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English Jam Mar 5
My golden years are a retrospective view
Doubtful, not sure, might be a last dance
One day I was gum-chewing with my Batman yo yo
Now my soul is rubber, and it leaks on the outside
Faded away from the youthful days
Once giddy pleasure
Now it’s all so
serious

The teen lifestyle washed over within seconds
Sure it’s fun to friends
Entertaining to have enemies
But the squabbles and meanders slow you down
The pitiful liars and desperate seekers
Worship through blasphemy whatever they care
Limbs don’t respond
Thoughts and actions don’t line up

You see it for what it truly is
Baby
You’re in danger
of maturing

Forgotten and dazed
Sitting in a broken armchair
It's difficult seeing through the fogginess
Finding the missing hours
Difficult on a drowse

...I work only weekdays (don't we all)...
...Fantastic gatherings on Sundays (family days)...
...Jimi Hendrix, he's good (bit of an understatement, mate)...
....He's the kind of guy I wish I could...

...etc...
Rafael Melendez Jan 2016
I may not remember the names of the songs we used to sing together. Regardless, I adored them as you did. And as much as you can deny now, they once belonged to us.
meg Jul 17
My heart won't let me forget
people that have made me happy.

It seems to extend it's claws
and force them up my throat,
begging me to mention those
who I have tried so hard to leave.

I don't think I'll ever forget you.
I won't forget what you said.
I can't forget the broken
memories you left me.

I stopped doing what I loved to
feed onto affection that I had to fight for.

I went so long ignoring sunsets
my toes tied themselves to the tide
so all I had left was a lost freedom
that followed and laughed at my own doom.

I've been holding volcanos
in my eyes and lava in my heart,
I won't let you break me again.

I won't give you a place in my life
if all you do is prance around in the
ashes of my broken heart, dancing
to the sounds of my tear drops against glass.

I dream of you, even though
you're lost in my memories.
Your lack of love was fabricated
by my broken heart and mended into
loyalty and hope that you could change .

I wish I could just slowly let you go.
I wish I could slowly **** you with kisses
and send you off to the sky.
Maybe I'd find you in the stars.

There is so much beyond our scars,
beyond the lines that tangle
themselves around and
over our bodies,we break so easily,
but that's only since we love so hard.

I'll still miss you every sunrise
and find you in each sunset,
but I'll whisper to the moon
I want to go to the stars each
night till I'm in space.
first poem i wrote in a month
Hannah W Oct 2014
I can feel you losing interest in me,
and pretty soon you'll be gone
and I’ll be alone again
forced to dwell on all the sweet things
you don’t remember telling me
when you were drunk

-h.w.
Shadow Puppet Apr 2017
You don't know her
She is always forgotten

In your memories but soon your lips will only describe her as nondescript

The script of her life
How did she go from being so sweet to rotten
From just nightmares to sleep walking

Sweet ole her
Innocent and pure
Now she is impaired

In the need of refinement
But she doesn't have the strength to try it

You see she is chained to the past
Barely saw her dad
He was mean
Always got the last word

Drunk and abusive
Her mom was an unbloomed tulip
Looked kind but was bitter to her daughter

They'd fight and she would cry at night
She was ashamed of and had extreme anger for mother

How can you watch as she takes hits
Instead of intervening

Police bust down the doors and drag dad to jail
To the homeless shelter we go
No money, no home
It is cold

I barely knew what was going on around me
Refuse to talk to adults because they were all so confusing
And honestly my questions only led to answers that were lies

I had fear in my eye
The things that I had seen
The smoke filled air I'd breathe

Let's not forget the bullies
That talk stuff because I was so "imperfect"

Never had the latest brands
Because mom had no bands

Let's not forget how dad was back again
All hope was drained
She had thoughts of suicide and then a boy came

Walked his way in
She spilled her ink onto his page
He left anyways

Guess her story was too boring

You don't know her
You did at a time

She is nothing but rotten
And only meant to be forgotten
I don't know why, but I love to talk about myself in third person.
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