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 2756° 
Asuka
The flower needs rest,
so winter tucks it beneath the earth,
letting it sleep until spring.

The sun needs rest,
so the clouds and rain embrace it,
shielding its warmth for another day.
Take care, breathe easy, and give yourself the rest you deserve. Rest well, recharge, and remember, like the moon, even brilliance needs the night to shine again.

β€” A gentle reminder that even nature pauses to gather strength.
 1724° 
badwords
Step by step,
no louder than breathβ€”
I walk beside
what isn’t mine to name.

No banners,
no blueprints,
just this sound
of stone learning softness.

You open a window.
I keep the door unlatched.

Let fear finish its echo.
Let the dark chants drift.

Not all ruin is ending.
Some of it
is soil.
 1156° 
Abbott J Hardison
Someday love,
We'll live down by the sea,
Together for all of eternity.

Someday love,
We'll be away from pestering eyes,
Making a life for ourselves.

Someday love,
We'll grow old with our son and daughter,
Joyously watching as they grow.

Someday. . .
Wishing
~
April 2025
HP Poet: Nishu Mathur
Age: 54
Country: India


Question 1: A warm welcome to the HP Spotlight, Nishu. Please tell us about your background?

Nishu Mathur: "I was born in Delhi, a somewhat chaotic yet majestic city with an interesting and rich historic past. Had a lovely childhood and loving parents. Simple, honest and hard working folks. My late father was with Indian Airlines (senior executive management). My mum is a retired Professor. She taught in Delhi University for 41 years. I have a younger brother who is an economist/ professor. I spent a few years in NYC as a child in the 70s. Impressionable years. My love for reading started in school in NYC. We moved back to India in 1979. Did my undergraduate and Master’s in English Literature from Delhi University, St. Stephen’s College. I used to be a voracious reader. Read a lot till I was in school. Had finished reading most classics by the time I was in 10th grade. After that, I started reading contemporary works.

My husband is a technocrat. I have two lovely, kind-hearted daughters, one is an investment manager and the other, a budding lawyer. We love dogs. We had an adorable saintly pug, Now we have two incorrigible beagles.

I have travelled a bit. I have lived in Japan and Canada for a few years and have stayed in different cities in India. I have met incredible people from all over, experienced different traditions and cultures. Learned so much.

I used to teach once upon a time. I’ve also worked as a corporate trainer. Now I work as an editor and content creator for a non profit organization."



Question 2: How long have you been writing poetry, and for how long have you been a member of Hello Poetry?

Nishu Mathur: "I wrote a bit as a child. Then for a little while around 2000. But finally, I really started writing when I took a break from work in 2011. Have been on this site for almost 9 years. I posted my first poem on Hello Poetry in 2016."


Question 3: What inspires you? (In other words, how does poetry happen for you).

Nishu Mathur: "Nature β€” trees, flowers, the sun, the moon. A moment in time. Something I read that I love. Memories. Something around me that I notice that leaves an impact. I used to write happy-go-lucky, cheeky poems too. Really silly stuff. I once wrote a poem on Indian moustaches. On double chins. Mosquitoes. I wrote parodies. Would love to get back to writing poetry like I used to.

I mostly write when I am at peace. For the longest time I found it hard to express sadness and grief. But I think I am getting over that."



Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Nishu Mathur: "Poetry is my go-to-place. A friend, a companion. It is a feeling. It is catharsis. It inspires. It is an outlet for creativity. I am very happy when I am able to write something. I feel rejuvenated. Like I can breathe.

I have learned a lot about poetry over the years. Poetry has also given me an opportunity to know myself and others better.

A poem can say so much in a few words. We can all have our own takeaways and interpretations. Words become magical and beautiful when woven together in poetry. I find that fascinating.

I am not a big talker. So I find happiness and comfort in written words. Poetry helps me to connect with people β€” thanks to online websites such as HP."



Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Nishu Mathur: "Rumi, Emily Dickinson, Vikram Seth, Maya Angelou, Ruskin Bond, Wordsworth, Yeats, Shel Silverstein, Pam Ayres. I love reading the work of fellow poets too."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Nishu Mathur: "Besides poetry, I enjoy music. I am trying my hand at painting. I love walking, going for long drives. I used to love travelling but haven’t been able to travel much these past few years. Love watching feel good, happy movies."


Carlo C. Gomez: β€œWe would like to thank you Nishu, we really appreciate you giving us the opportunity to get to know the person behind the poet! It is our pleasure to include you in this Spotlight series!”

Nishu Mathur: "Thank you Carlo for Timetabling me and for your support. Grateful for the encouragement and inspiration I have received and continue to receive from this wonderful community of poets on Hello Poetry."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Nishu a little bit better. We certainly did. It is our wish that these spotlights are helping everyone to further discover and appreciate their fellow poets. – Carlo C. Gomez

We will post Spotlight #27 in May!

~
 702° 
Nishu Mathur
Skies darken as blue fades,
clouds burst in happiness,
a cascade of drops,
soaking earth,
a rosary of shimmering beads,
crystal droplets dance in puddles,
peering through glass windows,
tapping on roof tops that slant,
on thatched homes that drip,
on twigs and branches,
on ruby tangerine roses and sunny marigolds,
settling in scarlet and auburn crevices,
on emerald leaves and blades of satin green grass,
glistening like drops of morning dew,
and in the midst of the gentle splash of the rain,
there you are β€”
it is always raining you
Old poem.
 576° 
Daniel
So many things that
words can never say
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β β€’
Too many words that
just get in the way
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β β€’
Β©2025 Daniel Irwin Tucker
 566° 
Berserker Chained
What is time but caught in the window
I'm stuck in the middle of the glass
and became a shard bleeding soul.

I need redemption for the last
as breathes wheezing from the past.

I need the dirt wiped from the scratches
of glass to find the real me
Them moonlight doesn't shine,
The hammered piano such as I

A puppy in its new home,
in fear suckling the blanket
The still-ness of ageless gnomes,
in a garden of a home that's not home.

The rotten apples in a casket
No longer juicy but so dry
Age wrinkles give us silent cries

The curse of being born beautiful,
Anxiety from their obsession
of one who is still just a pup.
 409° 
Cheryl Ann Warner
Give me your heart
And I’ll give you mine
Give me your heart
And I can see
Give me your heart
And it will be me
 373° 
Carlo C Gomez
Remember they're monsters

Not just in theory, but really

It's no longer about the evidence

(If it ever was...)

But a call to collusion

They want you silent

Unless you recite after them

So they can write papers

On pipe dreams
𝐴 β„Žπ‘Žπ‘™π‘™π‘€π‘Žπ‘¦,
π‘π‘Žπ‘–π‘›π‘‘π‘’π‘‘ 𝑖𝑛 π‘”π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘¦.
𝐴 π‘π‘Žπ‘‘β„Žπ‘€π‘Žπ‘¦,
π‘€π‘–π‘‘β„Ž π‘Žπ‘› 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 π‘ π‘œ π‘“π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘€π‘Žπ‘¦.Β Β 

πΉπ‘œπ‘œπ‘‘π‘ π‘‘π‘’π‘π‘  π‘ π‘œ π‘™π‘œπ‘’π‘‘,
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘Ž 𝑠𝑑𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠 π‘ β„Žπ‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘’π‘‘.
𝐴 π‘ π‘œπ‘€ 𝑔𝑒𝑑𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 π‘π‘™π‘œπ‘€π‘’π‘‘,
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 π‘‘π‘–π‘ π‘Žπ‘™π‘™π‘œπ‘€π‘’π‘‘.Β Β 

𝐿𝑒𝑑 π‘Žπ‘ π‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘¦,
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘π‘œπ‘’π‘™π‘‘ π‘œπ‘›π‘™π‘¦ π‘π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘¦.
π‘‡π‘œ π‘›π‘œπ‘‘ π‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘‘ π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘‘π‘’π‘π‘Žπ‘¦,
π‘‘π‘œ 𝑠𝑒𝑒 π‘Žπ‘›π‘œπ‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘Ÿ π‘‘π‘Žπ‘¦.Β Β 

π·π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘˜π‘›π‘’π‘ π‘  π‘œπ‘£π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘”π‘Ÿπ‘œπ‘€π‘›,
𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑙𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔 π‘‘β„Žπ‘’ π‘’π‘›π‘˜π‘›π‘œπ‘€π‘›.
π‘‡π‘–π‘šπ‘’ 𝑖𝑛 π‘π‘œπ‘ π‘‘π‘π‘œπ‘›π‘’,
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘€π‘œπ‘’π‘›π‘‘π‘  π‘π‘Žπ‘Ÿπ‘’π‘™π‘¦ 𝑠𝑒𝑀𝑛.Β Β 

πΏπ‘–π‘›π‘”π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘  π‘œπ‘“ π‘‘π‘–π‘ π‘šπ‘Žπ‘¦,
π‘€β„Žπ‘’π‘› π‘‘β„Žπ‘’π‘Ÿπ‘’'𝑠 π‘›π‘œ π‘™π‘’π‘’π‘€π‘Žπ‘¦ π‘“π‘œπ‘Ÿ π‘”π‘’π‘‘π‘Žπ‘€π‘Žπ‘¦.
π‘Œπ‘’π‘ π‘‘π‘’π‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘Žπ‘¦π‘  𝑖𝑛 π‘Ž π‘Ÿπ‘’π‘π‘™π‘Žπ‘¦,
π‘Žπ‘›π‘‘ π‘Žπ‘”π‘œπ‘›π‘¦ 𝑖𝑛 π‘π‘œπ‘Ÿπ‘‘π‘Ÿπ‘Žπ‘¦.
 308° 
apollo
love cannot be described by words
through the silence that holds us close
through the soft touch of our fingers
it is described through the way
we give in
to the longing within
 284° 
Mina
πšˆπšŽπšŠπš‘ 𝙸 πšŠπš–, πš πš‘πšŠπš'𝚜 πš—πšŽπš .
πšƒπš‘πš’πšœ πšπš’πš–πšŽ πš’πš'𝚜 πšπš’πšπšπšŽπš›πšŽπš—πš, πš’πš'𝚜 πš‘πš˜πš  πšπš’πš–πšŽ πšπš•πšŽπš .
πš†πš’πš•πš• 𝙸 𝚊𝚐𝚎 πš˜πš—πšŽ 𝚍𝚊𝚒 πšŠπš—πš πš πš˜πš—πšπšŽπš› πš πš‘πšŽπš›πšŽ πš‘πšŠπšœ πš–πš’ πš•πš’πšπšŽ πšπš˜πš—πšŽ.
πš†πš’πš•πš• πš’ πšŽπšŸπšŽπš— πš–πšŠπš”πšŽ πš’πš πš˜πš•πš, πš†πš’πš•πš• πš’ πšŽπšŸπšŽπš— πš–πš˜πšŸπšŽ πš˜πš—.
π™Ύπš•πš πš™πšŽπš˜πš™πš•πšŽ πšœπšŒπšŠπš›πšŽ πš–πšŽ πš πš’πšπš‘ πšπš‘πšŽπš’πš› πšŠπšπšŸπš’πšŒπšŽ.
πšƒπš‘πšŽπš’ πš–πšŠπš”πšŽ πš–πšŽ πšπšŽπšŽπš• πš•πš’πš”πšŽ 𝙸'πš– πš™πš•πšŠπš’πš’πš—πš πš–πš’ πš•πš’πšπšŽ πš πš’πšπš‘ πšπš’πšŒπšŽ.
π™½πš˜πš  𝙸'πš– πšƒπš˜πš˜ πšœπšŒπšŠπš›πšŽπš 𝚝𝚘 πšŽπš—πš“πš˜πš’ πš’πš πšŠπš—πš πš›πš˜πšžπš.
π™±πšžπš 𝙸 πšŒπšŠπš—'𝚝 πš‘πšŽπš•πš™ πšπš‘πšŽ πšπšŽπšŽπš•πš’πš—πš 𝚘𝚏 πš–πš’πšœπšœπš’πš—πš 𝚘𝚞𝚝.
πšƒπš‘πšŽπš’ say πš’πš˜πšžπšπš‘ πš’s πšπš•πšŽπšŽπšπš’πš—πš, πš’πšŽπšŠπš‘ πš—πš˜ πšœπš‘πš’πš.
𝙸 πšπšŽπš•πš πš’πš 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚒 πš‹πšŽπšπš˜πš›πšŽ πš’ πšŒπš˜πšžπš•πš πšŽπšŸπšŽπš— πšŒπš˜πš–πš–πš’πš.
πš†πš’πš•πš• πš’ πšŽπšŸπšŽπš› πš•πš˜πš˜πš” πš‹πšŠπšŒπš” πšŠπš—πš 𝚜𝚊𝚒 "πšƒπš‘πšŠπš 𝚠𝚊𝚜 πš–πš’πš—πšŽ"
π™Ύπš› πš“πšžπšœπš πš πšŠπšπšŒπš‘ πšπš›πš˜πš– 𝚊 πšπš’πšœπšπšŠπš—πšŒπšŽ 𝚊𝚜 πš’ πš›πšžπš— 𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚘𝚏 πšπš’πš–πšŽ
I have a full beard at 16
 262° 
cassandra
and if one day
you decide to stop calling
i’ll still be leaving my phone
with the sound on
for the night
 250° 
sena
today i turned 17
another year onto my life
another candle on the cake;
closer to being an adult
or
closer to my death
my perception of aging has always been obscured
unsurety fills me not knowing what lies ahead
but i no longer want to live "unsure"
im determined to live this last year of being adult-free ;
with no worries, no doubts
to live surely in everything i do
ill update again in 365 days.
i want to be 16 forever
 230° 
Xio
My heart was heavy, so I wrote, turned ghosts to words, let poems float. You read, you stayed, you understoodβ€”and that alone made bad days good.

So here’s my thanks, a whispered sighβ€”
I’ll step away, but not goodbye.
 227° 
Ari
Stupid,
stupid,
stupid
love,
the
reason
our
world
is
tilted
but
also
the
reason
the
world
is
still
right.
We go crazy for love, but that’s why it’s so beautiful. It’s taken me awhile but I truly understand now, love is truly everywhere, even in the way we simply care.
 215° 
CS Modei
I’d tear the sun from the sky,
Lest it burn your eyes;
Pull your ship from the grasp of the sea,
Lest you succumb to its depths;
Quell the winds of the raging storm,
Lest it ruffle your hair.
The first in a series of poems for my partner, my beautiful ray of moonlight that penetrates the darkness I live in.
Ahora me pregunto si es que toda la vida
hemos estado aquΓ­. Pongo, ahora mismo,
la mano ante los ojos -quΓ© latido
de la sangre en los pΓ‘rpados- y el vello
inmenso se confunde, silencioso,
a la mirada. Pesan las pestaΓ±as.
No sΓ© bien de quΓ© hablo. ΒΏQuiΓ©nes son,
rostros vagos nadando como en un agua pΓ‘lida,
Γ©stos aquΓ­ sentados, con ojos vivientes?
La tarde nos empuja a ciertos bares
o entre cansados hombres en pijama.
Ven. Salgamos fuera. La noche. Queda espacio
arriba, mΓ‘s arriba, mucho mΓ‘s que las luces
que iluminan a rΓ‘fagas tus ojos agrandados.
Queda tambiΓ©n silencio entre nosotros,
silencio
Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β  Β 
y este beso igual que un largo tΓΊnel.
 209° 
Marc Morais
We see ourselves
as a house of mirrorsβ€”
each reflection warps
to fit its frame

What else can we doβ€”
we trim the edges
smooth out the lightβ€”
If the curve is wrong
we bend our sights

Do I add too muchβ€”
a borrowed shadow
stolen tints and mismatched colors
remove too littleβ€”
leave out the seam

We are never as we are
only as we fit
within what we let others seeβ€”
patched by memory
tilted to surviveβ€”
from shame
from fears
from the raging battle
of wanting to hide and be seen
all at onceβ€”
never finding balance

I am tired
of self-adjustingβ€”
I want to get caught up in the rain
with someone who can walk
through mirrors
 206° 
Shambhavi
They pretend to be nice,
But in reality, they are rude.
They pretend to be kind,
But in reality, they are cruel.

They pretend to love animals,
But in reality, they **** their blood.
They pretend to love God,
But in reality, they walk the path of demons.

They pretend to love
But in reality, it's all lust
They pretend to save nature,
But in reality, they make nature cry

All I want to remind you,
my dear,
Nature is not shy.
 198° 
Opal Black
Quick do you hear it?
Do you hear that ticking sound?
Open up your chest and reach beyond the pound
Can you feel it?
Can you feel that ticking now?
You are running out of time, will you die now?

Tick, Tick, Tick.
Does that change anything now?
Are you still there?
Even after the sound?
Don’t let it stop, you can’t
But it wants to stop,
Will you let it?
 197° 
Caits
there is such a difference between laying the cutlery out on the table for everyone to see
and putting it back in the box, dropping it outside, and writing a β€˜free sign’ β€” laying it down, and letting it go

feels lighter
free

I hated the set anyways
 190° 
ivan
sometimes i just need a hug

not the harsh words
maybe i just dont want to listen
to the truth
maybe im just too overwhelmed

sensitive.

i would never ask
for something like this
stabbing teeth into my wrists

like a dog, i follow you,
i admire you
but
sometimes all i need
is a hug
exhausted
torn apart.
 184° 
Anailen
it stings
but thats the price i pay
for doing bad things

again

will it ever stop?

will i ever stop?

itll stop when the world stops spinning
they say it gets better
to wait it out
itll stop when i stop breathing
 158° 
Dr Peter Lim
Such a common error:
to take the major
as minor
and the latter
as the former
 150° 
Akriti
You wanted a boy
You got me
Were you happy
Of course not
I did all the right things
Took care of you
Didn't chase after boys
Rather, I chased my dreams
Made a name in the world
People I meet say- we are proud of you !
But you are ashamed .
I am still your worthless child
Just because I am a girl.
 127° 
From the ashes
I've never written a limerick.
Thinking of it makes me sick.
Better a sonnet
or a woman upon it.
Maybe, I'll just play with my ****.
lol.  Just having fun.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ICWIGqf62Kw
poetry reading on you tube by Thomas W. Case
 126° 
Shaylie
You make me feel like I just took a deep breath of fresh air after being in a hot car
And things haven’t been miserable
Quite the opposite
But better with you here
 125° 
Rubyredheart
I’ll not touch you
If You don’t want me to
From your words & acts I’ll take my cue
But if you flip my switch & with your okay
I’ll make your mind go numb as you sway
To my hypnotic grind when I have my way
Caressing, confessing
secret hungers that crawl beneath my skin
The need to feel you plunge within
I’m years’ deep now, excitable
Sensations beyond all you imagine
Urging me to dance that dance with your permission
But ONLY if you flip my switch
If not, have no fear
Just friends, then, here
 120° 
Michael Marchese
Depleting
Approaching
The close
Of my business
It’s none of your wishlist
And spent of forgiveness
So much as returning
A glance
Now accosts
Me a fortune
In earnings
I’ve turned
Into loss
And like moss
Emblematically claims
Academia
Billionaire socialists
Boast social media
Ghosting their former
Profile’s
Depictions
Recombinant matrix
Red pillage
Prescriptions
Now written
As freely
As AIDs in the 80’s
Pervaded
Their brains
And turned men
Into ladies
 119° 
Megan E Hoffman
"If there is only one thing to do well in this life,

It is to love well;

For if there is anything you are to be judged by

It is the plainness, of your loving."

||
πŸ“– the opening page from my book;Β Β "Biting Thorns Off Roses"
 118° 
Richly Ivory-Coate
It would be feminine to say,
It's probably best to say,
The gentle feel of the texture of certain pillows should be slept on with the pillow case, where the part to sleep on is the gentle feel of the pillow,
Uncovered,
Along with the pillow sheet whether silk or not marginally that uncovering
 118° 
rhenee rose
Am I suffering beautifully?
Do I wear my agony like a crown?
Adorn it with pearls and jewels,
And parade it into town?

Is my pain reasonable enough?
Do I raise it up or tone it down?
I’ll try to cry pretty, tiny tears,
In fact, I'd do it in my gown!

For even in despair, I should be desirable,
Dare not to be emotional, dare not to make a sound.
To be a woman is to bleed, but glamorously.
There shall be glitters in the meltdown.
A poem about how society expects women’s agony to be palatable.
 117° 
Kirui Frank Junior
Be smart,
Silence heals more,
Just silence!
 117° 
Ahlam
I wish for my life to be a marathon
Not to win, not to lose
But to always keep running

Whatever happens, whatever I find
If I trip or fall, break a leg or an arm
I wish to get up and keep running

Not to reach a Finish line
But to smile along the road
And to encounter everything I wished for.
I will carry myself with me in all that i know
I will carry myself with me Despite what you Will for me to know
I will carry myself in me
For it is all that i know
I will carry what is in me
Everywhere i go
It is i you will know
Written by:
Timothy Charles Carter
 113° 
ymmiJ
this simulation
has other simulations
total distraction
 106° 
Lance Remir
When we crossed paths again
The only intimacy that was shared
Were our shadows overlapping
And even then
Yours was the first to leave
 98° 
ghost girl
i write about you all the time,
but i almost never keep it,
torn up or deleted,
or saved in some file to be
lost to the abyss of fracture
and finality, where i keep
all my other thoughts
of you.
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