POEM FOR IMALRIGHT
Dear Imalright
I discovered your poetry and LOVED all of it. I was struck by lots of what you wrote and it inspired to write this to you. I promise you I mean every word of it.
I read your poems:
Unexceptional
Unbeautiful
Anxiety at 3AM
Two sad teenagers
Relapse
Fifteen
Starving artist
2014
Nothing special
Rough Edges & a dorky face
Under eyes
I adored them and spent the better part of a full day, hours and hours combing through the verses, dissecting the poems, analyzing the words and fully appreciating your incredible work. I picked out my very favorite phrases or yours that I found particularly powerful and moving and responded to these lines. I wanted to start a challenge. (In fact I posted this challenge as a poem, you can find it on my page).
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. I just thought that you seemed like a wonderful poet and a wonderful person based on your poetry so I chose you, Imalright. So here it is:

Your head whispers these words that crawled onto the page:

We're the kind of people that fade into the background

that people forget are in the room.

-Imalright

I won’t say something that the rest of society seems to think fixes everything. I won’t tell you the typical: you are important to everyone, you are not just a faded part of the background, people do notice you etc. because those are empty words everyone uses and they people who are always pretty in the spotlight are always the ones to say it, so what do they really know about the background, forgotten, white-noise people like us?

I will tell you, instead, I know it hurts like hell to be forgotten. For your existence to go unnoticed. I know being a part of the background is never anyone’s first choice. I am a backdrop-dweller myself. I am the unnoticed girl who blends in with the shadows. There is nothing wrong with that.
Never forget that the starry night sky is a background too. You can still be wonderful without being the center of attention. You can still be wonderful even if you are a part of the background. I want you to know, I noticed your poetry. I noticed you, and your name, and your wonderful talent and I have spent my time dissection every poem you have posted because every single one of them, is a different shade of amazing. We are all backgrounds in someways but what we choose as our phone screen backgrounds tend to be pictures of what we love the best. Pictures of beautiful things. There is nothing unbeautiful about the background. So from one forgotten soul in a room to another, I your poetry was just another account in millions like the stars but you are one of the loveliest sections of this world’s background I have ever seen. Keep that in mind. 







I just wish that I was one of those beautiful things.

-Imalright

Once again, I won’t use a society phrase like: Everyone is special and beautiful in their own ways!! Because people don’t seem to get that no matter what they say, it doesn’t even matter if it is true, but if you tell someone who thinks they are not one of those beautiful things that they are beautiful They. Do. Not. Believe. You. It just doesn’t matter, it won’t change their mind, it doesn’t help and it doesn’t fix it. It just makes them feel like you are lying to them and then they feel vain and self-conscious about admitting to you that they don’t feel beautiful etc. etc. I’ve been there so I know.
So I won’t tell you that. But I will tell you a couple facts instead.

It is a fact, that there is ugly inside of every single person.
It is also a fact, that there is beauty inside every single person.
Because beauty is NOT a definable concept. It is different to every person depending what kind of lens they look through and let me tell you, physical beauty is artificial and even though I wish I could be physically attractive in my own eyes, I have come to accept and I hope you have too or will as well, that a deeper beauty than that is inner beauty. What you keep in the cracks and crevices you made yourself in your soul. I think you are beautiful. I the pages you’ve written on soaked with ink made out of your inner self is magnificent. Your way with words and your flow of thoughts, the way you look at life through an indigo-tinted-one-way-glass-lens, it is all a whispering sort of beauty. Like the soft ringing sound of raindrops skimming the window pane on a grey sky, storm cloudy day. That same sort of delicate loveliness. I think you are a very unique and exquisite color of beautiful unlike any other poet I’ve ever seen. I don’t know you, you don’t know me, we can’t label ourselves friends since I have never spoken to you, but friends are basically socially required to tell you that you are beautiful whereas strangers are bound by no such obligation, yet still I tell you, I find you a person with a beautiful soul. I have only ever seen your poetry, but that is enough for me to know you are a beautiful person. After all, poetry is really where our souls spill what they are truly composed of. If I were to judge your beauty by your face and actions, all those are altered by circumstances beyond our control, society standards and pressure etc. What you do does not define you. Your soul does, however. You are beautiful to me. 







I JUST WANT TO BE LOVED I JUST WANTS THINGS TO BE OKAY

-Imalright
A truthful scream of the heart that many have felt. It’s funny that we all have this same base desire that tends to reveal itself more and more the later at night it gets, and yet we all still suffer the feeling of being unloved and unokay alone and silently. I wish I could reach out and fix you because the pain of others that is out of my reach always pains me more than any kind of physical agony I could ever endure. I can’t fix you though, so instead I offer you the only thing I can, I am with you. As a friend, just another soul on the earth who has felt this feeling you express in this line. I reach out with the hands of my spirit and for your spirit. Maybe if you know that I too have felt unloved and unokay you can find comfort and strength in that. Because no matter what kind of darkness you face, literal or internal, I find being united with someone empathetic to you who knows how you feel makes it just a little less scary even if it is just a sliver of hope for even just a second. It is something and the idea of “hereness’ you know, like being “here” for you, being “with” you in that emotion is all I can offer and I just want you to know, I love everyone and everything until I am given a good reason not to. So in a way, even if not on a personal level (because I do not know you, so I can’t love you on a personal level the way a sister loves a sister or a best friend loves a best friend) just generally, you are loved by me, because I love your poetry and I love all things that haven’t given me reason not to. And do you know what? Even though it hurts and it is unfair, everyone has to be unokay for a little while. I have been too. Maybe you were unokay for longer than what could possibly be near just or humane or reasonable but you were strong enough to pull through. I applaud you for this and want you to know your strength in powering through your unokayness has been recognized and admired. By me. Because the warriors are the ones up at 3AM having anxiety attacks but never let it show and you are a warrior. I am proud to call you a fellow poet.




but being sad and lonely is worse than being sad.

-Imalright
I know what you mean by this line. It is sculpted so beautifully though. The words in the phrase are just so raw and honest. Not over romanticized, just plain relatable great poetry in its true form as it should be. Wonderful. I hope you have found refuge from loneliness or will find refuge from it soon in finding someone else’s heart to call your own and in your heart belonging to someone else.





A new scar for that comment that boy said.
A new scar for that friend that betrayed you.
A new scar for every word you swallow.

-Imalright
That boy has scars of his own and he thought it would make them fade if he cause you to have scars too. ***** him. The betrayal of a friend is a special kind of pain like being stabbed with a knife you made yourself. A pain I know too well and wish no one else knew. Let the scars heal and do not swallow words. You will choke pretty soon if you don’t. Keep in mind that you are worth more than scars. I think you are worth more than scars.






You don't know how bad things are.

-Imalright
First off, I love this line. Just so simple and yet so relatable. There is some beauty to that. Sort of like thorns on a rose stem. Although they can be piercing and ugly there is magnificence that goes along with it. To be 15 and not know how bad things are, you have the rest of your life to obsess over the bad things and how awful things really are. You have the rest of your earthly existence to be broken, so like a child’s smile, at least you had that one moment in your life when things weren’t shattered as far as you knew.





With nowhere to go but everywhere
-Imalright
What an extraordinary thought. Such a liberating idea. You have really inspired me with this one single phrase. Keep in mind, you can be so inspiring to people who don’t even know you (like me) just with your words. You really make such a difference in this world. I have decided after reading this line, I’m going to try and let a little bit of that philosophy into my life. Nowhere to go but anywhere.

And that hope is going to make me stop doing this to myself.

-Imalright
Well, I really hope so too. I hoped for hope to save me for way too long. Eventually you gotta find it in yourself because this world is a little short on Hope, its main export being Despair. Just know you are not alone in this. I wish Hope was something you could wrap and mail it to someone who needs it but I can’t hand you Hope. I cannot offer it to you physically but if it helps at all, if it creates Hope for you, I want you to know that I personally, desperately from the bottom of my heart hope to God, genuinely thinking of you individually as a person that you have healed or are healing or will heal through Hope. If that helps. I have been crumbling, but somehow, after a hell of a lot of anguish, I found Hope. You can too. If it doesn’t help then I offer you my hand spiritually and metaphorically. Stay hopeful, because in this world, that is all we have.






i'm nothing special
im not beautiful
i'm not gifted

-Imalright
I know I can’t change your mind the same way no one can change mine when it comes to how self-image and esteem, but I just wanted to tell you even if you don’t believe me, in my eyes and in my opinion, not saying this to be fake or just being nice. If it weren’t true I just wouldn’t bring it up or say anything about it but you are VERY special. …okay that doesn’t sound good that sounds like the kind of special people put in quotations like: oh, she’s um… you know, “special” alright…
What I meant was, you are special because your poetry has made a difference in my life. You insightful view into life, your precious unprecedented perspective on the world and how you perceive it is very special. I have already explained why I think you are beautiful internally and keep in mind there is no such thing as one type of physical beauty. It is all about opinion and to some person or some people out there, you ARE physically perfect. To them, your physical traits are their definition of beauty because beauty doesn’t have a size, a color or a shape. That is the beautiful thing about beauty. And you are gifted at poetry, that’s for **** sure. Your poems are absolutely toxically flawless I adore them and I really, really mean that. Your writing is close to my heart. That may come across rather creepy sorry about that haha :P but you need to know that you are gifted when it comes to beautiful words.






No one will make me believe that all of my flaws aren't wonderful.

-Imalright
Such a sensational thought and resolve. I really and truly admire and acknowledge your indescribable strength I wish I could achieve to not only accept but embrace your flaws. You are such a strong person and I want to thank you for being such an inspiration to me and the rest of the world, doing that and finding that truth within yourself that flaws are wonderful things.
wondering why i had shattered myself in the process of picking up someone else's pieces

-Imalright

Okay, before I say anything else… omfg wow holy mother of waffles. (That is not a very common expression but I am so struck by the priceless incredibleness of this line I can’t think straight. Also, waffles are good.) This is amazing… how do you come up with stuff like this???!! The imagery, the metaphor, the power of the phrase embedded in the words just… wow. Spectacular. God, I just really, REALLY hope with every ounce of my soul you find a way to repair yourself or someone to repair you because to lose yourself, saving someone else who was broken is so heroically tragic it breaks my heart because you are such a beautiful person.




Dear Imalright
I offer you Poet’s Love.
One poet to another.
I admire your work and your work is made out of little parts of you.
I admire you and your strength, your writing abilities and your outlook on life.
Never ever change.
I hope you find Hope.
Message me anytime should you need anything.
And I want to thank you for being such a strong inspiration to the race of people we call: Poets.
Love,
Ember Evanescent.

Kiss me good night
Just hold me here in your arms
Let me bask in your warmth
I cling to you like I’ll die if I let go
And in someways I will
In someways I did
After you let go
After we ended
A bit of me died away
And now here I am
Cold and scrambling for anyone willing to hold me
Anyone willing to make me warm again
But alas, I am just a snowflake wishing she was an ember.

Old Jim

"I'm grateful for the company

....sit down and I'll make tea"

"It's not often people visit

but, with the cat, us two make three"

He's hiding somewhere here

He's always there abouts

I just have to watch the doorway

I don't want him to get out

We listen to the radio

Can't afford to have TV

It's really not a loss though

Since I now can barely see

Time it takes it toll on you

A little more each day

I wish there was a little pill out there

That helped keep time at bay"

"There's the kettle, whistling"

I'll be back with our fresh brew

The cat won't drink it with me

So I'm only making two

I looked around the little room

All the drapes were closed up tight

It was sunny out and midday

But inside, it looked like night

There was one light in the corner

More for guests than Uncle Jim

HIs life was based on order

This room just wasn't him

"Here's the brew my boy" he said

"As he came back and sat with me

I watched him...two steps forward

One left,  then forward three"

He put the cups down gently

Didn't spill a single drop

He'd memorized his pathway

He knew exactly where to stop

"I've got biscuits, if you'd like"

"Some Hob Nobs from back home"

"I break them out for company

"They're too good for me alone"

I said that I would get them

and I exited my chair

He said they're up on top

But I'd never reach them there"

He came and got a grab stick

He poked and grabbed them from the shelf

He said "This things a lifesend"

"I'd never get them by myself"

We sat and talked for hours

Talked of sports and music too

He said that with his failing eyesight

There's really not much he could do

"It's saved me money someways"

"And cost  more in others though"

"But now that I'm not driving"

"I no longer shovel snow"

Jim, worked hard for forty years

He was a foreman in the mine

He'd been working round the coal for years

In fact since he was nine

He used to run small errands

From the office to the men

He lied about his age though

Jim told them he was ten

He'd retired back five years ago

When it got hard to breathe

"It was all I ever knew boy"

"I didn't want to leave"

Tons and Tons of coal dust

Must have filtered through his lungs

He was  dying slowly daily,

It started showing on his tongue

Small spots appeared which spread real quick

He started treatment right away

He knew the doctor would relieve him

Of his job, reduce his pay

"you know boy, there's a tale they tell"

"of birds down in the mine"

"when the birds fall off the perch stone dead

"Then we men have little time"

"We have to get out quickly

"For the bird has shown our fate

"But think a bit, the gas got him...

"So for us ...it was too late"

"We didn't really watch the bird

"We listened for his song

"For when his voice was laboured"

We knew it wasn't long"

"Dead birds...they meant dead miners"

At this my body jolted

"It;s like shutting up the old barn door"

"Even though the horse has bolted"

I finished up and said to Jim

I had to catch my bus

Jim said, "ok young man, be on your way"

" Now, it's just the two of us"

"You'll be back soon, I hope" he said

I said , "I sure will try"

"I like our little visits"

As he sat there and he sighed

"Just me and Tilly now" he said

As he saw me to the door

Stay safe my boy and oh....

He said "There's one thing more

"when you get on home...please phone me"

"It will make this old heart sing"

"Just phone me up and when you do...

"Let it go for just three rings"

I said I would, "but why three rings"

I asked, not four or five

"Three rings" he said's our signal

"In the mine....that you're alive"

I left and headed homeward

But first I'd stop of at the mall

Then I went home right directly

And I then gave Old  Jim his  call.

The myriad of possibilities
enliven my ******* semantics
somewhere to go when
my slippers tell me not to

The words that i exhale
are the engine that fuels imagination
something to sustain when
my noggin is void

The vibrancies that rattle me
attribute to the found experience
somehow they strum
when my heartstrings are mute

The mountains that topple me
serve demise to my slippery friends
someways i have adapted
now i listen to blue boots

Were you a foreign land,
and in someways you are,
I would mount my trustiest steed,
cross your channel banks,
Marshall my invading column
Into your fruited plaines.
And there encamped under stars
Our two houses would negotiate
Terms of mutual respect and pleasure.
Upon which we would survey our lands
Entwined in milk and honey,
And give promise of protection and eternal fidelity.

Sometimes I wonder if world matters not, as each step and time is progressed to the events of our surroundings. One action leads to another, while we are living in the moments. In grand scheme of things what are our contribution to the world, and then what is it that we try to achieve? Sure we want to live our lives in the fullest It can offer, but at the end of our lives in this world what is it we try to achieve? Judeo christianity offer the answer that we are given utopian after life for our great deeds, or eternal flames of damnation for not accepting god's gift! In Hindi or Buddhism it is the leaving our personal desires, and be part of God or obtain the eternal nirvana respectively! While I am for happy thoughts of eternal happiness, I wonder if those ideals were only instilled onto general populous to keep things under control, so chaos will not take over our world!

I know one thing for certain, and that time is always consistent, while after my death things will simply go on. It's funny isn't it, rich or poor, gender, nor our belief, even our solar system has expiration date scientifically speaking. Our planet will one day collapse due to our sun going super nova, and it will create the the vast black hole, ******* all sense of the word life! Not even our greatest minds have found a way to get to another galaxy, just able to stop by our neighboring planets, because space is expanding faster than we can reach the speed of the location of our desired inter planetary exploration. Now if we can find a warm hole, then can humanity of terra still progress?

Life is bit silly I suppose, we live, bear children and die, and repeat. If all religions was false, and all those judging eyes were also wrong, I want to live life treating people the way I want to be treated. In my personal thoughts, I want to live a good life as life can offer me, and share these good life with people who I enjoy their company with. We live a very short life, and I want to make it count. If I can help humanity in someways, I want to do it in a meaningful ways, but living the life the fullest as I come to meet my own end! I can't be afraid knowing everything will end individually, and trying new things are the ways of our lives, while I'll have my limits and my personal barriers, there are absolutely nothing to fear!

Live life, and make it count!

my chin quivers when I really get to crying.
that's different.
yours never did.
but your neck runs into your collarbones the same way
we have the same chin and nearly the same jaw line
mines just slightly more square
our eyes are exact in color not quite in shape
but equally transparent
skin the exact same shade sprinkled with sun kissed pigment
freckles parading across the endless rise and fall of our bodies
they both breath
we both have seen my childhood and yours
I'm sure the inside of your eyelids feel like mine
they look the same
I'm sure you feel it, when your alone and think my name
we are not so different.
In someways we are still the same
I will cherish it.

Maybe it was the way I told you.
I rolled my sexuality off the tongue
like sweet milk and honey.
Saying it so casually
I might as well have hands stuck
between pockets of worn in grey sweatpants
complimented with a deep v that goes
down to my belly button.
I said it like the spoken version
of a sticky note
written with my best chicken scratch.
I guess I didn't say it with any more girth
because I felt like I didn't have to.
The picture in my head was
like a short silent film from the 1920's
that only needed two cards
to show what we were saying.
The first saying "I'm not straight",
the second saying "Okay."
Okay as in that's totally normal.
Okay as in I'm happy you've found yourself
Okay as in I'm glad you're comfortable with your sexuality.
Okay as in not a celebration or a witch hunt.
I was not expecting what came after.
Telling me that I was just trying to fit in.
That I didn't know myself well enough.
That I'm a liar.
That I can't be attracted to every gender.
That I'm selfish.
That I had to wait for the "right man".
Comments pouring onto me like a cold shower
entering old wounds
that stung with every syllable
and you got mad when I wanted to get out of the bath
Of course I would get upset
with words trying to make me
disregard the day when I found myself
after long nights
of locking myself under bed sheets
feeling confused and not knowing
how to answer questions I'd ask myself in the mirror.
In someways I don't blame you.
You didn't hear the past in my voice.
You didn't hear the storm
only the calm winds.

But it still hurt,
because these bitter words
flowed from the people
who were supposed to love and support me the most.

Somedays I know I care more than you.
Someways I hate how much I love too.
One day I may just leave you behind,
Some days I think I'm losing my mind.
Sometimes you treat me like a trophy.
A fight to obtain but now too easy.
Those days you come home and refuse to speak,
But I never stop talking, showing my heart is weak.
The little things are now no more.
My little things must be a bore.
I know I don't make you most happy.
I know you think I'm far too sappy.
You never tell me I've done something wrong,
Either way, it becomes clear I don't belong.
I just wish that our love was the same,
Instead, I'm alone in this "love me" game.
Maybe I am too high maintenance,
Been broken down to your complacence.
Perhaps some things don't get better with age.
I'll make my role "the" role on stage.
This stage is life.
Make performance of strife.
Win academy awards
Out of backstabbing words.
But shine with that smile,
Always go the extra mile.
Even if your love you won't show,
Mine will always be something you know.
And with or without you, it'll grow.
I'll clearly never stop begging for your undivided attention.
Forever chained between a Heaven and Hell suspension.

Dear Autumn,

The birth of your sister, Summer has made me miss you
Even more than I did a few months earlier.
And just between you and me,
You were always my favourite sister, Autumn.
You are sort of half way between your other sisters,
Which is what I like about you, Autumn.
You, yourself are your own person.
You aren't as annoying as beloved Summer tends to be,
Nor are you as harsh and bitter as Winter.
You carry about you a certain warmth,
That you can see, but not quite feel.
When I think of you, Autumn
I not only think of how, in someways you are like a second Spring,
Where every falling leaf is a flower,
But I think of the sun and how it is there,
But you can't quite touch it,
It can't quite reach you.
It is hidden behind the clouds.
Perhaps that's what I like the most about you, Autumn.
The way you come, and then you are gone
Before I get the chance to stop, and truly look around.
I guess that's what makes you so special.

We had all just got back from eating in the city. Jamie was driving. He was the smartest kid in our school yet he has a gpa of 1.5. That always seemed to amuse me for some reason. Jamie loved to do drugs ,and since his parents were rich he always had someways to pay for his addiction. Lynn and Myron were quiet as Some nirvana song served as background music. We were heading over to the park. It's where everybody comes to have ***,do drugs, or let their children play. We all got into the back of Jamie's truck when we arrived. Myron stood watch for people even though nobody was gonna be here,at a park, when it was almost 1 am. He was built like a true athlete. Everytime we went somewhere people always thought he was in his 20's. So he could buy me cigarettes and such whenever I needed them.
Jamie started to pack a bowl for us and Lynn sat next to him eager to partake in something new . She brought the cheap apple juice bottle to her lips , and inhaled. Her eyes were closed as smoke came from her mouth. It looked so peaceful and fun.
Why couldn't it be like that forever .

home at last
with my family
i hadn't seen in 8 years
is what i imagined?
no it isnt
it's better in someways
and worse in others
but family is amazing
my family is amazing
my mama
is amazing
you never know how much a home can mean to you
until it's all gone
family. :)
there is no home without family.
home
is family

Scared I was
Whenever you’ll pass.
How I shiver from your touch
Afraid to be on your clutch.

Bony fingers,
Please don’t linger.
Alone, you are
Make sure to stay afar.

You don’t give you take.
Leaving us with an ache.
You listen to their last breath.
Before taking them to death.

I loathed you,
I know you knew.
Yet I learned,
The beauty of being burned.

You leave scars not on the skin but in hearts
No one did understand your eccentric arts.
But I did in someways,
Understood your plays.

Took away the pain you did
And in return, souls were rid.
Empty shells were left at the bed,
Making us grieve and mourn the dead.

In someways, you forget something.
And somehow, you reget sometimes.
Be grateful, be kind
Somelife's gone for our life today.

At school I was a fool
Just a pencil on a stool
I didn’t carry my book
Couldn’t be arsed to look
And it was boring
Boring
Boring
The teacher had us snoring
So at school I was the fool

At school I was the dreamer
The thinker and the schemer
Never wrote stuff down
To busy looking around
And it was tiring
Tiring
Tiring
The teacher was close to expiring
So at school I was the dreamer

At school I was the fighter
The survivor and the nail biter
Always jumping around like a flea
ADHD from the age of three
And it was hard
Hard
Hard
The teacher made us mentally scarred
So at school I was the fighter

In someways I enjoyed it the best
All bouncy and full of zest
No worries or feelings of malaise
Just the daily grind
Of our school days