"repost" poems
"DEAR BLANK CHALLENGE" PLEASE PLEASE READ THIS AND REPOST TRY TO KEEP IT GOING: HELLOPOETRY "DEAR BLANK" CHALLENGE SECRET SANTA POEMS EXCEPT NOT SECRET AND NOT SANTA RANDOM ACT/POEM OF KINDNESS STRANGER POETRY APPRECIATION
I thought it might be nice to do like a secret santa thingy on hellopoetry only not secret and not santa… what I mean is, find a random stranger you literally have never met and do NOT know at all whose poetry you like and spend actual time genuinely reading their work, picking out your favorite lines and responding to them, pondering them, etc. Write something positive to them and post it as a poem with their name in the title. The “DEAR BLANK” challenge only you put their name instead of “blank”. I think we could all use a little recognition that we exist and are worth something since everyone seems a little depressed on here (including myself) which is fine, it’s a great outlet but it would be nice for people to just spontaneously find that a random stranger spent time in their life just to recognize you and care about your poetry. To write a kind poem/letter to them responding to lines in their poetry. If you need an example I just posted DEAR IMALRIGHT which was exactly what I meant. Check out imalright's poetry btw it is amazing.
I plan on doing for more than one person and I'd love for you to do the same. Spread a little kindness, we could all use a little.
Also message me if you are going to do the challenge and message the stranger you do the DEAR BLANK challenge for so they know to look for and read your poem.
I just thought that Imalright who was a perfect stranger to me seemed like a wonderful poet and a wonderful person based on her poetry so I chose her.
You do that too if you accept the DEAR BLANK challenge.
INCLUDE DEARBLANKCHALLENGE AS A HASHTAG IF YOU DO THE CHALLENGE SO EVERYONE CAN FIND THEM
please repost this over and over so we can get as many people involved as possible and try and make a difference in a couple people's lives because I just want to make everyone feel loved but I'm just one girl, I can't do it alone. Please help me with this and join me in the DEAR BLANK challenge. Take time out of your day to properly appreciate someone's poetry who you do not know.
PLEASE REPOST LET'S GET EVERYONE INVOLVED!!! ;D
THANKS!
-EMBER EVANESCENT
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 1:41 AM UTC
like yours
if you'll reciprocate
follow you
if you'll follow me
repost mine
repost yours
pump up those
double discount
quantitative adulations
making everything here,
cheapened and discounted
“Oh, what a tangled web we weave...
when first we practice to deceive.”
standalone
on your merits own
the only way to stand
upright
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 7:49 AM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is not a poem. This is about a poem.
Poems require words. This poem does not require words.
This poem requires memories' muscles.
This poem requires what is called colloquially love.
Learn that what we share here is not poetry.
Your poetic senses that produce the words that mark you present
are but surgical tools to extract, release the whole and the parts of you that help shape that single sense borning in your chest that defines you at any particular moment.
Quæ est mater Laureat.
She is the Mother Laureate.
She is the boundary you must learn to cross to be more than a re-arranger of letters and alphabets, but a translator of the human essence and fill our veins with the a sense of awe and wonder felt when we read each other and think aloud,
"yes, exactly, that was and is precisely what I was feeling."
She is the glue that keeps us sticking here, sticking together, each of us sticking to it.
You do not know her?
No worries, she will find you when you least expect it, perhaps
when you need it.
This is not a poem. This is a human who's a poem.
Understand the difference and then you may begin a journey
that has no destination other than weaving the connective tissue that makes us anticipating excited when we log on.
Happy Birthday Mother Poet Laureate!
I do not think I can write a better not poem for you.
Forgive me then, if going toward, I repost this every
October 24th as long as the chemical composition of
blood, God, spirit, logos or reason runs free within,
exiting as words encased in tears that formulate into
human poetry.
nattyman
P.S.There are 800 poems here with Sally in the title, and least 700 are about Sally B. If you like, please feel to free to add yours, old or new.
Oct 23, 2017
Oct 23, 2017 at 12:42 PM UTC
Evening shimmers wet with Autumn rain
It's sheen reflectors, mirrors, eyes
Of cavorting shadows amongst the fey
Like city tinsil this Samhain night,
Oh how lovely colors celebrate
With ghostly kin & youthful lights...
With circus-painted skins and facade
Of candied ghoulish grins,
How sweet & innocent the haunted highs
Infects each home, "trick'r'treat" of hymns.
Laughter like All's been forgiven,
All seems right, again...
Though hidden faces - forgotten sins,
Speak sie la vie this holiday,
With carved pumpkins, witches' cry,
Screams are as illusion as the fright,
This Samhain evening’s tide .
It's all babes and monsters ball
This hallowed eve
This Samhain night
Tra la li, tra la lay
Then tomorrow is Hop tu naa...
The days after for all our saints...
Come the winter will be white,
As the ghosts this Samhain night.
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 7:17 PM UTC
his writing caught everyone’s attention
like an artist i once saw on the street in québec
he stood out amongst the crowd in montréal
i asked to take his picture
he obliged
this writer is also canadian
and paints masterpieces
with words
his colorful lines sometimes float on jagged edges
brushes of sticky sugar coating are exchanged
for starker strokes of reality
tinged with weathered wisdom
creating shadows in his work
accentuating the light
there’s not a write of his
that does not stir emotions
his words linger
rolling around in your head
bumping into each other
morphing into new connotations
his easel alive
you wonder if he did that on purpose?
could anyone have that kind of talent?
yes…..his brush continues flowing
even after the paint is dry
suddenly at midnight i awaken
and hear another morsel
a word, a phrase, a color
that only made itself known
in the dark of night
understanding he's a favorite
i imagined audibly hearing a collective sigh
when he contracted cancer
would he now leave his canvas dry?
no, this courageous artist
bravely took his palette
and continued painting
his words that us awaken
now e’vn more radiant
with tragedy astride
and ‘tho he talks of dying
i pray that he will stay
but should his spirit fly
we have seen a master show us
how to walk into the light
©2016janetaylor
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
You have a bright smile
And you live in a dark world
Life will dim your shine one day
As your age goes up
Your hope will plummet down
Into an abyss of despair
I'm not going to tell you
It will always turn out
okay in the end
Because sometimes
It won't
But I believe you're strong enough to face it all
So I'll give you three words
To cling to through the darkness and the storms
That don't get better
Since some won't
I give you the strongest three words I can offer you
So be brave little warrior
I love you
REPOST IF YOU HAVE A LITTLE WARRIOR YOU LOVE IN YOUR LIFE
Please comment I love to read them!
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 11:20 AM UTC
If you are going to try and unravel my secrets
expect to get tangled in them
...and there isn't always an escape
Repost if you have secrets
Comment! I love to read any thoughts you have or stories you wish to share :)
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 2:35 PM UTC
I admire your each step,
I admire the mystery around you,
I admire each syllable of every poignant word you press to paper
and the words you do not.
I admire the love you proclaim to have for her,
and if I knew her,
I should think I'd admire her too.
I don't know you
nor shall I ever,
but I can still watch you walk the school halls
and wonder what makes you tick,
what your family does and doesn't do,
what you were like as a child
how you became like this
and how you are able to enchant the world with your writing-
making me eternally frustrated with my own-
ranking my words by whether or not you
like or comment or repost them-
which you don't,
thus I feel a failure.
You have a purpose with your words,
something to say
and you say it so strong
and with such beauty
and heartache
I crave the next time you post-
and I'll evermore continue to wonder
how you became so mighty.
Do you work on your poetry or is it natural?
is it because you read so much?
is it because you don't waste countless hours on the computer
or watch TV?
How did you become you
which is so admirable
and mysterious
and deep
and talented
and unique?
I know I don't have a right to ask these questions
and with what little I know about you
I certainly don't have the right to admire you
and I don't deserve to know your life story,
but I'd like to know anyways.
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 4:55 AM UTC
thus by prosecutor charg-ed, with this crime so heinous~ed,
the judge insisted on a super speedy trial, this, a special case-d
"can't wait to hang this ***** be~deviler,
got me a jail, second only to hell,
if he thinks his hifalutin lawyers will get him de-roped!"
I plead guilty to save the state some moola,
avoid the expense of all the attendant hoopla,
but in my tired defense, I said little but this,
it was god who cursed me with this word-ly power!
now I ain't saying I was naturally bad,
but who are you to judge me so harshly ,
when all I did, with a tool god~given, was,
tell people how beautiful they are, so close.
never far, from bringing them forth to their fruition
so my intentions were good, tho my goose is cooked,
loonily, this I truthfully willingly confess, though just as bad,
I was lazy, I was negligent, I am now hell-bent for many
infractions, the greatest, chiefest of them all, was all the times,
!!!!!
***read a poem much beloved by other's on this blue earth,
weak from jealousy jealous, I never...reposted it! for their way
much better than mine, and I was too selfish to praise them,
so I expect I won't be too lonely in perdition, just another poet***
!!!!!!!! addition
*so children, teach your children well
a poet's hell will slowly go by, if they
fail to repost them hundreds of poems
that mak'em gasp~laugh-just plain weep,
for that will really **** (sorry lord) the one
true judge wh gave us this wordy blessing,
and is eagerly awaiting us special*
sinners
and that just might be my one true name…
(Oh sinner~man!
where are you gonna run too)
[{(]})]
p.s. this poem readily available to be reposted ('jes a 'gestion)
even
plagiarized elsewhere, but remember, when you, who stole it,
somebody's a~watching whose
vision is unimpaired.
plus, I got new software invented by Ai trained teachers,
so so, easy to find ya...
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 5:14 PM UTC
A Hello Poetry song
I came on the site today
To see what I could see
I wasn't quite sure how I felt
A bit depressed and wee
I went through my poetfriends
Find someone who could help
Read something uplifting
To reboot myself
I looked at a poet
Who reposts other's ink
And sure enough, I found some stuff
The whole kitchen sink!
I went down the repost rabbit hole
Just to have a look
Down the repost rabbit hole
To read some people's work
Down the repost rabbit hole
To find a different way
Down the repost rabbit hole
I learn more each day!
I'm quite sure you've been there
Looking for someone who
Has ♥'d one of your poems
And found someone NEW!
If you love adventure
And like to be free
Come down the repost rabbit hole
Yes, come along with me!
I'm down the repost rabbit hole
Where it never ends
Down the repost rabbit hole
Finding my new friends
Down the repost rabbit hole
I'm no longer blue
Down the repost rabbit hole
My next friend is YOU!
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 8:59 PM UTC
The moon,
A hollow
Saint Jacques
Shell
Whose kernel
Lovers
And language figures
Had wasted through the flow
Of time,
Came
To this eerie pond
A dry vagabond -
Now a dweller
Of the surface deep.
(C) LazharBouazzi
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 12:04 PM UTC
Okay, so there might be a possibility I have maybe slightly convinced myself that I may theoretically have developed the beginnings of the tiniest dollop of a smidgen of an enormous crush on you.
So please don't break me.
REPOST IF THIS IS YOU RIGHT NOW
please comment I love to read thoughts on my work!
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
***She wants to feel the softness of feathers upon the tips of her toes
Reaching out for comfort that will surely come
She caresses the moments before midnight
With suger kisses so sweet
Like honey coated forgiveness
She smiles into her lovers eyes of crystal dew
Beyond
Her sences reeling
Twirling, dancing
Like the figurine within an ancient music box
As the music surrounds the childs mind so pure
And yet
There is more captured within
The sweetness is soured only by memories
She paints with fingers in the suger
To forget
There are things so worth forgetting
She sees him sleeping and places
mirrors where his eyes once looked upon her
For now she will see herself
The way he see's
The blood from the girl child dried as he slept
There was to be no more sugered moments
No more honey for him to savour
she had seen
Her worth in his eyes
Such a shame sweet child
She should of loved herself with toes touching feathers
Reaching for a comfort
That would only be found in forgiveness of self
Far beyond the place he sleeps
With mirrored eyes of crystal dew
He awakes to find his beloved drenthed in death
He reaches for moments which never come
Her projection of him so false upon this moment
As in a moments seperation
She sees with her angel presence
The suger he tastes on lips so pure
His tears now mingle with the blood
As he tears her mirrors from his eyes
He understands not
The reason
Why white feathers are falling from the sky***
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 5:10 PM UTC
_“perhaps the sun is a teacup, spilled by a girl in a skyhouse who laughs in polka dots–”_
You wrote like someone
who had been listening
long before speaking,
each poem a hush,
each repost a gentle offering.
This space once held you,
your words, your calm curation,
a gentle steadiness
in a shifting field of voices.
take this small goodbye
not as an end,
but as a door left open,
just in case
you return with your light.
Until then,
may strength find you
in soft moments,
and peace arrive
never needing to be earned.
Jul 24, 2025
Jul 24, 2025 at 6:28 PM UTC
Dear Readers,
Tomorrow (10th of September 2016) is a day called Suicide Awareness Day. And I believe it is nothing to be ashamed about. Every 40 seconds, someone is dying because another person did not speak up. This needs to stop.
There are truly beautiful souls out there that are suffering and battling with their thoughts and minds EVERY SINGLE DAY. And I'm not putting it light. I mean EVERY SINGLE WAKING MOMENT OF EVERY SINGLE DAY.The stigma that revolves around suicide , depression and mental health in general needs to permanently dissolve.
It is PERFECTLY OKAY(to talk about your mental illness and/or your struggles...it is not at all healthy to keep heavy struggles within yourself. There are people out there that truly care and that truly want to help...and I know that seems like a lie when you are in a very dark place and that is EXACTLYwhy people need to start speaking about depression and suicide almost as if you are talking about having a cup of coffee. "I'm having a cup of coffee" can be said easily and without any fear, and that is how people who are suffering from ANY MENTAL ILLNESSESshould be made to feel.
We deserve to feel SAFE, SUPPORTED, LOVED , APPRECIATED , UNDERSTOOD. We do not deserve to feel **MISUNDERSTOOD, UNAPPRECIATED. ** And we do not deserve to be looked at or treated as parasites. People with mental illnesses have emotions too, and perhaps too many. People with mental illnesses deserve extra understanding, care and love.
So please, do not be afraid to speak up. Speak to your loved ones; a simple
"Are you okay? I just want you to know I love you and appreciate you" could save someone's life.
- Crimsyy♡
#health #wellbeing #mind #suicideawareness #awareness
Ps: Please repost this if you agree and to show support to those suffering from depression. I promise it won't ruin your profile. Thankyou so much.
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
As her words grab my heart with each and every message or poem I read,
It truly saddens me to be so far in distance, I can't offer her what she may need.
Never have I layed my eyes upon her, I can only Invision her beauty by her poems and words of wisdom.
Her soul sweet as the blooming flowers and heart as pure as gold.
It's as if her soul is that no less than angelic as she has touched many on this site and more.
What saddens me is soon she will no longer be with us as her illness is growing worse day by day,
My Dearest Kim Johanna Baker, there will be a sadness and void on this site and in my heart the day the Lord takes you away.
I hope that she may see this before it's her time to go, for when the other angels come for her I want for her to know.
The impact her sweet soul has left for all of us here on HP, some more than others , some of you like me.
So if you would or care to join me in my dedication to a very loving soul that makes this site so pleasurable, feel free to leave a comment below.
We love you our dear friend , our dear friend Kim!
Please feel free to repost this for the ones I don't know
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 7:53 PM UTC
and a bell in its place
to some, no doubt,
a disgrace
it was to me, i must admit
but new light shines
in place of it
our front page is new,
brighter than ever
and now made by you
trending was all the rage
but (we all knew it) the algorithm
couldn't hold the stage
so now he'll do his part
to get your poem out in front
but that's just the start
next it's up to the community,
a repost, a heart or a plucky thumb
dare I say, it's up to you and me
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 5:28 PM UTC
i can feel spirits of tortured souls
they can crawl right up my spine
they won't let me let the horror go
their suffering is all mine
i can hear voices of murdered dreams
like a ringing in my ears
i ask god why i'm serving screams
i ask why i'm herding fears
i see fingerprints of ****** grips
crimson smudges paint my wall
i write down their troubled scripts
every time those spirits call
audio recording
https://soundcloud.com/gary-loftis/spirits-of-empathys-burden
if you like my poetry, like my page please
facebook.com/Garyspoetrypage
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
Personal REPOST - Not a poem.
~~~~~~~~~
My guardian Archangel is Ariel
known as the Goddess of nature
like I am
Ariel Archangel heals
the planet animals responsible for natural elements
Earth, wind, water, and fire.
Ariel's role as an archangel
relates to inspiration.
Aries people treat breaking up like a sport, and they do not want to lose. Aries would rather dump than be dumped, and so if tension has been building, they're likely to be the ones to initiate the split.
Since Arians want to move on faster than their exes, they're often the first to rebound, but they're rarely malicious and will self defend
as last resort!
Aries-born people are favorited
for theirfierce and independent approach to life being attracted
to their uninhibitedness
and a wild personality.
Aries-born people are attracted to the quirkiness and weirdness of
Aquarians and both get along like a house on fire!
Unlike any other zodiac sign,
Aries is more hung up on the memories they created with the ex-partners than their exes themselves
they avoid competition
For Arians, it's not at all about getting back together, but it is all about the nostalgia that ~hits them hard.~
Aries cannot stand people who try to set the tone in their life!
Aries hate ~intrusiveness.~
Do not push Aries or give them ultimatums-they alone will decide when to call and see you!
Aries are quite confident
energetic and a bit of a daredevil
it's no surprise that their biggest fear is the fear of going unnoticed
or being forgotten.
Aries poeople, Arians, want to make a mark on the world, and they like to have many accomplishments
achievements under their belt.
~~~~~
When an Aries is hurt, they will let you know with their blunt and impulsive actions.
Aries' element is fire making them naturally very passionate,
inclined towards exploration,
and a little bit scary
~when set off.~
Don't tell an Aries a greater lover roams your head
spinning your inner thighs
Your Aries will become
a puff of smoke
and be GONE
Aries born women are
fire and ice cold and hot
symultaneously
in your arms
If you are ever kissed
by an Aries
you are truly loved
cherished and adored
but only if,
if, you reciprocate fully
~~~~~~~~~
Defined by: Karijinbba
Jul 4, 2021
Jul 4, 2021 at 8:02 PM UTC
Independence day, a day to celebrate the birth of a nation and those who fought and currently fight to keep it free.
It is something more at least to me ,it don't have to be limited to just the forth of July
We can have Independence day any day
When some one gets victory over Alcohol or drugs, it is an Independence Day
When someone breaks free from abuse, it is an Independence Day
When troops come home after war and get to be back in their loved ones arms, it is an Independence day
When the Lonely finally make a friend, it is an Independence Day
When the Prodigal returns to a loving family after years or being away, It is an Independence Day!
When emotional chains finally break loose, it is Independence Day
May the rockets blaze across the sky, raise the banners high
It is Independence Day!!!
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 2:17 PM UTC
Every year at Christmas
The tree goes by the wall
I drag the **** thing from downstairs
And I tug it down the hall
The lights go up with tinsel
The ornaments and star
Then I go downstairs and knock one back
Behind my little two tap bar
I've done it now for forty years
Each year, the tree and lights
The tinsel and the ornaments
To brighten up the nights
The cards I get go on the wall
No baking do I do
I go downstairs and have a drink
Sometimes I might have two
The kids, not here, they have their lives
I get a call on Christmas Day
It's far to far to come out here
And there's just no room to stay
The boys have hockey, the girls as well
So they won't be coming soon
They play their first game at three
So I get their phone call right at noon
I put my little Cornish hen
In the oven for my meal
I've got some frozen veggies
And a Christmas ******* for the "feel"
I sit alone at Christmas
I watch the telly, have a beer
It's not the same with out you
It's not Christmas, you're not here
Still every year the tree comes out
I put it where you'd say
We'd move it at least fifteen times
Until it found a place to stay
I drag the decorations out
I've not yet bought something new
I'm here alone at Christmas
With my memories spent with you.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
Above the caldera at Yellowstone,
a brittle soil-rock crust
caps a lake of liquid fire
with only fumaroles and roiling geysers
to stay its upward ******
One errant step is all it takes
to breach that mantle's fragile seal -
spelling death by fire
to any hapless wanderer
who fails to guard his path.
Fragile calderas also roil
buried in darkest hollows of our psyches -
brewed of failures, slights and fears
dissolved in molten pools
of self-consuming misery.
To dress and salve our wounds
we sow gardens of reconciliation within
with beauty, trust and reason
and bow to gods of grace and solace.
But a despot’s studied eye
knows just how to tap our fragile crusts,
releasing acrid lava flows
from pools where fear and rage reign hot
and reason has no district.
Sisters and brothers of our flesh I pray
we find a holy and transforming alchemy
to convert our heat to light
and shield our sacred calderas
from enemies that stalk us from within.
July, 2006, revised December, 2014, 2015 and 2018
Robert Charles Howard
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC
I trusted you with my secrets
I trusted you with my life
I trusted you with my love
I trusted you with details of my strife
I trusted you with my demons
And the darker parts of my soul
I trusted you with my odd sense of humor
I trusted you with me as a whole
I trusted you with my loyalty
And with my lighter side
I trusted you with my failures
And with everything else I hide
I trusted you with forever
And the pain that’s in my eyes
When the only thing I should
Have trusted you with was goodbye
Repost if someone has betrayed your trust...or if you like ice cream.
Please comment! I love to read interpretations of my work or stories or any thoughts you might have on my poetry or even just poetry itself as an art.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
Evening shimmers wet with Autumn rain
It's sheen reflectors, mirrors, eyes
Of cavorting shadows amongst the fey
Like city tinsil this Samhain night,
Oh how lovely colors celebrate
With ghostly kin & youthful lights...
With cirque painted skins and facade
Of candied ghoulish grins,
How sweet & innocent the haunted highs
Infects each home, "trick'r'treat" of hymns.
Laughter like All's been forgiven,
All seems right, again...
Though hidden faces - forgotten sins,
Speak sie la vie this holiday,
With carved pumpkins, witches' cry,
Screams are as illusion as the fright,
This Samhain even tide .
It's all babes and monsters ball
This hallowed eve
This Samhain night
Tra la li, tra la lay
Then tomorrow is Hop tu naa...
The days after for all our saints...
Come the winter will be white,
As the ghosts this Samhain night.
Oct 28, 2017
Oct 28, 2017 at 12:51 AM UTC