#poem poems on Hello Poetry

Zolayshia 20m

A flower.
So pretty and pink.
Free to roam.
Met a light blue one.
The light blue was the only other kind she's met.
Pink fell for Blue's Charm.
Time passed on.
Pink and Blue made a little pastel purple.
Pink is distressed.
Blue keeps wanting to leave.
Pink wonders if she should just end it all.
Pink is tired and feels alone.
Pink just wants peace.
Maybe Pink should find her peace.
So Pink takes a knife and leaves.
Blue never knew.
Blue went to look for Pink an hour later.
All he saw was Pink in the back yard.
On the ground withering away.
Bleeding out slowly.
Blue took her into his arms one last time.
Pink looked at him.
She said. "I love you Blue."
She closed her eyes and floated to peace.
Blue lost Pink.
Blue lost his hope in life.
His dream.
Pastel Purple.
He didn't get to be a father.
He went to find the same knife Pink used.
He stabbed himself.
Laid next to Pink and Purple.
Closing his eyes wrapped around her.
Bleeding out.
A flower.
So pretty and pink.
Dainted in red and sorrow.

#flower #poem #story #feelings

Zolayshia 37m

The Flame

A passionate flame.
To the stars.
The moon.
The sea.
Everything in between.
Trapped in a loop.
Pain.
Twisting in a thousand knots.
Lashing out in sorrow.
It burns.
Eating at the skin.
Melting away.
The flame can't escape.
The flame dissipates.
Burning away at the seams.
The flame withers away.
To never be seen again.
No matter how much the flame screamed.
The flame wasn't heard.
The flame never had room to breathe.
Nobody to hear it's screams.
The flame burns out.
Only leaving the heat it once had.

#flame #short #poem #feelings

Sara Barrett 37m

Pain as a Shadow

It begins with a whisper,
a shadow stitched to her womb,
its weight pressing like a secret,
its roots spreading unseen.

They call it normal—
the blood that floods like rivers,
the cramps that steal her breath,
the clots dragging her body down.

Pain coils in her pelvis,
a fire that burns without end.
Her bladder aches, her bowels rebel,
her back bends beneath its weight.

They say it’s just being a woman,
but how do you explain the storms?
The tissue growing where it shouldn’t,
the scars binding organs into one.

She carries fatigue like a second skin,
her energy drained by invisible wars.
Her body becomes a battlefield—
every nerve alive with rebellion.

Doctors speak over her pain:
It’s all in your head, they insist.
But how do you imagine blood that stains,
or pain that splits you in two?

One day, she stops asking for answers.
She stands tall in the face of dismissal.
Her voice rises like thunder:
This is my body; I know it best.

Her womb is no longer their battlefield;
it is sacred ground she reclaims.
The shadow no longer consumes her—
it becomes part of her story, not its end.

"Pain as a Shadow" is a powerful exploration of chronic gynecological pain, vividly capturing the physical and emotional journey of living with conditions like endometriosis. This poem confronts the dismissal of women's pain in medical settings, challenging societal norms that normalize female suffering. Through visceral imagery and a defiant voice, it traces the path from silent endurance to empowered self-advocacy. The piece resonates with themes of ****** autonomy, medical gaslighting, and the reclamation of one's narrative in the face of invisible illness. It stands as a testament to the strength found in acknowledging one's own experience, offering solidarity to those who have faced similar struggles.

#endometriosis #womenshealth #women #woman #period #poetry #poem #spilledink #womenempowerment

Kai 2h

Flirty

Yeah, I'm flirty
You know I'm *****
***** minded; that is
Get every question right on the quiz
Is what I couldn't do
'Cause I was too busy thinking about you
Normally when flirting, I'm smooth
But this time, I was slipping up
You made me fall
I fell for you
Is what I thought I couldn't do
You missed my call
Wouldn't answer at all
You made me fall
You broke my heart
I thought I was flirty
Yet, you tore that thought apart
That was back then
Now I got people begging for me
As if I was the honey to their bee
Now I'm back to being flirty
Hopefully I won't be done *****
Once again, like you did to me
Now I'm the key you need
The key you need to unlock your heart
You lost it when you tore me apart
You really just tore yourself apart
Now you're stuck lonely smoking a cart
I now have people all over me
Sticking to me like I'm the honey to their bee

A poem my friend asked me to publish onto here!

Poem made by Karli

#flirty #poem #poetry

Ellie Carpenter 17h

Ghost

Last night I saw a ghost
It was raining
The streets lit up
I saw this ghost
It stood right in front of me
We exchanged meaningless glances
I saw in it my own reflection
Staring back at me
A ghost of myself from before
It haunts me
Wherever I go
Whoever I see
It follows

The past is constantly in a state of limbo between existence and non-existence

#poem #reflection #scarred #wouldratherforget

Elena II Melanson 1d

Big Dipper

The Big Dipper
An asterism of the constellation
Ursa major
Seven bright stars that
Have been there
For the best and worst
Of my life that I can remember
Over the age 3
That is why I want to take a picture
Of the group of stars
As it has guided me through
Everything
Not just telling me where north is
To me the Big Dipper
Is proof of god and his/her will!
Tell me it’s just stars
And I will say that it is more than that it’s art

#big #dipper #constellations #poetry #poems #poem #writing #literature

MOHD LIAQUAT 1d

The Noise Of Silence

No lamp, no candle gives me light,
It feels like endless, darkest night.

My heart is now a silent place,
No voice, just echoes, empty space.

Dreams of love turned into pain,
Each memory brings hurt again.

Like travelers, people came and passed,
But someone in my heart still lasts.

Dust of distance, scars so deep,
Where’s the end? This pain won’t sleep.

Yet I kept my hope alive,
A firefly in me survives.

So come to me and shine so bright,
And fill my soul with warmth and light!

#hellopoetry #trending #poetry #poem

sw333ta 1d

Yearning

I am yearning for what is to be met
Oh that feeling
The feeling I get
Almost like a high, once again
I am floating
Floating up in a cloud
Down
Up and there we go again
But this time
I am actually dying…
Slowly
My breath becomes shallow
Not like the deep end of a pool
I pinch myself to see, feel (or even touch)
What I feel is real
Skin to skin
Cheek to cheek
Freckles to mouth
I’ll see you in the south
Yet I am still yearning
The touch of your hand bend to bend
Beneath it all under your bed
Within all your secrets
I cannot bear to stand behind it all
Reaching out for a new
It’s crude to think I don’t yearn for you.

#poetryisnotdead #poem #yearning #poetry #ilovepoetry

Norbert Tasev 1d

The labyrinth of restlessness

In most cases, one would not believe, unfortunately, not only criticisms, not only criticism, scalp -like remarks, but also the trumpet archangels blowing out the sinister trumpet. The lies are now increasingly small, pathetic, as almost everyone has become a deliberate compromise and made a bargain or a good pact.

Now, it may seem that the desire for glorious fame is in constant, even in the hazelnut brains that have been brainwashed; Human life is everyday, small -style, little hell of time, unexpectedly, unexpectedly. Now, the latent roots of the desire for power are increasingly wanting to gain from the earth, his deliberately ruined life again, venturing to the light of the world again.

Well -sounding visions have now been infected in their vanity that you. The beauty and glorious model industry will perhaps spoil them for the rest of their lives, and will be treated as queen, and while the average is only increasingly burdensome, pleasing, and in lasting unhappy, the robot.

Momentary, calculating pleasures, reconciled unhappiness, they are disturbing, crossing the labyrinth, deliberately uncertain paths. And waking up on the boundary of the dream, with half-paths the next day, with its visceral headaches, a few raven birds swear over a continuous, unprecedented head-up heads. Who knows if they are just waiting for another winter or for another start?!

#lyric #poetry #prose #poem #poetic #portrait #literature #social

Sara Barrett 2d

The Apology Tax

In tenth grade, a boy said,
“Washington, D.C. is in Virginia.”
I corrected him—
said it was neither and both,
its own district.
The teacher Googled it,
read the truth out loud,
then turned to me and said,
“Apologize for disrupting the class.”

So I did.

And I have been saying sorry ever since.

Sorry for knowing too much.
For being too passionate,
too emotional, too empathetic.
Too much when I demand respect,
too much when I react
the way others do to me—
but when I do it, it's wrong.

I have learned that women must shrink
to be acceptable.
To be small enough to be tolerated.
To swallow knowledge
so it does not spill out
and threaten fragile egos.
To let silence replace truth
because truth makes them uneasy.

We are taught to apologize young.
Sorry for our hair in the drain,
for needing tampons and pads,
for the price of our own biology.
Sorry for bleeding,
for growing,
for existing in spaces
where men believe we should not be.

By puberty, we know—
our bodies are currency,
our voices are burdens,
our presence requires permission.

But not me. Not anymore.

I have stood my ground—
faced cruelty when it came for those I loved,
thrown words like knives because no one else would protect them.

I have refused to step aside—
to move for those who walk as if they own the world.

If you do not see me, you will feel me.

I will not apologize for choosing my family over expectations.
For shutting out the noise of a world that demands too much.
For putting my healing first—
even when it makes others uncomfortable.

I will not apologize for being a woman.

I will not apologize for the space I take up,
for the voice I refuse to quiet,
for the boundaries I dare to keep.

I am done paying the apology tax—
a tax I never owed in the first place.

And now? I am collecting every debt:
every moment of silence stolen from me,
every inch of space I was told to surrender,
every truth I swallowed so someone else could feel whole.

I am done saying sorry for being whole myself.

Let them learn to carry their discomfort—because I won’t carry it for them anymore

This poem is a powerful declaration of self-worth and defiance against societal expectations, especially for women. It explores themes of gender inequality, self-empowerment, and the emotional toll of constantly apologizing for one’s existence or actions. The speaker reflects on early experiences of being silenced and criticized for confidence, intelligence, and individuality, leading to a lifetime of unnecessary apologies.
The poem transitions into a bold rejection of these imposed norms, celebrating resilience, boundaries, and unapologetic self-expression. It is a call to reclaim space, voice, and identity while challenging others to confront their discomfort rather than forcing it onto others.

#poetrycommunity #womenempowerment #spilledink #poem