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At the spot people still glance as they pass, see it empty and give a sigh
You can still hear his cheerful whistling as you go by,
Now the corner where the strange man lived is dull and clear
The spot where he lived, the man from everywhere but here.

The strange man talked of places never seen
He talked of places no one had ever been,
He talked of beautiful princesses, kings and knights
He talked of fierce battles and winning fights,

People who were from out of town thought he was just a little *****
But the local people knew he was the man from everywhere but here.

He talked of Trolls and Giants as tall as the eye could see
He talked of maidens and fair ladies as beautiful as can be,
He talked of conquering fiery dragons without a scrape
He talked of guarded dungeons where he’d always escape.

All the people from far off would say “he’s full of beer”
But all the locals knew he was the man from everywhere but here.

He talked of tall trees and mountains oh so high
He talked of big castles that would scrape the sky,
He talked of great far off enchanted lands
He talked of places where good and evil always held hands.

People ask him if he was ever afraid to die
He’d take his finger and point to the sky,
With the same old sparkle in his eye,
He’d say the day that star up there is gone
That is the day that I will move on.

The people from out of town thought the man was just a little *****
But the locals knew he was the man from everywhere but here.

His cheerful whistling would brighten anyone’s day
His enchanting whistling would make the rain go away,
He’d sit in the same spot all day and talk to the young and the old
He talks to the nicest, the meanest and even the bold.

The people from far off would say “he’s full of beer”
But the locals knew he was the man from everywhere but here.

That winter the clouds rolled in and it snowed for quite a while
But no matter how cold the strange man always wore a smile,
He became so pale he was as white as a ghost
But no matter how cold he still had time to boast.

Boast about all that he had seen and done
Boast about all the pretty ladies he had won,
He’d tell you still about all the people he’d met
He’d tell you about all the sly traps he’d set.

The people from out of town thought he was just a little *****
But all the locals knew he was the man from everywhere but here.

The winter wore on and so did the snow
But the strange man never looked low,
That night the clouds rolled away
To reveal that the stars had gone away.

The next day the man had vanished out of sight
All that was left was his blanket and pipe,
The man never came back after that day
But his cheerful whistling will never go away.

At the spot people still glance as they pass, see it empty and give a sigh
You can still hear his cheerful whistling as you go by.
Now the corner where the strange man lived is dull and clear
The spot where he lived, the man from everywhere but here.
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2018
My Court is a battle
As a Queen, I will endure
so my kingdom thrives

Standing in gardens
My treasure trove of colours
that never fails me

Flowers bow gently
The winds make the tall trees sing
Rivers flow calmly

Scents drift in the light
I hear its sweet melody
As I stand with pride

A Queen now enters
The daughter of Spring and Deer
The tender Queen Fawn

Who smiles so sweetly
Fragrant, soft-spoken and kind
With deer by her side

Another Queen comes
The angel with a kind heat
The gentle Queen Sue

Who has healed her wounds,
broken her chrysalis
And spreads her warm light

Another Queen comes
Wise and soon to be married
Joyful Queen Donna

Who goes with the flow
A talented haikuist
with a flower crown

Another Queen comes
She who is always giving
The giving Queen Kim

Whose crown's a halo
And her words, so spiritual
fragrant and calming

Another Queen comes
Who has birds singing so sweet
The sweet Queen Robin

Who is a true joy
Whose words are just like music
A kindred spirit

And now a King comes
Who is very much like me
The great King Omni

Who is an artist
Who is both seen and unseen
Very much like me

Another King comes
Ever so mischieveous
The playful King Paul

Such a playful tease
He who makes me smile and laugh
And looks out for me

Another King comes
His heart is strong and tender
The wise King Edmund

Who writes for himself
Speaks so well of others and
how vital love is

To these Kings and Queens
Thank you for your melodies
You are golden souls

For now I do see
The true power of my quill
My ink is gold too

I write out my life
My pain, my fears and my loves
And my achievements

I must stay above
I will walk with my head up
and ignore the bad

People will hate me
But I will thicken my skin
to be a true queen

I will empower
And give you all your respects
and never denounce

I am a true Queen
With a Court that is growing
steadily but strong

The reign of Queen Lyn
Who is sensitive and shy
It has just begun
To these poets in particular, thank you so much for pushing me forward!
I'm grateful to everyone here to all my fellow poets on HP
You're all Kings and Queens of your own right!
Much love and blessings!
Lyn ***
When Dagobert adorned Franco caves,
Clovis iniquity built a realm portentous?
Ate fruit from olden, -licentious ways…

Portentous realm thus be-stow-ed,
No king in truth but a nave?
Nave only to a Catholic po-et.

Hearken crier old kingdom days,

Oh Franco brave!
Oh Franco brave!

Oh Franco brave!
Oh Franco brave!

In regret of Dagobert's disturb-ed grave.
Hisham Alshaikh Aug 2018
Brave men fighting
Knights crawling
Strong men dying
Kings crying
Emperors imploring
Kingdoms falling
Empires collapsing
Poets writing
Musicians performing
Paintings begging
Statues Kneeling
For a glimpse of your eyes


--Hisham Alshaikh
Glimpse of Your Eyes. Version 1.
I think
what saves today’s commercial xmas hype
from being absolutely nauseous
is the wide-eyed joy of children
when they open their gifts
and find their dreams come true

a faint echo
of the joy in the eyes of the Kings
when after their long travails
they discovered the baby of their dreams
had miraculously become reality
Lyn-Purcell Aug 2018


~ ♡ ~

A
dark day
has befallen the
Court of Hello Poetry
How it saddens me to see
the good Queens and Kings
to suffer at the hands of jealous
enemies who seek to destroy others
and their Kingdoms. Though she was
exquisitely dressed, she had a humble
heart; many had a good word about her,
though I did not get to meet her, though I
did not see her,     I could see the light she
had shine in the hearts of others.        She
had a wonderful smile       but invaders;
false Kings and Queens        spewed
nothing but abuse,               and it
made      her      surrender
her crown

~ ♡ ~

I
could only
watch as she
grabbed the ends of
her silk skirts and run out
of the bustling halls, tears down
her soft face.     I could not reach
her but at the dawn,        from the
balcony,          I saw the ship sail
away,         towards the sunset
into the unknown.      How
my heart is so
heavy

~ ♡ ~

To
see a
true artist,
a true queen
leave forever. At
seeing her tears, her
crying soul staining the
floral marble floors, and the
invaders   feeling   satisfied   at
her    pain   and her 'destruction'
Those   who   dare   to  denounce
are   never  Kings  or   Queens.
To be so jealous, so insecure
and think you led her to
her 'destruction'

~ ♡ ~

I
will say
this - you may
have won the battle
but  you will NEVER
win the war. Because the
true   Kings and Queens will
band   together,  we  will  stand
together    to protect our haven  for
we see, we know who the true artists
are.  I will continue to shed tears of pain
and   sorrow for the loss of this artist,  but
I will always hope that when the sun rises
she   will return to us once more. She  will
never leave our minds, she has touched
so many hearts. Her legacy, her reign,
her   kingdom will always    stand
eternal, will stand immortal
now and always.

~ ♡ ~



Had to get the turmoil off my chest.
This one's for Vicki
Lyn ***
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2018
When I think of all the tears and turbulence life has
given me, it sometimes makes me hard for
me to forgive this world

I usually would find peace in the solitude
and my waters would be still. I'd
honestly prefer that than to
feel alone amidst this
sea of life

But now, I've learned to dance with the
naiads by the Springs of Many Lives.
With her hand in mind, the life-stream
strums and begins to form rings

Each ripple made is a bond that
grows stronger in time
Each one beaming
with many hues

Now I see, the true beauty of life.
The waters will run hot, cold and
warm. We all will dance
different dances.

But the Naiads show me the beautiful
bonds I have made with my fellow
Kings and Queens on HP from all
walks of life who wear their
crowns with pride.

That is a life I yearn for.

For my diadem to be made of
pure starlight.

For me to have such understanding
makes me shed true
tears of joy.
I'm back! And I'm not feeling as stressed as usual so I'll be able to finally share my work! My course has been crazy! A lot has happened today. Today we were supposed to pick someone from the whole group and pay them a compliment on what they're great at - and surprisingly, people did pick me (I got like 2 or 3 compliments regarding my bubbly energy and passion as well as my knowledge!) I'm still flattered and surprised, so it meant alot to hear that.

This poem is inspired by Sue's 'Naiads poem! ^-^
Got more coming along the way!
Thanks so much, everyone!
Lyn ***
KMH Mar 2018
Made, Made, Made,
We are made into what we are.
We are made
Into monsters,
Into dreamers;
          Believers.
We make ourselves;
Make each other.
We make our kingdoms
and our own personal Hells.
We are the queens of our realms
          And the kings and princes
We are the villains
The rabble-rousers
The Revolutionaries.
We are the killers
        Of our enemies
        Of our own
        Of the land.
We are made into what we are
And oftentimes,
It is not our fault.
Who are you?
How will you make yourself?
© KMH 2018
CK Baker Dec 2017
sages and brethren
gather, and share
and slowly souls
are bared
their tempered voices
and quiet eyes
reserved of judgment
with passing smiles

moments blend
in current trends
opinions wide
and reflections deep
the concepts
and irregularities
once murky
now clear

they prioritize
and familiarize
that staunch resolution
of generation net
will remunerate
and illuminate
through the checkpoints
and formal reviews
through the purple curtains
and open stage
nothing tainted
or bitter
left for taste

cause its they
who’ll plant the seeds
the captains of commerce
healers and jugglers
the coaches and councilors
negotiators and compromisers
the kings and queens
hustlers and hellcats
(who've all found their way!)
let us tip our hats
and salute them
Alyssa Underwood Dec 2015
grace on a birch branch
a pair of silky redbreasts
among red buds of spring
no worry about tomorrow
for God feeds them today
and clothes them as kings
lmbf Jul 2018
Her touch is warm like a fuzzy blanket. She wraps one around in the cadence of her voice; it's like an old song one had forgotten about, quietly humming in the foreground. Her smile beckons, both as a siren and as an old lover. One listens to her speak and wonders about all the galaxies whirring around in her mind.

And when I look at the curve of her spine and the ***** of her chest, for the first time it makes me want to explore that place. It is the sacred place where kings and queens are written into existence, where love and pleasure and sometimes even pain collide with an unending force. I wonder what she could do to take me there. And I think of what I could do to make her escape this broken universe with me, if only for a few moments.
// Summer Freewrite Sessions 2018
Lyn-Purcell Jul 2018
Air is perfume-light
Elbows sank in my pillow
I wake from slumber

Chamber door opens
Handmaiden brings good tidings
from outer Kingdoms

Holds a silver tray
With scones, jam and honey for
some chamomile tea

Steaming hot china
which I blow and gently sip
I hum in delight

Come, some scrambled eggs
With toast and ice-cold fresh fruits
Lemon slice in tea

The handmaiden speaks
As she opens the curtains
The sun shines brightly

Many ships have docked
My kingdom grows in strength
and in its beauty

Another handmaid
Holding a tray of pure gold
I see its contents

White and gold letters
Written by your regal hands
Kingdoms near and wide

Handmaids open them
So many sweet messages
Blessings and congrats

While sipping my tea
I ask for my page and quill
Write with golden ink
THANK YOU GUYS FOR 140 followers,
my fellow Kings and Queens of HP!
And thank you for all your sweet messages- for wishing me well on completing my film course! I had such a good week and not only did it do wonders on my overall confidence, it helped me with my writing also!
Welcome and thank you for helping my Kingdom grow here! ^-^
Sending love and blessings to you all!
Love you guys!
Yours sincerely,
Queen Lyn of Aurelinaea.
Xoxoxo
Pricers Feb 12
The day came and was gone before it ended the father said did you dream about it or did you hear the devid talking his mind without words only action I heard somebody I thought I heard myself the sire said through his eyes to the King
Vexren4000 Oct 2018
Tales of tribulation,
trail and error,
Times long gone,
eras of myth and men,
Gods and legend,
Even the mightiest of statues crumble,
The largest of kingdoms fall,
To assume it will not happen to us,
To the world at large,
Is foolhardy and childish.

©BAS
The mornings sun which bright the day with morning clouds have gone away ,
and all that’s left is true and foul of rain that soddens and all but drowns
Sheep once grazing in their fields washed away to tidel yield
Storm clouds that hid the coming blast ,
Callum arrived in dark night clouds ,
thick with black the morning broke to this vale of tears .

These storm clouds that pass above will one day enter our fortress
of love .
The castle I built with moat and gate will one day flood our love to take .
heavy rain clouds from the past will dampen and drown what we
held fast .
It’s morning sun that dews yet crown will turn to sewage in the ground .
Oh morning sun that brightened my day on silver clouds take you away ,
from once green Welsh fields were our love was found away from this sodden heavy ground .
As Callum’s clouds move ever on let us once more hear
the birds morning song ,
You could be my castle dear and we can wipe away our floods of tears .

" Then you shall be my king my love ,
we shall Soar on clouds above .

On dragons wings
with loving hearts ,
above the lake of yesterday,
vanquished with our dragons fire
and our forever beating hearts .



'
CK Baker Feb 2017
There’s a silverback haze
on the shallow face
of the Rockwell Ridge
folded brow
puzzled chin
and dark hollow eyes
keeping watch
over the lilies
and crane flies
and will of the wisp

Rust brown ravens
and fisher kings
delight
in the reeds off north bend
(chased by the terraced streams!)
youth blades engrain
on the favoured
and historic
Banka Memorial

Mustard
and pumpkin skies
are clipped
by a call from
the resident loon
the sounds of Buddha Bar
piercing the silence
and shaping the afternoon chord

It’s a time to make way (stream side)
seems the anuran are courting
ChildofGodyay Jun 2018
You should never hate yourself.
You should never sit in a crowded room and feel lonely.
You should never feel abandoned in a group of friends.
You should never change yourself because of other people's opinions.
You should never think you are not enough.
Please don't hate yourself.
Please don't feel lonely.
Please don't feel like an outcast.
Please be yourself.
Please, you are enough.
Please.
If you ever think no one loves you,
just know that the King of kings, the Lord of lords, loves you so much.
But I know sometimes you will feel this way.
I understand, but maybe I don't.
Just, please.
Don't hurt yourself.
In any way.
Please.
heyoooo,
Well, you should never ever feel these way.
love yourself and stay true!

wow wow wow, i did not expect this to happen, but anyways, i really hope all of you are blessed and that this poem helped you!! God bless yall! truly humbled...
His army perched above in trees,
Watching the front become a feast,
Who wins, care not, in the least?

"The cawing clan of Koronos..."

The thousands black they view the fight,
Staying late for supper -feeding at night...
Picking tender morsels in illumed moon-light,

"Swarthy minions of King Koronos!"

Corvid follow Man wherever he may go,
Feathery tomes of knowledge their treasure trove,
The messengers in the House of Jove...

"His static barbizon Aves; Koronos!"

There are many kings who come and go,
Becoming part and parcel in a wicked show,
But none of them will ever match the Crow...

"Engrosser of the dead; Koronos!"
Koronos is a king from the pseudo-historical Hercules accounts by Appollodorus and Pausanias. His name means, "Crow," in Greek. With the title this piece contains 96 words and two types of verse; rhyming verse and verse. Adding the metered count by line number you get 6, 7, 7, 8, and 20 or 48 times two types of verse; 96. So the metered count works two ways as the Greek and Hebrew mystics intended. The Greeks doublet'd coronae with the Celtic Kornus. The Greeks may be word-playing off Coronae saying that the King does anything and everything that is seen as good and bad?
Eric Babsy Sep 2018
Here you have gone and hit your head.
The heart beating like a clock makes the rivers run red.
Eating makes you grow fonder.
Drinking makes sink much further.
I can only imagine what garden awaits your grand design.
Seeing it out to the end makes it very fine.
Here you are again.
You are seeking out your friends.
Who awaits you at this party?
Your grandma, uncle, and your cousin Marty.
As you can see;
“No party of your own” they plea.
Maybe meet someone down at the beach.
“Ignorance is bliss” is the only bliss they teach.
Now here you are in king’s court.
“I am the queen” they snort.
Here you are again now with your blood roses.
What you did right as rain; they know you did, and you know this.
So let us take a walk through the forest.
This is the only place no one is trusted.
What you want to see catches your eye.
Nothing about the chain smoker and the other guy.
Because now you are seeing yourself look back.
The kind of quality some people lack.
Now as the beast draws near.
You wake up; it was playing on your fear.
The floods are violently rising
against the glory
The clouds of adverse winds
blowing war in boom
All hope perishing in perilous
hopelessness

Rising in glory the King of kings
who is mightier than the voice
of many waters
Rebuking the enemies, swallowing them in victory as my soul magnifying Him who is more than sufficient!

The triumphant King rides in victory on the swirling flaming contours of the world gyrating circles.

Praise the triumphant King of glory my soul and forget not not His greatness which tamed and put to rout all adverse winds.

Magnify the immortal God O my soul with all within and without walls of my existence.

Praise Him!
Praise Him in His power!
Praise Him in the praise!
ConnectHook Sep 2017
White folks: pack your bags and go.
Our nut-brown world is quite offended.
Make your shame-faced exit NOW,
and leave your mansions unattended.
Wait—before you pass the doors,
it's time to settle ethnic scores.

No more ragtime Minstrel show.
Our Moorish science took it down.
Black lives matter. White, less so—
now move your pale face out of town . . .
but first, shell out for racial shame
Caucasian losers of the game.

Cultural pride is ours alone:
kings and Egyptian queens we were.
The glories of our race, well-known
bedazzle in a darkened blur
(clear to Africa's descendants—
puzzling to you white dependents).

Blackness lent your world its light,
taught the Dutch to tend those flowers.
Scandinavia grew bright
under our beneficent powers.
Negroes gave your blondes their beauty;
helped those Norsemen shake their *****.

The Seven Wonders of the world:
we built them all. No vain conjecture
dims our banner, black, unfurled,
above eternal architecture.
Arts and knowledge gained from us
are what we threaten to discuss.

We invented math and science
which you robbed from Timbuktu.
Swarthy wisdom's brave defiance
caused Old Europe to renew.
All our treasure that you plundered
testifies: your days are numbered.

Classics of our Greeks you stole:
Philosophy was never yours.
Shame upon your racist soul;
for Bach and Mozart both were Moors.
Misappropriated treasures
call for ruthless hard-line measures.

Latino fate falls next—but, where ?
Jews, Turks, and Arabs: are you. . . white ?
Orientals everywhere:
choose your side and join the fight.
Blackness rising! Late the hour;
heed your call to fight the power.

Crackers need to check your race—
stop rooting for that ****** clown.
Rednecks all up in our face;
racist throwbacks got us down.
But as your statues bite the dust
your light goes dark (you know it must).

So move on out, oppressor, thief.
Long have you held our nation back.
In some white galaxy seek relief—
but here the light itself is black.
Stars are racist. So is the sun.
Now let God's great black will be done.
Truth is stranger than:
http://tinyurl.com/yc9va3pl

Candace Owens understands . . .
Tommy Randell Sep 2017
Sunday's always slow on HePo
I guess it's the morning after the night before
Poets on a binge downing cocktails of words
Knocking back shots of full strength adverbs
Roaming the streets looking for a Slam
Mixing it up with other writers on the lam

Authors and Copywriters, Journos and Hacks
Having a night off to get their mojo back
Mixing it up with the masters of Rhyme
The kings of metaphor and the fast ... punch ... line
A quick iambic with a Martian twist
Getting it down with the New Formalists

Can't blame them for having some fun
For not getting that daily poem done
But Hello? Poetry! Is now my goto place
When I wake up to my Hello<Poetry face
I don't want Sunday to be quiet and hung-over
I'm in bed and I'm ready and ******* I'm sober!

Tommy Randell 17th Sept 2017
Playing with all kinds of things here as well as referencing HePo's seemingly random ubiquitous titling games :
'Martian Twist' is of course a reference to Martian Poetry (qv) followed by another to The NewFormalists. Overall, the fact writing is some kind of drug for us with the (often) letdown after a writing binge!

'<' is as usual pronounced 'less than' 8-)
Stephen E Yocum Aug 2018
Power is indeed a corruptive force,
Through all of mankind’s history
This has always been true.
Emperors, Kings, Potentates,
Popes, Presidents and Despots too.

Gathering near the Throne are the
Eager Courtier leeches reaching to
touch the anointed one’s robe.
Declaring their undying loyalty,
In the process selling their souls.
Their rewards, a speck of personal power,
Castles and new riches of gold.

Like their Master, the entitled ones
will lie and cheat, while ignoring
The principals of right and good.
Believing “Decency” is but a
poor man’s word, Never uttered
within the hearing of the Ruler.
Never a considered artifact of
absolute power.

The slaves, serfs, the common people
Matter not, but to serve the needs of the Ruler.
The power elite will start needless wars,
or offer up sacrificial lambs, all to distract
the unrest of the common man.
They will suppress human rights,
free speech and defame, banish
or imprison their detractors.

All merely smoke and mirrors to conceal,
Controlling agendas of personal greed.
From ancient times down to today
This cycle repeats. Now we are living
our own Textbooks history of tomorrow.

Kingdoms and Nations have perished
From this kind of poisonous corruption,
Needless to say, it will happen again.
Perhaps it already is.
Unless this write is too obtuse, We all
need to change our history to come.
Stand up and speak out and vote.
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