Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
#than
I spoke, but the wound stayed bright, Honesty cuts, yet it feels like spite.
0
May 13
May 13, 2026 at 2:58 AM UTC
Sharper Than Truth
Of Winter through June, Magnolia in full bloom, Eternal than doom.
0
Apr 16
Apr 16, 2026 at 4:11 AM UTC
Magnolia Dream
a time of growth time of gifts the time of flowers draws ever closer
0
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 8:17 AM UTC
time of gifts
a hurricane of emotion slamming; flying, but I'll come down slow into the iris, a beautiful light blue. I don't need you. I am more than the storm.
0
Feb 23
Feb 23, 2026 at 12:33 PM UTC
More Than
If peace could speak, It would say be calm and don't be weak. Inner peace comes out, After beating your anger and anxiety to knock out. Do you know what I feel? I feel peace as my part of meal. Yoga helps one to become peaceful, Also good for health and it is faithful. It teaches hearts and mind to stay at ease, Like gentle wind through silent trees. No storms can break a peaceful mind, When love and patience are combined. Inner peace must be attained, Then only our lives are sustained. END..
0
Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 6:27 AM UTC
Inner Peace
read a thousand love stories, pause, rest awhile, read ten thousand more, and then deny equality. If you ask for no more than you can give, you ask for not enough love is imbalance not an equation, with a single solution love has both constants and variable factors so you write of tribulations and tributes so you write of lamentations and liftings you think you are on the same page perhaps but do we not all read at different paces? one of you is solid, one is dotted and dashed one of you is straight, one is bent, forever curving when you think you are in balance in the same place in syncopation perhaps you are for a moment a calculus of one point on a trajectory and you say I can only ask for what I give and am given and no more, you have miscalculated this flux flummoxed when the old terrain is flayed flat but thru the windshield you see the plateau ends, the geography unknown, when you see unknown when you seek the unknown when you give from places you did not know you had to give from when you kiss a hand for  twenty minutes more than than the one minute you intended when you give more than is asked when you ask for more than you can you think you can give the imbalance is the only concert the imbalance is the the only constant how do I know this? what are my credentials? you are not a teenage girl, what matters of what you know of these matters? I am who I am a diversity of man and manner I am past prime and in decline but this I know for having failed ten thousand poem times you must ask for more than one can give but that's not fair! silly one, still wretched confused, even after one hundred thousand poem times you must ask of yourself more than you can give and ask no less demand no less a body in emotion is not a body in rest when the imbalance is too great or insufficient then you write a poem look in the mirror that cannot lie and move on or move off and begin to ask yourself to whom may I give myself more than is asked then you have finally asked the correct solution to the unsolvable equation
0
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 3:47 AM UTC
2015 (ask for more than you can give)
read a thousand love stories, pause, rest awhile, read ten thousand more, and then deny equality. If you ask for no more than you can give, you ask for not enough love is imbalance not an equation, with a single solution love has both constants and variable factors so you write of tribulations and tributes so you write of lamentations and liftings you think you are on the same page perhaps but do we not all read at different paces? one of you is solid, one is dotted and dashed one of you is straight, one is bent, forever curving when you think you are in balance in the same place in syncopation perhaps you are for a moment a calculus of one point on a trajectory and you say I can only ask for what I give and am given and no more, you have miscalculated this flux flummoxed when the old terrain is flayed flat but thru the windshield you see the plateau ends, the geography unknown, when you see unknown when you seek the unknown when you give from places you did not know you had to give from when you kiss a hand for  twenty minutes more than than the one minute you intended when you give more than is asked when you ask for more than you can you think you can give the imbalance is the only concert the imbalance is the the only constant how do I know this? what are my credentials? you are not a teenage girl, what matters of what you know of these matters? I am who I am a diversity of man and manner I am past prime and in decline but this I know for having failed ten thousand poem times you must ask for more than one can give but that's not fair! silly one, still wretched confused, even after one hundred thousand poem times you must ask of yourself more than you can give and ask no less demand no less a body in emotion is not a body in rest when the imbalance is too great or insufficient then you write a poem look in the mirror that cannot lie and move on or move off and begin to ask yourself to whom may I give myself more than is asked then you have finally asked the correct solution to the unsolvable equation
Continue reading...
76
in my private conversations, so many emiploy this phrase, arms on chest folded, a whispery plaint, and I too am folded into too pieces, as well, my understanding fulsome, for the struggling is well familiar, I under stand beneath you, arms upraised, holding your shaking, throbbing, wistful hearty sighs, constant tumbling, floor~falling, see rose petals of sighs, all quiet screams, and my weak remedy is urging you to express with the skill, known in you possess, to give it forth, give it out and let us love your burdens shared, and thus the be the firmament of our ties… selfishly, I plead that you stun us with the insight inside, hopeless hoping you surrender and share in the only way I know that expiates some, the grief, some of pained shame, and for a momentary gasping, allows us grasping you, through you poetry, the value you can bring forth to others humanity, helping us to make us a better~both, with written creating sums far, far greater than the to~us whole… nml 7:45AM Sabbath May 25 2024 Silver Beach, Shelter Island
0
May 25, 2024
May 25, 2024 at 8:09 AM UTC
“I know I should write” (sums far greater than the whole)
Imbibing books is far more easier than imbibing humans.
0
Oct 8, 2020
Oct 8, 2020 at 3:37 AM UTC
Untitled ( 27 )
The absurdity of modern poets. They don't use the rhyme scale, But they use many cuss words. And they think writing suchlike, They look cooler than their peers.
0
Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 8:01 AM UTC
Absurdity
_I heartily say thank you to my mother... Who gave me surprise gift of hello poetry... My soul is so much happy today... I want to express it in my 1st poetry... Thank you my dear mother... I left my poetry... And deleted my account... Due to my aim... But poetry is my passion... I don't live happy without it... I cried loudly after deleting my account... But my mother couldn't see to me depressed... So, she gave my surprise gift of hello poetry..._
0
Jul 28, 2020
Jul 28, 2020 at 6:23 AM UTC
Surprise Gift Hello Poetry🎁
She, my cutter, my body, her cutting board sliced by tongue and fingernail, any handy human implement, she sculpts me to her eye's reconfiguring delight she, grabs my wrist, and my face in her hands grasp-embraced unblemished once, now becomes all scarred tissued, no guise, no lies, no bearded mask, no disguise - all forsaken hidden hardened skin, speckled red/white translucent, she kisses with adoration her heart designed objet d'art *no better blade than she, with every cut, transformed, she becomes my devotee, I, her escapee, I am her, she is me, inseparable, my every command, she obeys *for our love cuts both ways**
0
Jul 23, 2020
Jul 23, 2020 at 3:39 PM UTC
no better blade than she!
a man wonders why like a cage a single meaning is trapped to a symbol of many faces like moonshine being time for a romance for it is also when the predators hunt, a man wonders why like a fox the world is written and like a rabbit we fall for its snares people ignore to see our symbol of peace murdering a wee lil worm, how is it a prison is meant to keep things locked inside when its actually keeping people out of our reach how religion breaks war and love fosters hate why are we blinded like bats and why are we deafer than snakes.
0
May 17, 2020
May 17, 2020 at 10:53 AM UTC
Symbolic
I hate them, 'Cause sometimes They drain me Of all my Energy. Of all my Loneliness, Sadness, Anxiety, My worries. I hate them, 'Cause sometimes They take away All of my Friends. Now that We're all Closer than before.
0
Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 10:55 AM UTC
Closer Than Before
If the tip of your nose freezes on the walk home tonight, embrace the pain. Don't wish it away. It just means that your nerves still have endings your skin is thick enough your body isn't pretending it still gives a f***.
0
Feb 7, 2020
Feb 7, 2020 at 12:51 AM UTC
Hours in the Snow
poems are a bit harder to write when you dont feel music in your mind too many tabs open tv static for feelings 'error 404' for thoughts poems are a bit harder to create when you cant keep your sh*t straight
0
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 11:40 PM UTC
network busy
I used to wonder Spend my time daydreaming Wishing she would Reciprocate my feelings But now I know Now I have no doubt I know exactly How she feels about me now
0
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 11:41 PM UTC
Okay.
She, my cutter, my body, her cutting, with tongue and finger nail, any handy human implement, she sculpts me to her eye's configuring delight she, grabs my wrist, and my face by her hands embraced, unblemished once now becomes scarred tissued, no guise, no lies, no bearded mask, no disguise - all forsaken hidden hardened skin, speckled red/white translucent, she kisses with adoration her heart designed objet d'art *no better blade than she, with every cut, transformed, she becomes my devotee, I, her escapee, I am her, she is me, inseparable, my every command, she obeys* for our love cuts both ways
0
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
no better blade than she
I miss the way we used to sit How you'd fall asleep on my shoulder cold How you quietly would look at me, and I at you, because we'd know I miss the everyday secret things Which we used to do and could've been With a oneness and once unified breath I miss these more than anything
0
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 7:00 PM UTC
Missing Miss