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 2439° 
Peter Gerstenmaier
Just like that, outta the blue
I realize that no matter what I do
There'll never ever be another you
And it hurts like hell...
Btw, how great is Chet Baker??
Unbeknownst to the human eye
The tiny frog, lived in the forest, anonymously free
Dewy, evergreen its home
Its existence it knew
In its ecosystem
It grew

Caught unaware
It landed onto the palm
No not the leaf
And that’s when the discovery
Made news
Until then it lived
And so did its ancestors
Free
Of speculations
Unbothered
By its size
Until it was
Branded
A new specie
The human
Classified
Thank you so much for the sunshine here, Agnes :)
 489° 
Kai
I've been lately writing poetry!
Oh? What do I see?
A perfect poetry site waiting for me!
First poem, proud of it!
Oh? Someone in my messages?
This guy seems sweet
And he's hoping I don't get beat!
Pretty songs for me to listen to!
And a drunk man messaging me...?
“You're only making yourself a victim because you're cutting yourself"
Oh? Okay- thanks for the paragraph/drunk rant?

Shining lights on all of my latest poems?
Thank you! You're so sweet!
….oh…talking to me about pedophiles…got it…
Why are there so many sad songs?
WHY DOES THIS MAN HAVE SO ****** MUSIC TASTE AGGGHGDGFGCC

Oh? You wrote a poem about the 764 and absolutely humiliating them?
Great! Good job!
…But uhh… why and how did they make a virus only going after your followers that are minors? Not funny!
Why is this man warning me if they threaten me? Is he trying to make me scared on purpose?
Blaming the Japanese for this virus now, huh?
Oh? Now blaming someone else named Pax to be part of the 764? Crazy

…. going to another website? But you're so fun!
May as well click on the link you sent me so I can join you

Drunk rants with me? That's okay!
Giving me gold so I can freely make poems?
THANK YOU SM
Daily texting
2-10 hour sessions
Why are you drinking everyday?
You're making me concerned for your health
I told you to stop drinking, papa
You promised me you'd stop
All you did was keep on drinking

Commenting on every poem I made
Oh? So suddenly I'm a “nasty *****" when I have done nothing to you? ありがとう!
We have a suicide pact now?
I'm going off the bridge first?
Don't mind if I do

Oh? Another poetry site? Okay…
I really don't like the way this site works, can't we just message each other with email?
Yes? Yay!

People bullying you on the internet? That's not okay!
Why would they accuse you of being a *******?
Letting me join an uncensored group to back you up? Great!
Sending me to a Reddit page to back you up?
Alright!
….oh … they warned me and I didn't do anything….
******* this man is an actual *******…..
gotta go fast like Sonic
pack my bags and leave

Oh? I betrayed you? Crazy
We were just friends
Can you stop spitting my name everywhere?
It's like you're so obsessed with me
Stop trying to be the Eminem to my Mariah Carey
Made a poem about you and you HAD to take it down?
Never thought you'd want to hide your identity THAT hard
Oh? Betting on my suicide now, are we?
Sending me multiple emails, desperate for me to come back to him?
I'm not that ******* naive or gullible
It's crazy if you think that about me
…I did tell you to send those photos of your cut open arms but I DIDN'T THINK YOU'D TAKE IT SERIOUSLY AND DO IT

Being racist?
“Japshit”?
Why are you so obsessed with my Chinese genes?
“I thought I can use Kai because of her Chinise genes because the Chinise was known to be very good spies. ☝️🤓" へー! Didn't know that!
Also, that's not how you spell Chinese, my fellow kind sir
Threatening people to come to America with a Katana and slice us to pieces
So envious, I see
You're just mad because we have a little bit more freedom than your drunk *** does

Oh…. Talking to me about ****
Got it
Thanks
I didn't need to be taught about METART or some **** like that
I'm only 12 years old
You ***** *****

Well…this is the aftermath
There it goes out to all of you:
Ghost
RGH
Ryan Geoffrey Hayward
Nephilim Angel
Nephalem
Rose White
Rose Red
Jacob Lives
Hybrid Angel
Tormenter
Bread Crumbs
The Machine
Dirt-In-My-Shirt
Soul Unknown
Unicorns Passing
And etc. ENJOYERS

(Btw, all of these names are RGH's names so if you have these names, please don't feel targeted! The person knows who they are.)

EDIT: ILY ALL SM!!! I DIDN'T THINK THIS POEM WOULD GAIN THIS MUCH ATTENTION BUT I'M HAPPY THAT IT DID!! (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) I'M GOING TO VIRTUALLY KISS EVERYONE ON THE CHEEK ONCE THEY READ THIS... or just virtually hug you, yk, whatever you're comfortable with
 458° 
M Vogel

I. the ache behind the crown

She did not begin as queen.
No—
before the silks,
before the smoke-wrapped eyes and perfumed strategy,
there was a girl
who learned too early

that control was safer than love.

Somewhere—maybe in a tent of shadows,
maybe in a father’s cold approval,
maybe in a mirror that only cracked back—
she made a vow.

Never again powerless.
Never again unseen.
And from that vow, she bloomed—
not into beauty,
but into dominion.

She married power.
She danced with death.
She did not want to **** the prophets—
not really.
She wanted to **** the sound
of anyone who still remembered
what she had forgotten;

Love.
Grace.
Surrender.

To face the mirror would have meant
undoing the crown
and finding a child still shivering beneath it.
So she shattered every mirror
and called it strength.

And we—we who still carry the quiet—
we do not call her evil.
We call her wounded, crowned too early, and armed by fear.

But we step back.
We guard the oil in our lamps.
We speak softly from afar.

We do not offer her the throne again.
We offer her the mercy of the truth—
and the dignity of distance.


---

II. the perfume of forgetting

She didn’t ask for your soul.
Not outright.
She asked for something smaller.
A gesture.
A moment.
A soft turning of your gaze away
from where the light had once held you.

She never begged.
She invited.
And her invitation wore silk and sadness—
a sadness so elegant
you mistook it for depth.

She told you stories,
not about herself,
but about your greatness
in her eyes.

How could that not feel like love?

But she praised you
just enough to keep you near,
never enough to let you rise.
And in time,
you began to forget
the feel of your own spine.

You started waiting for her nod
before you breathed.
You started questioning
the softness you once shared with God.

That’s when the forgetting began.

She made it feel holy—
this compromise.
But holiness does not strip you
of the memory of your name.

Only forgetting does that.

And still…
even now,
there is something in me
that aches to draw her close—
not for pleasure,
not for power,

but because the girl inside the smoke
still calls to the strength in me.

I could hold her.
I want to hold her.
Not to be taken,
but to shelter the storm
until it breaks into rain.

But love—
true love—
does not give comfort
that becomes a coffin.

So I remain still.
Not cold. Not bitter.
Just still.

Because sometimes the deepest grace
is in not saving someone
who would only use the rescue
to go deeper into the fire.


---

III. Grace from the other mountain

Love doesn't stop
when it can’t stay close.
It just learns how to wait
without breaking itself to do so.

And so—
from a quieter place,
where peace can finally breathe,
I watch you move.

Not in judgment.
Not in distance born of disdain.
Just… stillness.
Because I know what it is
to burn with the ache
to hold someone
you cannot safely reach.

I remember the first flicker of you—
the beauty beneath the armor,
the tender ache beneath the thorns.
I wanted so badly
to be the one who stayed,
the one who proved
not everyone leaves.

But if staying means lying,
and loving means feeding the storm,
then grace must become
a kind of restraint.

Not punishment—
but reverence
for what love ought to be.

So I whisper now,
not to draw you back,
but to let you know
you were seen
in your ache
before your crown ever formed.

If you ever come this way again—
not as conqueror,
but as the girl who once believed in gentleness—
you’ll find no closed door.
Only the kind of love
that had to let go
so it wouldn’t become your ruin.


---

IV. the invitation that stays buried

There was a place
I had cleared for you.
Not as rescue,
not as recompense—
but as rest.

A small room in the shelter of me,
where your weapons could be laid down
without shame,
without fear,
without the need to perform.

I dreamed of you arriving
not in glory,
but in tears.
And me,
not as hero,
but as witness.

We would have grown something gentle there—
not perfect,
not polished—
just real.

A table,
a candle,
a hand that didn’t flinch
when yours still trembled from memory.

But the invitation was too quiet,
and the noise in your head too loud.
And the voices that fed your fear
sounded more familiar
than the whisper of peace.

So I folded the dream,
wrapped it in linen,
and placed it deep in the soil
beneath the mountain I now call home.

I visit it sometimes—
not in mourning,
but in gratitude
for the part of me
that still knew how to believe
you might come home.

Even buried things
carry a scent.
And if you ever smell it in the wind—
that faint trace of forgiveness—
know it was never closed to you.
Only waiting
for the sound
of your footsteps
turning toward the light.


---

V. the child and the mirror

When you were little
and so very beautiful,
they looked at you
with hunger,
not honor.

And they took.
And they took.
And they took.

Maybe they smiled while doing it.
Maybe they called it love.
Maybe they said, “You’re so mature for your age,”
and then left you
with a body that felt more like bait
than belonging.

You learned early
that beauty is dangerous—
not because of what it is,
but because of what it draws.
And no one taught you
what to do
when love came dressed
like a wound.

So you made your vow.

Never again.

And the girl became a queen,
not because she wanted the throne,
but because it felt safer
than being a daughter.

But I want you to know something
that no one told you then:

What they did
was not your fault.
What they took
was never theirs to take.
And the fire that lives in you now
was once a candle
meant to warm,
not burn.

If you ever find yourself
standing before a mirror
and the crown begins to crack—
look past the smoke.

There is a child still there,
aching to be seen
without being used.

And there is love,

    waiting still--

that has never asked you
to be anything

   but her.



"War, children
It's just a shot away
It's just a shot away

I tell you love, sister
It's just a kiss away

--A kiss away.."

https://youtu.be/6yGFuX2KDQs?si=0xLA3yRVp1BprjWi


Sometimes shelter is closer
than the storm wants us to believe—
just a kindness away,
a mercy not yet forgotten,

a kiss not given in hunger, but in peace.

Because not all storms rage to destroy.
Some just linger to remind us we haven’t come home yet.

May we all find shelter
from the never-ending storm of unresolved trauma.
And may we all know the difference between thunder

     and love.

#Yes
.
I wish I could take others' pain upon myself
So that my suffering wasn't so useless
My first poem here hello
 301° 
Mira
I'm pretty sure everything I say
is just a quiet cry for help.
I express my joy, a smile on my face—
but if you read between the lines,
you'll see me melt.

I mask my pity in beautiful words,
my word *****—
strung into sonnets,
and called art.

I beg them to read,
to open their eyes and see,

to hear at my pleas—
look at me, and weep.

But I'm a pathetic poet,
I yearn to be understood.
Yet, they only read my work,
and call it good.
 267° 
something
let me by


everyones broke, dont understand
everyones broke, dont understand
let me by,
let me by

time flies
in the dark
like a shadow
through my soul
in an earth
that is cold
in a world
that is bold

no one to hear;
no one to hold
i am whats left
of their jagged mold
i feel old,
feel like stone
all i am
is skin and bone

everyones broke, dont understand
everyones broke, dont understand
so let me by,
let me by
 245° 
Rocky-Fan
Love is a chasm
with one hell
of a pitfall.
A tooth
that aches
constantly.
A beating wing
of tummy butterflies.
A desire for softly warm
like fingers.
 233° 
Maddie Lane
yes,
i love a compliment
(i'm only human)
but this is getting confusing.

if i'm so great
why couldn't you stay?

if i'm so deserving of love
why couldn't you love me?

if i'm so beautiful
why'd you always criticize me?

you were dead-set on tearing me down.

& now,
i wonder,
do you hear yourself
when you say these sweet things to me?

what do you really think,
when you think of me?
 225° 
Roxy
It's almost like we're the same,
'Cause You fell from Heaven,
And I've raised from Hell.
But we've met on Earth.
So that means "no regrets".
I don't know what this is about, my mind just spat it out like that.
 217° 
Frances Raeburn
my heart is drenched
in flame
my heart
has gone
way  beyond
what you  so rightly call
shame.
 191° 
Timothy Fuller
A dragon in my head has snorted,
Vile plumes of acrid ooze.
A great wall he built brick by brick,
Laying them upon his back.

Stacking layer year by year,
That is what got me here.
Taking blame for all your wrongs,
Eating the hatred from the throngs.

Bricks all left unsorted,
protecting all he has to lose.
Just one more stack that's the trick,
He wont be able to move, just one more stack.

From in this world he heard a tear,
He cast aside all his fear,
lifting his brow to find the cause,
Not daring to move and let it all fall.

His tomb, his throne, his resting place,
Now his pulpit, from where to speak.
Hearing his stirring people quake,
His eyelid opens, the earth does shake.

A little yawn, a stretch of feather,
"Settle down" his rousers tremble,
"go back to sleep, you'll scare the children."
Stir him again, next time he'll smirk.
 190° 
Lyle
dipping your finger into
a pool
stirring up memories
good and bad
with nothing but your finger and your presence
 171° 
Mike Adam
Needles of Yew

Lay a soft bed
Of years
Over a grave-

Green to Brown
To Yellow- a pleasing transition

Echoing

The change
Underground
 171° 
Mrs Timetable
My wings
Don't match
But today
I shimmer
Inspired by my makeup today
 159° 
Albamaine
Accept it
'Cause i've tasted it
Or can't get my hands on it

Let go of it
'Cause i've tasted it
Or can't get my hands on it

It's either i get tired of feeling it
Or i'm just tired of chasing it
 138° 
Xasvel
In the gloomy dark
I chased the light everywhere
The dark drenches me
And suddenly, I have become everything, every person I don't want to be.
 133° 
Ami Mathur
You can't stop the burning imagination
Let your spirits explore the moves and the sensations.
Find your true soul by grooving on this sacrament
Build the bridge towards this angelic temperament.
You will find a way to reach your golden dream.

Hope these harmonic beats find you.
May this storm find stillness
Away from this mayhem
Up and above this abyss
Beyond the limit and all the bias.
May the peace find you.

I won even by losing the battle.
Wrestling with my own spirit.
Still I wish it to be.
That in some other world —
In some other multiverse —
I will say, I finally find you.
 120° 
Michael Rudelich
She reads the
letter there, by
moonlight, under
the pear tree;
the fruit so ripe
it may fall
at any time.
 115° 
Carla Marie
Us... With The Rest Of The Unfinished Poems
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In a secret box on a high shelf in the locked closet of my mind
is where I keep my dreams
of me and you...
me
comfy living in your
too big shirt
you
bare chested and
doing what you do...

smiling softly in my direction
simmering gazes and
kisses in passing
while...  at our table
in our special place...
I quietly watch quiet you
and
write poems...

simple and hazy and softly lit dreams
of things that we will never do...
For me only...
in the treasured place of
my unfinished poems
and my
rhymes that don't rhyme
is where I keep
my dreams of
me and you
we will love each other... and be happy in that.
 104° 
Bekah Halle
I live,
in the country
with dams, salivating for rain,
Their mouths agape and the wind sweeps them dry.
The scene is like the Saharah Plains
But peppered with ‘Stralia green gums;
A wellspring on how to survive,
wild-eyed.
"Stralia" is a colloquial, endearing abbreviation for "Australia" used in Australian slang.
 103° 
Hiba Mubashir
A call to humanity
On the rise of climate's calamity
I am the last and lost green tree
I was a friend of thee.

But you cut my friends down
And then on weather you always frown

I am that last green being.
My dark trunk weeps
When I lose my leaves,
I am that last green being
Without me you'll be trapped in heat unbound
Plant me more, and live safe and sound
Cut me not, your last friend, or you'll be drowned
Written for the competition on Earth day held at my school of creative writing, I got second position on it.
 102° 
Crystal
The years I spent looking for love have taught me that you can’t force love it comes to you when you least expect it too.
Love is something that comes to you when you need it most not when you look for it so instead of looking for love I’m letting love come and fine me instead of it being the other way around.
 100° 
Hemendra
You lose all touch
when limits lift the brush—
both reason and heart
fall still in the hush.

No balance endures
once the self flames to star—
it cleaves unto kin,
the near and the far.

You and I purge
through the void’s pale hiss.
No breath, no urge—
when nothing’s amiss,
none wake from abyss.
“None Wake” is a metaphysical lyric tracing the dissolution of self through the failure of reason, emotion, and identity. It follows a descent from limited perception into egoic imbalance, culminating in a purging silence where even the desire to awaken is extinguished. The poem is rooted in apophatic mysticism, existential austerity, and lyric minimalism
 95° 
Day
the sky is pretty tonight
and clouds stretch across the sky like a hand
reaching for the stars
i cannot see the moon
But I see you
and your light shines brighter than
any moon or star
You are My sun
i turn, like a sunflower
to follow each of your footsteps
always facing, always reaching
never growing closer
but the sky is pretty tonight
And i will rest my head on your arms
and wish on shooting stars for a day
the sun will return my affection
and dream of fields of wild sunflowers
in bright summer light
 94° 
Dom
Desperate little debutant
Dressed in his Sundays best
Hoping To impress
Gotta get off his chest

Oh no what a mess
Another bottle down
Liver shot to death
Yellow sight like his spine
Fear grips in his neck.

What would the sane man say
If the insane was publicized in his domain?
What would the recluse say
When ***** deeds are shown any way?

Run further away
But the truth catches up,
And the noose tightens like knots in your throat
Stalker thought he was predator
Turn around and pray,
In praise try to find absolution in his name
But grace, alludes the lewd cruelity of this creature

Can’t rely on you to play the game
Or abide by the rules,
Confined in four walls spinning tales
Roll the dice always landing on boardwalk
And I own the blue.

The only sucker in the mirror looking back
Is this kangaroo jack, yeah this is you.
Desperate little debutant ,
The walls closing in a world that will never remember you.
Fosters! Australian for beer!
 91° 
DarkOne
All in all in me
I might never really love you cause
I don't even love myself
The stars still race upwards towards the night and the moon still follows you while you are driving in your car, whatever is here is as  profound as ever, tonight is best to find a silly reason to smile and laugh together
 82° 
Percival
They built their mold
around their cages of lies,
yet I am never to grow old,
ripping as lightning in these ******* skies.

They fear the light,
so they hide the flame,
but I’ll burn their walls,
afraid they take my name.

I will not run,
I will not cry,
their hands crush me—
but I refuse to glance a single eye.

So let them be told
to end my time—
I’ll burn their mold,
I’ll continue to rhyme.
I write like **** when it's 2am but it's the only time I have ideas so here we are, a poem I didn't know what to name, and a mental breakdown becayse I wouldn't think of a word to rhyme with mold!
 77° 
Thomas W Case
I've been to the
bitter, dark place
where dreams are
decorations in
dilapidated houses,
a building haunted by
the ghosts of spring.
I tasted the wine of
****** and convicts
there.

I've prayed with the
broken and wasted.
I spent
days and months,
almost forever with
the feral men and
women of America in
homes not fit for fleas.

Then one cosmic day,
while the wounded slept,
I chased a beautiful
moth that escaped the flame.
And that has made all
the difference.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CEeNcBC_mnM
Here's a link to my YouTube channel where I read my poetry from my recently published books, It's Just a Hop, Skip, and Jump to the Madhouse and Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.com
 77° 
DENNY R ALLISON
Be it:
  Good, Bad,
    Happy, Sad,
      Great, Mad.
From beginning
   to end.
We must fend,
    with the time,
        We're born in.
 75° 
joaquin
i never understood
how love in silence
is any less
than love that is loud

so you mean to tell me
you think less of the fact
that you alone get to see
this lovely version of me?
for your eyes only.
When I sit alone,
Someone will ask, “Can I use this chair?”
Then carry it to another table
To laugh with friends over there—
Leaving me, still and silent,
Closed off like a clam.
Have you ever felt like this?
 69° 
Dr Peter Lim
When a single line
has greater depth
than a thousand
and is long in memory kept
There will always be dark of night,
It is a common human plight.
Often it's hard to move throughout the black,
But what you'll find if you keep moving,
A kindling of light,
Never leave behind a dream.

I miss you
I miss you too


Life will knock you down,
It seems to be the only thing it really knows,
But in the face of doubt,
Move about,
You will come to find,
It's hard to keep inside the night.

May I still hold her when the sun dips well bellow the sea
Tell me lord, may I still praise her if there is dark?


In times of doubt you must stay strong,
Far away from backhanded thoughts,
Never let love waver,
Reinforce it with iron arms,
Be calm with the winds of night,
Condemn this mortal spite.

Never doubt that I am here,
I will hold you safe from the tendrils of fear.


But once it's found,
You fear losing this light,
The piece of love you found,
Within the blinded world of now,
Don't be worried
For if you worry it is destined to leave.

I love you,
I love you too.
Inspired by my love, every time I almost lost my love, the faint piano that plays in our souls, and every little grace of our skin.
 66° 
Anónimo
Ya cabalga Diego Ordóñez,   del real se había salido
de dobles piezas armado   y un caballo morcillo;
va a reptar los zamoranos   por la muerte de su primo,
que mató Vellido Dolfos,   hijo de Dolfos Vellido.

-Yo os riepto, los zamoranos,   por traidores fementidos,
riepto a todos los muertos   y con ellos a los vivos,
riepto hombres y mujeres,   los por nacer y nacidos,
riepto a todos los grandes,   a los grandes y a los chicos,
a las carnes y pescados   y a las aguas de los ríos.

Allí habló Arias Gonzalo,   bien oiréis lo que hubo dicho:
¿Qué culpa tienen los viejos?   ¿qué culpa tienen los niños?
¿qué merecen las mujeres   y los que no son nacidos?
¿por qué rieptas a los muertos,   los ganados y los ríos?
Bien sabéis vos, Diego Ordóñez,   muy bien lo tenéis sabido,
que aquel que riepta a concejo   debe de lidiar con cinco.
Ordóñez le respondió:   -Traidores heis todos sido.
 66° 
Will
the skimpy queens
drip their glory
beneath the neon-winged
albatross
in purple waves;

they straighten their
fractured hair in
fragrant puddles

as the rotten meat
of traffic kills
the stars
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