Favorite poems - Hello Poetry

Jun 2017

phil roberts

JUKE

Been lost so long it feels like home
Been high so long it feels like down
But that's alright
Yea, it's okay
Down here
We all live this way

I steal and I rob for the things I've got
Until they're stolen from me
Mostly I rob to pay for dope
A piece of oblivion in place of hope
But that's alright
Man, it's okay
We live and die this way

I'm losing my teeth
And my lips are cracked
My face looks as though
It's made of wax
I'm thin enough to walk through walls
And I can't ever remember walking tall
Still, it's alright
yea, it's okay
It'll always be this way

By Phil Roberts

Jun 2017

Pradip Chattopadhyay

Horse on the Ruins

Here the horse munches the grass
little knowing the trots of yore
for time when lays the bricks with curse
unhinges the strongest door.

Here the horse is tethered to feed
little hearing the neighs of past
for time when crumbles sows a seed
grows new order from soil of dust.

Here the horse lazes in sun
little seeing the shadow's growth
for time when ends a period's run
buries in the walls a lover's oath.

Here the horse walks in a round
little feeling the earth's spin
for time when shrinks the highest to ground
kingdoms fall in heaps of ruin.

On visiting a palace in ruins on a June afternoon, whereupon a lone horse was grazing.

Jun 2017

Sonja Benskin Mesher

. kale .

We had moved from the suburbs out into the country. To walk through the woods, cuckoo woods, for the village for groceries was the way. By that lane a field of cabbage plants rotting, passed by holding breath, or holding nose.

I forever remember the smell, imagined the slime, the slugs.

If dusk was falling, and fear involved, I ran quickly singing hymns loud for safety. Sadly it was not the lane that hurt me, it was someone else. Hymns don’t work in my case.

One time we swung the shopping basket between us. Lost most of the potatoes, and were sent back to find them.

Nothing was packaged, left loose in the basket weighed by the pound.

Kale was curly and cheap; we shredded it from the stump for boiling.

By now it is more acceptable, even fashionable, already chopped, stump bits intact and probably good for us. Yet I miss the whole leaf, where the memory formed.

No more do we boil it, softly warmed and stirred with butter and scattering of pink salt.

Slightly addicted these days, is it the taste of the memory that holds me?

Each day the good feeling is slightly spoiled on throwing the unnecessary packaging away, damp cellophane bag. I miss Mum’s basket, yet I do not miss the cabbage field.

sbm.

May 2017

wordvango

sad but deep as you

had a sight to see
and it took my life to get around
to making it reality

I have seen in this somesuch make
believe life beauty of
a mountains tall

majesty, a woman's
glory so softer than a
pillow

and more god than any
being I have known
her navel

her hips the way
they curve up to her
*** and *****

her soft wetness
a swell the seas the mountains
never touched

the way she took me in
we melted into each other
but

I speak now of suddenness
how the days are metered
and she and hers are

tender but not all
of it and I'd lke to show you
one day

just one day I stepped out
of my mind
and saw myself

it was enlightening
and baby it was good
I floated over

died for a minute
came back
better

I seek that
again
the fervent reality

in the mirror again

May 2017

Terry Jordan

There was a crooked man-child

There was a crooked man
Who had a crooked smile
Secured a crooked Russian loan
With putin on speed-dial

He had 3 crooked marriages
He lives a crooked life
Cheating, lying, self-promoting
Wants Daughter-not his Wife

He “won” a crooked election
Just to steal more money
Investigators fired THREE times
His tantrums are not funny!

He pushed a crooked bill
Despite collective cries
Desperately tweeting diversions
Ignore those Russian ties!

Crooked Sarah Sanders
Smiles as she repeats his lies
Look behind the curtain
Prevent Democracy’s demise

This vile crooked man-child
Lives in a crooked White House
Embarrassing the World
A tweeting presidential louse

A shitstorm pouring out
With bad grammar and no style
Desperately denying collusion
Time to put them all on TRIAL

May 2017

wordvango

I like bacon

tense as the rolled up newspaper thrown
slapping against the step
at dawn
awakening conspiratorial
slinking around the truth
sleuthing sniffing
my way to find
out this way or that but the way
about the signs the clues
preachers words the same weight
as the street corner girls
a way to think
in our detectiving
then the ultimate
DNA almost
the penultimate
remains of the doer dids
the who what did
whats the ne'er do wells on
Mulberry street , I know them hoods
no they were not the culprits
I scent along above below
sniff and snoof
behoove behind the wildest dogs
to find it was
mine own trail I had found
among the shivering forest green
I sat considered
a shylock set this up
then saw the bacon on my foot
I had been following.
I set off again my foot clean.
I will find this bandit.
I like bacon , though.

Apr 2017

Mary-Eliz

Viewing

They don't go down easy
these words meant to soothe
they'll come back up later
with bile
churning and roiling

"asleep"?
"peaceful"?
platitudes!

"time heals"?
banality!

like the hapless frog
suspended in his jar
awaiting the curious blade
of the laboratory scholar

this unnatural heap of flesh
****** dry
then
pumped with chemicals
smeared with freakish makeup
collects the gawking stares

or the brief furtive glances

"Look!"
my mind shrieks
you came to look
but
you don't see

Memories
you say

This memory
this scene
this awkward scene
will play in my mind
like the test pattern
on old TV's

fixed there
humming its eerie monotone
in
black and white

I have always hated the idea of trying to make a dead body look "good".
I remember when my dad died people saying "he looks good" ...I wanted to scream "He doesn't look good! He looks dead!"
I plan to be cremated.

#death #memory #view #funeral #awkward

Apr 2017

Gaffer

The Letters.

It was great for a time
*** and wine
Wine and ***
Then commitment and open and shut curtains.
Special delivery of child made the bond complete
Six months down the line
Breast feeding was action watched from a distance
Intimacy was a tired look
The neighbours cat looked hot
Killed the lonely nights
Killed the commitment outright
Got to know the lawyer through rapid bank withdrawals
Weekly child visit watched over by Brutus
Bar visits watched over by the world's condemned
Special occasion became a twice yearly treat
Birthday and Christmas, bit of hate thrown sideways.
Then the new man.
Felt good for her.
Maybe some pressure off.
Maybe missed that lobotomy bar lecture.
Years dragged the hate forward.
Time moved on.
One day I wrote her a letter expressing my anger.
She wrote back in triplicate.
I wrote back in double triplicate.
She sent a thesis on men and *****.
Suddenly without thinking, we had dialogue.
After a while, we moved on from the anger.
We became human again.
I actually liked writing her letters and receiving them.
We never got back together.
But the letters kept us close.
Sometimes there would be a kiss at the end.
The little bit of love I probably never deserved.
I would mention it to her in my next letter.
Even an *** deserves a solitary kiss now and again.
The bar room lawyers would probably agree.

Mar 2017

brandon nagley

The son of God who died for me, the son of God who died for thee

A Grecian statue I am, a confined creation; a harbinger, a shouter of biblical presages. Only here to tell of God's word, of Christ's love offered to voices silenced.

To the rich, poor, sick, down-and-out;
To boys, men, women, children-
Girls.

None pen nor pencil or writing tool needed, for the Lord's blood was
Shed for all the lost and
Mistreated,

Tis Satan was defeated.

Christ gave up the holy-ghost,
As thus his soul left that cross,
Buried, Rose again the third
Day; for God succeeded,
The devil lost.

Mine time is almost up now,
For mine job is almost done;
Soon I'll go meet mine savior,
As I prayest that Jesus Christ
Wilt be the one.

The one who thou shalt call out
To, for tis Jesus Christ that saves,
The way, the truth, the life;

The water that never runs dry,
The way to heaven up past the sky,
The bread of life that wilt make thee full,
The son of God who died for me,

The son of God who died for you......

© Brandon nagley
© Lonesome poets poetry
© Prophetic poetry

Word meanings-
Grecian; relating to ancient Greece.
Harbinger; a person or thing that announces or signals the approach of another.
presage; of an event) be a sign or warning that (something, typically something bad) will happen.)
None; Is archaic for no.
Tis; it is.
Mine; is (my) in archaic form.
Prayest;pray.
Wilt;will.
Thou;you.
Thee; also means you.
Notice in this poem I use old poetry as I always do but mixed in the new at end of poem where I say you. Because it's for all mankind salvation in Jesus Christ as he was crucified on the cross suffering for all mankind and Rose again the third day that ALL MAY have eternal life. Will you accept him today? Please read below find out how to be saved in Jesus Christ before to late. Time is running out, as I'm here only to show you truth and Christ's love for each and every one of you. Pray you accept that love today... Read below the links I leave underneath it's how to make Jesus Christ your Savior today, tonight wherever you are and put some facts what's happening now, what's coming to your world your world gvt doesn't want you to know. It's very serious and so many are asleep well time to wake up I pray you'll accept Jesus Christ before the hours late and it's the midnight hour just about. Please read links asap.

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1837677/serious-note-not-poemyour-time-is-running-out-readerjudgement-is-coming-to-the-world-read-find-out-how-to-escape-tribulation-coming/

Link two; speaking on part of destruction coming though much more will go with it as our Bible spoke.

http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1874075/nibirus-approach-thy-end-is-close/

#salvation #jesus #christ #callonjesus #waytruthlife