Expunges poems on Hello Poetry

Reece AJ Chambers Apr 2017

Just because you have gone
   does not mean
when the bulbs flicker
the letters of your name
are no longer ablaze
the pages of our stories
do not yellow

when the night
unfurls its intense blackness
licks the houses
expunges the light
   it does not mean
we have forgotten the moments
that made you shimmer
as a glorious star
in a boundless sky

the days to come
are cracked with cold
but there is warmth
to be found
in the sound of your smile
which doesn’t go
but only echoes   on

now and again it goes
it only echoes   on

Written: April 2017.
Explanation: A one-hundred word poem written in my own time. Feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page should be found on my HP home page.
NOTE: Many of my older pieces will be removed from HP at some point in the future.

Michael Ryan May 2015

An "Honest" Life: The Only Way

One where you don't do drugs,
where you don't smoke.
honestly--
do not drink the trough of lesser things
amongst them the layers of thievery.

Where man and woman do not thrive
addiction steals their will,
as it drives their minds into space
where life is void of options;
other than we need to get high.

Voiceless and numb, sprawled against the wall--
I do not have to think of anything
except the pleasure that expunges all my needs--
no bills, no children, no desires
free of everything.

It became my passion,
because they told me to live happily--
ecstasy was within my grasp
it only took a needle
to find the hidden path,
that's always been within my veins.

Confused by my mother--
whom will not speak my name
and by society that cast me to the streets;
thought I did what they told me to do.

White eyed and foaming--
a final image appears in the mind
my last coherent thought
*How is this any worse?

Everyone is on some drug, but people consider some bad/good. They all give the person what they are seeking and with a clear conscious each person needs to accept the side effects of what comes with them.

#life #death #drugs #happy #soceity

J Wallace Larwood Oct 2015

The Train

A backward look in reparation.
The train that leaves the evening station.
Lights are dimmed in lengthening carriages.
Lives constrained by awkward marriages.
Destinations part concealed,
Neutered weapons, broken shields.
Birth and death and separation

It's hard this act of conscious diction
Diplomacy, avoiding friction
Dying brothers, sullen daughters
Unmapped shores beyond these waters
For now, the tears the shallow laughter
The second bottle, morning after
A culling of the truth from fiction

The crooked finger writes, entices
Deals the cards and roll the dice
Explains, expunges, makes it better
Credits payments to the debtors
Far beyond the horn is calling
Mist is rising, drizzle falling
The party's over. Life suffices

Samantha Sep 2017

an open love letter...

You’ve breathed life into the darkest passages, illuminating every part of your world. Words slip from your lips in a symphony that lulls listeners into a euphoric state. Art is the passion that’s kept you safe during the lowest points of your life. Through paint and text, you’ve released tension and created a universe of healing. You express all that you desire to receive, comforting the injured in the way that you needed for so long. Amanda, a force that expunges all your inner doubts, a support system that is unwavering no matter the circumstances. Loyal and determined, you have fought tooth and nail for everyone you love. Forgiveness is something many of us have yet to learn, but you have proceeded to encourage a forgiving nature amongst those who’ve caused you the most harm. Your words cut like a knife, there is more to you than love. A storm boils within you and you are merciless to liars and thieves. I have seen you build castles and destroy empires in your fury. In all of your glory, you are a flawed creature that is worthy of being loved. Learn to love yourself above all else.

#love #friendship #passion #selflove #selfcare #independence #growth #family

the dirty poet Dec 2018

FANTASY, MY OLD PAL

imagination is my best drinking buddy
i’ll always pick up the check
on this prison planet, fantasy is the liberator
it pulls down every cloud
undresses the ladies
expunges adultery
pulverizes the patriarchy
obliterates mommy
flattens fatty tissue
bulldozes boredom
annihilates procrastination
decimates iron-poor literature
gobbles up poverty
overthrows the workplace
abolishes taxation
liquidates profit
exterminates capitalism
confuses the cops
torpedoes certainty
trashes common sense
wrecks mortality
exterminates the divine
fantasy, the one-stop shopping mall
of freedom

Bruce Levine Sep 2019

Autumn Glories

Autumn brings rebirth
The closing out of summer
And the renewal of the cycle
Signifying a time of regeneration
With cool, crisp golden mornings

Faster time paces
As the days grow slightly shorter
And momentum challenges
The fledgling generation
To rekindle itself anew

No more a time of consumption
Or empty days of dreary longing
But a momentary highlight
That expunges the emblematic
And erases the scars of lassitude
And lethargic days that summer brings

The bounty of fall’s beginnings
Fills trees with yellow splendor
And refocuses the thirst that redefines
The topography of the soul

No longer the empty moments
Of fantasies forgotten
That sorrows never cling to
And time alone can’t quell

Only the rebirth of autumn
As the harvesting of last year
Cleanses fields and forests
Making way for new born buds
That reveal through empty spaces
Left by falling embers
Of things that are best forgotten
And glories yet to come

Bruce Levine Sep 2018

Autumn

Autumn brings rebirth
The closing out of summer
And the renewal of the cycle
Signifying a time of regeneration
With cool, crisp golden mornings

Faster time paces
As the days grow slightly shorter
And momentum challenges
The fledgling generation
To rekindle itself anew

No more a time of consumption
Or empty days of dreary longing
But a momentary highlight
That expunges the emblematic
And erases the scars of lassitude
And lethargic days that summer brings

The bounty of fall’s beginnings
Fills trees with yellow splendor
And refocuses the thirst that redefines
The topography of the soul

No longer the empty moments
Of fantasies forgotten
That sorrows never cling to
And time alone can’t quell

Only the rebirth of autumn
As the harvesting of last year
Cleanses fields and forests
Making way for new born buds
That reveal through empty spaces
Left by falling embers
Of things that are best forgotten
And glories yet to come

matthew scott harris Jan 2019

Luxuriating Showering On A Cold Winter Day

Despite emotional, financial, grammatical...
any woe that doth assail
whereat early in the
morning until late at night tub bail
sinking craft, not possible
(essentially 24/7), I bewail,

where the fickle finger
of fate stationed me in life,
as if groping in the dark
unfamiliar with Braille
at heart though - directly predicted
on how yours truly did curtail

requisite healthy development of
body, mind, and spirit, yes analogous
to a train tragically did derail
in a near fatal
(scores of years ago) accident
(sorry no gory detail),

yet the impact still sorely felt
(argh...eek...ouch...all pains dovetail
actually more like subduction,
(way more powerful than deleting email),
sans plate tectonics geomorphism process
(a lengthy missive would entail)

full scale explanation, okay
in a figurative nutshell this, male
long (winded) fellow cannot Atlas
shrug off the belief he did fail,
and hopelessly embarked on
impossible mission to secure the Holy Grail

this state of mind linked to many pursuits
that metaphorically did fishtail
many objectives abandoned
finding me to flail
convincing myself at a
tender age incapable NOT gale

lent academically, athletically, avocationally...
thus many personal enterprises
witnessed a scared, hence best to hightail
further progress without testing potential,
I often ruminate, how aye did hobnail,

viz self imposed aversion to risk
on par with the most fortified jail
and one circumstance that
expunges burdensome junk mail
occurs basking under spray

as warm water doth prevail
cleansing, kickstarting, and
rejuvenating (albeit temporarily)
though some hours later...
back to choppy waves and torturous sail.

mike nortrup Apr 2020

Fate Worse than Death

Covid-19 is coming for you
I hope it will miss and pass right on through
It's terrible stuff, a real stranglehold
And seriously deadly, when you are old

The ballgame is over if it hits me
and expunges my branch of the family tree.
Thought about moldering under the ground
Pepper my thoughts when I sit around

But I fear something worse, than Death's open door
and checking on out of this life evermore
That passing would be, an absolute caper
Compared the news, that there's no toilet paper

— The End —