"hallo" poems
Qué tienes, qué tenemos,
qué nos pasa?
Ay, nuestro amor es una cuerda dura
que nos amarra hiriéndonos
y si queremos
salir de nuestra herida,
separarnos,
nos hace un nuevo nudo y nos condena
a desangramos y quemarnos juntos.
Qué tienes? Yo te miro
y no hallo nada en ti sino dos ojos
como todos los ojos, una boca
perdida entre mil bocas que besé, más hermosas,
un cuerpo igual a los que resbalaron
bajo mi cuerpo sin dejar memoria.
Y qué vacía por el mundo ibas
como una jarra de color de trigo
sin aire, sin sonido, sin substancia!
Yo busqué en vano en ti
profundidad para mis brazos
que excavan, sin cesar, bajo la tierra:
bajo tu piel, bajo tus ojos
nada,
bajo tu doble pecho levantado
apenas
una corriente de orden cristalino
que no sabe por qué corre cantando.
Por qué, por qué, por qué,
amor mío, por qué?
5.6k
Never say hi
Never say hallo
Don´t you remember
Don´t you know
That we threw stones
and built a wall
So thick I can't hear you anymore
Never say hi
Never say hallo
Watch how much despair can grow
It´s covering the wall that we made
I never forgave
That I must confess
But now our world is soundless
Never say hi
Never say hallo
I won't say it back
I heard my heart break
After you said goodbye
and I heard nothing after that
Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
FOR Mwima Zubair Naser
*(Gone too soon,when still in bloom
In the line of duty,what a pity)
In memory of you I'll always cry
I won't stop no matter how hard I try
Why do you have to promise
And then just pass on like this?
Especially when you are all gone
Leaving us in this world on our own
Did you have to leave this young
When I lack any beautiful speech
On my saddened tongue?
When the ball is still on pitch?
You had Samson's courage
Like a car with shocking milage
Did you have to go when I need you
Did you have to evaporate like morning dew
From the fragile petals of our youth
Did you have to join the boots?
It isn't fair to go when I cannot send you off
When I haven't condolence,not half a loaf
Did you have to go so soon
And leave my heart out of tune?
Say hallo to Wilber and the others
The thought of you all really bothers
I've never been one to say goodbye
And saying it will all be but a lie
To me you still breathe and live
That you're gone I cannot believe
I hope you made it through
And all these rumors ain't true*
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
Here lies, whom hound did ne'er pursue,
Nor swiftewd greyhound follow,
Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew,
Nor ear heard huntsman's hallo',
Old Tiney, surliest of his kind,
Who, nurs'd with tender care,
And to domestic bounds confin'd,
Was still a wild Jack-hare.
Though duly from my hand he took
His pittance ev'ry night,
He did it with a jealous look,
And, when he could, would bite.
His diet was of wheaten bread,
And milk, and oats, and straw,
Thistles, or lettuces instead,
With sand to scour his maw.
On twigs of hawthorn he regal'd,
On pippins' russet peel;
And, when his juicy salads fail'd,
Slic'd carrot pleas'd him well.
A Turkey carpet was his lawn,
Whereon he lov'd to bound,
To skip and gambol like a fawn,
And swing his **** around.
His frisking wa at evening hours,
For then he lost his fear;
But most before approaching show'rs,
Or when a storm drew near.
Eight years and five round rolling moons
He thus saw steal away,
Dozing out all his idle noons,
And ev'ry night at play.
I kept him for his humour's sake,
For he would oft beguile
My heart of thoughts that made it ache,
And force me to a smile.
But now, beneath this walnut-shade
He finds his long, last home,
And waits inn snug concealment laid,
'Till gentler **** shall come.
He, still more aged, feels the shocks
From which no care can save,
And, partner once of Tiney's box,
Must soon partake his grave.
2.3k
1 A little girl of eight
Was leaning on the gate,
Pondering the miracle of birth.
From her parents’ attitude
She thought it might be something rude
And was neither cause for sorrow nor for mirth.
2 By chance along the road
A little lady strode,
Hurrying from the vicar's after tea.
The girl thought, There’s Miss Price,
She is wise and nice,
She will solve my mystery for me.
3 Miss Price approached the gate,
The little girl in wait
Called out, Hallo, a lovely evening, too.
If you can spare the time
There's a problem on my mind,
A question I would like to ask of you.
4 The lady, coming near,
Said, Yes, of course, my dear,
I'll surely try to put your mind at rest.
Although I'm not a sage,
With the wisdom of my age,
You can rest assured I'll do my best.
5 I’ve a brother now, you see,
He was born at five oh three,
He's upstairs in the bedroom now with Mum.
And now I’m full of doubt,
I've tried but can't find out—
Please tell me, miss, from where do babies come?
6 Miss Price, a little shocked,
Thought she was being mocked.
Good Lord, she thought, what can I tell this child?
A spinster all her life—
No experience as a wife
This subject always made her feel defiled.
7 Miss Price looked all about
Seeking a way out;
Anything to stop this sinful talk.
Then, clutching at a straw,
With her dim old eyes she saw
The poor bedraggled, drunk and gasping stork.
8 She pointed at the roof
And in a tone aloof
Said, There is how your brother came to you.
I’m surprised you haven't heard
That all babies come by bird,
And now I must be off, so toodle-oo.
The little girl turned and looked up at the stork.
And the stork, to his eternal credit, winked.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 8:12 PM UTC
Hallo
Ku tulis ini untuk rindu
Yg gejolaknya membara selalu
Tak henti henti merayu
Tuk membuat sajak-sajak mendayu
Mau apalagi
Aku tak ingkar hari ini
Sungguh rindu ku rasa kini
Tak penat hati tuk habiskan ini
Sajak bait pun terangkai kini
Dan saat itu pula rasa rindunya semakin menjadi
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 7:32 PM UTC
danke, und scheiße geruch um beachten! (if ungrammatical then ensure you do not waver to correct me, but speak as correctly as possible and leave me to my insolence and gratify my mistake as championing your correctness, at least thus i'll be glad to make you see what i too wanted to see with my imperfection the suggestive).
western society has taught me
that i'd be better off
not having educated myself -
and that reading philosophical
books is considered a mental illness;
such heightened literacy rates
i almost clamour to buckle
in marking journalism a synonym of propaganda.
no, of course i'm not happy where
i live, i what's deemed a civilisation or
an exportable social model,
a place where you say the word Kierkegaard
and people think you've said gonorrhea,
so the French kiss outlasts oral *** -
tongue here, tongue there, tongue up your ***
you're a credible ****** should it matter,
while all the menial tasks for the unruly
have been exported to made in China -
i ****** Poland for ever wanting to join
the E.U., thank god they didn't adopt the failed
Euro currency - the diversity of the project
would always fail - no slingshot Indians
or bow & arrow akin mattered
when the other Indians gave us the Taj Mahal...
wise too i would be as an Ewok... and a Vindaloo...
wait a minute, why am i writing
like a reformist coloniser? i've been duped!
i learn the english tongue i suddenly
become nothing less than a coloniser myself;
might as well be a viking in york
or a norman at the battle of Hastings!
otherwise i'm a concubine on a mechanised
dildo-throne while the irish are Yuppie
with psychos of american Wolf St. scenarios
awaiting the 1980s discography of
a lucid John Peel commentary.
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 8:18 PM UTC
*I've read two poems about kissing today
Something I read about each other day
I've read about insomnia and sad rhymes
I've heard the bell of memory ring to hard times
I've read about poems titled three and eleven
I've read about a child expected to be in heaven
I've probably read about Tenth Avenue North
I've read so much today, for all It's worth
I've read about the rain in Karachi, poetry and trance
I've read about fate, destiny, hard work and chance
I've read torture, sadness and heavy grief
And somewhere somehow It's all but relief
I've read about flies patterning samun's window pane
Soon as she opens, I've read about a poet's pain
I've read as far as the trending, "Drunk a few "
I've read so many and more are still on the cue
But I've realized in all of them there's this one thing
I've read without tiring because I've read me
Spread on the white pages of hallo poetry
I guess It's true what they say
About the poet being one thing as the poetry
Some are and some ain't okay*
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 6:45 AM UTC
Ingredients
My fingers skate along the sleek surface if the finished cedar box , although it has been varnished it still somehow finds a way to harness a whiff if the scent to push in my direction every time I open it . Recipes , basically a conjugation of ingredients , when melded together in perfect amounts , create a complete meal, my recipes , amassed from a lifetime of existence , instances collected individually , and blended on to the parchment that is now being filed amidst the rest of the nourishing collections within this wooden encasement , I have organized them based on feelings, " moods " the perfect ingestion , for any experience , it is well acknowledged that often we find our way to someone's heart with the perfect recipes , food for the soul , but this is my collection of food for the heart, this box contains a life's worth of poetry , little daily doses of not soul food , but food for the soul , little inspirational quotes and quills , for any emotion that may full our belly with that hallo feeling that comes with chaos , our emotional nourishment , which is why you will never find this treasure in the pantry with the rest of the " cook books" for this has a place on the corner of the nightstand , along with the rest of my hopes and dreams .........
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
Lying in the grass at two in the morning,
Smoking some Marlboro 27s,
With a bottle of Sobieski by my side.
I'm staring into the completely blank sky,
And the clouds have gypped me again.
My stomach feels warm,
My head feels heavy.
The clouds where too ominous.
I should have remembered foreshadowing from my childhood.
The one vocab used every ******* year ,
From ages 10 to 18.
I knew it was going to rain.
By this point I don't have enough sobriety stored up to care.
Or to leave.
If the rain wants to get in my hair, and my mouth, and my clothes, and my soul,
It'll be closer than I want anyone else to be at this moment.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 4:51 PM UTC
Fly I must, soar I must
For eagle, I am
Held captive, I am, was
Forgot how to fly, I did
Forced to conform, I was
Called rebellious, I am
Dubbed trouble maker, I ,me?
What propaganda, I concur
Easier to believe, I observe
what idiots so conformed brainless thoughtless zombies, I laugh
Hunting for mine,I agree
Up over and under I race for freedom, here I come
Wings don't fail me now, I pray
Out of practise, I am
Just flap and keep us steady, born to
Jump, I tumble in the air
Rocky start, I soar
Higher and higher
Hallo clouds, goodbye clouds
Hallo sun and sky, welcome home
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 3:23 AM UTC
Hallo kamu, ini aku
Aku yang sudah lama mengenalmu, walau kamu belum mengenalku
Aku yang sudah lama mendukungmu, walau kamu belum jumpa dengan ku
Aku adalah seseorang
yang selalu tertawa dan tersenyum karenamu
Walau kamu
bukan tertawa dan tersenyum karenaku
Tetapi aku selalu ada
Bersorai untuk kamu
Jika suatu hari keberuntungan mulai berpihak pada ku
Kamu akan tahu siapa aku
dan aku tahu
kamu akan berkata
Hallo kamu, ini aku
dan aku pun akan menjadi kamu
Jul 30, 2019
Jul 30, 2019 at 2:07 AM UTC
Como en la vaguedad de un espejismo:
-¿qué sabes? -mi conciencia me interroga,
fluïda en llanto entre mi propio abismo.
Y miro el mar ardiente, el monte flavo
que suaviza el azul, la estrella límpida
rielando en el rocío del capullo;
y en sus cunas los cándidos infantes,
cazados con las redes del arrullo
por el sueño de manos hechizantes.
Y vuelto a mí, gimiendo el corazón:
-¿qué sabes? -vanamente me interrogo,
mudo, bajo la múltiple emoción.
Sólo un saber escondo claro y justo;
llévole como antorcha y como daga
en medio del cerrado laberinto;
en su vasta amplitud mi fe naufraga
y hallo en su anchura incómodo recinto.
Se oyen sordos, roncos lamentos,
y alzan sus puños en el vacío
los pensamientos.
¡Oh menguado saber, pobre riqueza
de formas en imágenes trocadas,
ley ondeante, ciencia que alucina,
que cada noche en el silencio empieza
y cada día con el sol culmina!
¡Oh menguado saber de la iracunda
vida que ante mis ojos se renueva,
germinal y cruël, ciega y profunda;
madre de los mil partos y el misterio
que al barro humilla y a Psiquis subleva!
Como ventana que el azul del cielo
circunscribe, se entreabren los sentidos.
¡Pobre, ruïn saber! Y, sin embargo,
la leve mariposa del anhelo
entra por la ventana sin ruïdos.
Cuaja en el corazón de la manzana
la dulzura estival; la mariposa
vuela del fondo de la carne humana.
¡Que al claro cielo
suba el anhelo!
Por ese vuelo, la heredad natía
canté, con ritmo del ideal retorno,
en la ingenua parábola temprana.
En el turquí del éter desleía
un nácar tenue mi primer mañana.
Por ese anhelo entre los acres pinos
y las rosas en llamas del ocaso,
al hablar dejo la palabra trunca:
el tiempo es breve y el vigor escaso,
y la Amada ideal no vino nunca.
Por ese anhelo, en rimas balbucientes
canto el rojo camino que a la tarde
se pinta en la montaña evocadora,
o a la vívida luz del sol temprano,
como una obsesión conturbadora
de sangre y sangre en el azul lejano.
Y por él amo, en fin, y por él sueño
con una honda transfusión divina
de la luz en mi carne de tortura,
¡puesto que está la estrella vespertina
sobre el horror de esta prisión oscura!
Columpia el mar su cauda nacarina,
y en ustorios relámpagos de espejos
esplende en bruma de ópaco la carne de la ondina.
Y fluye Acuarimántima a lo lejos...
1.5k
I bathe in the cashmere moonlight
The daylight fears what it does to me
My skin bouncing off in all direction to match its glory-
No! I will stay here under the worship of so many stars.
I start my day at dusk
So as not to startle the humans.
My body, to me, has all the mouth-watering intensity
Of a bran muffin
I no longer lust after myself
I no longer lust in general
There are only dark fleeting moments of contentment
As I shovel pasta into my temple-
My body is a Burger King deluxe.
There are no arches that I’m proud of.
And how did it get like this
I used to love what I am
And now
My body lies over a sea of ketchup.
I don’t even eat the tomato-y stuff
But I feel like I’m drowning in condiments
I bathe in cashmere moonlight
I take showers with my candles
I filter my image with steamed mirrors
And again I am the goddess I remember.
My curves are smooth, my skin glows
and my eyes have a hollow hallo of light to them.
This is what light skinned Barbies look like
What uncle sam expects of me-
In a steamed mirror
I
Am a patriot for beauty.
In the sunlight
I
Am a martyr for tuna sandwiches with 3 kinds of mustard.
Jun 25, 2011
Jun 25, 2011 at 3:36 PM UTC
I must feed today
Feed, this lust, for pray
In my lair, I can not stay
Give me flesh with which to play
Soft throat with veins so frai
Fountain so thick, while life I drai
Give it to me, on a tray
The lazy, weak, naïve, ignorant, and grey
For one of you, I am the demon today
But I need this, before I can lay
A last look at my young, so small
Out from my lair I crawl
Into jungle so dense and tall
Near waterhole, my pray will sprawl
Oooh yes, that’s their call
Silently unsuspicious the closer I crawl
Wait caution now, for one stare and stall
I trust, my camouflage will stifle warning call
Closer and closer to herd I crawl
Now, herd in waterhole’s enthrall
I select my pray for the night
Rather at the back, just out of sight
Yes, this one will not fight
I must wait, there’s chance for flight
Take another sip, that’s right
Your senses will dim, more then slight
Now, the time is right
I pounce on him with all my might
“Hallo I’m Angel, how are you doing tonight?”
“It’s only $ 100 for the night”
Oct 5, 2010
Oct 5, 2010 at 3:46 AM UTC
Oon gallee um tonem eh
hallo caking elenta meh
oft alone on windy days
ellon ta ban um tonem eh
gallorn tello en triclon meh
eve in shadows with no sun
give an blem in toomel eh
argen jame oh blem tin meh
playing my mandolin on the moon.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 9:49 PM UTC
Ciao.
Bonjour.
An nyeong.
Hej.
Hola.
Hallo.
こんにちは
Simply Hello.
Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 6:55 AM UTC
Fontefrida, Fontefrida, Fontefrida y con amor,
do todas las avecicas van tomar consolación,
si no es la tortolica que está viuda y con dolor.
Por ahí fuera pasar el traidor del ruiseñor,
las palabras que él decía llenas son de traición;
-Si tú quisieses, señora, yo sería tu servidor.
-Vete de ahí, enemigo, malo, falso, engañador,
que ni poso en ramo verde, ni en prado que tenga flor,
que si hallo el agua clara, turbia la bebía yo;
que no quiero haber marido, porque hijos no haya, no,
no quiero placer con ellos, ni menos consolación.
Déjame, triste enemigo, malo, falso, mal traidor,
que no quiero ser tu amiga ni casar contigo, no.
1k
Hallo sir,
how do you do?
I have a tale,
I think you should hear it.
You come here daily,
for your black coffee,
no sugar and a muffin.
I sound like a stalker,
well that's because I am.
I try to get you attention,
but all is in vain.
Remember the girl you accidentally bumped into,
almost poured coffee on her white blouse,
that was me.
Recall the lady that fainted the other day,
you almost held me before landing,
but someone else was faster than you.
There was a time you almost hit me,
you were driving that nice Pajero,
yet I was fastening my laces,
after a morning run.
I was there on purpose,
hoped you would try to see if I was okay,
but all was in vain,
for you drove away,
without hitting me.
Am no ******
that I promise.
I just think am attracted,
to you.
You may not know it,
but you are one handsome fella,
and your physique,
that is another day's story.
I am out of ideas,
that might get your attention,
so promise me,
that you will notice me,
the next time we meet.
That is all I had to say,
now you may go.
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 4:53 PM UTC
¿Por qué es difícil la poesía?
Como de un venero brotan,
luego perdidos en demasía,
versos al estanque de descartes,
¡tantos que creo se agotan!
Mas, ¿por qué no gozan
de escaño en la verbal melodía?
Alma que al papel hiere con arte
deja como sello un verso.
Sea eso sólo cierto en parte,
no sé si el folio terso
como el cuero se ha visto curtido,
o es de mi pluma fallo,
cubierta por azafrán de marte,
o soy yo que mi alma he perdido,
pues de lineas queda el papel vestido
y poesía en ellas no hallo.
Dec 8, 2015
Dec 8, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
Entre escaques de cristal
perdida está mi alma
entre el azabache y el mármol
mi atontado corazón se halla.
Ven a mí rey de marfil
y libérame de esta desventura.
Corre reina de caoba,
necesito tu abrazo en esta hora.
Venid a mi, oh piezas de cristal,
pues entre escaques me hallo
y sólo vosotras sabéis
cómo encontrarme.
Y sólo vosotras sabéis
cómo he de encontrarme,
cómo he de ubicarme.
Entre la caoba y el marfil,
entre los escaques en que me hallo.
//
Between cristal squares
lost is my soul
among black amber and marble
my numbed heart is found.
Come to me ivory king
and free me from my misfortune.
Run mahogany queen,
I need your hug this hour.
Come to me, oh cristal piezes,
for among squares I am found
and only you know,
how to find me.
And only you know
how I shall find me,
how I shall locate me.
Among mahogany and ivory,
among the squares I am found.
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 4:48 AM UTC
A veces me figuro que estoy enamorado,
y es dulce, y es extraño,
aunque, visto por fuera, es estúpido, absurdo.
Las canciones de moda me parecen bonitas,
y me siento tan solo
que por las noches bebo más que de costumbre.
Me ha enamorado Adela, me ha enamorado Marta,
y, alternativamente, Susanita y Carmen,
y, alternativamente, soy feliz y lloro.
No soy muy inteligente, como se comprende,
pero me complace saberme uno de tantos
y en ser vulgarcillo hallo cierto descanso.
920
En los musgosos bordes de la fuente
Del huerto de tu casa,
Con palabras de miel noche por noche
Juraste que me amabas.
El agua en chorros mil saltando alegre
Recogió tus palabras,
Dando sus ondas música a tu acento
Como amorosas arpas.
Han corrido los años. Cuando busco
La reja solitaria,
Hallo la fuente destrozada y seca.
¡Lo mismo tengo el alma!
Sólo palabras tus promesas fueron;
¡Ay! sí,
¡sólo palabras
Que murmurando alegres se perdieron
Como en la fuente el agua!
895
Fell
in love
too fast...
She admits
that it was one sided
What other relationships
have I fabricated?
What else is false?
Have I meant nothing to everyone
,and has my mind been placing
compliments in
my friends mouths
feeding me
my daily compliments
sweet psychopathic nutrients
I wish I wasn't a *******
push-over sometimes
I think about this
as I carve a pumpkin
and try not to scratch
the new stitches
in the back of my head
I wish they were fake
happy hallo-fuckin-ween
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 3:42 AM UTC
Zu später Stund
grüßen uns die Zweifel
und in unseren Köpfen
sagt die Angst
der ungewissen Zukunft
„Hallo“
Das große Nachdenken beginnt
und lässt sämtliche Szenarien
plötzlich so einfach, so nahe
aber doch so fern wirken
Gefangen
in den eigenen Gedanken
fällt die Flucht
aus diesen imaginären
wolkenartigen
und schwebenden Konstrukten
nicht gerade einfach
Momente zwischen
Realität und Gedankenspielen
lassen uns an unseren Taten, Emotionen
und Entscheidungen zweifeln
lassen uns die Vergangenheit ***** passieren
So unaufhaltsam
und so plötzlich
sich diese grauen Wolken
in unseren Köpfen eingenistet haben
so unvorhersehbarer
verschwinden diese wieder
Wach liegend
in meinem viel zu großen Bett
halte ich die Luft an
schließe die viel zu schweren Augenlider
meine unzähligen Gedanken
fliegen umher
von mir zu dir
Mit der Hoffnung
du fängst Sie ein
Dec 4, 2022
Dec 4, 2022 at 5:21 PM UTC