"reposted" poems
over the past weeks
a gentle autumn sun
has painted colored leaves
upon the ground
and thinned
the bright abundance
of the wooded ranges
most of the harvest
is securely stored by now
or sold at morning markets
by weathered men and women
in country garbs
vintners are busy with their lots
fermenting grapes
and entertaining those
who see their visit
as pleasant pastime and escape
from daily urban chores
hunters and lumbermen
are waking up
to shoot and mark
schools by this time
have settled into the new year
teachers are happy still to share
the knowledge of our world
with students still inclined
to listen
businessmen
remembering their vacations
on the Bahamas or in Saint Tropez
step sprightly into offices
womanned by secretaries dreaming secretly
of beautiful Mallorca summers
and of those never-ending nights
on the Algarve
I guess it is a human thing
to find a new beginning
and do best
when nature’s breath goes easy
to collect the strength
for yet another fruitful year
or were it better
that we also took a rest?
* * *
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 4:36 PM 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
My heart fills with joy
Each time I see HP notifications coming by.
“Someone loved your poem” makes me believe,
Confidence blooming in words I weave.
I smile while reading comments in delight,
Each word feels like a guiding light.
“Someone reposted it” gives me gentle thrills,
A kindness that lingers, a warmth that instills.
And when my poem starts trending high,
I whisper thank you, with tears in my eye.
Sep 9, 2025
Sep 9, 2025 at 10:59 PM UTC
This poem has been submitted for possible publication. It will be reposted as soon as possible upon final determination. Please feel free to peruse my poesy at your leisure.
Thank you so much,
PrttyBrd
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
One day there was a bright glowing canvas, a pure sparkling white
It was beautiful, but not complete
Then someone came along and drew lines on it to form flowers and mountains and streams, it was more beautiful and it made the natural white look more distinct
Then one day someone else added color and the canvas radiated and became more and more complete, it seemed whole and functional
Suddenly, one day someone came along and slew the canvas, destroying its color till it showed black, and an ugly black
The canvas seems so drab so empty without its color, so lifeless
People refused to help the canvas, refused to anything about the canvas slayer refused to listen to the canvas’ plea
Instead the canvas slayer’s free to roam free to hurt and damage other canvas
Who will restore the canvas?
Who will bring justice?
Why is the canvas slayer free to roam while the canvas feels imprisoned, crushed, victimized?
Why is the canvas treated like a criminal?
When will the canvas feel free, joyful and peaceful?
THIS POEM IS DEDICATED TO VICTIM'S OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AND OTHER FORMS OF ABUSE.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
There was a poet on HP
Who had alot of ♡
He tried to stay
out of the fights
He kept himself apart
He had a love of poetry
He lived for his art.
Talented, he made "the grade"
As "minded" poets do
But he didn't try
to "people please"
And so mean writes
eschewed.
When he encountered
"lesser lights" he didn't
make them blue
But put ♡s on them as well
For their hearts were true.
Time went by... how it did fly!
As if given wings!
He found he had "The Daily"
(When there was
such a thing)
He tried to READ all poets
but could not, everything...
So he decided just to read
The small group
within his ring.
He would NOT be purchased.
He would NOT be sold.
He was TRUE to his beliefs
Of his Faith quite bold.
Not only did he ♡
He gave "thumbs up" as well!
He reposted and was good
In fact, the man was swell!
He had a grateful following
But, as fate is wont
He couldn't keep up
with the load...
Found his health was shot
But he tried to be a light
He tried to give folks thought.
His readership got smaller
It seemed like every day.
He still tried to be genuine
And true in every way
But nobody wanted
him no more
He began to fade away...
Where the
rubber hits the road
He began to PRAY.
If you don't know
who this is,
Replace the "he" with "she"
She believes
And truly grieves
*That poet would be ME.*
♡ Catherine
May 31, 2017
May 31, 2017 at 6:14 AM UTC
Block Me (I Don't Think That you Get How All That Made me Feel About Myself)
We met online
We joked about all the crazy people
The ones you block
Like the girl who wanted to wear my wedding ring
And got her son to give me a ring
Before I'd even met her
Like the girl who turned up in the night on my block
Like the guys who send you all the pictures of their ****
But they're crazy people.
Not like us
We aren't the type you block
We met
We kissed
We did more than kiss
I got to know you
I won't block you
If you won't block me
We both had big issues going on
You said it was hard
But you liked me
I said I understood
I was going through the same
"Yeah, but not like me,
My ex just blocked me out"
"I understand, I've been hurt too
She was a bit like you
But she blocked me out
But I'll support you
Just don't block me too"
I said I was fragile.
I said I'd been hurt - I'd been round the block
I said I needed people to show me understanding, even as a friend.
To show me they cared even when I fall apart.
I said it would happen, right from the start.
I was there for you
I know I was
Not like just a normal friend
I gave you my time
I gave you advice
I gave you my thoughts
I tried to give you my dreams - but I blocked them out instead
I want to let go.
I just can't.
But I don't want you to block me.
I don't want to be the crazy person.
Just don't block me.
I say "I'm hurting"
You hear "you hurt me"
I say "you don't get it"
You hear "you don't care"
I say "I want you to show me you care"
You hear "I need you to love me"
I say "it hurts being so close but not knowing how you feel"
You hear "I don't care what's going on in your life, you should want me anyway"
I say "I need to step away, you should block me"
I mean "I need you to tell me you care about me. I feel like I'm not good enough. I feel like I'm trapped in a revolving door, going round and round. I can't move forward because I care about you so much. I can't pull away because I'll miss you so much.
I can't suggest more because you'll pull away.
I can't suggest friends - I'm unhappy that way.
The only way out is to not see you
or to see you and hurt.
But I don't want you to love me.
I just want to know that you care.
That I matter.
That you're there.
When I need you.
And you aren't doing that.
And I'm hurting so much.
I want to handle it.
But I can't.
I don't want to make you hurt.
Only I need to hurt.
So block me."
Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 1:05 PM UTC
It took a power outage for me to see the light
Of what it is I am really like
To hear the words that you said without the noise
I could listen close, without distraction of toys
I saw the darkness of how I felt surround me
The candle that you lit, so profound within me
Safety, security, as well as desire
Lit so lovingly by that fire
It took a power outage for me to release pent up fear
To see that you are so very near
Never so far away as I sometimes believe
You are here, here with me
You hold my darkness, always at bay
To keep me happy, chase the blues away
I never saw this until the lights went out
When I made the darkness become my doubt
That same darkness that you made light
(C) September 23, 2009 Deanna Repose
Reposted from: blog.deannarepose.com
Sep 23, 2009
Sep 23, 2009 at 7:04 AM UTC
I am in my beach house by the sea
Sat in the chair with a cup of weak tea.
The cup was cracked some years ago
Maybe I should replace it, I don’t know.
I might give the place a lick of paint I think
Perhaps a nice bright blue or shocking pink.
Oh, and I have to make a trip into the town
The dinghy needs looking at, I will get it down
The place smells fusty when I open up at start of year
And I expect everywhere to be slightly damp when I get here!
To be economical I save my old tea bags for next time
I have a cup of tea, look at that washing line.
The knife is a bit rusty and the milk tends to turn
Toaster’s a bit rusty and the bread’ll burn.
The other day a kid stood outside making fun with his mates
Pointing at me, laughing and swinging on my gates.
But I smiled because I’m proud of what I’ve got set up for me
This is all mine, my beach house by the sea.
I make sandwiches, cheese and pickle on white
Wrapped in newspaper, made previous night.
That’ll do me till it is time for my tea
Which I will enjoy in the beach house by the sea.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
A marshmallow slowly roasted over a campfire
Some chocolate oozing down my face
some gram crackers crunching under my teeth
I can't always make smores but I can have some more
I want some more kindness to put a smile on my face
I want to express that kindness to others around me
I want some more quality time with family
I want some more good friends to surround me
I want to be a great friend in return
I want some more compassion to ground me
I want more passion when I write even if it keeps me at night
I want the sight to find the beauty around me and you
Do you want smores too?
Do you want some more in life?
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 9:19 AM UTC
SweetPea!
she put my poem
"The Rain Unseen"
(which was posted a long time ago)
on a few of the
collection sites
she went back into my
archives to find it!
it happens to be one
of my favorite poems!
there are many people who
do this. SweetPea just
gave me an inspiration
what if we did this:
rather than ♥ing a
recent poem
go back into a poet's
ARCHIVE
and look for a worthy
buried treasure?
(a good poem which never trended)
like, and
REPOST
and put on the
appropriate collections
I had a wonderful response
because a lovely poet
reposted a write I'm
very proud of
Thanks to all who
have done this for me
in the past also
YOU ARE ALL WONDERFUL!
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 12:48 PM UTC
those killers of innocents
will die in their own blood
not even mistranslated 72 houris
can save them
the misguided fanatics of Paris
who shot happy civilians
with their Kalashnikovs
and then blew themselves up
will have discovered that
by now
to throw terror and death
into people’s daily lives
is an abominable crime
not a heroic deed
those who instigated the massacre
shall be punished accordingly
fake heroes revealed
as ruthless criminals
shall face judgement
in whose light
their great deeds
are shown as what they are
****** ******
yet – far beyond the proper punishment
required after cruel acts
there is the need to look ahead
and face the somewhat inconvenient necessity to
remove the roots of violence veiled as religion
speak up and stand up firm against fanaticized minorities
no matter in whose name the claim to act
bring peace to regions devastated by the dire games of politics
we simply cannot allow
a bunch of ruthless desperados to dominate our lives
* * *
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
I Believe
.
I believe a butterfly
Can stop a baseball game
I know, because I've seen it
And it really was a shame,
I believe a simple housefly
Can stop a moving train,
I believe single piece of dust
Can also make it rain
I believe in every mountain
There's a pebble on it's own
I believe that every grain of sand
Is a pearl that hasn't grown
I believe that Father Christmas
Is quite real and in your heart
I believe that you can finish
Every task, if you just start
I believe, like Charlie Bucket
There's a golden ticket to be found
I believe that a tree that's in the forest
When it falls, will make a sound
I believe in every mountain
There's a pebble on it's own
I believe that every grain of sand
Is a pearl that hasn't grown
I believe that love's forever
But the one thing about this
I believe forever's infinite
And it may just last a kiss
I believe to stay together
That one's trust, it must be earned
I believe you jump into the fire
Before you know if you'll get burned
I believe in every mountain
There's a pebble on it's own
I believe that every grain of sand
Is a pearl that hasn't grown
I believe that a strong handshake
Will seal a contract, so I've heard
I believe one's reputation
Should be based on a mans' word
I believe that there is wonder
In everything that we may find
I believe that life is better
When you can have an open mind
I believe we're just a heartbeat
In the timeline life has spanned
I believe that every person
Is an ungrown grain of sand
I believe in every mountain
There's a pebble on it's own
I believe that every grain of sand
Is a pearl that hasn't grown
I believe....
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:48 AM UTC
Log in and lose all sense of what and who you truly are.
I see the ******** numbers and even more egotistical statements from people I would consider more typist than writers.
A child with the understanding how to play the game and cheat the system .
I see your trending yet again because your fake ID reposted your newest crap fest while others seem to avoid your work like ***** on the floor of a frat house party.
Ego you have my friend.
Talent for bullshitting well in check.
But as for the page your a child who stares at the ocean scared shitless from the shore .
It must be fantastic being the greatest swimmer never to set foot in the pool.
This write is dedicated to a certain poet who if I mentioned .
Well his ego would just tell him hey at least someone's paying attention.
Your trending yet again and at the end of the day .
When you step away from the comp your just a ******* with a overinflated ego and some fake *** numbers .
And if are paths ever cross you may ask.
Hey aren't you?
And my only reply will be .
Yes I will take fries with that.
Fin
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 10:37 AM UTC
I listen to the sound of the breaking waves
Smell the salt tang in the air
I watch the graceful seagulls
Ride the thermals way up there
No sound of human voice, no strident car alarms
I sit in natures solitude enraptured by her charms
The sea reflects the sinking sun in hues of red and gold
I'll never tire of such things though I grow grey and old
The first gleam of the evening star appears in the ever growing dark
And the golden crescent of the moon begins her journey through the night
No words of mine can best describe natures perfect charm
This is peace, a perfect peace, tranquillity and calm
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
I was overwhelmed by the enthusiastic response this poem received when I posted it last month. As it seemed to resonate with the current prevailing mood, I figured I'd try a quick spoken word video to go with it.
Thank you again to everyone who commented on, liked, added and reposted the written version.
https://youtu.be/wGxRvuMWCig
Credit for filming and editing goes to Cornelius Something of Manufacturing Content
manufacturingcontent.co.uk
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 4:20 AM UTC
This poem has been submitted for possible publication. It will be reposted as soon as possible upon final determination. Please feel free to peruse my poesy at your leisure.
Thank you so much,
PrttyBrd
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
recently
after every massacre
by some fanaticized pathological idiots
politicians call upon their citizens
to come together
and pray for the murdered and their families
this is absolutely appropriate
but it seems
that ever since 9/11
the nation only comes together
AFTER more of its members have been killed
I wish very much
that the nation
AND politicians
would come together
BEFORE the next massacre
and take appropriate action
to prevents such disasters
in the first place
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 6:21 PM UTC
This poem has been submitted for possible publication. It will be reposted as soon as possible upon final determination. Please feel free to peruse my poesy at your leisure.
Thank you so much,
PrttyBrd
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 12:13 PM UTC
for those whose mothers are no more
the annual business hype of what to give
and where to take your mother
is but a sad remembrance of loss
stirring up memories of happier times
when she was still a pillar in your universe
loved and revered, and sometimes feared,
who taught you, patiently or not,
the basics of survival in your expanding world.
She knew, while you were as yet unaware
that all her loving preparations
would over time mean separation.
When you struck out to shape your life
all by yourself and left her with her fears for you,
her wishes, and the hopes that what she tried
to give you was enough and right,
your heart and mind were elsewhere, far away,
focused upon the future of your independent life.
Your years run fast and busy, and suddenly one day
you stand before her coffin
and discover that it is too late
for all the questions never asked.
What you have left are memories
and a vague sense of having missed the chance
to see - and maybe even understand a little -
the woman she has also been
throughout her life, behind her loving face
of a dear mother’s care and grace.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
Sitting here, waiting
For the fun to start
To keep the good times rolling
Waiting, in near silence
For the car to pull up
For the plane to board
For the lights to dim
For the music to start
Waiting
But not impatiently
Just in anticipation
Wondering what the waiting will bring
Some new adventure
A different perspective
A newfound hope
An old love found anew
Something different to do
Love this feeling
Waiting
© November 7, 2009
Deanna Repose
Reposted from: blog.deannarepose.com
Nov 7, 2009
Nov 7, 2009 at 2:02 PM UTC
This poem has been submitted for possible publication. It will be reposted as soon as possible upon final determination. Please feel free to peruse my poesy at your leisure.
Thank you so much,
PrttyBrd
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
Today's barren tree is tomorrows fruitful harvest
live life expectantly
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 1:59 AM UTC