Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
With this pen, I paint an image of you.
Not a portrait, but a true portrayal of you.
The ink flows into words that dance across your hair.
The end of each sentence marking a cross that you bear.

A painting would be suitable for some.
With beautiful colors, cascading down on you from above.
But, those colors mearly hide the truth behind your smile.
With the right shade of light and a light smear, it becomes a cosmetic fix for a while.

My words flow through every ***** and fill every shadow.
They bring all light to the surface, for the reader to see within the shallows.

The image of you that I create can be vivid and great.
But with this pen, my words can also design your fate.

You see the truth here is that my words hold all truth.
They leave no place for lies to hide, with each word holding proof.

In the readers eyes, my words are you…
With this pen, I can create you…
With this pen, I can finish you...

- Brandon K. Stephenson
The underestimated writer and the power within his pen.
Hg Jun 9
i fear my spider hands
and the words
they spin to webs

they twist and twine
injecting rhymes
in every word that’s said

they type and type
and type biting venom
from in my head

i stay awake all night
writing till sunrise
stabs my bed

i feel arachnophobic
of these fangs
that can’t be fed

but everytime you grip ‘em
you squash ‘em
till their dead

with you holding my hands
i'd drop my pens and
my distress

with you holding my hands
my spider eyes can
get some rest
©Hg
SøułSurvivør Feb 2015
~~《♡》~~

may your penship be worthy
may your heart be bold
may the parchment that beckons
be edged with pure gold.

may your sails be caught
by a breeze off the sea
may the coasts where you sail
be nations free.

may your mast be lofty
a pen full of might
may your skies be scarlet
only at night

may your stars be bright
as you sail where you will
may ink flow like a river
from an angel's quill.

may dimensions make music
may your muse scream
may you dream your life

may you live your dream.

~~《♡》~~

soulsurvivor
2/3/2015
Thanks to all the poets here
who inspire and bless me.
Hello Poetry has been the
best poetic experience
I have ever had...
Thanks to all of YOU.

A special thank you to
Thomas A Robinson
He knows why...

~~《♡》~~
GreenTrees Dec 2013
The small but ample cottage tucked in among the trees with large trees like bedposts.
A small hum of excitement stirs the air. The ocean kissed sea air moves past the cottage searching for just a peak at her.

But not tonight, the windows drawn tight, and still sweating from the  warmth there by the muted figures in the flames.
Just a glimpse of  her edges out from the corner of my eye.
And only she warms me in a way, that even now the figures in the flames seem less willing to speak her name.

With her heat comes a light, and with her light the words are more clear and the beauty of season more evident.
She is a muted flame edging out of the corner of my eye.
Kissing me quietly as she drifts off in to cozy corners of my mind.



COPYRIGHT 2013
Karl von Mecklenburg
Brother Jimmy Jun 2016
The writers

The writers

Hold aloft their lighters

And worship styles of Kafka, Robbins, Steinbeck, and of Stoppard,

With syrup and with sawdust – a spicing so improper,

They burn the midnight oil as they’re pulling their all-nighters

Running ******* empty as they find their inner fighters

The writers, the writers, the writers
King Panda Oct 2015
we are monsters
from the boutique to the
embroidered throw pillows the
pen dashed around the neck
stage 5 bone cut
sawing ossification to the
hollow core

we are monsters
hooting in tunnels lined
with bats coming out to feast
creation
to scrape the streets
shimmy the walls
bust the coffin and
succckk

we are monsters
who can't enter under the
doorframe
fearful of being burned by
the sun silver stake
rat poison holy water sickle
and windmill ash

we are monsters
sewed stapled dead meat
skin hair plugs ceramic
teeth tested and tasted by
rats

we are monsters
jumping high over white
fences frenzied explosion
running through corn
angrily bled in a field shot and
hunted like embarrassing
waterfowl in the jaws of
mammalia

we are monsters
of flaming brilliance flashing
in your inbox
read us and gnaw
braised
roasted
grilled limbs
watch
as we watch you
be scared and
stab
I promise we don't die.
Jaycee Nov 2014
I want to write so badly,
About so many things.
But my mind just shuts the door sometimes,
It's decided to hide my ideas from me!
Next page