"contribution" poems - Hello Poetry

"contribution" poems

In a world without technology, can you imagine how it would be? To not have any lights. We'll probably stay home at night. In a world without technology, we'll lose forms of connectivity. We'll not have wifi or 3G, distance will be as it should be. However, without technology, We won't have people far away, because we can only walk on foot. Most will live at home for good. Without technology, perhaps there'll be more sincerity, where more people would be seen, not looking at their phone screens. Instead they'll stop and listen, giving undivided attention, to the people by their side. Perhaps without technology, we would have to do things manually. Life may be tough physically. But with technology, is our life really that easy? Is the world really as it should be? Are people living in harmony? Or is there more strife? More people losing their lives? Or is there more pain, more people dying in vain? What about pollution? Isn't it part of our contribution? All the fuels and carbon, it'll soon bring us to extinction. Our earth today is now diseased, life on earth is not at peace. We can deny all this, And this is the utter irony, while it gives us mass connection, It reduces engagement, attention and perhaps even compassion. "Across the globe, millions reported dying", ends up being desensitizing. Technology's connectivity, leaves us more detached than we should be.

0

Oct 18, 2014

Oct 18, 2014 at 8:53 PM UTC

esther-pang-hui-min

In a world without technology, can you imagine how it would be? To not have any lights. We'll probably stay home at night. In a world without technology, we'll lose forms of connectivity. We'll not have wifi or 3G, distance will be as it should be. However, without technology, We won't have people far away, because we can only walk on foot. Most will live at home for good. Without technology, perhaps there'll be more sincerity, where more people would be seen, not looking at their phone screens. Instead they'll stop and listen, giving undivided attention, to the people by their side. Perhaps without technology, we would have to do things manually. Life may be tough physically. But with technology, is our life really that easy? Is the world really as it should be? Are people living in harmony? Or is there more strife? More people losing their lives? Or is there more pain, more people dying in vain? What about pollution? Isn't it part of our contribution? All the fuels and carbon, it'll soon bring us to extinction. Our earth today is now diseased, life on earth is not at peace. We can deny all this, And this is the utter irony, while it gives us mass connection, It reduces engagement, attention and perhaps even compassion. "Across the globe, millions reported dying", ends up being desensitizing. Technology's connectivity, leaves us more detached than we should be.

Continue reading...

Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs hellopoetry Guinea-Bissau needs hellopoetry Guyana needs hellopoetry Haiti needs hellopoetry Honduras needs hellopoetry Hungary needs hellopoetry Iceland needs hellopoetry India needs hellopoetry Indonesia needs hellopoetry Iran needs hellopoetry Iraq needs hellopoetry Ireland needs hellopoetry Israel needs hellopoetry Italy needs hellopoetry Jamaica needs hellopoetry Japan needs hellopoetry Jordan needs hellopoetry Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry Kenya needs hellopoetry Kiribati needs hellopoetry Korea, North needs hellopoetry Korea, South needs hellopoetry Kosovo needs hellopoetry Kuwait needs hellopoetry Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry Laos needs hellopoetry Latvia needs hellopoetry Lebanon needs hellopoetry Lesotho needs hellopoetry Liberia needs hellopoetry Libya needs hellopoetry Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry Lithuania needs hellopoetry Luxembourg needs hellopoetry Madagascar needs hellopoetry Malawi needs hellopoetry Malaysia needs hellopoetry Maldives needs hellopoetry Mali needs hellopoetry Malta needs hellopoetry Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry Mauritania needs hellopoetry Mauritius needs hellopoetry Mexico needs hellopoetry Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry Moldova needs hellopoetry Monaco needs hellopoetry Mongolia needs hellopoetry Montenegro needs hellopoetry Morocco needs hellopoetry Mozambique needs hellopoetry Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry Namibia needs hellopoetry Nauru needs hellopoetry Nepal needs hellopoetry Netherlands needs hellopoetry New Zealand needs hellopoetry Nicaragua needs hellopoetry Niger needs hellopoetry Nigeria needs hellopoetry North Macedonia needs hellopoetry Norway needs hellopoetry Oman needs hellopoetry Pakistan needs hellopoetry Palau needs hellopoetry Panama needs hellopoetry Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry Paraguay needs hellopoetry Peru needs hellopoetry Philippines needs hellopoetry Poland needs hellopoetry Portugal needs hellopoetry Qatar needs hellopoetry Romania needs hellopoetry Russia needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry

0

Dec 21, 2019

Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC

The World NEEDS HelloPoetry (Please Make A Contribution.)

Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs hellopoetry Guinea-Bissau needs hellopoetry Guyana needs hellopoetry Haiti needs hellopoetry Honduras needs hellopoetry Hungary needs hellopoetry Iceland needs hellopoetry India needs hellopoetry Indonesia needs hellopoetry Iran needs hellopoetry Iraq needs hellopoetry Ireland needs hellopoetry Israel needs hellopoetry Italy needs hellopoetry Jamaica needs hellopoetry Japan needs hellopoetry Jordan needs hellopoetry Kazakhstan needs hellopoetry Kenya needs hellopoetry Kiribati needs hellopoetry Korea, North needs hellopoetry Korea, South needs hellopoetry Kosovo needs hellopoetry Kuwait needs hellopoetry Kyrgyzstan needs hellopoetry Laos needs hellopoetry Latvia needs hellopoetry Lebanon needs hellopoetry Lesotho needs hellopoetry Liberia needs hellopoetry Libya needs hellopoetry Liechtenstein needs hellopoetry Lithuania needs hellopoetry Luxembourg needs hellopoetry Madagascar needs hellopoetry Malawi needs hellopoetry Malaysia needs hellopoetry Maldives needs hellopoetry Mali needs hellopoetry Malta needs hellopoetry Marshall Islands needs hellopoetry Mauritania needs hellopoetry Mauritius needs hellopoetry Mexico needs hellopoetry Micronesia, Federated States is in need of hellopoetry Moldova needs hellopoetry Monaco needs hellopoetry Mongolia needs hellopoetry Montenegro needs hellopoetry Morocco needs hellopoetry Mozambique needs hellopoetry Myanmar (Burma) needs hellopoetry Namibia needs hellopoetry Nauru needs hellopoetry Nepal needs hellopoetry Netherlands needs hellopoetry New Zealand needs hellopoetry Nicaragua needs hellopoetry Niger needs hellopoetry Nigeria needs hellopoetry North Macedonia needs hellopoetry Norway needs hellopoetry Oman needs hellopoetry Pakistan needs hellopoetry Palau needs hellopoetry Panama needs hellopoetry Papua New Guinea needs hellopoetry Paraguay needs hellopoetry Peru needs hellopoetry Philippines needs hellopoetry Poland needs hellopoetry Portugal needs hellopoetry Qatar needs hellopoetry Romania needs hellopoetry Russia needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs hellopoetry Turkey needs hellopoetry Turkmenistan needs hellopoetry Tuvalu needs hellopoetry Uganda needs hellopoetry Ukraine needs hellopoetry United Arab Emirates needs hellopoetry United Kingdom needs hellopoetry United States needs hellopoetry Uruguay needs hellopoetry Uzbekistan needs hellopoetry Vanuatu needs hellopoetry Vatican City needs hellopoetry Venezuela needs hellopoetry Vietnam needs hellopoetry Yemen needs hellopoetry Zambia needs hellopoetry Zimbabwe needs hellopoetry

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Poppy, oh poppy abundant and flowing across all the fields you're still constantly growing. As your seeds blow and find their own bed, they're reminding us of the most glorious dead. Glorious in the contribution they made. Glorious for the price that they paid. Glorious for fighting for what they believed. Glorious for the terrors and hell they received. Standing their ground in the eye of the storm. Standing their ground whilst receiving the swarm. Standing their ground in the mud and the vile Standing their ground through the horrors and toil. The death and the blood flowing like a river. Like the fields of the poppies the breeze does now shiver. The seeds carry on into a new time, an horizon of red the future will entwine. Poppy, oh poppy so winding and red, reminding most deftly of our glorious dead. You are constantly sowing your own little seed as those who had fought did for those who were freed. Although many thousands of lives they have gone your legacy will like that small seed go on. Although now in history and most never met you can take it for granted we shall never forget.

0

Nov 11, 2014

Nov 11, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC

christopher-k-bayliss

Poppy, Oh Poppy!

Poppy, oh poppy abundant and flowing across all the fields you're still constantly growing. As your seeds blow and find their own bed, they're reminding us of the most glorious dead. Glorious in the contribution they made. Glorious for the price that they paid. Glorious for fighting for what they believed. Glorious for the terrors and hell they received. Standing their ground in the eye of the storm. Standing their ground whilst receiving the swarm. Standing their ground in the mud and the vile Standing their ground through the horrors and toil. The death and the blood flowing like a river. Like the fields of the poppies the breeze does now shiver. The seeds carry on into a new time, an horizon of red the future will entwine. Poppy, oh poppy so winding and red, reminding most deftly of our glorious dead. You are constantly sowing your own little seed as those who had fought did for those who were freed. Although many thousands of lives they have gone your legacy will like that small seed go on. Although now in history and most never met you can take it for granted we shall never forget.

Continue reading...

You're a man that is strong And your patience is long. Every work that you had, You worked for it very glad. I can see a man full of determination, A man that always has his contribution Cause i know that, affection, Is always your intention. You showed to us your love That was given to you from heavens above. Your love is very evident That, it is a factor in our every achievement. In every hard times you face, Your emotions doesn't show in place. Even if you doesn't show In our hearts we always know. Just remember that we are here Ears open to hear Hearts open to feel And minds open to deal.

0

Aug 28, 2014

Aug 28, 2014 at 9:38 AM UTC

Ambitiouswanderer

You're a man that is strong And your patience is long. Every work that you had, You worked for it very glad. I can see a man full of determination, A man that always has his contribution Cause i know that, affection, Is always your intention. You showed to us your love That was given to you from heavens above. Your love is very evident That, it is a factor in our every achievement. In every hard times you face, Your emotions doesn't show in place. Even if you doesn't show In our hearts we always know. Just remember that we are here Ears open to hear Hearts open to feel And minds open to deal.

Continue reading...

Let's think about this, before we do it. Let's think about this. Let's do it. You can tell me I've failed. My lungs are hot. My breath is useless, like my rescue. If you close a door, I open a wound. I made plans to steal you from yourself. I wanted sunlight for you, roots and crawling ants, pyramids of help and hope. I wanted. I wanted them to be mine, my contribution. Well. The self wants a shadow. A shield. A soul. The -I- falls apart when the skin does. There was a moment when you became who you always were: alone, surviving against a sea of black, and I could not help you. Could not swim against the dark surf your arms themselves made. And how am I now to make you some craft to come home on. How am I now to give knots and knowledge to your drowning. I cannot brave the isles that break you from the strings of sand that wait beyond the waves dying, still, to give you home and breath. I want your bedding. Your body. I want your terrible soul, your bait and switch, your milk, your cave, the meat of your isolation, the heart you hid in the Pacific. All I ever find at sea: tired arms, a head full of wishes. (Not exactly buoyant.) And the flashing fins of fish who sank and died.

0

Aug 24, 2012

Aug 24, 2012 at 3:24 AM UTC

Surf, Surf, Surf

Let's think about this, before we do it. Let's think about this. Let's do it. You can tell me I've failed. My lungs are hot. My breath is useless, like my rescue. If you close a door, I open a wound. I made plans to steal you from yourself. I wanted sunlight for you, roots and crawling ants, pyramids of help and hope. I wanted. I wanted them to be mine, my contribution. Well. The self wants a shadow. A shield. A soul. The -I- falls apart when the skin does. There was a moment when you became who you always were: alone, surviving against a sea of black, and I could not help you. Could not swim against the dark surf your arms themselves made. And how am I now to make you some craft to come home on. How am I now to give knots and knowledge to your drowning. I cannot brave the isles that break you from the strings of sand that wait beyond the waves dying, still, to give you home and breath. I want your bedding. Your body. I want your terrible soul, your bait and switch, your milk, your cave, the meat of your isolation, the heart you hid in the Pacific. All I ever find at sea: tired arms, a head full of wishes. (Not exactly buoyant.) And the flashing fins of fish who sank and died.

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For our Echoing Little Red Riding Hoods Lagging behind in the Opposition Departments Lets help you out by offering some buzzwords For your important assignments even though they've been floated around forever, But we understand you need some help catching up So memorize these basic premises And please enrich your lives and utilise your valuable time by raking your little brains to create poems with them Lets begin with ITALIAN , don't forget RAINBOW, LIES is also in, add RESPECT, throw in RUDENESS, factor in LITTLE GIRL, remember ANGEL, write about TRUST, that much overuse term, throw in BLACK - that's quite a popular one. Also PINK is quite up the scale, as well as HEART- Broken ( as if ) and pleeeezee make a big fuss on LONELINESS That's a big seller. APPLE and SERPENT did appear now and again so trigger them as you like. How about BETRAYAL, LOYALTY, FAKE FRIENDS and that famous one, FOUR or is it THREE, what about BONES, Lets not forget SKELETON or even ANOREXIC, let also remember SCREAM, that was a scream..hahah see what I did there! Remember GREY that has a bit of colour and what about BUCK or even DOOR-MAT that was a wipe-off or SUBMISSIVE another popular one. Hmmm...what about HAIR CUT or TOMBOY or DIGITAL those are quite good or WOODGREEN or HULL or DOG that reared its head...woof....woof...hahahah or CEREAL, beats me what that's about or even MONEY..though that never was an issue, how about GOLD-DIGGER just for drama or 50/50 which has been mentioned. Hey! don't forget RED, what to do without that pinking away. So please Little Hoods, students of the Opposition Department keep with the programme and work on these pointers crack your little brains and write poems like crazy little ants Your contribution is valuable cause persistent is the Key. Keep up with your assignment and forget all other things Oppose, oppose, oppose, work those little brains!

0

Sep 25, 2018

Sep 25, 2018 at 4:30 PM UTC

Echo Heads & Cowpat.....hahaha

For our Echoing Little Red Riding Hoods Lagging behind in the Opposition Departments Lets help you out by offering some buzzwords For your important assignments even though they've been floated around forever, But we understand you need some help catching up So memorize these basic premises And please enrich your lives and utilise your valuable time by raking your little brains to create poems with them Lets begin with ITALIAN , don't forget RAINBOW, LIES is also in, add RESPECT, throw in RUDENESS, factor in LITTLE GIRL, remember ANGEL, write about TRUST, that much overuse term, throw in BLACK - that's quite a popular one. Also PINK is quite up the scale, as well as HEART- Broken ( as if ) and pleeeezee make a big fuss on LONELINESS That's a big seller. APPLE and SERPENT did appear now and again so trigger them as you like. How about BETRAYAL, LOYALTY, FAKE FRIENDS and that famous one, FOUR or is it THREE, what about BONES, Lets not forget SKELETON or even ANOREXIC, let also remember SCREAM, that was a scream..hahah see what I did there! Remember GREY that has a bit of colour and what about BUCK or even DOOR-MAT that was a wipe-off or SUBMISSIVE another popular one. Hmmm...what about HAIR CUT or TOMBOY or DIGITAL those are quite good or WOODGREEN or HULL or DOG that reared its head...woof....woof...hahahah or CEREAL, beats me what that's about or even MONEY..though that never was an issue, how about GOLD-DIGGER just for drama or 50/50 which has been mentioned. Hey! don't forget RED, what to do without that pinking away. So please Little Hoods, students of the Opposition Department keep with the programme and work on these pointers crack your little brains and write poems like crazy little ants Your contribution is valuable cause persistent is the Key. Keep up with your assignment and forget all other things Oppose, oppose, oppose, work those little brains!

Continue reading...

We had come to see him, the aging Tenor sing. He was as good as he had always been. But half way through, a woman appeared, Moving gracefully in bare feet upon the stage. Entering the ring of bright spot light near him. Long blond hair, falling loose around her neck, Held back both sides by Turtle Shell combs, Reflecting the light. Adorned in but a simple, low cut black dress, Her with a face beautiful as a new spring day. Held in her left hand an ebony hued violin, Touched fondly, like a well accustomed old friend. Her right hand holding a bow, ready and waiting. The Tenor’s and her eyes met and conveyed a message Only they understood. Then starting slow and low, The full Orchestra commenced. The woman in black Brought instrument up to her chin, lovingly resting her face upon it, as if comforted by it's touch to skin. The fetching violinist, like a graceful reed, In summer breeze, began to gently sway, Laid Bow to strings and a transcended beauty, The voice of both her Instrument and from within she, Emerged through her fingers, completely filling the hall. With eyes closed, the slight movements of expression On her face registering the feelings the musical notes made, As if those gestures too, guided the bow's musical cords. Slender precise fingers lovingly caressing the strings. For nearly a minute, she and her violin played alone. Her actions of body, hands and head in concert, To her music, unavoidably hypnotic it could be said. The Tenor started to sing, and yet my eyes stayed Locked on her, as if no one else in the room was there. The blond woman in the black dress owned the stage. I have no idea how long that piece of music lasted, I could not attest to what contribution the Tenor made. Fully my attention and eventually my heart belonged To that lovely, evocative young woman in the backless, Little black dress. It’s true that I may never see or hear her play again, I know not, even her name. And yet, I’m sure that I will never forget those Few minutes mesmerized by her magical spell. Hopelessly caught in her enchanting web. With me sitting, third row, isle seat left, Worshiping as I did, at her so pretty, Slightly ***** naked feet, the striking Blond woman in the black dress.

0

Nov 6, 2013

Nov 6, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC

stephen-e-yocum

The Woman In a Black Dress

We had come to see him, the aging Tenor sing. He was as good as he had always been. But half way through, a woman appeared, Moving gracefully in bare feet upon the stage. Entering the ring of bright spot light near him. Long blond hair, falling loose around her neck, Held back both sides by Turtle Shell combs, Reflecting the light. Adorned in but a simple, low cut black dress, Her with a face beautiful as a new spring day. Held in her left hand an ebony hued violin, Touched fondly, like a well accustomed old friend. Her right hand holding a bow, ready and waiting. The Tenor’s and her eyes met and conveyed a message Only they understood. Then starting slow and low, The full Orchestra commenced. The woman in black Brought instrument up to her chin, lovingly resting her face upon it, as if comforted by it's touch to skin. The fetching violinist, like a graceful reed, In summer breeze, began to gently sway, Laid Bow to strings and a transcended beauty, The voice of both her Instrument and from within she, Emerged through her fingers, completely filling the hall. With eyes closed, the slight movements of expression On her face registering the feelings the musical notes made, As if those gestures too, guided the bow's musical cords. Slender precise fingers lovingly caressing the strings. For nearly a minute, she and her violin played alone. Her actions of body, hands and head in concert, To her music, unavoidably hypnotic it could be said. The Tenor started to sing, and yet my eyes stayed Locked on her, as if no one else in the room was there. The blond woman in the black dress owned the stage. I have no idea how long that piece of music lasted, I could not attest to what contribution the Tenor made. Fully my attention and eventually my heart belonged To that lovely, evocative young woman in the backless, Little black dress. It’s true that I may never see or hear her play again, I know not, even her name. And yet, I’m sure that I will never forget those Few minutes mesmerized by her magical spell. Hopelessly caught in her enchanting web. With me sitting, third row, isle seat left, Worshiping as I did, at her so pretty, Slightly ***** naked feet, the striking Blond woman in the black dress.

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At the defense proposal I was convinced I would make it through The proposal in my hand, Months of preparation, mentally, physically, loaded brain... Well prepared I was for this judgement day A little over confident, perhaps.... In the life of a Phd candidate This is the true battle of Academia Whether you'd be at the top or you would be shot dead The honorable Panels will decide... The moment you utter a sentence or two.. Continuous attacks from the left and right endlessly..... till you have your head buried in the ground Again you wake up and strike again This is your war.... Defense is war.. the war of life the moment of truth the battle of a doctorate student everywhere Research Objectives, Research Questions, The Signification of research and the Implication, the contribution of this study SO WHAT? One by one was being detailed, scrutinized and questioned Dear panels,please be kind Was patiently coping with your brutal attacks Head held low, head held high... Nearly had a stroke, But I refused to die... Thank you dear panels, my courteous smile for you... I'd be back, You'd see me again, When I counter attack....

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May 22, 2013

May 22, 2013 at 1:28 PM UTC

Phd Defence Proposal

At the defense proposal I was convinced I would make it through The proposal in my hand, Months of preparation, mentally, physically, loaded brain... Well prepared I was for this judgement day A little over confident, perhaps.... In the life of a Phd candidate This is the true battle of Academia Whether you'd be at the top or you would be shot dead The honorable Panels will decide... The moment you utter a sentence or two.. Continuous attacks from the left and right endlessly..... till you have your head buried in the ground Again you wake up and strike again This is your war.... Defense is war.. the war of life the moment of truth the battle of a doctorate student everywhere Research Objectives, Research Questions, The Signification of research and the Implication, the contribution of this study SO WHAT? One by one was being detailed, scrutinized and questioned Dear panels,please be kind Was patiently coping with your brutal attacks Head held low, head held high... Nearly had a stroke, But I refused to die... Thank you dear panels, my courteous smile for you... I'd be back, You'd see me again, When I counter attack....

Continue reading...

Clayton How I know you Paternal parenting DNA infused Carbon contribution, to my physique Father In everything My skin, eyes toes, Unfortunately; inside my mouth Spitting plaster-walled Copy-paste personality The same Intimately Close-dangerously Different Me a bold-faced fraction of ill abated love Something that didn't work out Photocopy Blond-blasphemy of useless flesh Reminder of her Mom Enough! Teeter tottering Tip-Toe tangling opinion Excuses Words fermented Rotting-rigor I know you. Slit-eyed palefaced ****** of bigot ideas Bearing pronged poker Clicking glinting-clawed finger fondling fake religion Suppressing supplement thought ******** God's love the good life Living a life to be proud of Excuse me! For not being as I am "supposed" to be Eatting rancid lies Your reality relative To kiss-ass preferred siblings Who like the taste of **** What you shovel Hung on lipsucking harlot, hinged hip hung-over Descending oppressidly upon willing wanton will of man Letting cracked-cackled toothed Field Gap-smile Decide your next move I know you I see what you push into hidden corners The bias, nasty film of your character Under whitecollar shirttails Citizen, Patriot Americas American I know you Your oppression Not new As underhanded and seedy as it was And still is I know you As much as I'd like not too.

0

Oct 1, 2012

Oct 1, 2012 at 4:18 PM UTC

Clayton How I know you Paternal parenting DNA infused Carbon contribution, to my physique Father In everything My skin, eyes toes, Unfortunately; inside my mouth Spitting plaster-walled Copy-paste personality The same Intimately Close-dangerously Different Me a bold-faced fraction of ill abated love Something that didn't work out Photocopy Blond-blasphemy of useless flesh Reminder of her Mom Enough! Teeter tottering Tip-Toe tangling opinion Excuses Words fermented Rotting-rigor I know you. Slit-eyed palefaced ****** of bigot ideas Bearing pronged poker Clicking glinting-clawed finger fondling fake religion Suppressing supplement thought ******** God's love the good life Living a life to be proud of Excuse me! For not being as I am "supposed" to be Eatting rancid lies Your reality relative To kiss-ass preferred siblings Who like the taste of **** What you shovel Hung on lipsucking harlot, hinged hip hung-over Descending oppressidly upon willing wanton will of man Letting cracked-cackled toothed Field Gap-smile Decide your next move I know you I see what you push into hidden corners The bias, nasty film of your character Under whitecollar shirttails Citizen, Patriot Americas American I know you Your oppression Not new As underhanded and seedy as it was And still is I know you As much as I'd like not too.

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It is positively sublime watching Democrats eat their own. i thought they only snacked on Republicans and social inequalities. Before you start, stop calling me a Republican. My God, man, i have standards. i love sweet tea, but the only tea party i endorse is another Boston Tea Party. The only contribution i have for the cause is if i teabag your mom. Purely out of respect, you understand? Because i care too much... Delicious anarchy is upon us. i have brought popcorn, enough for us all, enjoy the show!! The sun will surely rise tomorrow. Probably. Most of us will still be here.

0

Nov 14, 2013

Nov 14, 2013 at 7:18 PM UTC

Prime Time Showdown

It is positively sublime watching Democrats eat their own. i thought they only snacked on Republicans and social inequalities. Before you start, stop calling me a Republican. My God, man, i have standards. i love sweet tea, but the only tea party i endorse is another Boston Tea Party. The only contribution i have for the cause is if i teabag your mom. Purely out of respect, you understand? Because i care too much... Delicious anarchy is upon us. i have brought popcorn, enough for us all, enjoy the show!! The sun will surely rise tomorrow. Probably. Most of us will still be here.

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So I may have to give you up. I will give you up Unless you tell me how you want to be with me. If lovers need not be together to love each other then Together transformed into truth and luck And I would give you up Perhaps say, do not ever take him away. My love, I want to say (Can I say) don't roam so far away from me A moment without you is a year to drag aching shoulders with long fingernails A sleepy guest unwelcomed after midnight, that is your goodbye. Because, you are part of the forgotten voyages made of strawberry seas and orange trees But I have to give you up like how trees give freely our breathing. What was given, returns and arrives in your speak drifting, steps gliding, search farwinding, slow stroll, such is your gaze. The way you have lingered is mine, how you looked at me is also mine. Tears you gave me are diamonds that fell lost deep under the earth nobody else knows where to find. Time for you to seek a love like mine, the seeking of an adventure. An old fashioned romance historian love Rivalling of an old century over the millenium. Only you (in this moment) know my contribution to this world that which is only you.

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May 9, 2018

May 9, 2018 at 11:14 PM UTC

Adventures of your century love

So I may have to give you up. I will give you up Unless you tell me how you want to be with me. If lovers need not be together to love each other then Together transformed into truth and luck And I would give you up Perhaps say, do not ever take him away. My love, I want to say (Can I say) don't roam so far away from me A moment without you is a year to drag aching shoulders with long fingernails A sleepy guest unwelcomed after midnight, that is your goodbye. Because, you are part of the forgotten voyages made of strawberry seas and orange trees But I have to give you up like how trees give freely our breathing. What was given, returns and arrives in your speak drifting, steps gliding, search farwinding, slow stroll, such is your gaze. The way you have lingered is mine, how you looked at me is also mine. Tears you gave me are diamonds that fell lost deep under the earth nobody else knows where to find. Time for you to seek a love like mine, the seeking of an adventure. An old fashioned romance historian love Rivalling of an old century over the millenium. Only you (in this moment) know my contribution to this world that which is only you.

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We are afraid of tying knots. Now, my brothers weren't fond of Boy Scouts, but those aren't the kinds of knots I'm talking about. Our parents got us velcro shoes growing up (something about not wanting us to be overwhelmed with tennis shoes) And that, perhaps, was the moment that started everything. We could no longer trip on loose laces as we ran our races, Our parents couldn't see our disappointed faces as we fumbled getting ready for school. It was the perfect contribution to the flawed illusion that the human institution should be prevented from failing. Oh, yes. In my lifetime, cordless telephones were placed in every house because we did not want to untangle our own messes anymore. Failure doesn't hurt as much when it is invisible. We wanted wireless, no-strings-attached luxuries with no side effects. But there were effects that couldn't be seen (how could they until we were older than teens) Because the end effect was this: a generation that shirks responsibility we have anxiety because our parents didn't let us face our fears when we were young we are jobless, loveless, purposeless because we still haven't realized that everything has its opposite love - lust success - failure happiness - sadness peace - anger and commotion you see? there are full-grown adults living in the basements of their parents watching **** from an illuminated screen a no-strings-attached commitment to a video that will never require a vow or a promise; so many see the term "settling down" as "kicking up dust" of a dull life "confined to a four-inch screen." we've seen our own parents cut the ties now living separate lives better that way, but millennials can't fight for love or for kids or for dreams because their caretakers' examples couldn't teach the right way to do a marriage the right way to commit we are shirking responsibility-- because we don't want to fail. still as afraid of tying knots as we were in kindergarten.

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Jul 2, 2015

Jul 2, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC

a poem about millennials

We are afraid of tying knots. Now, my brothers weren't fond of Boy Scouts, but those aren't the kinds of knots I'm talking about. Our parents got us velcro shoes growing up (something about not wanting us to be overwhelmed with tennis shoes) And that, perhaps, was the moment that started everything. We could no longer trip on loose laces as we ran our races, Our parents couldn't see our disappointed faces as we fumbled getting ready for school. It was the perfect contribution to the flawed illusion that the human institution should be prevented from failing. Oh, yes. In my lifetime, cordless telephones were placed in every house because we did not want to untangle our own messes anymore. Failure doesn't hurt as much when it is invisible. We wanted wireless, no-strings-attached luxuries with no side effects. But there were effects that couldn't be seen (how could they until we were older than teens) Because the end effect was this: a generation that shirks responsibility we have anxiety because our parents didn't let us face our fears when we were young we are jobless, loveless, purposeless because we still haven't realized that everything has its opposite love - lust success - failure happiness - sadness peace - anger and commotion you see? there are full-grown adults living in the basements of their parents watching **** from an illuminated screen a no-strings-attached commitment to a video that will never require a vow or a promise; so many see the term "settling down" as "kicking up dust" of a dull life "confined to a four-inch screen." we've seen our own parents cut the ties now living separate lives better that way, but millennials can't fight for love or for kids or for dreams because their caretakers' examples couldn't teach the right way to do a marriage the right way to commit we are shirking responsibility-- because we don't want to fail. still as afraid of tying knots as we were in kindergarten.

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She's a beautiful being much like a flower, from which I could learn, examining for hours. I admire her smell and how she speaks of me, the knowledge she carries makes one feel less lonely. From her crown to her toes she is lovely and free, a companion that was placed here for irrational me. She speaks like the wind knowing I am delicate, drops petal-like compliments that I consider reverant. She seems like a sea in which I could drown, a pure contribution on this heavenless mound. I know her as I know myself; or any book from any shelf. Open it up and read just a sliver, ask your questions- she'll surely deliver. She knows when to play and when to relax, she understands my being- reads through the cracks. She understands the importance of an honest, open heart. She shares my love of music and creates striking art. At times she makes me feel as though I am the advisor, but I have read a few pages from her and feel wiser. I've never quite finished any book that I've read, so I'll put the books down and read into her instead. ~kd

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Mar 1, 2016

Mar 1, 2016 at 6:04 AM UTC

She's a beautiful being much like a flower, from which I could learn, examining for hours. I admire her smell and how she speaks of me, the knowledge she carries makes one feel less lonely. From her crown to her toes she is lovely and free, a companion that was placed here for irrational me. She speaks like the wind knowing I am delicate, drops petal-like compliments that I consider reverant. She seems like a sea in which I could drown, a pure contribution on this heavenless mound. I know her as I know myself; or any book from any shelf. Open it up and read just a sliver, ask your questions- she'll surely deliver. She knows when to play and when to relax, she understands my being- reads through the cracks. She understands the importance of an honest, open heart. She shares my love of music and creates striking art. At times she makes me feel as though I am the advisor, but I have read a few pages from her and feel wiser. I've never quite finished any book that I've read, so I'll put the books down and read into her instead. ~kd

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I am a humming bird with a broken wing forming a geometric fall. I am a conjoined twin with a foot in heaven and one in hell. I am a geyser spewing out echoes from a stonewall well. I am an open road stretched for miles paved with a murderous smile. I am a man with a firm handshake who stands still on top of an earthquake. I am a visionary man who slipped on fate and fell in love. I am a preliminary hearing fallen on deaf ears. I am the contribution to your retribution. I am a person of depersonalization. I am a one man army minus one man. I am the desired taste of orange juice and toothpaste. I am concentrated concentration. I am the formation of your imagination. I am the comma for your introductory clause. I am the cause for your sudden pause. I am the spatula that stirs up your anxiety. I am the reaper who never leaves a clue. I am the lace that always chokes the shoe. I am the light that finds its way thru helping the little shrew. I am the suburban white boy who sings the blues. I am consistent inconsistency. I am your assigned tour guide for your expiration exploration.

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Jan 12, 2013

Jan 12, 2013 at 5:42 PM UTC

donny-edward-klein

I am a humming bird with a broken wing forming a geometric fall. I am a conjoined twin with a foot in heaven and one in hell. I am a geyser spewing out echoes from a stonewall well. I am an open road stretched for miles paved with a murderous smile. I am a man with a firm handshake who stands still on top of an earthquake. I am a visionary man who slipped on fate and fell in love. I am a preliminary hearing fallen on deaf ears. I am the contribution to your retribution. I am a person of depersonalization. I am a one man army minus one man. I am the desired taste of orange juice and toothpaste. I am concentrated concentration. I am the formation of your imagination. I am the comma for your introductory clause. I am the cause for your sudden pause. I am the spatula that stirs up your anxiety. I am the reaper who never leaves a clue. I am the lace that always chokes the shoe. I am the light that finds its way thru helping the little shrew. I am the suburban white boy who sings the blues. I am consistent inconsistency. I am your assigned tour guide for your expiration exploration.

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Sometimes I wonder what you ever have seen in me, You stayed for 30 years, through thick and thin, Enduring all my flaws, loving patiently, Despite my disappointments and my sins. It hasn't been an easy road, I know, I've put you to the test more times than not. I've been a less than stellar beau, I wonder did you ever want me shot? I'm sloppy, weak, unkempt and always late, I haven't been the best at earning cash. Could this be what you wanted in a mate? I often think I've made our life a hash. I know I make you laugh once in awhile; Is that enough to keep you coming back? A chuckle here, an unexpected smile, Does that make up for everything I lack? I hope I give you something more than that, Perhaps a sense that life is not so grim. A lift in spirit, a peppy morning chat, Something to make you shake your head and grin. My contribution to our life is small, Diversion and distraction certainly, A joke or two, a pratfall, that is all I've learned to do, I'm sure you would agree. You've given so much more to me it's true. A rock, an anchor, a shelter from the gale. One thing's certain, I can count on you; You have a love that never flags or fails. I'm grateful for you every single day, There's not an hour goes by that I don't wonder why, You've stuck so long with me, but anyway, You did, and till the very day I die I'll say a prayer to God above, Thankful for your crazy stubborn love.

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Jul 18, 2013

Jul 18, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC

Crazy Stubborn Love

Sometimes I wonder what you ever have seen in me, You stayed for 30 years, through thick and thin, Enduring all my flaws, loving patiently, Despite my disappointments and my sins. It hasn't been an easy road, I know, I've put you to the test more times than not. I've been a less than stellar beau, I wonder did you ever want me shot? I'm sloppy, weak, unkempt and always late, I haven't been the best at earning cash. Could this be what you wanted in a mate? I often think I've made our life a hash. I know I make you laugh once in awhile; Is that enough to keep you coming back? A chuckle here, an unexpected smile, Does that make up for everything I lack? I hope I give you something more than that, Perhaps a sense that life is not so grim. A lift in spirit, a peppy morning chat, Something to make you shake your head and grin. My contribution to our life is small, Diversion and distraction certainly, A joke or two, a pratfall, that is all I've learned to do, I'm sure you would agree. You've given so much more to me it's true. A rock, an anchor, a shelter from the gale. One thing's certain, I can count on you; You have a love that never flags or fails. I'm grateful for you every single day, There's not an hour goes by that I don't wonder why, You've stuck so long with me, but anyway, You did, and till the very day I die I'll say a prayer to God above, Thankful for your crazy stubborn love.

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Sometimes I watch the man in the benign pastel shirt and the drab khakis with the receding hairline and the thick glasses cross the street with a package in his arms; And I think to myself, "There goes a good dad, mild mannered, loving - trying to make his way in this savage world." Then, almost instantaneously, the doubt creeps in: "Or, he could be a monster, who beats his kids, or his wife, or sets fire to homes, or has adolescent prisoners in his basement." From then on I question everyone I see. That lovable looking old lady with her sun hat and disabled parking pass might shout racist obscenities from her balcony at poor black kids playing in the park across the street. The clean-cut young man in the shirt and tie with the papers in his hands may spend his weekends filling envelopes with anthrax spores - one for each name on his list. I can no longer see the father whose arrival from work is anticipated by a loving family, or the grandmother who delights in handing out the most Halloween candy to every kid in the neighborhood, or the industrious young professional striving to make a meaningful contribution to society. I wonder if the darkness I see in them is a magnified reflection of the darkness I know that lurks inside of me.

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Sep 27, 2012

Sep 27, 2012 at 4:30 AM UTC

brandon-humphreys

First Impressions

Sometimes I watch the man in the benign pastel shirt and the drab khakis with the receding hairline and the thick glasses cross the street with a package in his arms; And I think to myself, "There goes a good dad, mild mannered, loving - trying to make his way in this savage world." Then, almost instantaneously, the doubt creeps in: "Or, he could be a monster, who beats his kids, or his wife, or sets fire to homes, or has adolescent prisoners in his basement." From then on I question everyone I see. That lovable looking old lady with her sun hat and disabled parking pass might shout racist obscenities from her balcony at poor black kids playing in the park across the street. The clean-cut young man in the shirt and tie with the papers in his hands may spend his weekends filling envelopes with anthrax spores - one for each name on his list. I can no longer see the father whose arrival from work is anticipated by a loving family, or the grandmother who delights in handing out the most Halloween candy to every kid in the neighborhood, or the industrious young professional striving to make a meaningful contribution to society. I wonder if the darkness I see in them is a magnified reflection of the darkness I know that lurks inside of me.

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Some say, we don't need black history month. When in truth we do. Would the contribution of African American be taught truthfully. If we had to depend on you know who? Obviously, they very unaware of several successful black that contributed to America's greatness. We, very well aware they edited down facts to be turn into fiction. Like that president that chopped down that cherry tree. Many doesn't know the plight of Washington, Dubois, Carver. Let alone know their first name. It's hardly taught, if it's about us. George Franklin, Grant-dentist Ernest Everett, Just.-Scientist Josh Gibson, one of the greatest baseball player. We know very well about George, Thomas and James and John Q. Some say, we all Americans And in truth, they completely right. But for reasons very well known. We are not all equal in sights of others. When needed, they call upon us to join in. Some still, say-why do Black history month exist? But all cultures knows none was eliminated through times. Than those captured to come here and renamed after their masters. And facts be told, this cultures lives to embrace into their children's if nothing is ever mention by certain teachers about their cultures. Than they will keep it before them. Matthew Alexander, Henson-Explorer Billie Holiday-singer Duke Ellington and Count Basie and Cab Calloway. Greatness, we can't let fade. Vernon Jordan Shirley Chilsom And hosts of present days teachers that push the issues to educate. Those that say, we don't need Black History months. Be crying , if we try to eliminate theirs. Cause that's all they ever known. Howard University. Tennessee State and Fisk and various others came to be because of discrimination. And has turned out some brilliant African Americans. So our history is needed. Cause it's about us. Like Latin History and various others is about other cultures.

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Feb 7, 2016

Feb 7, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC

jeffrey-conyers

Some Say, We Don't Need Black History

Some say, we don't need black history month. When in truth we do. Would the contribution of African American be taught truthfully. If we had to depend on you know who? Obviously, they very unaware of several successful black that contributed to America's greatness. We, very well aware they edited down facts to be turn into fiction. Like that president that chopped down that cherry tree. Many doesn't know the plight of Washington, Dubois, Carver. Let alone know their first name. It's hardly taught, if it's about us. George Franklin, Grant-dentist Ernest Everett, Just.-Scientist Josh Gibson, one of the greatest baseball player. We know very well about George, Thomas and James and John Q. Some say, we all Americans And in truth, they completely right. But for reasons very well known. We are not all equal in sights of others. When needed, they call upon us to join in. Some still, say-why do Black history month exist? But all cultures knows none was eliminated through times. Than those captured to come here and renamed after their masters. And facts be told, this cultures lives to embrace into their children's if nothing is ever mention by certain teachers about their cultures. Than they will keep it before them. Matthew Alexander, Henson-Explorer Billie Holiday-singer Duke Ellington and Count Basie and Cab Calloway. Greatness, we can't let fade. Vernon Jordan Shirley Chilsom And hosts of present days teachers that push the issues to educate. Those that say, we don't need Black History months. Be crying , if we try to eliminate theirs. Cause that's all they ever known. Howard University. Tennessee State and Fisk and various others came to be because of discrimination. And has turned out some brilliant African Americans. So our history is needed. Cause it's about us. Like Latin History and various others is about other cultures.

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The trapped soul Don't you think we all are being trapped? . In... In a schedule A schedule which is not being made by our own self, But is a contribution of all, Alllllllll the human beings? Come out from it, Creative humans; Deep throat your imagination, Observe the elements your eyes are seeing which is eleminated by diversions. Fix and mix your mind, Bring the capturing out from focal of your eyes. Illness, nausea, emotions let it all goo, Know you soul. The trapped soul.

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Apr 19, 2019

Apr 19, 2019 at 1:14 PM UTC

The trapped soul

The trapped soul Don't you think we all are being trapped? . In... In a schedule A schedule which is not being made by our own self, But is a contribution of all, Alllllllll the human beings? Come out from it, Creative humans; Deep throat your imagination, Observe the elements your eyes are seeing which is eleminated by diversions. Fix and mix your mind, Bring the capturing out from focal of your eyes. Illness, nausea, emotions let it all goo, Know you soul. The trapped soul.

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Hello Poetry is a blue place this calendar year for we have seen many a good poet disappear their inspiring words not around to delight in of this expression the site is somewhat thin Hello Poetry has experienced a considerable loss gone all of that imagery so beautiful in gloss the colors they deftly painted faded as they left which makes the heart feel palpably bereft Hello Poetry members those of excellent ink missing from our writing fellowship's rink we'll not forget the contribution they made as each one of them showed the finest parade Hello Poetry our brothers and sisters of the quill departed us with yet more stanzas to spill their individual styles we'll not sight again truly a thought which is so downcast of refrain

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Dec 24, 2016

Dec 24, 2016 at 5:12 AM UTC

ElizabethSquires

Downcast Of Refrain

Hello Poetry is a blue place this calendar year for we have seen many a good poet disappear their inspiring words not around to delight in of this expression the site is somewhat thin Hello Poetry has experienced a considerable loss gone all of that imagery so beautiful in gloss the colors they deftly painted faded as they left which makes the heart feel palpably bereft Hello Poetry members those of excellent ink missing from our writing fellowship's rink we'll not forget the contribution they made as each one of them showed the finest parade Hello Poetry our brothers and sisters of the quill departed us with yet more stanzas to spill their individual styles we'll not sight again truly a thought which is so downcast of refrain

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Women are often inspiration for beautiful things For they are Compared to stars, summer days and flowers even bird sings This is par For all these were made to entertain them Created so alone would not be men Not as servants but as equals Better than the original, a rare sequel Maybe we had it wrong Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Or shall I compare the day to thee? In the end we find ourselves on our knees Saying “take my hand please” Ladies know your worth “I’ll give you the world” No you’re worth more than this earth Find a soul it is forever Here is mine, it is my pleasure But do not take what is yours for granted Knowing your own beauty you can become enchanted Narcissistic The forgotten poems of gorgeous destruction Compared to cold, dark and other disasters the planet consisted But without you there is dysfunction So thank you for your contribution It makes life beautiful when the world is blurred When we lose sight you are our restitution Our lives together in this institution of love This beautiful constitution signed in blood We can make forever our home So no longer do we roam For I don’t condone giving away what you own But I would give away my throne to avoid sitting alone With a look at how a man feels Change your perspective Take the chance to know him Now that you’ve heard tHis stupid little poem -My Words

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Jul 17, 2018

Jul 17, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC

Women are often inspiration for beautiful things For they are Compared to stars, summer days and flowers even bird sings This is par For all these were made to entertain them Created so alone would not be men Not as servants but as equals Better than the original, a rare sequel Maybe we had it wrong Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Or shall I compare the day to thee? In the end we find ourselves on our knees Saying “take my hand please” Ladies know your worth “I’ll give you the world” No you’re worth more than this earth Find a soul it is forever Here is mine, it is my pleasure But do not take what is yours for granted Knowing your own beauty you can become enchanted Narcissistic The forgotten poems of gorgeous destruction Compared to cold, dark and other disasters the planet consisted But without you there is dysfunction So thank you for your contribution It makes life beautiful when the world is blurred When we lose sight you are our restitution Our lives together in this institution of love This beautiful constitution signed in blood We can make forever our home So no longer do we roam For I don’t condone giving away what you own But I would give away my throne to avoid sitting alone With a look at how a man feels Change your perspective Take the chance to know him Now that you’ve heard tHis stupid little poem -My Words

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Within my magic is me Within my spirit is my magic To be me is to be filled with the magic spirit I am a manifestation of the wiccan witch The gifts bestowed upon me come from the witches who gifted me the knowledge of the magical way to live & spiritual power to heal In there honor , I give my contribution to the witch's past I honor them when , I cast my spells and grow my magic so within my soul is the magic spirit that is me This wiccan witch © Jennifer L DeLong. 9/2022 🌚⭐🦏🗝🎭

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Sep 28, 2022

Sep 28, 2022 at 7:37 AM UTC

norwegianrhinowitch

Within my magic is me Within my spirit is my magic To be me is to be filled with the magic spirit I am a manifestation of the wiccan witch The gifts bestowed upon me come from the witches who gifted me the knowledge of the magical way to live & spiritual power to heal In there honor , I give my contribution to the witch's past I honor them when , I cast my spells and grow my magic so within my soul is the magic spirit that is me This wiccan witch © Jennifer L DeLong. 9/2022 🌚⭐🦏🗝🎭

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You will never understand the contribution you have made to my life, You are the friend that really came through for me when I found myself in strife. No-one else could see past the mistake I had made, They chose to ignore how I felt and fixated on my darkest shade I have always looked up to you, you have always inspired me You've always been the one I've looked at when deciding who I'd like to be Please don't throw your life away, I really count on you I know that being here for me is something you can do I love you, I appreciate you. - Brianna Carter You look up to me, Quite literally, But in this case you mean metaphorically Yet similarly, I looked up to you, Size doesn't matter just a point of view You are a better person than I, As pure and beautiful as the stars and the sky In harmony, elements defy, The birds and the planes that roar or sigh No matter what happens, you always come though Shrug it off, move on, it's just what you do, This is why I wish I were like you Yet despite all this you look up to me? I am blind, can't really see clearly, But even I can tell you are a rarity A treasure, and thus better than me -Conor Blatchford

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Feb 11, 2016

Feb 11, 2016 at 5:50 PM UTC

BC and CB- Compounded in Companionship

You will never understand the contribution you have made to my life, You are the friend that really came through for me when I found myself in strife. No-one else could see past the mistake I had made, They chose to ignore how I felt and fixated on my darkest shade I have always looked up to you, you have always inspired me You've always been the one I've looked at when deciding who I'd like to be Please don't throw your life away, I really count on you I know that being here for me is something you can do I love you, I appreciate you. - Brianna Carter You look up to me, Quite literally, But in this case you mean metaphorically Yet similarly, I looked up to you, Size doesn't matter just a point of view You are a better person than I, As pure and beautiful as the stars and the sky In harmony, elements defy, The birds and the planes that roar or sigh No matter what happens, you always come though Shrug it off, move on, it's just what you do, This is why I wish I were like you Yet despite all this you look up to me? I am blind, can't really see clearly, But even I can tell you are a rarity A treasure, and thus better than me -Conor Blatchford

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#Happy Republic Day .... On This Auspicious day, Today we are celebrating 67th Republic Day of India, as a citizen & child of this motherland i promise to make this country more beautiful by the contribution in the right direction & to protect this country with a humanity, so writing a short letter by expressing my love for my country & I proud to be an Indian... Good time to examine who we are and how we got here.. Still the flames & a myth of scents tricolour my heart with the name to remind always the Country India... To express my beautiful India dedicating a letter to and for real life humans and real life hero of country who shelter us Everyday, every second, every time and they are the real pride of the nation..... Soldiers Never born to die or also called Shelter Shadow of country. I m young and my thoughts towards country is huge for the contribution I believe in work after thinking..

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Jan 26, 2016

Jan 26, 2016 at 6:59 AM UTC

#Happy Republic Day .... On This Auspicious day, Today we are celebrating 67th Republic Day of India, as a citizen & child of this motherland i promise to make this country more beautiful by the contribution in the right direction & to protect this country with a humanity, so writing a short letter by expressing my love for my country & I proud to be an Indian... Good time to examine who we are and how we got here.. Still the flames & a myth of scents tricolour my heart with the name to remind always the Country India... To express my beautiful India dedicating a letter to and for real life humans and real life hero of country who shelter us Everyday, every second, every time and they are the real pride of the nation..... Soldiers Never born to die or also called Shelter Shadow of country. I m young and my thoughts towards country is huge for the contribution I believe in work after thinking..

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I don’t know what I’m reading. I stare and stare and stare at the book given to me by my professor but can’t bring myself to open it, because I don’t know what I’m reading. It’s not in a foreign language that I’m having a hard time translating, because ironically, that would be far too easy. It’s in my native language, the words registering to my brain like breathing, but I still don’t know what I’m reading. What are these authors saying, as they twist and weave their words into a world that everyone around me seems to understand? I can see the surface level of what the author is trying to say, and if I try hard enough I know I can scratch at it to see the layer right underneath, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. “Don’t give excuses,” my professor says, and I know it comes across as an excuse as I try to explain that I can’t tell anyone what the underlying meaning of this scene means, or the symbolism it’s supposed to represent, since it goes flying over my head like a bird narrowly avoiding collision. “You need to participate,” my professor says, and I know I need to try but how can I when everything that takes ages for me to think of is said within the first five minutes of class discussion? What takes me an hour takes my classmates a minute; what takes time for me to raise my hand for takes my classmates to the next topic, my contribution long past relevant. How do I survive college this way? How do I get by when writing is what I’m good at, but I can’t understand the writing of other authors and poets who put just as much work into their stories as I do? I am a fraud; the looks of confusion and shame I receive when I state my major to the world are well-deserved. “Could you share with the class?” my professor asks before we are dismissed, the eyes of my classmates tearing into my soul as I try to bring the words to my lips that I know will never come. What could I say to everyone that expects an intelligent conversation from a college senior? “I’m sorry professor,” I say. “I can’t.” And I sag under the weight of disappointment. It’s not my fault, after all. I don’t know what I’m reading.

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Dec 10, 2018

Dec 10, 2018 at 2:50 PM UTC

i don't know what i'm reading

I don’t know what I’m reading. I stare and stare and stare at the book given to me by my professor but can’t bring myself to open it, because I don’t know what I’m reading. It’s not in a foreign language that I’m having a hard time translating, because ironically, that would be far too easy. It’s in my native language, the words registering to my brain like breathing, but I still don’t know what I’m reading. What are these authors saying, as they twist and weave their words into a world that everyone around me seems to understand? I can see the surface level of what the author is trying to say, and if I try hard enough I know I can scratch at it to see the layer right underneath, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. “Don’t give excuses,” my professor says, and I know it comes across as an excuse as I try to explain that I can’t tell anyone what the underlying meaning of this scene means, or the symbolism it’s supposed to represent, since it goes flying over my head like a bird narrowly avoiding collision. “You need to participate,” my professor says, and I know I need to try but how can I when everything that takes ages for me to think of is said within the first five minutes of class discussion? What takes me an hour takes my classmates a minute; what takes time for me to raise my hand for takes my classmates to the next topic, my contribution long past relevant. How do I survive college this way? How do I get by when writing is what I’m good at, but I can’t understand the writing of other authors and poets who put just as much work into their stories as I do? I am a fraud; the looks of confusion and shame I receive when I state my major to the world are well-deserved. “Could you share with the class?” my professor asks before we are dismissed, the eyes of my classmates tearing into my soul as I try to bring the words to my lips that I know will never come. What could I say to everyone that expects an intelligent conversation from a college senior? “I’m sorry professor,” I say. “I can’t.” And I sag under the weight of disappointment. It’s not my fault, after all. I don’t know what I’m reading.

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