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Daniel Jul 24
The lull of a restless night relieves my senses
It's monotone silence maintains my breath
The cold night breeze enters through an open window
It whispers soft tunes and attempts to put me to sleep
The humming of an exhausted laptop helps me decompress
It distracts me from thinking about my past
As the night goes on it starts to rain
It comforts my senses and cleanses my pain
This time-worn house cracks and creaks
It talks of troubled times and how it came to be
This place I call home proves i’m never alone
And it's always there to support me
3rd poem. Enjoy :)
fearfulpoet Aug 26
school starts soon
smoking joints on the weekday afternoon

in a sidelined shady
freight car, property of
Norfolk Southern

debating if this car will be
northbound or southbound
and master-bating our fantasy
where we want to be taken

knowing full well maybe one of us -
(and they all looking at me)

will get out of this car and live to
see foreign places without having to
return in a body bag

we argue lazy who should go get the beer,
collect the quarters and sweaty dollar bills
and damn if I am  not reappointed
leader of the beer fetching

besides it’s my
tan lab panting needing water so it’s my
responsibility and the nasty liquor store owner don’t hate me that much as the others so he’ll sell me beer without too much shit talk (some for sure)

asking where I’m laying low on a damn hot day like this one

tell him i’m getting on a train getting out of this two bit town which makes him reminisce and ask which direction

could be northbound could be southbound
hell could be west
but for sure won’t be
going eastbound

cause I seen the Atlantic and didn’t like it

too damn big and too damn cold,
too damn mean
et allí Aug 8
I think in poems,
drink deep sounds,
smell bright colors,
untie the bound.

I touch the notes...
they ripple in the air.
Taste the pain .....
no qualms no care.

I orchestrate a silent fugue,
two voices never heard.
Pen it all inside my book
then read it to my bird.
It cannot be described
only imbibed
through many sorrows
and sorries
until the pain
recedes to numbness
your compass
points to death
& you see the peace it brings
the silence
the darkness
you make your mind up
maybe not today
or tomorrow
but you know
you're going to die by your own hand
& you feel
just a brief
fleeting
happiness

...

that's the sound of suicide
Not in a good headspace right now. Thank you for your concerns, I just needed to vent this.
Alaina Moore Sep 8
Thing's that make me uncomfortable:

That feeling when you get mad at me,
because I didn't do the thing, you didn't ask me to do, cause I can't read minds; I'm not your parent.
That tone in your voice when you go off about how unfair the world is, triggered by the slightest setback.
The feeling when I sacrifice all that I am for the sake of your mood and happiness, in vain.
That sound of the exacerbated sigh when I ask you to run an errands, as if I am not also tired.
The pressure of carrying us both on broken legs.
The pit in my chest when I ask your opinion and you say "I don't care," but you actually do care, because whatever choice I make is laced in ridicule.
When you say you're doing something for me but you're just trying to make yourself feel better about doing it for yourself.
When you use my disorder as a justification or excuse, but when I actually need your help you seem burdened and annoyed.
That "okay then" moment when I give you everything you ask for and you take it as if you never wanted it.
"If love is a labor, I'll slave till the end." -Rise Against

"these words are knives that often leave scars" - Panic! at the Disco
Eyes cast
Beautiful mind
Your energy and mine
Hearts beating fast
Lips locking
Body on mine
Your skin devouring
Deep in your flesh
Minds exploding
Dissolving in pleasure
An instrument to play
Delicious noises
Murmuring in my ear
Words with moarning
Art performing
................. Art performing
CK Baker Jan 2017
cedar planks line the dim lit hall
morning snow begins to fall
sepia print in a chip wood frame
embers spark from the franklin flame

rustling sounds from bunks below
records play in a tight alcove
bacon grills on the iron sheet
gloves are warmed by baseboard heat

bean bags tossed on colored shag
papka placed as a punching bag
red brick wall with mounted poles
windows filled with glacier bowls

whiskey jack on the southern rail
a frozen patch of wine and ale
pine cones fall in gathering white
brothers bathed in firelight

sleighs are on the table top
canyon road is at a stop
northern winds that bite the face
lines are up the gondola base

cornice clipped on gully goat
the rubber man appears to float
alpine depths are on the rise
peaking sun through parting skies

triple ropes and nordic luge
honored guests from baton rouge
gelande jumps on rainbow drive
nostalgia’s light and warm reply
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