Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#earn
I can’t picture a life without problems, They inspire us to work hard and learn. We will all suffer this process, Satisfaction from works is what's earned, No matter how much we avoid it. It always comes back in three folds, So, just Bite the bullet and persevere, Even though storm clouds there are Rainbows. The Sun will Shine and the skies are blue, The forecast for today, is optimistic and true, You got to go through it the issues will cease, Once, the problem resolves, in this you'll find peace B.R. Date: 11/28/2025
0
Nov 28, 2025
Nov 28, 2025 at 5:03 PM UTC
A Life without Problems
it's not about the pain. it's not about the price. it's about the sacrifice people are willing to accept to get what they want. to get what they need. understanding they're willing to do more than bleed. because understanding is the first step to earning respect. and a world with more respect brings us one step closer to a world of acceptance.
0
Mar 17, 2022
Mar 17, 2022 at 2:43 PM UTC
the sacrifice
respect isn’t earned you’re born with it you can’t change what nature’s made can’t **** it no matter how many pills you take so just lay in your filth because that’s what you deserve
0
Jan 3, 2021
Jan 3, 2021 at 7:05 PM UTC
perky
when you hit their line, you really gotta think you got their time? Think you're worth any one of their dimes? up your word play because you might not be worth any time of day foreplay? you go'n need that if you wanna hear em say it there's no love without intimacy no intimacy without chemistry you wanna impress? best push your boundaries think you slick and sweet, but where're your feats? show your worth or get kicked to the curb you want my love? earn it please me? It ain't easy show me your heart, your soul show me your all and maybe partake in a real fantasy of romance. dance on the shores as the sunsets. let the breeze give us goosebumps.. get careless and show every expression... be calm in each others arms... if we freeze time it'd be perfect... so hit my line... don't waste my time. -SS
0
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 8:08 AM UTC
Hit my line
I’m ‘bout to work my fire *** to ice No need to guess, baby, or roll the dice I pray like “dolla dolla make me holla” That’s how I build it up with every caller Ain’t no one’s gonna motivate your *** You’re either sweatin’ or you get no sass I earn them dollars just to stack them good I don’t mind grindin’ as I know I should I works from Monday straight to Friday night Pick up the calls, fill up the tickets right Here I acknowledge your sincere applause Don’t touch my money with your ghetto paws I’m way much flyer than the God’s big curse If you can’t handle it then call a nurse I came to work it down, Lord is my witness Yeah, I gon’ slay like it’s nobody’s business
0
Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
Slayage
By Arcassin Burnham Part from all the pass objections , I own up to **** I didn't even think that I could make just like this, I didn't have to earn a living or lottery hit, Take a chance and put that glove on , if it'll fit, I feel I'd , get closer to a new beginning and an new end where my body collapses ending up in a spiritual state to see all that I have become in this horrible world of greed and less diversity, You can not get rid of me, The enemy of my enemy. Put aside the past for a pair old yellas, Library swinging with a tao book , they're jealous, Learning made a passion and my brain ****** it up, This simulation we live in isn't real , so give it up, I feel I'd, Make it out alive somehow in utter confusion blessing from above like I was the only human coming out as a wolf and not a sheep to all these **** tools that called themselves woke, Better make sure I don't choke, I just hope that you could cope.
0
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC
Unknown #27
Bumble How do you decide what to take from a burning building? Objects? A ring? A Journal? Your father? Your daughter? Your grandmother? Your birth certificate? How does a child decide who lives and who stays? One day there’s a fire, and it’s your house, it starts in your room, you can tell yourself you’ve already packed a bag, but who can say where it is? Since I was fourteen *** has let me feel like I was alive, I always thought that great *** meant somebody cried, that somebody got hurt, that if you weren’t hiding from somebody else than you had to be hiding from yourselves. That’s when I pulled out an old notebook and began reading back the lips of lovers, running my fingers over their handwriting like brushing my mouth over the raised ink of my lover’s tattoos. Who decides when everything you call your life uproots itself and walks away from you one morning while you’re still laying in bed? Who decides when every rule and mannerism you’ve become acclimated to shifts and changes and the way you felt anger is now the way you feel fright, the way you felt lust is now what you call sadness, the way you lived in happiness is now what you know to be all on your own, and what you told yourself was love is now nothing at all. There is a bed with the sheets nearly hanging off, the blankets lying on the floor, three pillows colors you’ve never seen. This bed is in a room you’ve never walked into, in a house you’ve passed a million times, in towns you’ve visited but only to top off your gas tank or looked at while riding through it on a train. It’s in this room, on this bed where your whole life is unbound, it’s here where the cover on the book of your life falls off and disappears into a story of someone else’s, and while you still bite your dedication page as your own, the publisher’s page, the dedication page, and even the title page are all altogether gone, and no matter how old you are or how quickly you move, nor how attentive or well prepared you might be, there is nothing you can do except curl yourself into an ammonite and lock up everything you’ve ever claimed to be yours, light your candles and cigarettes, and put a record on the record player. There is no place like home that couldn’t become yours anymore. You drink hard liquor from the bottle until you can touch the faces that you’ve lost, you can turn the hot water up in the shower until you don’t hear their voices anymore. There’s nothing like the sound of quiet that peels off the skin, or the sound of loud music blaring into your ears that you can play if you need to hold it back in. You can **** the war and hate and heartache out of the brains and legs and holes of someone you barely know, but in a burst of snowy sunlight you’re only adding numbers to a score that heeds no winners at all. There’s no one that never shivers, no one that has never gotten splinters, there’s no one who is never been sick, there’s only the one’s who know what life is, and the one’s that lie about it. Only when you’ve lost your head can you see with your ears. I’ve found faces in my underwear that run fierce with rivers of tears. This is the waste that makes waste, this is the nerves that end nerves. This is the patch I placed on the moon, and the cold that stings every part of the body I know. There is a bed somewhere, there is a town of people waiting to **** the person who lives in that room. There is the fire that consumes the bed, there is a child waiting there that’ll someday have to choose.
0
Jan 5, 2018
Jan 5, 2018 at 4:30 AM UTC
The End of Bees
Bumble How do you decide what to take from a burning building? Objects? A ring? A Journal? Your father? Your daughter? Your grandmother? Your birth certificate? How does a child decide who lives and who stays? One day there’s a fire, and it’s your house, it starts in your room, you can tell yourself you’ve already packed a bag, but who can say where it is? Since I was fourteen *** has let me feel like I was alive, I always thought that great *** meant somebody cried, that somebody got hurt, that if you weren’t hiding from somebody else than you had to be hiding from yourselves. That’s when I pulled out an old notebook and began reading back the lips of lovers, running my fingers over their handwriting like brushing my mouth over the raised ink of my lover’s tattoos. Who decides when everything you call your life uproots itself and walks away from you one morning while you’re still laying in bed? Who decides when every rule and mannerism you’ve become acclimated to shifts and changes and the way you felt anger is now the way you feel fright, the way you felt lust is now what you call sadness, the way you lived in happiness is now what you know to be all on your own, and what you told yourself was love is now nothing at all. There is a bed with the sheets nearly hanging off, the blankets lying on the floor, three pillows colors you’ve never seen. This bed is in a room you’ve never walked into, in a house you’ve passed a million times, in towns you’ve visited but only to top off your gas tank or looked at while riding through it on a train. It’s in this room, on this bed where your whole life is unbound, it’s here where the cover on the book of your life falls off and disappears into a story of someone else’s, and while you still bite your dedication page as your own, the publisher’s page, the dedication page, and even the title page are all altogether gone, and no matter how old you are or how quickly you move, nor how attentive or well prepared you might be, there is nothing you can do except curl yourself into an ammonite and lock up everything you’ve ever claimed to be yours, light your candles and cigarettes, and put a record on the record player. There is no place like home that couldn’t become yours anymore. You drink hard liquor from the bottle until you can touch the faces that you’ve lost, you can turn the hot water up in the shower until you don’t hear their voices anymore. There’s nothing like the sound of quiet that peels off the skin, or the sound of loud music blaring into your ears that you can play if you need to hold it back in. You can **** the war and hate and heartache out of the brains and legs and holes of someone you barely know, but in a burst of snowy sunlight you’re only adding numbers to a score that heeds no winners at all. There’s no one that never shivers, no one that has never gotten splinters, there’s no one who is never been sick, there’s only the one’s who know what life is, and the one’s that lie about it. Only when you’ve lost your head can you see with your ears. I’ve found faces in my underwear that run fierce with rivers of tears. This is the waste that makes waste, this is the nerves that end nerves. This is the patch I placed on the moon, and the cold that stings every part of the body I know. There is a bed somewhere, there is a town of people waiting to **** the person who lives in that room. There is the fire that consumes the bed, there is a child waiting there that’ll someday have to choose.
Continue reading...
7
It circles around me, it nuzzles its face next to mine, shouting, "Don't be afraid! It will work out in time!" "But what if it doesn't?" asks the doubting voice in my mind. "Well than it will be a lesson to learn, that patience and hard work don't always earn you what you deserve."
0
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 12:34 PM UTC
Lesson
We always feel entitled in life That the world revolves around us To have everything with no strife The world bends to us, it must Except that is not our right We deserve is what we earn After we work and we fight This is what some don't learn They think life is their's to bend That they deserve strength and pride But without work it will be their end Fueled only by entitlement, they died Our only God given privilege Is the right to be happy To pursue that ambiguous image All else is earned ultimately The good life is ours to pursue No one allowed to stand in our way Earning our keep is hard, it's true But our right to life will never go away
0
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
Only Privilege
Never thought this would be like this These days only repeat Like the waves of the ocean Tired of all the glaring stares That dare reflect my inner hate And outer pain (Chorus) I can't get away Even if I run away What's chasing me Can't be seen Truth has been tossed away Not meant to stay But there are no means of escape Because it is what I earn and deserve Disagree silently You killed my proof Does it even make a difference to try? This secret I kept locked away for so long I should have never let you in Too exposed to hold any protection (Chorus) Let the flame go... (I can't get away) Let the flame go... (Never thought it would be this way) Let the flame go... (Even if I run away) Let the flame go... (I am not meant to stay) Let the flame go out.
0
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 9:41 PM UTC
Earn and Deserve
I met up with Time and had quite a talk with her-- she keeps stealing my minutes & hours making my life an absolute blur-- so I told her in no uncertain terms that she'd better give back all those minutes & hours I worked so hard to earn and she reluctantly shook her head so woefully and without much of an apology, she looks at me, saying that what she steals she does NOT return-- And as for all those minutes she stole? She said she let them burn... ****
0
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 9:57 PM UTC
Time
There shalt cometh a time, Kindled will be every rime, Those who dislike them be pauper, Those who like them will earn a zillion dime! There shalt cometh a time, Sailed will be every rime, Those who sabotage shalt meet the reaper, Those who help them will earn a lifetime! There shalt cometh a time, Loving will not be a crime, Those who loved will be keeper, Those who won't will repent after lifetime!
0
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
Rime Of The Poetic Mariner
Running through the parallels of life, Its easy to get stuck in your position, Too stuck up and heart cold as ice, They say life comes down to your decisions, You think but from your own perspective Not realizing your thought process is potentially destructive Leading to a shock everytime you're surprised, Good or bad, you smile it up in disguise So if you choose to live in your own little world And watch life slowly unfurl Know that you are completely oblivious Living in a world rather insidious
0
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
For the Know it all
Pity I truely hate that word Its so weak So absurd You can grovel all you want about your neglect Or you can shut the hell up And earn some respect
0
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
In Order to Earn Respect
- "A college professor is someone who talks in someone else's sleep." - W. H. Auden Off to teach once again. Another semester beckons. Students who don't read, respect or understand words. Colleagues mostly young enough to be my own children. Migrant worker wages. If only I had learned a decent, honest trade, like mortician or plumber, I wouldn't be in this fix. Oh well, we must all do what will feed us. Once more, into the breach. - mce
0
Apr 9, 2015
Apr 9, 2015 at 8:26 AM UTC
Pedagogical Sentence
I F  Y O U  E A R N  L O V E  T H E N   Y O U  W I L L N O T  C H E R I S H  I T !
0
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
Love
Life is a pantomime light hearted and plain. It's behind you they shout but it's all part of the game. The villain is booed by the on-looking crowd but there is nobody there when you decide to turn round. You think that you know, you think you will solve, but the answers are gone when at last you revolve. Is it the king? Or perhaps that old aunt? Who's got two ugly daughters who would tear you apart. The boy with the buttons, is he evil or good? Or is it that carved out puppet with that long nose of wood? Who is the goody? Who is it best to know? Well we really can't say till the end of the show. Life is no pantomime not so light hearted and plain. Full of caring and good but also vile and insane. No one shouts he's behind you. Villains do not get booed. You cannot always see them as you're plied and you're wooed. They are not always ugly. they may never seem nauseous so the only advice here is to always be cautious. Trust takes time to endear. Trust is something to earn. Trust is something that you need very quickly to learn. Never hand it to quickly to anyone in the line cause we all need to realise, life is no pantomime.
0
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
Life's Pantomime
Little girl Big dreams Bigger shoes Small esteem Shoes to fill Space to grow Fears to face Love to show Place to be Things to learn Hope to find More to earn Little girl Big dreams There’s more to find Than what it seems.
0
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 12:11 AM UTC
Little Girl
Again the day had come When I had concentrated on those coins, That was all for mine but lost And the cyclone rolled those dust with gust Earn after born at my mother’s shack, Penny to penny kept into my empty soul Sounding low when filled with sorrow, Blew all those through unknown hollow The day had gone forever And I am the Loser, lost more than I loss Collect other coins that less than I lost And the Lord will be paid the ultimate cost - @ Musfiq us shaleheen
0
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 4:01 PM UTC
The Loser