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If i could weave the words of love for you on a fabric, the unending stitching of your name will be fluent in the language of my heart's rose is lighted with the devotion of your glance that is ablaze, touch me closer now, oh brooding one of the night, for I am your moon with the healing light.
 62° 
Jimmy silker
Before I met my wife
I was incomplete
Now I'm finished.
 62° 
Mimi
Life, only God knows
When you're looking for the answer, He always shows
For some, it's long
But little do they know, they are doing it all wrong

Some people live it good, some bad
But once they see the wrath of God, it will be sad
It's not hard to just say sorry
'Cause if you don't, it will all go sorely

God knows your heart
Your life to Him is a very important part
If you give your life to him
You will NEVER feel pain, not in one tiny limb

JESUS LOVES YOU!!!
 61° 
Anon
I see you.
Even through your dark nights and stormy skies.
I see you with your chilly breeze and lack of leaves.

I feel safe in your cold embrace.

You’ve always been my favourite. Not needing to shine bright or be loud. You let simplicity take the lead.

You are truly the beginning and the end. Laying bare for all to see.
 60° 
mini
there's no1likeme

you can't beat
straight smile and sharp eyes

my fans don't call me the leader
they call me their captain

cause there's no1likeme


hehe my love @no1likeme8_8 on insta
 58° 
Phenomenological
When sun's breath fires
  wire frame.
Displayed behind
  flat sparkling gravity.
Moon's light casts
  dark mist over murky waters.
Ushering the ark
  gliding over crescent waves:
On raging towers of indignant froth
  not serene silk smooth vast ocean.
    It reaches the dove, carrying branch;
     Holding it aloft as it is
      The     Saint    of the sentence.
The following is written prose. It is intended to convey with clarity and accuracy. It is not intended to convolute or confuse. Therefore, it should flow with precision: focus on what it ought to, not what it ought not to. This rule of prose is absolute; it is the saint of the sentence.
 56° 
Dr Peter Lim
In your dreams
you're a different person
could it be this-
that you prefer that version?
 55° 
badwords
Leaving the mirror feels like walking out of a shadow,
You try to piece together the fragments,
Accepting they will never mirror you again.
Some might say it’s your fault,
But it feels like walking through life
With a quiet strength where there once was emptiness.
Solitude.
Acceptance.
Self-compassion.
Growth.
Patienc­e.
Stillness.
Gratitude.
Understanding.
Trusting your own reflection.
No longer seeking validation,
No longer seeing yourself in others.
The image was false,
But the truth is clearer now,
The quiet voice that was always there,
Unshaken.
The grief fades—
Not gone, but transformed.

Strength.
Awareness.
A new beginning.
~for Ghost

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4968322/trauma-bond/

I wrote this in a style to mirror the framing of the original as closely as possible in solidarity for recounting my own experiences in a similar situation.


Broken Mirror explores the emotional journey of self-realization and healing following a toxic relationship. The poem reflects on the experience of losing a relationship that was built on validation rather than genuine connection, symbolized by the shattered mirror. The narrator, once dependent on external affirmation, finds themselves confronted with the stark emptiness left behind when that mirror is broken. As they struggle with feelings of solitude and grief, a quiet transformation begins, one that shifts from confusion to self-awareness.

Throughout the piece, the poem traces a movement from pain, isolation, and self-doubt toward acceptance, self-compassion, and ultimately empowerment. The narrative journey mirrors the internal process of healing, where the protagonist learns to stand on their own without relying on others for validation, embracing their true self amidst the fragments of the past. By the end of the poem, the narrator no longer seeks validation from external sources but instead discovers strength in their own reflection, marking the beginning of a new, more authentic chapter in their life.

The poet aims to capture the emotional complexity of a relationship defined by narcissistic dynamics, while also offering a hopeful perspective on self-reclamation. The poem invites readers to witness the pain of losing a validating reflection but also celebrates the transformative process of reclaiming one's true identity in the aftermath.
 50° 
star
icarus 6.29.25 (4:00 pm / 16:00)
i, too
want to fly so close to the sun
that i become ashes
and when i am dead
then i will smile and laugh

and i will be happy

as i drift
as dust
into s p a c e
lwk depressed like i'd throw myself into the sun not the worst way to die
 49° 
Ike E Davis
God loves you
Be Kind
Have Morales
Think of Others
Love God
Tú cuya carne, hoy dispersión y polvo,
pesó como la nuestra sobre la tierra,
tú cuyos ojos vieron el sol, esa famosa estrella,
tú que viviste no en el rígido ayer
sino en el incesante presente,
en el último punto y ápice vertiginoso del tiempo,
tú que en tu monasterio fuiste llamado
por la antigua voz de la épica,
tú que tejiste las palabras,
tú que cantaste la victoria de Brunanburh
y no la atribuiste al Señor
sino a la espada de tu rey,
tú que con júbilo feroz cantaste,
la humillación del viking,
el festín del cuervo y del águila,
tú que en la oda militar congregaste
las rituales metáforas de la estirpe,
tú que un tiempo sin historia
viste en el ahora el ayer
y en el sudor y sangre de Brunanburh
un cristal de antiguas auroras,
tú que tanto querías a tu Inglaterra
y no la nombraste,
hoy no eres otra cosa que unas palabras
que los germanistas anotan.
Hoy no eres otra cosa que mi voz
cuando revive tus palabras de hierro.

Pido a mis dioses o a la suma del tiempo
que mis días merezcan el olvido,
que mi nombre sea Nadie como el de Ulises,
pero que algún verso perdure
en la noche propicia a la memoria
o en las mañanas de los hombres.
 47° 
Yonah Jeong
793
Truth is the light of love, science is the shadow of truth.
Near the center of things, the heart of the sprawl,
The hustle and bustle, the chaos of it all.

I made it to the city, 9 months later I left
having survived and thrived and realized
I'm not sure do I want anyone to live there.

New York, London, San Francisco, Dublin;
The more urban the environment, the more
 43° 
Mike Adam
I shall go down to the dump today
to pick up a random thought
and translate it into
a first language
 43° 
San
Whilst all the Chaos
Flavours of Life
Reaching out to Human beings
Can make anyday today
& Today is the Day!
 43° 
Nat Lipstadt
Do not stand
          By my grave, and weep.
     I am not there,
          I do not sleep—
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning’s hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the day transcending night.
     Do not stand
          By my grave, and cry—
     I am not there,
          I did not die.
— Clare Harner, The Gypsy, December 1934
https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Do_Not_Stand_at_My_Grave_and_Weep
 42° 
Sean Maloney
I’m just
I’m going to try to sleep
If I’m up all night so be it
This hurts
 42° 
Christian Bixler
is it more beautiful
the fleeting end
of a rainbow
 42° 
Carlo C Gomez
A quiet
young woman
in a library
reading books
with diagrams
of bomb shelters
and *** positions

She's thinking
of her future
 39° 
1DNA
Would you rather
Live the life you want
and hurt?
Or live the life you need
In hurt?
Contemplating
 39° 
David P Carroll
When the truth
Is ugly only a
Lie can be beautiful.
Truth/Lie.
 38° 
Bijan Rabiee
I can play
With your temporal stay
Swing to and fro your antenna
Tug at the strings of your viscera
Stretch'em to left, to right
To the middle of infernal night
You can't fully get to know me
Can't control the flow of my steam
I can make you or break you
That depends on your approach
Suppress me and I tie your feet
Ignore me, I trick your heat
Hate me and I tamper with your creed
When it comes to my existence
There is but one way
You can carry the day
Come to terms with your shortcomings
Swallow your sins
And embrace the things
That you dislike the most.
 36° 
zestree
Do you still dream of things
you want but cannot have

But you think you could've gotten
if only you were good enough

These nights are awfully quiet
without the chatter of your old dreams

The crickets chirping
a moth banging on the window

No you can't get in
just like I can't touch the flame

Inside my memory
that lit up my room

In the sound of bedtime stories
 34° 
Boma
The flowers bloomed
I cut them down
You gave me the seeds
 32° 
rick
it’s sad to say
that nowadays
a smile
is more often
used
to hide depression
rather than
express
happiness.
 32° 
Kathryn Heim
Compose the day
Suppose a ray
Propose the sun
Oppose no one.
 30° 
CJ Sutherland
Most go through the motions daily
without thinking Sunday 8:30 AM
Walking the park with my dog
I noticed something that seemed off
The kind of thing you can’t put your finger on
It’s a feeling a thought something
that made me turn and look again

A White middle-aged man heavyset
Wearing a white ill fitted dress shirt,
a red tie  Solid black dress slacks
It’s Sunday OK I could believe that
He had the hand of a little girl five maybe six
She was dressed in really short Daisy Duke jeans
A white tank top with flowers
Her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail
Low at the base of her neck

Her head forward eyes fixed the ground
When somebody passes by I give the
Standard Greeting Hello good morning.
He replied good morning.

It’s what the child did behind her back.
That panicked me to the core
I needed to see it once more
She had left hand behind her back, her thumb in towards touching her palm
She was moving her little fingers in and out
Slow determination with urgency first,
I wasn’t sure what I saw

She looked over her shoulder
Then quickly , looked down at her hand,
Returning it behind her back and then
Glancing at him afraid he might see
head forward eyes to the ground
****** features emotionless frown
Not a word spoke, but you saw
something in her eyes  Fear
Almost a tear
The movements of the hand quicker
Fingers wider thicker
each time she looked behind at me
Attempting to get my to see
There was no interaction between
the adult male and the child except
for his controlling grip on her right hand

Next to the swings
There was this makeshift square blue tarps
Fashioned into an enclosure
He extended his hand and the hand of the little girl towards the enclosure.. A hand emerged from the within without the rest of the person being seen.
Again, her hand quickly extending and closing wildly gesturing now frantically apparent
The little girl disappeared in the enclosure

The man maintained distance waiting in silence
There were two young adult white, male and female, tattoos up and down their arms with them
Three children all boys, different ages I’m guessing
7,9,10  silent
They did not wiggle, or giggle .they did not do anything, but stand perfectly still.
Honestly I did not notice that at first.
My mind was fixated on the little girl

I approached them and said do you see that man and the little girl?  something seems off.
I explained to them about the distress hand signal
Taught to the children in schools in case they were ever abducted we’re in a situation they felt they could not speak and we’re not safe.

The young adult female unfazed said well he’s part of our church. Not They (the little girl) but He’s
I said something’s off. I hope I’m wrong
but there’s something wrong with this picture.
The the young adult woman offered no explanation or seemed concerned for the little girl’s safety .

The young adult man said nothing looked away avoiding eye contact
The three boys kept their heads
forward eyes downward
The park was empty
There was not a group of church people around
the park, it was this couple, the three boys and the man with a girl. All white.
I am not one who looks at color
however the police need
A full accurate description

I turned to the man standing there
waiting for the little girl and said
What church are you with?
He replied, LDS
I looked right in his eyes and said
that girl is in distress. There’s something wrong.. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t express concern.
. His mannerism was rigid.
My heart already pounding.

I wasn’t sure what to do.
I told him something‘s feels wrong
I offered him an opening to ease my suspicion
If everything was fine,
A normal response would’ve been
Him yelling, telling me off or
to mind my own business or
To reassure me, everything is fine Or
At least to ask me why I feel this way

Silence was not the correct response for the situation that I was escalating. I wasn’t yelling.
My voice was excited and loud I was shaking
This is where I made a mistake that could have caused those children their lives
I told him I’m going to make the call still nothing
I walked away and I was on the phone with 911

Looking right at the man
describing his features To 911 dispatch
I should not have alerted them that I was calling the police that gave them ample time
to Leave To get away

My husband said they would not do anything in broad daylight too much exposure

When the police got there, of course they were gone. That little girl‘s face etched in my memory
silent rage behind her fearful eyes.I failed her.
The police asked was the dad abusing the girl
He did not say he was the father. I told the police.
I didn’t witnessed any physical abuse.
Then what made you think something was wrong?

The little girl was doing that hand gesture they teach the children in school if they’re abducted or something’s not right oh, he said.
as if not fully impressed. I said I’ve been coming to this park for over 20 years. I have children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. I know when something‘s off and there was something off with that little girl.

We were finishing our walk as the Police Man investigated minutes only the whole situation plays over in my mind..  had I been more inquisitive to see what car they drove.
LDS little girls don’t dress like that
especially on Sunday.

I wonder
What was behind that Blue square tarp enclosures. Who was the person that pulled her in?

There’s a group of people who said on the bench passing out flyers for their church the watchtower. I told them about what I observed, and one of the ladies was quick to say just because that man said he was LDS doesn’t mean he really was and she started to tell me everything wrong with that picture. Another man at the market walking me to my car stated he saw a man dress like that. It’s one of the scams they use their dress like a business person saying they’re out of gas. They left their wallet at home whatever the story is very but they’re dressed like business men so they don’t appear homeless and are more likely to get what they want or to be seen blending in. The store clerk said stay away from those guys they’re evil.

This is a cautionary tale. We need to be observant to our surroundings children’s lives are at stake.
The children in the school district are taught survival should you get lost in the wilderness in May? They go for a week at West camp. They’re taught how they could survive with a pine tree eating the bark drinking pine tea noodles where is north south east and west and what to look for when lost Basic survival. They are also taught in the event. They are abducted. You put your hand behind your back put your thumb towards your palm and you move your finger in and out when you can’t use your words this movement behind your back can alert people walking by that you’re not safe. There’s actually a corridor that starts in Sacramento works its way up towards our area traffic‘s the children in our small community and using our hotels and taking them up to Reno in Vegas never to be seen again. It’s called the look twice program. Only one time had I experienced this in our Market. Looked about 13 or 14 year-old Dressed in a **** Catholic school outfit thigh, high socks, really short skirt and a white button up blouse. But what really gave it away was the wig she was wearing it looked like the wig of a middle-aged woman. And having children and grandchildren, her attire would never be permitted in school. She was standing by the ice cream. I went up to her and asked her if she was OK and I was gonna get some ice cream for my grandchildren and what kind would be a good kind before she could say a word this man came and grabbed her and pulled her forcibly down the aisle. By the time I got up to the front desk, there were six other concerned parents, the police were called. The child was saved, and the man was put in jail the look twice program,
That was years ago. I certainly have never come across something with children so young I am one that minds my own business but when it comes to children, I’m a grandma the whole thing just gives a sick pit in my stomach, wondering where those children are tonight.
 29° 
Lyle
I was okay for so long
I should've known it would go wrong
The Battles of Life,
through sickness, and through health,
through blessings, and good wealth,
all the trials, tribulations, and
everything else,
the wants, and the needs, and
the envious, and the greed,
the feeling of success, and
wanting to succeed!!!
the feeling of hope, the feeling of fear,
the feeling of Challenges, and
the fact that they are near,
don't give in, and don't Cave in,
Stay on the road of
excellency, because
YES!!!
YOU CAN WIN!!!
Keep your eye on the prize,
Keep working for it, and
YOU WILL SEE,
YOU DO HAVE THE ABILITY,
YOU JUST GOT
TO BELIEVE!!!!
AVOID SELFISHNESS, and
CARELESSNESS, and
ALL OF THE ABOVE,
Do your VERY, VERY BEST,
I AM SAYING THIS TO
YOU WITH LOVE!!!!
THE THINGS that we ENDURE,
with AGILITY, and with STRIFE,
the CHALLENGES that we FACE,
THESE ARE THE BATTLES OF LIFE!!!


B.R.
Date: 6/29/2025
 27° 
Jimmy silker
You can't outrun
The post office
They've got their tendrils
Everywhere
You see what they done
To them poor
Sub posters
The Stasi
Took more care
They call the ship 'Burden,'
An indestructible vessel,
Rival to the monsters of the sea.
It's exactly what the people needed,
For you see,
In the depths lurked a beast.
Eighty tentacles, four trade ships tall and wide,
A hundred-thirty teeth when it's smile lied.
They called it, "Kraken."
It was nothing of the likes you've seen,
Emperor of the dark sea.

The Burden could hold fifteen hundred men,
Arming harpoons, cannons, muskets, wit.
The king ordered them to turn the seas red with gore,
Call forth the Kraken,
Strike it dead.
Then to the king,
They would drag back it's head.

So come high-noon,
The ship was in place,
Above the deepest of sea caves.
Letting forth crates of bait,
Staining the waters of the sea,
Until the sailors heard a rumble,
Shake the Burden's iron shell.

Up from the waters came long river's hell,
Tentacles like spires towering well beyond the sails.
But the crew held steady,
"Tighten the ropes, arm our cannons,"
Cried the captain,
"Then fire!"
The seas filled with blood,
The sky filled with gunpowder, fractured shells,
A shriek rang out from the deeps.
The cry of death,
From the Kraken itself.
Tentacles sinking away,
"The head!" Cried the captian,
So Lutenent Lucus dived after the creature.

Tied by a rope,
Pike in hand,
The creature's head,
He began to drag.
Though, glancing over his shoulder,
Through the murk he could see,
The form of a woman swimming away.
Some curse broken, he decided,
A soul freed from grim reality.

Peace.
I love a good sea fairing story!
 25° 
Rastislav
power is not force. it is presence that doesn’t leave.
(the one who stands and is drawn towards — not by command, but by gravity.)


i do not command —
i endure.
i do not move.
i remain —
and so, draw.

not with force,
but with gravity —
the name silence wears
when someone listens
long enough.

i am not flame.
i am the hand
that might one day
be lifted.

power is not possession.
it is presence
that does not flee
when you need
to be seen.



you do not ask —
but wish to be held.
you are not pleading,
you are forming —
a shape unfinished,
already breathing.

you do not surrender.
you open —
like a hand
where a name
wants to rest.

this is not weakness.
this is the dignity
of being known.
 24° 
Harry
still he wonders
if she remembers him too
yet not knowing
she wonders too
609 days
but i'll stop counting
i said 608 days ago
 24° 
Stardust
I now close this door,
like a chapter marked
by dead ends
and trial and error.

Now, stepping ahead,
I open a door unknown.
 23° 
Sherri Woodman
You are emotionally vacant                                                           ­           there  is no life in your eyes                                                             ­   Even  from a slight distance                                                         ­     it's  something you can't disguise                                                       Like  a stone wall, so cold                                                             ­         you're  not even warm to the touch                                                        It's  like you're being controlled                                                       ­     and  it's  become way too much                                                             ­            No  tears, no smiles, no sighs                                                            ­       Is  there anyone home inside?
 22° 
abyss
I burn
and I burn
and burn.
Everyone loves it
when I burn for them.
They enjoy the warmth I give.
I burn and I burn,
yet no one burns for me.

Why keep burning then?
The answer is simple:
I don’t know how else to love.
I burn and I burn
until I can’t
anymore.
Some people love gently. I only know how to set myself on fire.
 22° 
Left Foot Poet
“In some office sits a poet,
and he trembles as he sings,
and he asks some guy,
to circulate his soul around”
Joni Mitchell

<>

joni:
your both sides
then and  now,
was my guiding glasses
for a life of motley loving
and love, gained, pained,
lost and found
as a younger man,
and now, as old soul
with rear view perspective,
the glasses tinted transition grey,
(matching his pallor, his hair.
his transient perspective,
trembling fingers as he writes,
with humility,
0
pleeze circulate these
decoded words
mate them out of clay
hoping  come new daylight
one or two, even a few
will lend a rosy thistle, blow softly
an encouraging breeze
upon this poem
the freedom to burn into
glowing embers
in our circulating worlds
of pass/fail
it’s my mere soul
you pass judgement
with a hint of tasteful scents
on
and beyond
with an
honorable push
your mentioned
breath,
guiding them
to the currents
where poems go to
blossom
Nov ‘ 24
 22° 
onlylovepoetry
~Especially For our own poet, Immortality~

we all dream for a few seconds,
mostly when we are younger,
like, say, s e v e n t e e n, that
something, we might be~come,
known for, perhaps even believing
our names|our poems might be read,
a hundred and one years on…


periodic, episodic,doesn’t last long,
though it
does get repeated every
now and then, and  then again,
each time, the notion disappears
faster, sure, better things to dream
about, better hopes more closely
held, tangible tasting, envisioning,
deserving for intensely scheming,
using that double edged

s~word,
realistic,
and even, in the
planning, schemin’ dreamin’
always a nagging fearin’
can
they really
could come true


others fantasize,
that class of crazy dreamers,
standing at an airport gate,
hear a call out your name,
and someone will,
from behind, tap you on the
shoulder and asks, shyly


hey, you wouldn’t be that person
who writes
poetry on HP?


unlikely of course, odds against,
whoa,
even worse
than winning a lottery jackpot prize

but then again, surprise always
favors biting you on,
well, them tender places,
and a day comes,
when  a younger poet, amazes, takes the time,
makes the effort to look up your older
writs, languishing in bits of bytes on an
unknown server, aged  graying from
relentless time,
and the absence of eyes,
being read, thereby re~realized,
revitalized,
visualized, inhaling light+ air,
away wiping
the dust and webs of  suffered mortality
and, that silly notion escapes it grave,
and you writer, run into an encounter
with an old fantasy, resurrected and
you too reread that old poem, issuing
voluble ****!, not half bad, and restoring
that momentary potent potentiality of
it
surviving past the beyond date of expiry,
and then, another is read, & another,
swallowing a pill stronger
than a a Doctors’s best guess forecast
of 20 more years you’ll live,
for an actualized prophecy now
is tangent tangible,
like mouth to mouth-resuscitation
and you, unusually,
think once more about tomorrow,
exhaling the headyatmosphere
of a rainy forest,
well appreciating, laughing at the future,
for here, she has shared but penned
but twenty four original poems,

me,
thousands open and disguised, and my newly formed grin is now for her,
for now my breath and its baggage of a fantasy, may
be coming her
reality realized?


and I will surely still be an
avid cheerleader
for her, for you, a
devoted
follower-in-absentia
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