When you fall asleep by TV light; and wake
Without coaxing whispers or suggestive
Pulls, realising the ghosting, restive
Fingers you felt were only ghosts raking

Over your skin; when you pick up the phone
Every time you see a droll pick-up line,
But hear just "Leave a message at the tone,"
Don't find yourself all by yourself, but find
Yourself, all by yourself; smile wistfully
At echoes of past weaknesses; learn bull-
Fighting, or pottery, with tickets you'd bought
Together; fill your minutes with you; and when

All else fails, console yourself with dreamy
Leads, cheesy films, and tubfulls of ice-cream.

I joined this site last year in March
and have found many voices since
that kindly welcomed what I wrote
with ‘likes’ and comments
even messages

thank you, my friends

I was a short-time member of some other sites
and from my past experience I have to say
that hp is the liveliest of all I’ve visited

even if there at times are posts that sound mean-spirited
and the occasional invasions of silly trolls
    make you aware that on the internet nothing is safe
    from the shenanigans of some frustrated idiots

in sum
    and in comparison with other sites
given its size and its diversity
hp is doing fairly well

to keep exchange of voices and ideas
    benevolent advice    constructive criticism
    helpful encouragement of younger members
    and sometimes simply kind remarks
alive    and spread the urge of writing poetry
    that helps us to articulate our loves and fears

to keep alive this spirit of creative art
is  our formidable work in progress
in which we all should lovingly play our part

there are those days
so sunny and so  bright
that you begin to  think this is the time
for some achievement  that excels
of which the people tell for many years
admiring stories of heroic deeds

the morning passes   then the afternoon
the sun sets casually as usual
the moon is hiding behind clouds
   like dying ember
and when night falls in earnest
    shrouds the world in darkness
you recognize it is the day  
    not you
that people might remember

when our mind is full of great ideas
we want to write them down
yet there are times when we  discover
that there is no connection from our brain
to all the instruments we use
to transcribe our flighty thoughts
    to give them shape on paper, screen, or in the sand

sometimes it helps to pause a bit and reconsider
what we do really want to say  
    focus and concentrate
    articulate precisely yet suggestively
our indomitable urge to formulate
    the turmoil of emotions we may harbor
    our wild ideas of revolution
    the overbearing pain of loss and separation
    grey landscapes of depression
    attractions of dramatic suicide
also the joy and pleasures of deep love
    of unexpected friendships found
        where even angels fear to tread
    the happiness of our children
    the love we recognize
        often too late
    our parents have bestowed on us

et cetera  et cetera

the catalogue of our themes
expands through our lives
so do the challenges
of how to tell the tale

it helps to aim for clarity
we have to  let our instruments of writing know
which of our turbulently swirling thoughts
should earn the privilege
to become words
    and be communicated
to people who
    before they read our verse
have no idea at all
    that we exist