#often
“ https://hellopoetry.com/poems/5281518/prayer-will-be-the-end-of-us
https://hellopoetry.com/@henryakeru
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“We have learnt to mourn without a sound
because grief is now too often found”
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how hard it must have been
for a man
“Who loves life loves poetry”
to compose this hearse of verses
and my mind
is modified and modifies
his eloquence
ever so slightly
and i think with no millisecond’s lapse:
(our) grief is now too often profound
yes we tire with exhaustion from “thoughts and prayers,”
skip over the particulars of the daily newest school shooting,
random shooting on city streets, that murders a baby in his stroller,
or a citizen pushed to death in front of a subway car
and turn the page,
it is not a wearied callousness
we are displaying,
no, it is a grief so river deep,
it is the nth level of profundity
when words become unavailable,
not from overuse
but from complete collapse
from the sharp edges of keen bloodletting
we prefer an unholy silence
to a wailing grieving
we are in a permanent state of
permanent wrack and ruin
coverup
“Profound"
so deeply felt, great intensity,
often a silent sorrow, crackling thoroughout our veined nature entire,
a physically deep soured sorrow fulfilling
the few crevices and cracks as of yet, tearwater unpolluted
and we have no conception of a new
mournful
prayer to utter,
deemed deserving of an
Amen.
end.
Apr 5
Apr 5, 2026 at 10:52 AM UTC
write little. overwhelmed by the "competition,''
those who birth litters of poems by the bushel,
but let us serve you morsel, a petites bouchées,
a fingertip to both lips, sensately fulfilling, the
need mutuel, thus, we are both self~satisfied,
as I search for words of comforting arousal,
that relax simultaneously & invigorate, for these
are the dualities of our innate inanities, the things,
that can never be satisfied without a compromise
of nerves and plaisirs, clashing leaders, who both
are needed to satisfy the larger human diction of
conditions;
sometimes they exist in the same universe,
sometimes they exist at the same time,
sometimes they exist only in the mind,
and not the cells of the body human,
whereby the inputs must be inserted,
to reach the boiling *** of overlap,
but if this tease, doth please, even for
a secondary second, that we are both
blessed
Aug 18, 2025
Aug 18, 2025 at 2:55 PM UTC
I want to be anything but me
Not always obviously
But often definitely
Specifically when that pesky negativity
Has a death grip on my personality
And brings out the ugly
©2024
Jun 21, 2024
Jun 21, 2024 at 3:49 PM UTC
Often not, is prayer
In fear of God
But of our fellow man
Jun 2, 2023
Jun 2, 2023 at 7:11 PM UTC
oftentimes
it is better
to leave words
unspoken
and unheard
for truth
can be too painful
that it is better
to turn a blind eye
on things
that might have occurred
Oct 22, 2020
Oct 22, 2020 at 10:51 AM UTC
Why are you here
Born, lost and bred
See some ideas to an end
The aim to do more often begets form
A middle depends
When identity strikes down the spine
Life will heal or harm
A day in this age generates pace
Prepare before to reinforce fate
as luck can change
If there's space on the stage
Search for the answers that your question relates
Catch the gaze of another
When they dazzle and charm
Turn in on yourself as we show our face
Segregated ways often reflect mixed intent
Does everything begin with the opportunity cost of regret
Review how you start before we depart and are spent
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 6:54 PM UTC
Too often do we dance and fool our youth away, too often do we attempt to love without knowing how, too often do we write letters that end up in the hearth, too often do we get agitated by the song of the simple bird, too often do we hate and forget to pity those whom we despise, too often do we cage the blue bird in our heart, too often do we lie, not to the world but to ourselves, too often we ponder, speak, and forget action behind, too often do we ignore ourselves, too often do we ignore each other.
Too often do the authors try to paint the world with colours of big words and elegant sentences, yet as beautiful it may seem to the eye, the world they paint is far too artificial, far too unnatural, far too normal.
We do it all too often; we hate without reason, we believe without proof, we forget that hate is the work of the unloved, we live our lives as if they’re shows for everyone else, we become bitter wolves with venomous fangs and poisonous tongues, we rip at each other, with words, with thoughts, with deeds of every kind.
Too often we forget our humanity behind.
Aug 23, 2020
Aug 23, 2020 at 7:49 AM UTC
Often,
I thought
that love
entailed war
wars waged against others
wars waged against the world
not of the self.
May 29, 2020
May 29, 2020 at 12:19 PM UTC
I was told
I love too much
to the wrong things
too often .
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 12:11 AM UTC
Often, the sombre emerges
Rarely, the world shines
Often, the story is told
Rarely, it comes to life
Apr 17, 2019
Apr 17, 2019 at 1:23 PM UTC
I think of you often
Do you think of me too?
You're probably just busy
I don't want to bother you.
I find myself reaching
For the friendship we had
But I'm left grasping at nothing
And this makes me sad.
Our talks lately are empty,
Shallow and subdued
I don't know what I've done
To make our friendship come unglued
I think of you often
Do you think of me too?
I just want to say
I'll always be here for you.
Dec 7, 2018
Dec 7, 2018 at 9:51 PM UTC
city lights for some reason
in the last time they have me
and snow so often swirl
before my eyes eternal
and all the time they say their own
strange and confusing questions
questions all eternal questions
on which there will be no
no replies of the existing
city lights as urban
cabinets and how not cabinets and how books
and how everything in this world is ours
light is only light and differences
was never in this world
we are white color wandering in white
color and perhaps it will always be so
everything eternal is always eternal and
eternal is always that is not
will end in this world never
13.09.18
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 2:27 PM UTC
You should
Never say
"I love you"
If you don't
Mean it
But if you
Do mean it
You should
Say it often,
People forget
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 2:43 AM UTC
Rain poured its *** off,
And see now: pools big and small;
More than can handle!
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
She has tried her hardest not always but often
She falters on occasions not often
She wants him to see how much she has done
She wants him to stand by her side when she is not at her best
She knows he is willing to do it sometimes not often
She knows that he feels sick just looking at her
She knows that he can't stand her
So, she backs away into silence right beside him
Right where he can see
Because unlike him she would stay at his worst
She would die for him always not often
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 7:52 AM UTC
it's odd that i find my way back to you in a dream
in a violet mist,
a storm of chemicals
sometimes it's repetitive
all i see are teeth,
dripping wet from black saliva and blood of
anyone that roams these leaves
but i know you can't touch me
because hurting me
hurts your assets
you'll hurt your chances at anything living
because deep down, somehow, i knew you were never alive
just an empty body in the middle of a clearing
like royalty
preserved while something else like you reigns
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 5:41 AM UTC
Northern part of my India,
It is worse when it is cold.
Far worse in winters,
Than in summers.
Many people freeze to death.
Jun 17, 2017
Jun 17, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
My ex-girlfriend used to wake up scared,
More than often it had happened.
She used to tell about her nightmares,
She was really explicit about the dreams.
Oh yes, I remember each and every thing.
I remember when she told me about one,
I often sensed her strong interest in it.
More I deduced so after it is over,
My ex-girlfriend was a nymphomaniac.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 12:58 AM UTC
Somewhere across this planet,
there are people thinking about you.
You might not know them, they
could be anyone from anywhere.
At this moment, as the sun brightens your day,
you were seen smiling in their dreams.
And when you close your eyes to sleep,
they will wake up and write about you.
They may not be great poets, but
you have already become their poem.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 10:55 AM UTC