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I envy the sun.
I envy the way she glides through the sky with summer breeze.
The way she anticipates the moves of all those below her.
The way she controls the earth that controls the moon.
She shines all day and all night.
She is not envious.
She is never tired.
She is the sun.
Madeline Aug 2018
i am traces of my mother
i have the power
to move mountains
and create new life

with each kiss
she gave me
seeds were planted
she told me that
flowers go with green

for we both have
green eyes of envy
don't let it control you
my dear

for green eyes can be
filled with jealousy
and hate
alluring but dangerous

allow these flowers
to keep you humble
she says
remember who you are
Warren-Johnson Nov 2017
Love  be not selfish
Love be not jealous
Love be not envious
Love be not rude
Love be not idle

Love be an emotion
Love be faithful
Love be forgiving
Love be a want
Love be a hope
Love be a need
Love be joy
Love be selfless
Love be true
Love be kind
Love be patient
Love be righteous
Love be respectful
Love be trusting

Love be a home filled with children's laughter.
Love is greeting a stranger with a sincere smile.
Love is treating others with care, taking a small moment in all our activities to consider the next person.

Looking at our world, if love was a species, surely it it would be a protected species.

Is love still alive ?
I'm sure yes
God created us in his image
God is love
Love was Our species (the human)
Love should be me
Love should be you
Love should be a nation
Love should be our race

What have we become?
Lizzy Apr 2014
I've written about the wind
More than countless times.
I've always been so envious
Of it's freedom.
But now more than ever
The jealousy burns me

The air
How it moves and turns
It's free
And it can touch you.
It gets to brush those lips I miss,
And swirl around in your lungs.

It's ubiquitous limbs
Brush up against your arms
And weave between those fingers
it can hold your hands like I used to
it can do everything I can't.

but what I'm most covetous of
how it can watch you
and rest it's head against you
how it can twist in between the cracks in your smile.

the wind is my enemy
she is the temptress that mocks me
she laughs while I cry
because she lives in your lips
and you have no idea
The wind is a ****
Kieran Nov 2018
You knew my story
You knew my truth
You still stared into my eyes
You still screamed abuse
You said I needed help
You said I was jealous
You now say
You see my growth, now you're envious?

I listened to your story
I believed in your 'truth'
I didn't love wearing your eyes that day
I hated myself when I heard the word abuse
I sobbed many nights when I was getting the help
I then remembered dishonesty left me jealous
I now say
I feel my growth, so don't be envious

I now know when I saw you as my muse

You were the cause of your rage when you screamed 'Abuse'
zebra Nov 2017
rocks don't care
all stubble and stones
a difficult geometry
so if they don't fit
they are hammered
crushed to rubble
jammed together to make virile walls
and if stabbed with swords
care not about
torn bellies and broken necks
soaking them crimson rust
or drowned nautilus
beneath the sea

have futility in common with rocks
except that everything
girds and gnaws
at their belligerent sensitivity

all clouded soft towers
bi-pedal mortal spires
with tender flesh
beaten into place
truncated amputees
to fit the outer life
of status and statues
a scandal to the inner coves of self

I'm envious of rocks
except for moments of
shifting watery kisses
clamorous for love

we remain
disfigured terrains
hunters of souls balmy unguents
fluctious immolating moons
in a hidden grieving

oh countenance of apathy
only to be more like you
a wilderness of stumps
dead rock gods

and our aspiration
our exit
the path of the renunciate
a penitence
feasting only on futility
and the vagaries of spirit
Woman Aug 2018
I have so much in me.

But most of it I’m not brave enough to write.

The honesty from others nourishes me, the honesty from myself terrifies me.

Thank you.
Tryst Sep 2018
A lake as still as still — a cloudless sky —
A bird-less forest — silent as the page,
That monk-like sits reflecting for an age
On pious deeds exalted upon high,
The page gilded in wisdom, lauded by
Its maker’s peers, wherein is set the stage
For Nature’s bountied beauty — I give homage
Unto its gifted craftsman, one that I
Have oft’ with envious eyes admired afar,
And matchless to his art, have grasped for skill
Far far above my grade — From him to me
Has come a gift as bright as Keats' Bright Star —
        Unto thy lake, may this stone rend the still,
        And loose thy songbird skywards, Timothy.
To one who inspires us all, in the hope this may inspire thee.
Tammy M Darby Nov 2018
It without reservation can be said
Light on their indistinct feet these apparitions
Having no physical form

Cavorting of course with analogous kinds
On human emotions, they dine
Waltzing with elegance and ease
Disappearing as they please
Showcasing their unearthly skills
Rattling their chains
And moaning with glee

Ah yes it can most assuredly be said
I enjoy
Dancing with ghosts of the dead
It is the event of a lifetime
And is a rare phenomenon amongst the living

But not be envious of their steps
For throughout their existence they may never rest
It is a clandestine situation at best
Though they frolic gaily

Imprisoned between two worlds
Ignoring their dilemma
Nebulous phantoms
Continuing to whirl

Still, in good conscience, I cannot deny
Even with their trickery and constant cries
And disregarding the fact they are dead
What a delightful experience it truly is
Dancing with ghosts of the dead

All Right Reserved @ Tammy M Darby Nov. 3,  2018.
Re-Write Feb. 11, 2019
All Material Stored in Author Base.
trhey may nevr eestSo if you seek ***
Phil Riles Jan 2018
Hormones raging...for what I'm told not to engage in, even if we're engaged, if it's not official than its still revealed as...fornication. There's a disturbing underestimation of the result given for this particular sinful demonstration, society has taught us that we test the car before we drive it, but the 1st issue with this analogy told is that we're comparing human sin to...driving a vehicle? But if we're going to entertain analogies on this subject , then, well, how about these: do we begin eating Thanksgiving dinner before were done saying grace? Do they hand out diplomas and degrees for classes you haven't passed yet? do they give Super Bowl trophies to  teams expected to win? So how do we justify receiving the prize of an unmet process? We’ve allowed marriage to become an afterthought or not even a passing idea our better judgment caught because man had rather receive a temporary pleasure that sin conceives birthed in disobedience, deceptive grip around your conscience until your choked by the demands of a lustful flesh that wants to be fed in continual expedience. Or...Maybe, I’m fighting this, fighting not to be twistedly envious and curious of a world unknown to me. Maybe I’m fighting...the temptation and frustration of being a single man patiently searching for that good thing and the favor my Father blesses along with her. Maybe I’m fighting...not to nosedive into the traps laid for human souls lured in by lack, of self-control. It troubles me in just how simple...he explains his ability to desecrate his own creator’s temple. It’s not all his fault, because it was up to her to give him the key to this priceless location better known as her body.
Lizzy Feb 2015
I thought this was reality.
But a world bound by words can never be real.
We've created these words to explain the absurdity of our existence.
But no longer an explanation.
Now just a way of ignoring our fear of the pure real.
And ultimately, the absurdity of our mortality.
Iv found the world without words. I've found the horror we've been conditioned to hide from.
There are no words to tell you about this world.
If one was created, the real would lose its meaning,
And become only a word or a label to make sense of something you can't explain.

The entrance is marked by a path of fallen syllables,
that will serve no purpose in this world.
Leave your language on the road leading to the real.
Abandon your understanding of existence.
It will only crumble anyway.

This world of truth is mine.
Only I can experience it because I cannot communicate its existence.
I can't tell you how crippling the real feels.
It's a silent war of the mind and mouth.
The mind is dying for exodus of this experience.
But the mouth cannot divulge.
It has no frame work to put together.
It has no sounds that can build you my world.

Alone in this life.
Because no one can live it with me.
No one can feel what I feel, ever.
No one can live my exact life.
It makes me feel detached from every other human or object.
They can never truly enter my life or my world.
You cannot put yourself behind my eyes and see what I see.
Your perception is distorting my real.

Maybe your real is less terrifying. Maybe you don't have a real.
And I am envious.
Don't build your wordless world.
It only pushes me to see I will die alone.
I think I'm having an existential crisis
Dr Peter Lim Sep 2018
Here I'm rejected
there I'll be condemned
I'll not be excepted

in my face, subjected
to every form of malice-- crammed
among those suspected
of betrayal--- contempt

raises its venomous#  head and I'm hated
for the views I hold--  hemmed
by envious forces-- everywhere hunted
I am an innocent victim--******

and left to ideas I've constructed
my own pain to consume---stamped
TRAITOR* -- my only hope is to be vindicated
by future generations which would have my thoughts revamped!
# sorry, I spelt wrongly last time
* italicised
Bryce Jul 2018
Fold you up like unwanted fat
cook you into a rocky stew
placed beneath a mantle of ice
far enough away to be misconstrued

You are old laminated time
And pillowed rock of incomprehensible
Earlier than any lime
Or sand, or sediment, or any kind
You are the grandfather rock
of mine

When I step with my inconsequential feet
living but transiently
I cannot help but be erased
that even you hath but one resting place

All the plants
and sands
and ever since the very first
we have always been ******
to this earth
walking upon your bones
I am sorry we cannot do more
but you know your creator
Speak in the same language
in amalgamators
of which we have forgot
and for that I can say
we are envious; are we naught?

Build softly, and carry us upon your thick
crust like pizza dough, cooking
and you let it sit
Let us win, set us up
drift us apart, leave us crushed
build us,
make us,
break us,
fill us

I want to be restored into your
stony belt and be redeemed
I want to become my own atomic fossil
to connect with the universe through long-lost
and once again
hear the story
as a young lad
the way it was meant to be told

I want to eat dinner with my grandfather again
my real sweet stony-chiseled cheeked
father again
to be loved a boy
and a girl
and the whole world
a soul touched back into the deep
left unshackled
by a ***** or a queen
take me back soon
rather than let me turn into

or Baltica
or Gondwana
smacked into new rock to form
and Tetons
and Moher

Carbonate or Silicate,
and the end its the same
It won't be the end
for that fate rearranged
Diana Oct 2018
I once read the lines
“Practically on top of us
is a girl
with long brown hair
a black hoodie
and the tightest jeans I have ever seen
I automatically hate her
because those jeans
make her look good”
From a book

This mentality bothers me
I mean
Why can't we
Admire another girl's beauty
Instead of becoming jealous
Or envious of it
While attempting to find
A flaw of theirs
To counteract their beauty
Why can't we just appreciate it
While loving ourselves
Without making ourselves feel less
Or desirable
Or worthy
Because they have something
That is "better"
Which is entirely subjective
Due to the fact
That there are many opinions
Of what being beautiful
Aesthetically means
Since there are many people
In this world
Which in itself
Is beautiful
We should feel empowered. There is nothing aesthetically that can make another more "woman" than another, so admire another's looks while confidently rocking your own.
Gabrielle Gooch Oct 2018
They really want us silenced
The sound of our screams to go unheard

They really want us jobless
Our children going hungry

They really want us dead
Our blood painting the ground below their feet

They really want girls like me
To be envious of their blonde-haired daughters

They really want our brothers
In chains, behind bars

They really want us silenced
But I will scream.
I will demand to be heard.
Yenson Sep 2018
Oh I wonder if I mean pounding
Or maybe it's pondering
**** what do I know, spelling isn't my strong point
I've always been envious of all those brainy lot
To see me you'll know why I can never be an alfa male
So its better I hide behind a keyboard and troll
I can't help feeling inadequate when I read the good poems
All I do is steal words and ideas then twist them around
I pownd and pownd and pownd till I drive them away
I am a  Pownder that pownd and get a pound for every pownding

I am a little person with a little mind and something else bothers me so much it leaves me with a Napoleonic complex
But I hope other men don't know about it but anytime I see a hot dog, wish I could just disappear and die cause I know that's one pownding That leaves me unpownded.

Excuse me I got a job to do
There's a poet here, I've got to drive him away from here
He's Benson or something like that and I just feel so small
Can never write like him and being a stinking bully and a Hater
I feel so inadequate and it's stressing me out, how good he is
He leaves me feeling so carri gibbanoius and useless pownding about
My job and aim is to oppose anything positive and good
I was born to destroy cause I can't do better
guess that's why I can't even spell an ordinary word like
That benson fellow will soon leave and coward inadequate me
will rule with my mediocre drivel again or go copy from someone
and pretend its my work like I did at Junior High and college.

My good friend below wrote this to me:

Karijinbba › In His Grace..............

I hear the pownding waves of God in every day or written silences. I hear Gods loving waves in everyday's life's harships and struggles; even when God in his silence blessess, me in imagined lovers arms, and in dreams, when my breath taken.

He copied a poem written by me and improved on it and then
posted it back to me to show me how to improve on my work.
So I must learn from him and be a better writer
And stop feeling bad and envious about other people's poems
And writing privately to them to intimidate them and making
them quitting this site.
My thanks to Kainjinbba who helped sharing his collaboration on this poem and has done a lot to make me feel welcomed and appreciated on HP. Please note that Passive Aggression is not something that Karijinbba indulges in, neither is karijinbba a bully or a troll who tries to antagonise talent and endeavour ...
Neville Johnson Sep 2018
The world may have its problems
But as for you and me
Nothing comes between us
We’re together, you and me

Life may have its ups and downs
That doesn’t affect us
Our love is indestructible
Never envious

The road ahead is paved with gold
I can hardly wait to see
What’s around the corner
What’s next for you and me
Josh G Sep 2018
This mountain of ours
Stands viciously before me
I am always climbing
Never getting higher
My grip often slips
And I slide back down
Often I'll find tools
And with them I soar
Though these tools break
Putting me at square one again

This mountain of ours
Claims victims every day
Some hollow out a home
Refusing to climb higher
Others have fallen completely
And have lost their way
There is no easy path
To reach this apex
An eternal struggle
That you must never give up on

This mountain of ours
Some days are easier than others
But those days are few and far between
For this journey is a challenge
And not a single person has it easy
We're all struggling
Though some seem better off
Don't be envious because
You'll never know the difficulties
They faced on this mountain of ours
I wrote this depicting life. Life is like a mountain to me. We are always striving to climb higher but it has its own way of making that difficult for us. Our tools break, our grips slip, or we just lose faith.
Emily Oct 2018
Emptying one’s wallet for the family fee,
Joining in linear solidarity with the crowd,
Dripping profusely under the blazing sun,
Creeping forward as if slower than a snail.

Arriving at the moving beast’s head,
Receiving envious glances from the tail,
Stepping boldly forth at last,
Following instructions.

Strapping oneself into place,
Shooting forward like a rocket into space,
Spinning endlessly until quite dizzy,
Screaming with sheer delight and fear.

Dropping back to earth,
Speeding faster than a thought,
Leaving stomach far behind,
Enjoying the absurdity of its apparent disappearance.

Exhilarating, yet much too short,
Seeking to repeat the thrill,
Joining the waiting horde,
Staring impatiently from the queue’s tail.
I personally have never seen the appeal of amusement park rides, possibly because my inner pessimist is sure I’ll break my neck on one. How was my description, given I’ve never even been on a roller coaster ride?
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