"collaborations" poems
I don't seek your permission...
To write about the what, why and how.
It could be a haiku or come in the shape of a cow.
I don't need your approval...
When I don't sound the least bit poetic...
In my mismatched metaphors or ill-rhymed acrostic.
I'm not asking for your blessing...
When I pen down and put up what I think...
Be it in cloying cliches or in tear drenched ink.
I don't crave for your understanding...
When my 10 word poems weren't filtered through your poetic lens,
Or if my contributions in collaborations lack in sense.
I don't hope for your likes...
If my content does not tickle your fancy,
Or if my words just rubs you silly.
I mean no disrespect...
But don't be too quick to click on the 'comment' button.
Private messaging has been put there for a reason.
I don't mean to cramp your style...
You're entitled to your own opinions of course...
But if you've got nothing good to say, please save it and shove it up yours.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
This generation is the selfie nation,
Taking pictures of the dying, digitization,
This generation is the generic nation,
Cancelling history and subjects, Salvation,
This generation is the death nation,
Being overweight is healthy, becoming purgation,
This generation is the stronger nation,
Deeming everything offensive, becoming manipulation,
This generation is the hateful nation,
Hating the own agnations,
This gerenation is the end nation,
Pushing and pushing, damnation,
This generation is the promoting nation,
Gender Swap, *** paedophilia, pushing all these, Arbitration.
This genernation is the activism nation,
Save the Earth, making change that still damages the Earth, ruination.
This generation is the we won't do this nation,
Won't go to war to fight for others, pure negation,
This generation is the nation,
The eldery generation regrets fighting for their foundation,
This generation is the Anti-Homosexuality nation,
That still disowns there child for there sexuaility, Affirmation,
This generation who is fighting LGBTQ Rights Nation,
Hating those who refuse to date the same *** hating religion, so **** condamnation.
This generation scream Black Lives Matter Nation,
Reducing Police Brutality, improving lot more crimes, congratulation,
This generation fighting for women right nation,
Taking away male rights, instead of alterations and collaborations.
This generation is the older nation,
Bullying, lies and caring nation, Allocation,
This generation is the end nation,
Death filtration of the world's creation.
This generation buid this nation,
They have to learn to live with the cermation.
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 10:11 AM UTC
On a fine and sunny morn
On the third or fourth of may
A boggart and a bumblebee
Went to town to play
They met up with a mugglewump
But little did he say
So the boggart and the bumblebee
Bowed and went away
They found their friends the Fuglywhits
And asked them out to tea
They bribed them with jam crumpets
But the Fuglywhits weren’t free
Much dejected did they carry on
The boggart and the bee
The fine and sunny morning
Was filled with little glee
And then the boggart came upon
A wondrous revelation
That put their moping frowns
Into quick cessation
They need no other colleagues
To have collaborations
Two could play together
In satisfied elation
And so the fine associates
Proceeded to be gay
On that fine and sunny morn
On the third or fourth of may
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
Breathe in the freshness
of the arduously picked commodity,
That you hold between your lacquered fingers.
Don’t let synthetic ingredients
dissolve your thoughts
and obscure your vision.
The liquid remedy we sip is drenched,
With pain and protracted nurturing
Carefully fostered
through inclement weather
drink in the story that comes with it
That fuels caffeinated conversations.
Refined and defined leaving us blind
to the painted secrets of lives that were once lead
different lives intersect,
different thoughts and opinions interject.
Leaving lipstick kisses on the porcelain skin
Sipping away worries and pain.
Inhaling the smell of impelling advice,
fragments of sugar coated anecdotes melt,
integrating within, interfering
with the raw, strong, sharp taste
that can pierce through.
the rare intense, earthy aftertaste
is tainted with artificial garnishing,
suffocating the fresh natural essence
neatly contained in the teacup
ready to serve and ready to present
taking shape of the porcelain guise
Don’t sprinkle it with processed collaborations
of sugared doubt,
Contaminating your imagination
Manipulated by dainty voices
Resonating in your head
Like the delicate teacup
You anchor with your soft hands
Weighed down by the overly sweetened tea.
No longer holding significance
of the vast fresh fields it sprouted from
Forgotten and drowned
in the voices of someone else’s drum beat.
cloudy vision reflected in the saturated tonic
you sip elegantly, pasting a smile
suppressing your own desires,
under someone else's acceptance.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 12:20 PM UTC
Hi guys:)
Would just like to inform you guys I made a 2nd account for my collaborations with all the amazing poets here. This account will only be for my collaborations. If you have a request or if you want to collab with me do DM(message) me. I love doing this because I will be exposed to different minds of intellects. If you have any questions do ask or comment below:) And to my friends here or to those who are new here. Please follow me back here.
Yours sincerely Erenn:)
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 6:27 AM UTC
what is this love
for I have beheld it
cast in metamorphosis
a love that makes
transformations on the mind
permissible transformations
improvisations of the self
in ****** intensity
which emphasises the drama
of sometimes, dark, violent
and repressive potentials
vicious energies of hate and ambition
that propel the enactment
of intense and exhausting experience
of vigorous vertiginous chaos
indomitable in its desires
what is this love
is it a registered predicament
made memorable by vivid language
that would butcher in ritual
gratuitous memories and testify
to an urgency of unwisely relinquished emotion
what is this love
does it flourish in flawed
and unreasonable understandings
accumulated upon the mind
in vicarious thrill of sympathy
where traits are highly exaggerated
and eagerly anticipates
the oppressive weight of the past
that functions upon a common collapse
of distinctions
or does it manufacture artificial precepts
pretending in attractive collaboration
to associate fiction rather than fact
what is this love
is it that by treaty or inheritance
with loving ferocity would embalm all tears
and hide all those collaborations
in flared conflagrations of the heart
and yes create a turmoil in the mind
hotter than a thousand summers
and vividly stamp upon a twisted body
a moral viciousness of fathomless malice
that wouldst close its ears
to the admonitions of conscious
and thus through an improbable
incantatory verbal rite
touch the hidden order of all things
in disassembling nature
what is this love
if only it was known
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
The universal therapy
a common, household medicine
crafted by collaborations of talents
and celebrated by siblings far
in distance, near in heart and mind.
If ever a religion existed
which all would embrace,
a movement to seize the fires
and conjoin hands
to spread and span,
If winds had a literal way to speak
to our simple minds,
if anything could drown us faster
than the rising expanse
of miles upon oceans
and make irrelevant
the laws of land, gravity and life...
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 9:17 AM UTC
.
(Earl Jane Nagley)
*i.
My sweetest king,
I am here waiting for you,
I clasp on to our love.
ii.
All my life I’ve been searching for you,
Now I have you in my arms,
I’ll never let you go.
iii.
Don’t be weary my love,
Let my love kiss your fears away,
My warmth as assurance I’ll stay.
iv.
My eyes wander in the skies,
As my heart shouts your name,
I’ll wait, I knew we’ll meet.
v.
Oh my darling,
No matter how long it will take,
I’ll take all risk, just to be with you.
vi.
So soon my soulmate,
Our patience in love will be rewarded,
We’ll be together, forever.
vii.
When we’ll meet,
I’ll enclose you tight,
Nothing will ever take us apart.*
(Brandon Nagley)
**viii.
Mine saccharine select
I'm here mine pet;
I grasp thy breath.
ix.
All mine day's
I've groaned in pains;
Now thou art mine, a meteoric grace.
x.
Now thou art here
Mine eye's hath dried, I'm over mine tear's;
For comfort hast given me a home in thee.
xi.
O' love, lover, queen
O' verily we shalt, we shalt meet;
Whilst conquering the demonic beast's, with armour divinity.
xii.
If it takes a thousand light year's
Please knoweth mine soul, mine spirit is near;
As tis eternity I wilt be with thou.
xiii.
On the many moon's, in a kingdom high room,
Where there's no need for a tomb, nor the news, no deathly hellion there, Mocker's nor baboon's; just ourn swoon.
xiv.
We shalt meeteth
O' we shalt meeteth;
And when we do, may the heaven's open and the ark showeth it's gold, mine queen Jane, mine soul.**
© Earl Jane - Brandon Collaborations
♥ Lovers Incorporated
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 8:27 AM UTC
Under the dead beat sky
Collaborations tie us all together
Our ideas cross and human gazes overlap
Streams flow into tiny veins that cover a certain surface area.
Red lights shine on profiled faces in the evening side of the night
Trainers shuffle along the uneven ground around town where signs are broken.
Cigarette smoke pours out of each corner of this run down station
Wrinkled looks despair over the dated flourescent timetables
Just waiting for the next train out of town
Just waiting for the next train out of town
Shove past my nearest man to get to the furthest conception
The long path to the nearest understanding of human nature
Is muddied with distasteful stories that couldnt hold any kind of weight Among us.
Jeremiah in the window of the salon, he puts his makeup on slowly
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
.
i.
(Jane)
*Let me kiss you passionately,
As we stitch our souls together,
And travel heavens through these lips.*
ii.
(Brandon)
**O' amour', I canst feeleth thine wet juice
As we sew ourn spirit's as one;
Betwixt the moon and sun, ourn primal nature let's loose.**
iii.
( Jane)
*I will lock fingers with you,
With this amour as our armour,
The world we valiantly conquer.*
iv.
(Brandon)
**Land's unknown to dominate
Incorporeal is ourn essence;
Sealing the firmament by blessing's and grace.**
v.
(Jane)
*Let our love be the sunshine,
That lead and guide us abode,
Finally I found you, my Home.*
vi.
(Brandon)
**Mine sweet earl Jane
Let ourn amare be the flame's;
And the kindle alway's be the same, as the light never dieth.**
© Earl Jane - Brandon Collaborations
♥ Lovers Incorporated
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 9:01 AM UTC
How many ladders does it take to get to the top of the atmosphere
Where ******** doesn’t matter, and matter doesn’t appear
I broke the physics
my mental is often there
some say I’m too high
But heights are nothing fear
I’ve found a way to escape my current reality
a path that’s unknown and doesn’t reflect my salary, place nor origin my story is far from vanity
To live a life of “routine” is a life full of tragedy, depression, and disparity
Especially if your dream was driven
I’ve excelled in this keen vision
Avoiding obstacles isn’t impossible
If you keep rhyme
No retronym needed
I slide on and off beat
This….next line is an e x a m p l e
My mind is often offset like a distorted sample
Your half way there take a tug of this **** rope, I attract flickers of light equal to that of a candle
A venomous vandal, soon to verbally attack and dismantle
Clear words, let’s separate the pure from the ramble
I am like Rambo with a headband that’s inverted in hue
Since I am blue I will never be evergreen, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not attracted to the words of that being
I'm more than fascinated, I’m reaching heights only illustrated in my imaginations
I'm seeking collaborations, creators of a different mind to calibrate with
No calculations could change my current status
No aggravation could shake
my
Inner patience
Blasting straight from the basement
Scaling to higher places
Ladders on top of ladders
How many ladders will it take to make it?
Nov 21, 2016
Nov 21, 2016 at 11:53 PM UTC
Hello my fellow poets
I would like to say I've enjoyed writing and reading poems on this site and will continue to enjoy through my days.
Alas I will soon be going on a hiatus and will return after awhile, but before I go I would like to issue a challenge to all my fellow poets.
It's a collaborative poem challenge
It's very simple two poets pair up and write a poem no restrictions.
The rules are simple and are as follows:
1. The submissions will be from today till the end January 25th
2. The fellow poet has to be on this site.
3. Whoever uploads the poem their partner has to share it.
4. They have to be mentioned either in the title or side note.
5. Once the poem is uploaded send me a link so I can add it and you and your partner to the collab poem collection
6. What's a challenge without a prize, the winners will receive a notebook a pen and a hat
7. How do you win you ask. Well after the 25th I will tally all the views on February 2nd and message the winners.
Have fun writing and I hope to see many interesting collaborations
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
The most testing period of my research life (and my life too) coincided with the most prolific period of poetry writing of mine.
For more than 50 days on a trot, I wrote about 50 poems and almost none were mediocre, and few of them were my best. A poem a day. Almost! Which is unimaginable at the beginning of this year
Now I'm going for an onslaught for a work I have been battling all these days. I need all my energy and mental and physical resources.
Yes. I'm gonna take a break. A small break.
Will come back rejuvenated with all your wishes and blessings.
Thanks for the encouragement and collaborations
I'll be back!
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC
Although I have loved posting on Hello Poetry the past couple years, I am transitioning to a blog format as a means of sharing my writing.
The link is https://letrangerechezelle.wordpress.com/
I look forward to future creative collaborations and criticisms from my hello poetry family.
Thanks for everything so far.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC
Hey, everybody! So I've had this account since I started high school and now that I'm well into college and working on publishing more and more, I've created a second account dedicated to some of my favorite, more refined work. Here's the link! http://hellopoetry.com/ecarsyn/
There may be some poems from this account that you'll recognize as I'll be revising and posting on my second account from now on. I would love your support in this transition! I am open for collaborations, edits, suggestions, comments, etc!
With love,
Carsyn Elizabeth Smith
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 10:50 PM UTC
Dreams that collide in collective collaborations,
merging mercifully into identical imaginations.
In sporadic unspecified dioramas of decoration,
seemingly devoid of light, yet full of illumination.
Winds that billow in bellows of blue balderdash,
that hides these vague souls in the elephant grass,
as white horses run for an unconsecrated pass;
I sit sipping lightning from a small green flask.
I cannot see beyond this collision of cataracts,
sitting in a puddle of Alzheimer's and absent facts,
hard to predict parlor tricks' and posthumous pacts,
metamorphosis of those we ****** on, lies intact.
Veins constricted from catastrophes and contradictions,
synapses sinewed by audacious biannual addictions,
misdemeanors of malicious misnomers and maledictions,
breathing in the beneficent bleating of benedictions.
Dreams that collide in collective collaborations,
merging mercifully into identical imaginations.
In sporadic unspecified dioramas of decoration,
seemingly devoid of light, yet full of illumination
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
I’ll look up and see a wasp
Or a bee, hunting around,
Ready to die.
Collaborations simplified in rivers abreast
Oh, the shores of Lethe are so delightful
With their ash marked eyes and solitude beggars
Potted plants of desiree, coal jutted shouts cross
Blanket crowds shoved in a bruised corner
With a madman screaming something about
Lasting generation and forced collaration.
See the basket cases? Claimed they were
From the devil, Dee did, muttering about kingdoms
and collard greens
With her stuffed, shrunk coat waddling round the
same Dickey’s, a corner from Westboro Baptist.
And kitty corner from the statues no one’s taking down
Cause Mr.White said nah son, that’s not right
As he bombed Bethel Baptist one more time.
And these shores are so delightful, don’t you see?
Harpooned sticks and scarecrows, oh sorry,
I meant social expectations, but who cares anyway?
Wondering why we all say “i want to die’,
Have you looked at the government mandating
People inhuman, or the money situation,
Should be on the news, but
No we here at Fox and CNN don’t believe that’s important.
Say, I don’t think we should have Onion headlines
On the New York Times.
So we say ‘i want to die’ and the Gazette tells us
it’s those **** video games again
or maybe it’s the stigma and lack of empathy from
The Powerful.
And you hear on the street,
“Weed’s ending this country,”
Sorry, I wanted a break from all this god **** noise
From a country pulling apart at the beaten seams
Of another unwritten book.
Anger, you’ll say, irrational, I’ll add,
But pointing at the statue in the park
And you wonder why all those wasps
And bees we look down on, the gerbils and
Hamsters
That we never pull a punch on
Why they escape through the way they know how,
Why, wouldn’t you too? But that’d require empathy, sir,
And apparently you lack more than morals, sir.
Look, there’s Dee, getting her collard greens
In her stuffy, shrunken jacket,
Round the corner from Dickey’s and cracked roads with
littered breezes blowing past cars open windows, honking and
brazen calls.
Welcome to the Lethe shores,
Don’t worry, you won’t remember a thing,
Slipped a bit of Liquid X in your alcohol.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
*I play the guitar and write poetry because I
have to , it's something I work my way through
each night , emptying my mind on paper , a few thoughts
committed to music , score books penciled in , erased ,
odd collaborations reaching logical conclusions , the first note
becoming the last , a forest fire of a past out of control ,
easing the conflagration with timely prose , ascending , descending
scale combinations , every memory both good and bad streaking
past , the mad writer with his muse on his lap , disclosing his
theory , some nights writing his own obituary , as if anyone understood ,
melody is chopping wood for the instrumentally inclined , something
to chip away the night , something to help you turn off the lights ,
to dream , revisit , reinvent , work your way through to write again* ...
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 11:58 PM UTC
i used to fall asleep to the same playlist every night and i would rest my head on the slow beat of some indie song that played from my phone one notch too loud and my eyelids would blink every so often when i started to drift to sleep but found myself singing along instead.
my mum always told me to turn it off and see how much quicker i would fall asleep, my mum never understood how the silence pierced my ear drums and burdened my hearing more than any song could. and i told her that it calmed me down. and i told her that the songs filled my mind with happier thoughts than those that my brain had produced during a long day. and i told myself that i needed to listen to these collaborations of sweet nothings and acoustic guitars.
i also told myself that i needed you.
and my mother never warned me about you or the damage you were capable of. she never told me to turn you down and see how much easier i would have it.
i revisited you like my ripened playlist and i told myself that you calmed me down, and i told myself that you made me happy, and i told myself that i needed you like i needed each and every one of those songs and i tell myself now that i was wrong.
i did not need you to make me happy and i did not need you to calm me down and i did not need you because you were just like those blurred melodies and messy lyrics.
you were just another song in a playlist i used to block out the silence.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
Folders, name tags, catered coffee—
new ones fade into the last.
Brainstorms, flip-charts, colored markers;
tracing time until it’s past.
Endless satisfaction surveys;
client-focused, data-driven…
rubrics, group collaborations,
ceaseless presentations given.
Is this hell? Or am I dreaming
while the seconds crawl toward death.
Has our closure yet been offered?
(as we wait with bated breath…)
Some day will we gain credentials?
Will we do this in the heavens?
Shall the Lord, upon completion
turn our sixes into sevens?
Would I (as a soul in limbo)
recommend to peers this training?
Yes I would. With one condition:
only save what’s worth retaining.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
International designer Vivienne Tam is known for her culture-bridging, East-meets-West concepts in her collections. Her looks are global, often pioneering collaborations that marry fashion with technology. Her knack for blending her cultural roots with a modern design vocabulary in her looks is recognized. Often, her designs are sheer artistry.
Tam is also the author of the award winning book, “China Chic.” Pieces of her collection are a part of the permanent archives of the world’s most prestigious museums, including the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York and the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. Tam also loves the space program and cowboy themes. Inspired by her recent trip to Houston, Texas, she utilizes the NASA logo in her collection. There are also soft suede jackets with fringe and chrome metallic flares, and a ruffled blouse in a blue and white motif. Pretty dresses in beautiful prints and patterns are enhanced with embroidery, sequins and appliques. Some of her looks reflect styles seen on folks at the rodeo. Tam’s signature 3-D butterflies were apparent on her garments. A black Western belt cinched the waist. Good show!
Rhode Island School of Design’s Apparel Design Department showed a rugged, yet fashionable collection of menswear on the New York Fashion Week runway. RISD prepares students to meet the demanding requirements of the fashion industry. The program is built on the philosophy that design and technical skills are mutually enhancing. From functional to experimental clothing, the course is structured to take students through all aspects of apparel design and construction.
RISD’s technical classes proceed from basic to advanced drafting, draping and construction and incorporate the use of computers as a tool for design and product visualization. RISD has offered programs in costume, clothing and fashion since 1918, and established the Apparel Design Department in 1952. Their graduates include such top designers as Nicole Miller, Sari Gueron, Sally Lapointe, Robert Geller and Nicole Romano. Many students have found success with designers such as Michael Kors and Ralph Lauren.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/short-formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 1:34 AM UTC
Broken.
Batter.
Heart abused.
But what is this lightness in my shoes.
The waters of change washing great burdens away in floods of emotional inoculation.
This raging stream within my heart, so rarely changing course, embarking found a new port.
I dare choose a certain path, for when I do, my heart will show and break the walls I have built just.
Perpendicular lines in a certain arbitration make for brutal collaborations in the releasing of frustrations,
Where my neck is pleasantly pained, my back shows marks of her strain, of passions so uninterrupted.
The deep diffusion so rapidly placed, like the strongest engine turning, on the verge of breaking.
I feel the tension of need, so accurately placed, like the invariable pressure felt by a diamond in rock.
An embrace from the canines allows me to see, the limit of her threshold I am lust blind to see.
Not anger, but an ****** loss of time, dipping inside your soul with fingers of my mind so delicately.
Her pleasure is the focus of my passion.
Fully exhausted.
Loved.
Cherished.
It's a start...
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
This is how the body looks now:
empty, estranged…
its parts arguing their cases
for emancipation,
sovereignty from the system—
each component demanding
overt consent from all others
before further engaging
in vital collaborations.
This is how the body looks now:
formless, dissociated…
the war for Independence and
Recognition has left us
devastated by the divisions
of definition—disjointed
structures of severed relations
disavowed of the Whole.
Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 8:21 AM UTC