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Cné Apr 2017
eyes of ocean blue
grayed by darken skies cry rain
drown in flooding waves
a storm of sad thoughts
September Roses Jul 2018
As the sun slowly sets
The precursor to the week
With deadlines,
                            Orders,
                            ­               Oh so bleak
The calm before the storm
  Too restless to enjoy
For everybody knows
     It's sunday's melancholy ploy

    Responsibilities loom overhead
     Our heart as heavy as the air
      The world has now gone silent
              We sit in subtle fear
gracie Feb 2018
lightning flash across the sky
silver clouds begin to cry
our clothes are cold and soaking wet
but we don't run inside just yet

if I said I'm ready now
darling, would you show me how
to blindly run through fields, unplowed
until the thunder roars?

fire races through my spine
warm hands meet my cold waistline
let's dance together, intertwined
like flowers in a storm
only an innuendo if u want it to be
Antino Art Sep 2018
Who draws strength
from watching the passage of time
after dark
blur against the windows
of a moving train bound
for ends uncertain.

Who walks most balanced
on the beams of empty tracks.

In the shuffle of strangers
at a crosswalk, who finds
direction.

Who sees
clearer through rain.

Who finds their place
in the limbo of airport terminals,
on delayed flights
between chapters,
over open roads that branch
into tales of cities unseen,
in the turn of pages unwritten.

Who can keep track of time
during the improvised chaos of jazz,
catching notes scattered
in the winds of horns.

Who understands
that wind moves
fastest through dark places like tunnels,
during storms in late August.

Who finds their center
hurled in flight,
always coming and going.
Storm flight trains movement
September Roses Oct 2018
The arctic cold has brushed my cheek once again
The skies are stained white
and the ringing in my ears
is louder than ever
I wonder what the clouds are doing, I never see them anymore
The night doesnt come but the sun doesn't shine
I have a silver notebook
I write, spearmint
Because my eyes are watering but I feel nothing
The world is dry while the air is full
And the heavens take their morning pills
Wash their face
Head off sleepily to begrudgingly watch the icy seas
The wind bites my cheeks
But moves in such silence I wonder if the feeling is not just my routine punishment
At least I'm used to my spirits
At least I have a jacket on
At least the heavens didnt take a sick day all together.
Lizzy Jan 2015
Funny little thing is she,
She laughs at lightning in the storm.
And what most would see as torture,
She inflicts with pride and is not scared.
Her skin is sharp like broken glass,
And through her lover’s skin she tore.

Through her safest home she tore.
Stupid little girl is she.
They try to mend her broken glass
But the edges cause destruction of a storm.
Please don’t run, don’t be scared,
Don’t be a part of her torture.

Running love is her only torture,
Not pain that through her heart tore.
Distance leaves her crying scared,
Unable to control the fear in her.
Maybe she is the rain in the storm,
Shattering passing window glass.

Maybe she doesn’t mind the glass,
She doesn’t think this is torture.
And maybe it’s not a storm,
But a hurricane she tore
Out of her skin. She
Is no longer scared.

The distance does not make her scared.
Her skin is no longer broken glass.
Alive little girl is she.
Nothing more will be her torture.
She doesn’t need the lover she tore.
No longer does she hide from the storm.

Not sunny skies, but no more storm.
Not yet calm, but at least not scared.
Not yet healed, but not torn.
Maybe cracked, but not broken glass.
Some discomfort, but it doesn’t feel like torture.
Strong little girl is she.

Screaming insanely she tore herself out of this storm.
No one will say “she’s gonna lose it”. Because she somehow she is not scared.
It’s a mystery how she fixed her glass, or how she can still tolerate the torture.
Tanay Sengupta May 2018
Look into my eyes, do you dare? 
You will find your soul lay naked and bare.
Look beyond my intense stare, pierce through the persona I wear.

Tell me, are you scared? 
As you are face to face with your greatest fear.

Beneath my storm, lies my darkest lair.
Here everything is black and nothing seems fair.

Tell me, do you dare? 
Tell me, are you scared? 

When my passion burns like the fiery sun.
Will you hold me close or will you run? 

When I become as cold as ice. 
Would you nurture me back to life?
Or, would turn you away with the tide? 

When I let you into my watery sphere 
And you see the pain which I never share.
Will you hold me and make me your own?
Or, will you tremble and run away in fear? 

Tell me, my love, 
Do you dare?
To pierce into my eyes 
And see your soul lay naked and bare?










Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018. All Rights Reserved.
This is one of the first poems that I ever wrote in my life. I was 16 when I wrote this and didn't know where to publish it. I uploaded it on one my Facebook pages in 2014 and later in 2015, I uploaded it in writrerscafe.org. But, I deleted both. So, here I am now in Hello Poetry and this is the first poem I have to offer. It is pretty self-explanatory. To be honest, I find it a little bit childish now, I hope it is not too dark for you though. Happy reading!
A furious typhoon
slipped through the heavens.

The unraveling of time is a linear process,
Prediction is not.
Dynamic instability in the system
caused by the chaotic theory of thought.

Lost in dissociation,
We see the lines
that transcend time.

Infinity:
I can't give it up,
Because it's not enough.

2-CB typhoon run amok.
Quote:
Lines Eleven and Twelve from Infinity by The **
Jesse stillwater Aug 2018
Driving up mountain miles
of washboard switchbacks;
jarring the dusty rearview mirror
in my mind:

"but don't look back in anger"  
... I heard you say
stuck in the cloud of dust
befogging my daydream
back somewhere thereabouts
the washed out bridge
that tore us apart
like a flash flood

It was so long ago
since you were running
and I was hiding in plain sight,
from what the storm
in my eyes did tell

Mindful — you were only watching
the growing distance gather;

finding what you didn't lose
looking back to see
   what you can't forget —

like a hesitant child
reluctantly wondering
if anyone was still looking back
at you ―  still running away
from each passing storm


Jesse Stillwater
June   2018
Thank you for reading my soul scribbles
Vicki Kralapp Aug 2013
Summer days, so hot and sticky
I can't wait for you to come
and us to steal away together
into the midday sun.
Sitting at a café just passing the time.
Watching the people pass by in the heat
I play with the silverware,
waiting for you.
And so I sit until I see your dark,
handsome face break free from the crowd.
As I wait with a glass of riesling
and phone in my hands.
You've made me wait,
and your eyes like sea green glass
tell me that a storm is brewing
just beyond my reach.
I have been waiting it seems like
an eternity in the same café for you, always for you.
Could I have been so wrong
to love a man beyond my reach?
And with just a kiss on the cheek you are gone.
All poems are copy written and sole property of Vicki Kralapp.
Tom Spencer Jul 2018
white clouds swell up
anvil bloom

a lowering gloom
scuds by

stacatto drops
on the windshield

punctuate  
powerline sway

radio crackle
sparks

sheets of tenor sax
and blunt

gusts of cool
I lower the window

and steer
into the storm


Tom Spencer © 2018
Smoke Scribe Aug 2018
The Violent Storm by the Water
(Do You Trust Your Imagination)

was not unexpected
but its fury was without compare,
poet awake in semi-preparation

living by water should be a human right for all,
even a small room, overlooking, gives new meaning to
perspective

we blessed with a patio door, encased in a glass window big enough for a smallish elephant to come visit and play with children

a storm is observed up close and personal as if one was in
an IMAX 3D  theater, and the edges of existence were being redefined,
sharpened by fury, tooled by tools untouched by mortal hands

miles of bay illuminated with bass drum furious accompaniment

stand before the screen,
poets arms outstretched as a supplicant,
the light of the lightening passes through him,
yet , behind me, she still sleeps

then the entire house shakes, reverberates, as if to say:


”tremble humans, cower, you are not permitted to watch my majesty, for such it was when created heaven and earth”

bold poet window worshipping
risky answers:

“but who will know
if even a poet cannot declaim sights
no one else has seen?”

”true, true, but you must choose if poet truly,
do you trust your imagination human,
to prove that the powers of the heavens are limitless?”

write of storms unseen and nature endless miracles

”then you may call yourself
a miracle too,
a poet

violent #storm violentstorn
Lizzy Aug 2014
You are my wind
You are my sun
The blood in my veins
The bones to make me stand

I've been drowning
And i thought you were my life raft
I thought you were my island
My safe place to escape

But turning away from the water
Won't make it go away
Running from the sea
Won't make it less deep

I've grown so used to finding my boat
So used to hiding from the tide
I panicked when it wasn't there
Has my boat sailed away?
The panic gave me a cramp
Tied weights to me
And I began to sink faster

How could my boat do this?
How could it sail away?
But the more I missed my boat
The more I needed it to stay

But not as safety
Not as refuge
But a love to share
And laugh and grow

I still need my boat
But not like I did before
No more hiding
No more dry land
I need to swim

Because boats are fun
And great for days
But the sea is a beast
That no boat can match

No she doesn't care that I'm a mermaid
Who fell in love with a fisherman
She doesn't care I've spent too much time on dry land
I forgot how to use my fins

A mermaid that can't swim
What a pathetic life it is
But she's cruel
She wont keep the boats around

So don't forget how to swim
Don't forget how to use your fins
We are strong us mermaids
Making deals with sea witches
Seducing men to their death
All fine folk tales
But you have to believe the myth
Always been strong

Because regardless of what Disney said
I can't grow legs
I'll always be a mermaid
But what use is it if I can't swim

When I learn how to swim again
I hope my fisherman will come back
I hope he hasn't sailed too far away

When I'm on deck of our boat again
We will dance and sing
Maybe have dogs
And flowers to remind us of land
A piano in the dining room
And guitars lining the walls
Music will echo
They can hear us from land
The happy fisher and his happy mermaid
Living together again

But storms always come
Because that's how nature works
It rains
It snows
It storms
Than the sun returns

This time when the storm comes
And makes waves that could touch the moon
And I get thrown overboard
I won't forget how to swim

I'll play with the fish
Make friends with sharks
And await the return of my beautiful fisherman

But you will always be my wind
My sun
The air in my lungs

But soon I will have gills
So I can breath when the water comes
You can't be my fins anymore
You can't be my dry land
You can't save me from drowning
Because mermaids are free
But if you want
You can be free with me

So please return my beautiful sailor
And we can live on our happy boat
And I'll be one with the sea
Because this sea is a part of me
So this is super long and I'm actually gonna write a full explanation of it because yeah I feel like that's needed. So I have depression, and I used my boyfriend to hide from it. But that all crashed when my depression took over and I couldn't hide anymore, and I was mad. I was mad at him, at myself, at the world. So I flipped, and it pushed him away. Hopefully not forever but I feel like ****. But I needed it, I need this. Because I realized that hiding won't make the depression go away, it'll always find you. And when it does it comes on full force. And this time no matter how much he loves you, he won't be able to save you because depression is a beast. It's a monster beyond any comprehension and it will tear you apart. Now that it returned and stronger than ever, I couldn't be saved. And I was mad, why had he made it go away before but this time he can't? I was mad, didn't he love me? Than why can't he save me? Well guess what, it doesn't matter. Love is beautiful and love is strong, but nothing can cure you from a mental illness. I forgot that. And I had grown so used to being able to hide from it I forgot how to live with it. I forgot how to be my own warrior and to fight for myself. I'm not a ******* damsel in distress, I'm not a poor soul that needs saving. I'm a warrior, I've lived with it this far and forgetting how to fight will only get me killed. Depression is the sea, and I'm a mermaid that fell in love with a fisherman. I live in the sea, the sea is a part of me, like depression. And I can't run from it because it won't go away. This isn't a Disney movie where I can sell my voice for legs and run away from the sea. I can't, I have fins, it's the way I am. I have scars, that's who I am. I'm not a normal person, I can't **** it up and be fine, I'm sick. I can't grow legs and run away, I can't live on a boat. And there will always be storms, nature will never be sunny forever. Depression will come back fighting. And when you get thrown overboard and start to drown because you forgot how to swim, don't be mad at you fisherman. His boat got thrown by the storm too. I forgot how to balance my mind, how to find harmony with my mind, and live with my depression. So I flipped. And it's not his fault, he can't fight depression either, it's so much bigger than all of us. But I forgot that. And now I'm drowning in this storm of depression without my fisherman because I got mad. But now I know that I have to learn how to fight for myself, because storms will always come. And if I drown every time I'm gonna lose my fisherman. So swimming is the only option. He isn't a prince, or an angel, or a savior. He's just a fisherman, and I ******* love him. Our boat (our relationship) has sailed away for now, but I'm praying it'll return. When I see my fisherman again, I will remember how to swim. So when depression knocks me back into the ocean, I won't drown. I go with the waves until it calms, than I hop back our boat. But anyway, there's a lesson for ya. Don't rely on other people to save you from depression, because it's impossible. And don't get mad when you forget that. Anyone who read this far (props to you if you did) and suffers from depression as well, DONT FORGET HOW TO SWIM. We're not regular people, but not in a bad way! We have fins and live in the sea, we fight all her terrible waves and storms and keep swimming. Because mermaids are ******* strong as **** hell yeahhhhhhh. And if you're reading this and you're someone's fisherman (or fisher lady) meaning you're significant other suffers from depression, remember we're on this boat together and smooth sailing is not always a garuntee. So don't get mad at your mermaid when they lose it, the sea is just gettin a little crazy. Just remember, when they drown, you can't save them. Because depression (the sea) is stronger than anything, so don't feel bad. Don't feel like a bad boyfriend or girlfriend, don't feel like you're not good enough, all you have to do is wait for the storm to pass. Because you're only human and depression is a force much stronger than that. But human isn't bad, it's beautiful and perfect, hell yeah you a great fisherman. But fisherman cannot control the weather. So just wait out the storm. And Jesse, you're the best fisherman there is (I'm sorry that's so lame) and sometimes mermaids are stupid. But don't dock your boat because I'm learning how to swim again, and I won't forget when I get knocked overboard again. I love you always, and come around again, I'll be swimming just fine and ready to get back on our boat. I love you
Tanay Sengupta Aug 2018
Chirping crickets, unheard whispers and a lonely street light.
For a small town, it is such a typical night.
A sweet aroma blows with the breeze,
Perhaps, coming from one of the flowers or the trees.

Red flares and moonflowers blooming under the moonlight.
Adding more grace to this beautiful night.
Peace and serenity rule in this silence,
There is no noise, there is no violence.

There are just sounds of heartbeats, deep breaths and whispers.
Just sounds of heartbeats, deep breaths and whispers.











Tanay Sengupta, Copyright © 2018.
All Rights Reserved
This is rather recent, I hope you like it. Happy reading!
zebra Jun 2017
she loved thunder storms most of all
the crackle of white hot bolts ripping through the sky
the shear immensity of power
she always thought it was him
her beloved God
big boy
Thor
with his flowing blond hair
blue aquatic eyes
washboard stomach
and delicately curved *****
finally a man good enough for her
even if he was fly by night

when the heavens thickened gray
like soggy cotton
she could feel atmospheres shift
it made her ******* pert
her mouth would salivate
like a lurid peach
her ***** swelled and dampened
tears of adoration and enchantment
filled her eyes

no longer able to contain her self
she would strip naked
fling off her *******
and run out to the lush verdant meadows
calling at the top of her lungs
yoooooooooo hooooooooooo

as the cool rain descended
she ran thrilled to the mud between her toes
seeing great claws of white lightening  echo
through the sky

without hesitation
she fell to the cool earth beneath her
wallowing in the delicious sloshing ooze
positioning her self on all fours
head thrown back
*** up high
calling to the heavens
come on, come on big boy
ive been waiting for you
let me have it good
her clitoral lips
drooled with anticipation
her ******
a pulsating aching

the sky rumbled
with stretching streaks of fire
like a great freight train
spanning infinity
while the earth shook like a
hollow moon
she swayed her hips
rhythmically to and fro
whispering a love song

oh sir
i need a man like you
wont you love me
adorations true

i kneel before
my sweet Lord Thor
where's that hammer
come on and score

you are so big
and im so little
how about it God
just a tickle

hit it now
give it to me good
kisses baby
like you only could


tears of desire cascaded
down her pink cheeks
as she recited her love mantra
her mouth naked wet

suddenly
a great bolt of lightening
shot down from heavens throne
entering her ******
splitting her in flames
her head turned dark mahogany
sent careening fifty yards
leaving her mouth
a yawning twisted smudge
of fossilized obsidian
with eyes
blackened flaring hollows

her tender pink ****
a chard flower
smoldering
like a
petite
grilled
calamari
Lizzy Jan 2015
I’m losing grip on deeper thoughts,
I wish to stand on war torn fronts,
I turn away from all I’ve fought.

I cannot mask my clear remorse,
Un-satiated hungry fear.
I must leave this to run its course,
My dusty bones are crumbling here.

I am a force to all I love,
A fearful storm that leaves no trail,
A burden they cannot hold up,
My storm, it carries hell and hail.

Slipping back into the sea,
My mind is lost inside of me.
Lizzy Jul 2014
Hurricanes as mine
Destroy without remorse
Terrorizing hearts
Making people run

But never once has someone
Held me
Told me I was safe

When my shelter crumbled
And clouds came rolling in
You were my safety
My boyfriend is the greatest human ever
Kenji Nov 2018
It's mortifying...
The dilemma, the time lapse, the wait, the clock.
The abstract that I so blatantly describe in my other writings.
Time cannot be paused, stopped...
The abstraction is so formulated into one diverse piece, the creation of such is appealing, yet reformative.
Inconsequential, to the matter of science, myth, philosophy, conduct, and everything that exists beyond our mind.
I hold onto this creation, because the conclusion of the matter holds many intellectual debates that cannot be won or answered.
It is forbidden, it's lost.
The question of right and wrong holds many definitions that are inexplicable to the concept of reality itself, when the utter illusion holds the introspection that philosophers like myself, cannot give a precise answer to.
Time will let us be.

It's a quiet storm, and I've never felt like this before.
Sometimes I think, you're just too good for me.
Nothing to say ...
She fell:
into my arms,
like raindrops
at my feet,
but no:
not the tiny type
that proceed the storm,
like the plump generous kind
that fall,
and let you know
that you're in the beginning and the middle of the deluge
half way in, and you can't go no farther -
type of rain.

Lighting up the night sky
of my life
with spiderwebs of purple lightning
she rolled like distant thunder,
while her waves of water
made everything brand new
again.
Osiria Melody Feb 23
Gray, lifeless desk of blank vastness
Reserved for papers scattered
across its cool surface,
Like a disarray of blankets, leaving
unsuspecting feet neglected

[write]

Writing utensils yearning to
engage in a race of writing,
Cannot take off from a jar of
confinement: mini-prison
Liberated from their incarceration,
I pick up a writing utensil and write
Freedom, at last, to write without the
worry of apoplectic judgement

Writing is conversing with yourself,
No fear of judgement except from
your own doing
Lingering for hours like a tree
that's  trying to pull itself
out from the ground

[writer's block]

Black coffee envelopes the room
with a smoky touch
Atrocious LED lamp light glares at me
hard enough to hurt my eyes
Dissonance resonates beyond my
window, a border of security from
letting my creative thoughts
wandering too much
Car music blaring with
Doppler Effect (dissonance)

[write]
[write]

Frustration, more wary than my
stomach growls, signals that
I've been "out-of-it" for too long
Thought that my work
would be appreciated,
Only to get blank stares as lifeless
as the deceased that repose beneath me
(I hope that I've made them happy)

writer's block?

'Tis nothing eccentric about
being a poet, suppose I

i write in SOLITUDE



Melody
2/23/19
My eyes are like camera lenses.
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