.
Jun 25, 2025
Jun 25, 2025 at 4:56 PM UTC
Sometimes we wanna make something.
But we really just want to cry.
Maybe creating tears is still creating.
Creating love,
Creating light,
Creating dark,
Creating night.
Maybe what matters more is the fact that
there’s a product rather than what we produce.
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 7:27 PM UTC
When my imagination ignites a wildfire,
you commit my words to the pyre,
but, with every smouldering ember
my vision grows;
Breaking the boundaries
that you imposed,
and within the remnants of my creation,
I openly disregard your blatant damnation.
©️Lizzie Bevis
Jan 15, 2025
Jan 15, 2025 at 8:53 PM UTC
I truly believe that of all the wonderful gifts God has bestowed upon us (and there are many!) the greatest is the ability to create. Not just things, but life itself. The very act of creating/creation is to bring to life. It is Love (invisible and immaterial) made manifest (physical expression) in a very real way. The question to ask is: do my words and thoughts and actions speak life? Or do they destroy? Do they bring myself and others up? Or do they bring them down? Jesus is the Word Made Flesh, the Living Word and Bread of Life. For me, what sticks out to me that I am creating in my life is writing. Creating poetry and prayers that are inspired by the creator and shared with many by words of hope, comfort, peace, love, joy, etc. In my case, what I am creating very much reflects what I believe. When I eventually leave this earth; God willing many years from now, I want my legacy to be that I created or tried to create a little better and a little brighter world and future for our children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, and all of our youth. I want to be remembered by how I lived and how I loved. What are you creating, what do you want to create, and what will be your legacy?
Dec 23, 2024
Dec 23, 2024 at 9:30 PM UTC
People,
Creating their own hell
Let's keep it simple
Try to be real for a spell
No spiel,
Just an obvious tell
Deceitful,
But not doing it well
A sequel
Was always going to be a hard pitch to sell
©2024
Aug 1, 2024
Aug 1, 2024 at 3:21 PM UTC
To try to sing when all your rhythms are loneliness and decaying forests.
To try to speak when all your words are fragility and pungent mires.
To try to write when all your rhymes are complacency and murky waters.
To try to get those thoughts out when all your mind can shelter are words without rhyme or rhythm...
To try...
Jun 29, 2024
Jun 29, 2024 at 12:55 PM UTC
When I create,
when I build and make,
I seek a transfiguration,
a hope-full salmon-leap
toward the new creation.
I rise and dance beyond redemption,
I reach and pour the full fruits
of God's fresh fermentation.
I embrace God's ancient intention
for us to dream with His vision
taking us toward His now and not yet
new heaven and earth re-creation.
When I create, I'm not just fixing,
I'm building with His blessing.
Feb 4, 2024
Feb 4, 2024 at 1:18 PM UTC
Art is a creature—built
from bones of failure, tied
with tendons of tireless days, wrapped
by fiber upon fiber of hopeful nights, filled
with blood of laughter and despair, pumped
by a heart in a beloved cage, neglected
at the behest of a brain—crawling
through a maze, trying
to stumble and walk
and run and jump
and fly and
land
Jan 16, 2024
Jan 16, 2024 at 5:28 AM UTC
A Job
I work designing guns
Never out of a job
Quite creative work
Firing pins to mags
Via handles and barrels
Art via a lathe
My mind and hands
Always at work
Like the hitmen
Oct 30, 2021
Oct 30, 2021 at 1:54 PM UTC
The poetic apprentice constantly
ponders and plans.
He dreams up wondrous writings that through critisms can stand.
He imagines mystical miracles he elaborates with his hand
Unending possibilities his vast
Mind demands
He scoures the depths and peruses vast heights.
He indulges crisp, cool mornings and envelops the nights.
He listens for lyrical lullabies and observes majestical sights.
He journeys throughout space
as he embarks on jaw-dropping flights.
The poetic apprentice searches
The depths of his heart
He dissects it and reads it
And tears it apart.
Then divulges it's secrets
And crafts them into his art
He wishes so dearly that his
Work becomes no disaster
He keeps his senses in tune
In hopes he'll one day be a master
As more work pours out the
Pressure grows faster and faster
But he'll slow down and humble himself
As his work evolves and becomes vaster
Now the poetic apprentice sighs
A great sigh of relief
He wipes off his brow
As he mumbles "good grief!"
His work is now over his
work is complete.
He knows they will like it.
Its his faith, his belief
The poetic poet now bows
To you, his work is bequeathed
Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 11:39 PM UTC
There will be a moment when
all the mountains you have ascended
that tried to bring you down under torrent and hail
will be over your shoulder
There will be an instant when all you have learned,
all you have fought for,
all your mistakes, your pains, your cold,
your love, your light,
all of it,
melt together
and you know, finally; you have arrived.
In this
a new fear will arise
telling you
you don’t have
enough time
to complete your painting,
your sculpture,
your chapters of verse,
your photographs,
collages
and
mosaics
All you want
in this newly arrived
way of Being
is to
have the time
to
witness it all to creation’s end
To catch
The impossible weight of sand
at the bottom of the hourglass
with plenty of time to
watch the paint dry.
Oct 10, 2020
Oct 10, 2020 at 3:49 PM UTC
silence scooped into tributaries
navigating thoughts by gondola
we glide beneath her Bridge of Sighs
tasting the acrid breath of lost words
into a palazzo where ideas congregate
exhumed from brackish waters
poems glistening between our oars'
slippery blades at midnight
Sep 5, 2020
Sep 5, 2020 at 2:14 PM UTC
Be
projecting
thy creation
Be not
reacting to dictation
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 2:52 PM UTC
Be not
warming your
hands over a cold fire
be lit
to the heat of a new desire
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 2:50 PM UTC
****** thy chest to a swallows breast
Fix feet to ground white fire blessed
Flow breath in kind on highest tide
Set compass north thru eyes be wide
Raise tongue to taste thy words not waste
Let voice be rich and sowing
Set thought no aim be blind to game
Its fert be not worth knowing
Jun 29, 2020
Jun 29, 2020 at 2:48 PM UTC