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Sometimes
I wish I was a leaf
so I could always feel
the rain
the sun
and
when I felt like it
I could break free
and play in the wind

Sometimes
I wish I was a flower
so I could always see the stars
and get kisses from butterflies

Sometimes
I wish I was a bird
so I could sing all day
so I could soar high in the sky
so I could finally touch a bit of cloud fluff
and then
when I felt like it
I could fly somewhere new

Sometimes
I wish
I was anything
but me
I was packing up and moving on
I am faced with many new hellos
and some goodbyes
I did my best and did not cry
I felt that I must try something new
I feel like I am stronger just from knowing you
I will always have a piece of you in my heart as
make a new start
I just moved to a different place today
 Apr 2014 Wendell A Brown
J
Why is hellopoetry.com black and white? I've always wondered about this... why my colorful photographs are required to travel back in time. How does this effect the poetry in any way, shape, or form? But I understand the wisdom of this design now. And it sets a great metaphor for all of the people of the pen involved in this truly noble motion, this secret society for people with passion, talent, and troubled minds and souls. Hello Poetry is black and white not because it has to be monochromatic and modern, but because us poets fill these pages with enough inovativeness and color already with our words, ideas, thoughts, songs, senryus, ballads, heartbreaks, insecurities, that adding literal color to this website would be overwhelming. These soft undertones of gray, black, and white may be considered drab and depressing to some, but to us poets it represents timelessness. And this is probably why we are all here. Hourly, daily, weekly, monthly, or even yearly publishing poems. Because we all know we are not going to live forever, and we are so entirely insignificant in the broad scheme of things and of the universe itself, that it is a bit comforting and helpful to have this coping mechanism or soft blankie to calm our fears, that this literature we write, however insignificant it may be, is absolutley permanent. And that maybe someday it will be remembered so a small bit of us may live on. Tom Riddle knew the needs and wants of man kind before anybody else realized it. Maybe he was just trying to cope with the fact that he is insignificant. These poems are all our Horcruxes so *viveamus per camenam nostram.
^^^let us live through our poetry
You are my moon.
I know it's a metaphor and
I know it's prone to misinterpretation
But isn't that what's great about metaphors?

You are the sky.

What do you mean?

It means what it means and what you think it means.

What do you think it means?

It doesn't matter what I think it means.

But you wrote it, didn't you? You ought to know.

That's the thing about writers. We write things and we don't know
what they mean, really. For there is not one frame for each line
and each picture we paint. It's about writing masterpieces that can be
broken down to different pieces. Maybe even to the point that it is
crushed to sand and turned to dust. Dust flies away with the wind and
if poetry might turn to dust, then I will be glad.

-D.D.
Trying something new. Comments are very much welcome. :)
Diving into the darkness
surfing through the void
life without a safety net
no parachute, no ripcord

Letting go of everything
no limits, no taboos
just merging of identities
no more me's or you's

Following the dynamic
breaking all the rules
learning to transcend
what makes humans fools

Pain and degradation
is my path, my destiny
I might lead or follow you
until we are both free

So take my hand
we'll make that leap
we'll cross the line
there's no return, but that's fine

Cynthia Pauline Jones 15/02/2014
 Apr 2014 Wendell A Brown
Julia
He makes me smile
By looking deep into my eyes.
He makes me laugh
More than anyone has in a long time.
He makes my heart race
When he shares his dreams with me.
He makes me realize
The world is much bigger than it seems.
He gives me hope
That things can change.
He sets a fire inside of me
I didn't realize was capable of being rekindled.
He makes me feel beautiful
When he looks at me shyly.
He doesn't realize
I have these thoughts in my mind. I may not ever voice these, because
He also makes me dread
The inevitable day we'll have to say goodbye.
*jm
 Apr 2014 Wendell A Brown
Julia
A hardened heart
made new by the
One True King.
*jm
 Apr 2014 Wendell A Brown
AA
He came to Jerusalem mounted on a donkey
People went out to meet him,
Waving the palm branches they bring
And hailed him as their king.


Yet, people don’t know the sorrow
The coming week would bring
Soon, Glad acclaimed will give away,
To jeers and mockery.


In God’s redemption plan,
He’d be condemn to a cross on cavalry
But he knew that he was a sacrificial lamb
To die for the sins of man in misery.


Today is the day when Jesus will passed
Give praise to son of God,
Shout the benediction of his name
From the sky and to the sod;


Hosanna to the Highest!
Because every day can be Palm Sunday
when you know that Jesus is near you:
shout “God saves!” so all folks can hear you!
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