#po - Hello Poetry

On December 23, 2023, I was pursuing my job, As a Probationary Officer, At the State Bank of India. My colleagues and parents gathered, It was very nice; what should I say? For a vegetarian's delight showered, They had gathered together that day. In Panchkula, it was the F.T.P.—2, or Foundational Training Program 2, All the probationers were there, Where, in SBILD, Panchkula. Celebrated my birthday a bit late, For I reached there on a later day, Not that my arrival was delayed, Que sera sera, just systemic delay. 'Twas memorable, Many colleagues. We broke the ice, I made no couple. I reached the age of 33 years that day, Like this time I'll complete 34 years, But I miss being a child, or a kid, Those birthdays were special. On my 33rd birth anniversary, I felt more than a year younger. Finally a successful professional, And obviously an eligible bachelor. Still unmarried, now as a choice, I don't find a compatible voice, Those judge me by my past, My successes matter not. Men Going Their Own Way, MGTOW seems a good idea, The only viable option for me, Isn't that the only one for me? All I have with me, Are just memories, Some are besotten, Others a' forgotten. They consider me depressed, Maybe I'm just depressed, But I lack any real friend, Lacking any inspiration. I may have achieved success, Academic and professional, Like Granger & McGonagall, Scripted through dedication. Coming out of the shadows, Like the full moon out there, My parents be proud of me, Getting married isn't crucial.

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Nov 4, 2024

Nov 4, 2024 at 11:52 AM UTC

Atul

My Birthday of December 23, 2023

On December 23, 2023, I was pursuing my job, As a Probationary Officer, At the State Bank of India. My colleagues and parents gathered, It was very nice; what should I say? For a vegetarian's delight showered, They had gathered together that day. In Panchkula, it was the F.T.P.—2, or Foundational Training Program 2, All the probationers were there, Where, in SBILD, Panchkula. Celebrated my birthday a bit late, For I reached there on a later day, Not that my arrival was delayed, Que sera sera, just systemic delay. 'Twas memorable, Many colleagues. We broke the ice, I made no couple. I reached the age of 33 years that day, Like this time I'll complete 34 years, But I miss being a child, or a kid, Those birthdays were special. On my 33rd birth anniversary, I felt more than a year younger. Finally a successful professional, And obviously an eligible bachelor. Still unmarried, now as a choice, I don't find a compatible voice, Those judge me by my past, My successes matter not. Men Going Their Own Way, MGTOW seems a good idea, The only viable option for me, Isn't that the only one for me? All I have with me, Are just memories, Some are besotten, Others a' forgotten. They consider me depressed, Maybe I'm just depressed, But I lack any real friend, Lacking any inspiration. I may have achieved success, Academic and professional, Like Granger & McGonagall, Scripted through dedication. Coming out of the shadows, Like the full moon out there, My parents be proud of me, Getting married isn't crucial.

52

It’s In my story just an obserVation Another standard deviation to Whittle Words for the World around Wound like Fickle filament of Fire bulb wire. the Vapor trails of Vehement Volcanoes Venting A parent le miserables dat carousel and Care to Sell excel Lance While lamp lighting a way to free-dumb with Lyrical Trance Gripping Gravity concentrated illuminated SusStained on moments of brilliance Burst stardust nova eXperience We LackLustorLove and rise above emo poverty evergreen Bloom! Poet Trees…

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May 28, 2015

May 28, 2015 at 5:14 PM UTC

TheSethnicity

Are you a Poet Tree?

It’s In my story just an obserVation Another standard deviation to Whittle Words for the World around Wound like Fickle filament of Fire bulb wire. the Vapor trails of Vehement Volcanoes Venting A parent le miserables dat carousel and Care to Sell excel Lance While lamp lighting a way to free-dumb with Lyrical Trance Gripping Gravity concentrated illuminated SusStained on moments of brilliance Burst stardust nova eXperience We LackLustorLove and rise above emo poverty evergreen Bloom! Poet Trees…

18

Ah Po' me trying to pen poems like Poe writes to right poetry from the likes of poured me who sweats thru his pores to pour out his soul, and try out ANu poesi

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Aug 21, 2018

Aug 21, 2018 at 6:35 PM UTC

A-NU_0LD_POET

Po' Me

Ah Po' me trying to pen poems like Poe writes to right poetry from the likes of poured me who sweats thru his pores to pour out his soul, and try out ANu poesi

3

My fascination of words come from a deep place… Shards of broken hopelessness, Discarded in pieces, through metaphors Seeking life within the lines of poetry. Wanting to creep out of my soul, From my veins through my fingertips… I write for me. My words are not for humanity… There won’t be any prophesies scrawled across cave walls Only fragments of my being, Refracted in the images I paint on paper, Printed in blood ink. My words are release. There are no pictographs or, Phenomenon discoveries, Veiled in my assortment of letters, Etched in my broken rib cage of fragility… Printed only out of desperation. My fascination with words is contingent... I put in bulks of fleshy bits of insanity, And I secrete emotions, Ravaged by war, Because for some reason, Pain is equivalent to beauty. Sometime my words become selfish. They bombard my mental cavity, Asking so much of me, I have to stop in the middle of the street And write thoughts down before I lose them. My words consume me. I think differently, I feel differently. Every sense is heightened in this state. I lose myself in the worlds I create. My words are my only escape.

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Jun 27, 2014

Jun 27, 2014 at 2:35 AM UTC

deneka-raquel

MY words.

My fascination of words come from a deep place… Shards of broken hopelessness, Discarded in pieces, through metaphors Seeking life within the lines of poetry. Wanting to creep out of my soul, From my veins through my fingertips… I write for me. My words are not for humanity… There won’t be any prophesies scrawled across cave walls Only fragments of my being, Refracted in the images I paint on paper, Printed in blood ink. My words are release. There are no pictographs or, Phenomenon discoveries, Veiled in my assortment of letters, Etched in my broken rib cage of fragility… Printed only out of desperation. My fascination with words is contingent... I put in bulks of fleshy bits of insanity, And I secrete emotions, Ravaged by war, Because for some reason, Pain is equivalent to beauty. Sometime my words become selfish. They bombard my mental cavity, Asking so much of me, I have to stop in the middle of the street And write thoughts down before I lose them. My words consume me. I think differently, I feel differently. Every sense is heightened in this state. I lose myself in the worlds I create. My words are my only escape.

36

Dis Po' ol'boy is rich as can be!!!....yessir !!! gots me a tribillion words at my 'sposal anytime I wants em o be.

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Aug 22, 2018

Aug 22, 2018 at 3:21 AM UTC

A-NU_0LD_POET

Po'? not me!

Dis Po' ol'boy is rich as can be!!!....yessir !!! gots me a tribillion words at my 'sposal anytime I wants em o be.

1

Please don't judge me until you've walked a mile in my shoes before you start misinterpreting my every move. ...amp

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Aug 20, 2020

Aug 20, 2020 at 9:32 AM UTC

artistic-ar

Judge

Please don't judge me until you've walked a mile in my shoes before you start misinterpreting my every move. ...amp

4

They say silence speaks wisdom's truth, But your quietness drew us apart. Many times I shared my heart with you, Whispered love, dreamed of joining hearts. You never answered with words, Just smiled and turned away. I tried to read between your silences, Yet your true feelings never revealed their way. Life took turns unforeseen, Family’s hopes drew lines we crossed. I moved afar, to foreign shores, With no trace of you in the chaos lost. Now years later, I return anew, Heard you've settled miles away from here. Still alone, ***** unbound— How do I comprehend this silent fear? Your habit of few words, your quiet charm, Built a distance neither of us planned. Yet memories of you linger close, Like whispered shadows, hand in hand.

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Sep 24, 2025

Sep 24, 2025 at 12:31 PM UTC

usha

Silent Words, Distance Grown✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They say silence speaks wisdom's truth, But your quietness drew us apart. Many times I shared my heart with you, Whispered love, dreamed of joining hearts. You never answered with words, Just smiled and turned away. I tried to read between your silences, Yet your true feelings never revealed their way. Life took turns unforeseen, Family’s hopes drew lines we crossed. I moved afar, to foreign shores, With no trace of you in the chaos lost. Now years later, I return anew, Heard you've settled miles away from here. Still alone, ***** unbound— How do I comprehend this silent fear? Your habit of few words, your quiet charm, Built a distance neither of us planned. Yet memories of you linger close, Like whispered shadows, hand in hand.

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