#hepo - Hello Poetry

I only arrived a few weeks ago my suitcase bursting with pages and pages soaked with my soul The worlds children hide in terror as well afraid of the future and the white men pounding at their doors you may consider me a child but my heart feels centuries old I’m only a tourist but this country is burning down they close down their bazaars collect their words and dignity the kind leader is being drove out we pile into boats and I can’t help but feel like an imposter a tourist among the founding fathers of this great place I hope when we tour another place somebody, anybody wants to read my silly words because to others the may seem corny and dramatic but without them my soul has nowhere to go

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Nov 9, 2025

Nov 9, 2025 at 11:21 AM UTC

leyalied

TOURIST

I only arrived a few weeks ago my suitcase bursting with pages and pages soaked with my soul The worlds children hide in terror as well afraid of the future and the white men pounding at their doors you may consider me a child but my heart feels centuries old I’m only a tourist but this country is burning down they close down their bazaars collect their words and dignity the kind leader is being drove out we pile into boats and I can’t help but feel like an imposter a tourist among the founding fathers of this great place I hope when we tour another place somebody, anybody wants to read my silly words because to others the may seem corny and dramatic but without them my soul has nowhere to go

30

today, i dont want to do anything. just stay in the dark living room in my pj's and read some of your poetry. too bad i also did that yesterday. ****

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Jan 26, 2021

Jan 26, 2021 at 8:22 AM UTC

GraceA

here's to all of you

today, i dont want to do anything. just stay in the dark living room in my pj's and read some of your poetry. too bad i also did that yesterday. ****

3

This place is an oasis in the midst of loneliness. How could I be so lonely while wrapped in your embrace?

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Oct 28, 2020

Oct 28, 2020 at 11:26 AM UTC

glenn-currier

Oasis

This place is an oasis in the midst of loneliness. How could I be so lonely while wrapped in your embrace?

4

I've returned, I've transformed, I've found love and comfort, I've sought out for the unknown, only to realize that it is faster than me. I've not yet discovered my true self, my passions, my drive and my goals. and yet, as I tread, growing tired, I realize that sometimes the unknown will remain unknown.

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Jul 27, 2020

Jul 27, 2020 at 2:12 PM UTC

ksvc

I've returned

I've returned, I've transformed, I've found love and comfort, I've sought out for the unknown, only to realize that it is faster than me. I've not yet discovered my true self, my passions, my drive and my goals. and yet, as I tread, growing tired, I realize that sometimes the unknown will remain unknown.

10

when I need to be awakened and my writing confidence is shaken when I seem to be too far apart in urgent need of loving hearts where there’re too many un-live things and I need to hear a poet sing the times I need a different take or can’t move on from some dark ache I want to see some twinkling stars and leave the shades of stinking bars or caught in dark of hellish nights and seek a flight to brilliant heights

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Jul 11, 2020

Jul 11, 2020 at 12:23 PM UTC

glenn-currier

I come to you...

when I need to be awakened and my writing confidence is shaken when I seem to be too far apart in urgent need of loving hearts where there’re too many un-live things and I need to hear a poet sing the times I need a different take or can’t move on from some dark ache I want to see some twinkling stars and leave the shades of stinking bars or caught in dark of hellish nights and seek a flight to brilliant heights

12

if i may, where do you live? where do you breathe? whence do i seek? shall i plunder some far-away lands or, behold the wildflowers sprouting on my roof? shall i aim the telescope at milky way or, melt into my love's mellow eyes? you see, i was told -- poetry arrives donning pieces of the seeker, pieces long lost, or yet to be found.

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Jul 7, 2020

Jul 7, 2020 at 6:28 PM UTC

manvinder

hello poetry, may we talk

if i may, where do you live? where do you breathe? whence do i seek? shall i plunder some far-away lands or, behold the wildflowers sprouting on my roof? shall i aim the telescope at milky way or, melt into my love's mellow eyes? you see, i was told -- poetry arrives donning pieces of the seeker, pieces long lost, or yet to be found.

11

The great thing about poetry is that: we relate to the feelings embedded in words and phrases in which sometimes, even us are unaware of having

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May 24, 2020

May 24, 2020 at 5:01 AM UTC

seahorizon

Hello Poetry

The great thing about poetry is that: we relate to the feelings embedded in words and phrases in which sometimes, even us are unaware of having

3

It's only at the end, When we revere the beginning!!

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May 2, 2020

May 2, 2020 at 8:28 AM UTC

Xavi

The End

It's only at the end, When we revere the beginning!!

2

Why do I care what you think or how you feel about what I say or do? Should I, especially at my age? But is not interaction itself the mutual influencing of behavior? So when I speak to you and you to me we are changing each other just as the morning breeze bends the young Chinese Tallows shaking each spring leaf as if to say, “Wake up tree, its time to grow!” and the Tallow whispers, "Blow winds blow." Caring just means I am human and in spite of everything I am glad about that.

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May 23, 2019

May 23, 2019 at 12:13 PM UTC

glenn-currier

Why do I care?

Why do I care what you think or how you feel about what I say or do? Should I, especially at my age? But is not interaction itself the mutual influencing of behavior? So when I speak to you and you to me we are changing each other just as the morning breeze bends the young Chinese Tallows shaking each spring leaf as if to say, “Wake up tree, its time to grow!” and the Tallow whispers, "Blow winds blow." Caring just means I am human and in spite of everything I am glad about that.

12

for my mind to write something for you is for the flowers to feed nectar to birds, and your presence and ears are the vessels so my seeds are sown in the ground. Hello, you, who reads poems like a musician clefs. Basses, so bold and italic. Half-notes, half-thoughts, succinct and seemingly purposeful. Poetry, is the shelf on which my thoughts gather. Vessels with which I slice across my head, and sprinkle stars here and there. Mother, father, you, I. People whom I have not yet met but have greeted with my words. Hello, here are some words for you. A poem, to a good day.

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May 2, 2019

May 2, 2019 at 12:32 PM UTC

bqle

To HePo

for my mind to write something for you is for the flowers to feed nectar to birds, and your presence and ears are the vessels so my seeds are sown in the ground. Hello, you, who reads poems like a musician clefs. Basses, so bold and italic. Half-notes, half-thoughts, succinct and seemingly purposeful. Poetry, is the shelf on which my thoughts gather. Vessels with which I slice across my head, and sprinkle stars here and there. Mother, father, you, I. People whom I have not yet met but have greeted with my words. Hello, here are some words for you. A poem, to a good day.

29

So many buttons So many links So much content But none from me. So many thoughts So many dreams So much doubt How to express me?

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Mar 9, 2019

Mar 9, 2019 at 10:08 AM UTC

Artyam

How do you publish

So many buttons So many links So much content But none from me. So many thoughts So many dreams So much doubt How to express me?

8

Not ev-ree-wún can put words down In stanzas and lines And make them rhyme. Not ev-ree-wún will pour out Their hearts on a page To clear out the rage. Not ev-ree-wún wants to write When they are in pain Depressed or afraid. Not ev-ree-wún can be honest With themselves And write about how they feel About something or someone else Or even themselves. Not ev-ree-wún can be creative Not ev-ree-wún can tell the truth Not ev-ree-wún can be a pow-it.

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Sep 4, 2018

Sep 4, 2018 at 7:57 PM UTC

rahamaaa

A Pow-It.

Not ev-ree-wún can put words down In stanzas and lines And make them rhyme. Not ev-ree-wún will pour out Their hearts on a page To clear out the rage. Not ev-ree-wún wants to write When they are in pain Depressed or afraid. Not ev-ree-wún can be honest With themselves And write about how they feel About something or someone else Or even themselves. Not ev-ree-wún can be creative Not ev-ree-wún can tell the truth Not ev-ree-wún can be a pow-it.

17