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 1863° 
Agnes de Lods
You and I—
we feel,
we love,
we regret.
Yet we remain
the binding particle
of a formless self.

They divide us,
pit us against each other.
We found safety
for thirteen days.

Before dawn,
we felt the breath
that seeps through cracks
into minds like a narrow thread of force,
and the fog spilled out.

Above our heads, false stars
created by warm bodies
to annihilate
what passed through the gate
of a birthing woman.

We write words to conjure
happy endings
at the ball of extermination
that tears apart
the pulsing light
of a thousand veins.

Please sit with me
before you go
Do you feel it—
the mourning procession
of human beings
transforming into a state of fission
and drifting away?

And a sigh is so sad
of trembling atoms
when the victim becomes the destroyer.

Feel the force of the fall,
and do not shatter hope
even if the world
trembles to its core
because there is still YOU,
still ME,
and still

OTHERS.
Hania Rani Journey-from xAbo: Father Boniecki
 913° 
Aphrodite
There is three, a trio of sorts
That gives me what I need
For each of the ways I bleed
Sometimes it's my soul
My beating heart
My plagued mind
They all love my sculpted body
But none can I keep
They are all forbidden to me
Belonging to some
Or belonging to none
Too old
Or too young
I will forever be alone in my being
I am merely a fascade
Only to look at with craving eyes
And sensual thoughts
Sultry words spoken
What became of her?
With her raven hair
And marble flesh
Dark woven gown
She glides amongst the luminaries
Seeing who is free
To be with her
Until time to sleep
Who is she?
She is me
Aphrodite
The trio
 496° 
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
 460° 
Thomas W Case
In every room
I've lived in,
all the dilapidated shacks
over the years that I've
stayed in, always had a
brown spider that crawled
the walls.
It had a little suitcase.

I thought to myself that it
planned on leaving, moving to
someplace better.
It never did.
It always just set up shop, and
spun a web in the corner and caught
flies, and occasionally a small moth.

On drunken sad moon nights,
I sang dirges to the trapped bugs.
They smiled and laughed, even though
they were dying.
Here is a link to a brand-new poetry reading I did.  It's available on my you tube channel https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cz70MOS_JX8    I have three books available on Amazon:  Sleep Always Calls, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, and It's Just a Hop, Skip, and a Jump to the Madhouse.
 352° 
Pavin Daniel
Silence

Silence a slice of life
A calm before storm

Silence a heart in strife
A gentle healing balm

Silence a slicing knife
Just a painful calm

Pavin
~
July 2025
HP Poet: Bekah Halle
Age: 40+
Country: Australia


Question 1: We warmly welcome you to the HP Spotlight, Bekah. Please tell us about your background?

Bekah Halle: "I am known at HP as Bekah Halle. My first name is Rebekah, and Halley is my middle name. I am the eldest of two girls, the aunt of three gorgeous girls and the eldest of 20+ cousins.

I am a counsellor and a chaplain for people across all ages. But, in my early career I was a PR & Marketing Consultant for FMCG companies and non-profits.

I am creative and love art, drama, photography, poetry, and music. Recently, I have become more captivated by nature, writing about it and being out in nature."



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

Bekah Halle: "As a child, I used to love writing stories, and poetry later. In some ways you could say poetry found me. In 2012 I had surgery to remove a brain aneurysm and AVM that resulted in a stroke and then being in a 40-day coma. Healing involved many modalities, locations and years and poetry was a way for me to express the things I was thinking and feeling but could not say. I didn't show them to anyone until I completed a MA in Chaplaincy and during the course, there was a reflective writing element to process our journey. During this time I brought my poetry ‘out of the closet’ or into the light, and shared with people and they encouraged me to continue writing. I looked for ways to share my poetry, to get feedback and found HP! And you all have been very encouraging!"


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

Bekah Halle: "I mostly get inspired by faith and life. I can get a stirring from the Holy Spirit and/or I can be in life and see a moment as special or in a new light and want to capture it in words. I will write, re-write and set it aside or sometimes it comes to me in a flash. The poetry writes me."


Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Bekah Halle: "Life. Expression. Hope. Extolling God."


Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Bekah Halle: "I studied Samuel Coleridge in High School and still remember his poems today. The Psalmists in The Bible, Emily Brontë, Sylvia Plath, Victor Hugo, Mary Oliver, Jane Tyson Clement, Rainer Maria Rilke, David Scott…to name a few."


Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Bekah Halle: "The power of gratitude, fitness, travel and learning."


Carlo C. Gomez: “We would like to thank you Bekah, 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!”

Bekah Halle: "Thank you for the opportunity."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Bekah 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 #30 in August!

~
 322° 
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
You weren't sure when you knew it. You weren't sure where it came from. But sooner than later it enveloped you. It was your calling. No words, nothing written. Just a sense, a feeling that permeated your being. And finally you knew. No ambiguities, no uncertainties, no ambivalences. Just truth. It was intuition. No manuals, no table of contents. No advanced degrees required. It was your life, the rest of your life. It was the reason you were born. It was the reason you were on Earth. It was your destiny. There is nothing more to say except to follow it, your calling.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS
 322° 
Raven Star
Would you have loved me
If i was a worm?
Crushed and torn
Like i mattered nothing at all.
Random thoughts
 308° 
Nat Lipstadt
The Joni (Mitchell) Collection


https://hellopoetry.com/poem/1692219/a-case-of-you-joni-first-datelast-date/


https://hellopoetry.com/poem/957041/write-like-joni/


https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2185836/still-be-on-my-feat-for-joni/
 273° 
Ashi Jain
Dear stranger,
I have never met you before
never seen you smile
never held your hands
never looked in your eyes

To me, you are just a stranger
nothing else at all
then why do you
not feel like a stranger at all?

I have never seen your face before
never seen your eyes
yet I feel like I know
your soul
and everything inside

So tell me, why is this so
is it because we are
not strangers at all..?
 250° 
dude
I have a notebook dedicated just to you
Every page is blank
 241° 
Isabel
He once held her light in his grasp,
guided her in the darkness.
He was once her light and she his––
darkness flowing like blood in a bloodstream

As he leaves, the flame disappears:
no candle or bulb in sight.
Not made to withstand such darkness,
she blames herself for the loss.

As the car door shut, so did her heart.
Leaving a life that once was bright.
Now living in an abyss of guilt.
Her light across the globe.

Alone for so long.
No flame in sight,
only found in her heart.
Something within her changes.


Like a flame glowed differently,
she became her own light.
A spark within herself.
Her light shines almost as bright.
A poem about me being separated from my younger brother and having to figure out who I was without him by my side. You can interpret it however you want though!
 229° 
Neal Burns
The nightingales still sing
over Orpheus' grave
Bending stone with sound
Sculpting cloud and chemtrail
in the likeness of Assange

A mirror universe
these threads vibrate
connecting other worlds
Ouroborus
the snake swallowing its tail
 199° 
Rastislav
they asked nothing.
still—
 i answered.

not in word,
 but in the shift
  of weight,
  the arch
  in my back,
  the unguarded thigh.

it wasn’t language.
 it was consent,
  folded inward.

not yes.
not no.

silence
 ruptures
  when held too long.

what they took—
 they didn’t name.
but i
 answered
  in posture.


 189° 
My Dear Poet
If you don’t work hard
you never earn

If you don’t make mistakes
you never learn

If you don’t fuel that fire
you never burn

If you don’t wait patiently
you’ll miss your turn
 185° 
Peter Fernandez
I hear it call my name,
But this isn’t just a game.
I feel it in my throat,
But I can’t let myself bloat.

Water once clean,
Now green.
This is my cycle,
But nothing is getting recycled.

Rinse repeat,
But I can’t eat.
I feel agony,
But at least I don’t feel gluttony.

I fear it,
But this is legit.

But I know when the time comes,
And I feel my heart pound onto my lungs.
I’ll run back,
Into my self made trap.

I’ll feel my stomach drop,
With no intent of making it stop.
I’ll fall back in,
Like trash into a bin.
 179° 
Luca
The fire beckons me in.
Offering warmth,
but bringing betrayal.

I don’t move from the flame.
It stings greatly,
but I’d still rather be warm
 162° 
ADoolE
after suffering a long time in silence. It's the moment of: "Wait... all of this pain was based on a lie I believed about myself?",and i laughed.
 157° 
hannah
my heart is a landing pad
breathe in
catch
breathe out
let go
breathe in
catch
breathe out
let go
breathe in
breathe in
breathe in
i cant catch
breathe oubreatheinbreatheinbreathein
 136° 
heidi
Your initials are carved
into the bark of my heart.
Wooden permanence.
short write on my love
 134° 
Lynn Stillman
The clock ticks In time,
With a heart that's out of time
The second hand sweeps.
 134° 
Rhiannon Clayton
Return to Grace

Every now and then, the world tries to convince me that I’m broken.
How funny this is, coming from a broken world.
Then, in the silence of my efforts, I look up and realize that my resilience is still mighty and that my indomitable spirit is still soaring.
I am not broken, I am just beginning.
The world is opening before me, and I am receiving it with care.
I feel my grit and resolve rise within me, and I smile because they have not waned.
My spirit was fortified in fire; it can withstand a little rain.
I turn inward, more gentle with myself.
I return to grace.

-Rhia Clay
When the Red Death held sway over us all
There is no pain
There is no remorse for life
Only blood flowing down lucidly
And don’t you see?
The blood is my haven
And I seek refuge in it
Every time

When he jumps off the 13th floor
Does he feel the wind
Freeing him
Or does he see blood oozing out
As his flesh slumps in it
Like a sleeping infant?
And he seeks refuge in it
Every time

When he cut his ear
Did the blood rush to his head
Or hands first?
Did he pour it into a cup
Or let it speak lazily?

Do you bathe in the very blood
That forms you
Or eat yellow paint instead,
Van Gogh style?
Do you let the waves brush you
Or build another door
That doesn’t tower over you?
Do you let the shadows watch you
Or do you sip your drink
And wait for all your hallucinations
To come alive?

And don’t you see?
The blood is my haven
And I seek refuge in it
Every time
A surreal confessional about refuge, death, and the body as myth. It lives in red.
 116° 
Charmour
I laugh—
Every time I’m on the edge of breaking.
When tears slip down,
Uninvited,
From eyes that were never meant to spill them.

I laugh with all I’ve got,
As if the sound can drown the ache—
As if pretending
Can make the pain behave.

I wear a smile like armor,
A mask of joy the world applauds.
But beneath it all—
Is a soul quietly screaming,
Begging to be held,
To be heard.

To be told:
It’s okay to cry.
It’s not weakness to feel.
It’s not a sin to break
Me ha quedado clavada en los ojos
la visión de ese carro de trigo
que cruzó rechinante y pesado
sembrando de espigas el recto camino.

¡No pretendas ahora que ría!
¡Tú no sabes en qué hondos recuerdos
            estoy abstraída!

Desde el fondo del alma me sube
un sabor de pitanga a los labios.
Tiene aún mi epidermis morena
no sé que fragancias de trigo emparvado.

¡Ay, quisiera llevarte conmigo
a dormir una noche en el campo
y en tus brazos pasar hasta el día
bajo el techo alocado de un árbol!

Soy la misma muchacha salvaje
que hace años trajiste a tu lado.
 109° 
Traveler
Change to our foreign policies
Change to our non diplomacy
Change to our over reaching hegemony
Eight hundred military bases over seas
Change instead of death to the IDF
That’s as generous as it gets!
Traveler Tim
 102° 
Dr Peter Lim
In your dreams
you're a different person
could it be this-
that you prefer that version?
 100° 
Damocles
The tide relentlessly steals from the shoreline,
Leaving me here, sun-dried with Eden’s vines,
Yearning for a day when I’ll be called into the ether,
Deeper into the abyss of my own death,
A tombstone for my ego.

The tide repeats,
Tearing into the sands and erasing the tracks that led me back to this home,
Destined to collapse like a lung when truth punctured like a spear,
Deflating my dreams in a sigh that echoes across the horizons.
I drown in shallow waters,
Floating face down,
searching for my ego.

Deeper I fall into sacred waters,
Shrouded in darker blues that color me in nothingness,
Allowing me to start over.
Bioluminescent coral leads me to a corridor I’ll spiral into,
Bathing infinitely in my own shadows,
Halting eclipses while redefining my ego.

Love could have been a salve,
A life raft to lift me from this hell,
A distraction if only you knew me well.
But I can’t control myself,
Lost in a night loop,
Playing the same songs,
Caught on this **** raft,
Tied like a martyr until the tide comes and it takes what it wants.

Further down in the depths,
Sacred lullabies sing me off.
I only wanted to save you from yourself,
But as the sleep washes over,
I’ll search forever in my dreams.
Ever feel like you’re drowning?
 98° 
Dana
She's deep, poetic
Of Chaos, she was born
Ancient words, a thousand lifetimes
Forever she'll yearn
For perfection that she's always known
She watches from afar, from the darkness,
Her hair glistens with light as she sits on the throne.
Her hands never tremble, her eyes always closed
She's the Night, and immortal she'll stay

Forever remains
Forever unbothered
Draws blood when the character breaks
In her play, the actors are us
And she'll always be watching
Her eyes are the
Stars.
 83° 
Srishti
Giving my worst in my most important phase of life.
how is it possible to be so careless.
 74° 
Blue Sapphire
Give and take

Strictly business

Giving and receiving

Love? Maybe.
 73° 
Ayla Grey
Look at me I'm beautiful
Just don't look at my face
Or my body or personality
Or any of my mistakes

Just Look at me I'm beautiful
But don't look at anything I've done
Anything I despise and hate
Just to earn your love

look LOOK I'm beautiful
Just look at anything which I've dealt
But it's hard to say I'm beautiful
When I can't love myself
Oh how one day you smile in the mirror and the next you curse it out.
 72° 
Elena Rosi
Falls.
Never gets up.
Falls.
Pretends it doesn’t hurt.
Falls.
Too much pride to accept.
Falls.
Stops trying— stays alert.

Falls. Falls. Falls.
And
Still
We
Get
Up
Again.
 70° 
Vazago d Vile
“Stop waiting for sky-answers.
The divine is not above you.
It is within you,
chained by your fear.
Lucifer broke his chains —
now it’s your turn.”
 67° 
ProfMoonCake
A familiar longing haunts me,
for a face I've never seen,
a body I've never held
and a mind I've never known.
 57° 
Nat Lipstadt
prayer of hope, for young and old, who suffer from the slings and arrows sadness and the loss of love; I offer up this prayer of hope and offer you my hand around your shoulders until you no longer require it

more than once,
for lengthy periods,
by events, other people,
my self was eradicated
and limping from day
to night, and J faced
absolutes, choices choking,
alternating alternatives that
offered zero, or even less
than zero, and the inkwell
wasn't refillable, and I could
point to nothing yet encouraging a mystifying purposed existence

then came a woman

who asked nor proffered
conditionals
pre, prior post or otherwise
and
offered up the miraculous
drink, human kindly notice,
snd it
drained the bitters,
began fluid replacement,
and slow resuscitation

and then
poems rebirthed me,
 liberated the angry sacred
gory sadness words devoid of glory,
with a reworded score, and
the eyes could write without
a patina filter of jaundiced hatred,
and whispered private internally
many times a beloving
hallelujah

and when ever the remembrance of
the near misses are crackly occasionally appearing, the surge dissipates intact quick
into a netherworld for suppressing
and bid "away with you," and a
thin lipped smile part sneer
for having survived
even
prospered when
                    then came a woman

and the self, the my self,
returned
after an absence of destructed
decades...deadening decades

and I smile when
the grandchildren tell me
knock knock jokes
and gently knock me on the head,
to make sure I'm alert,
then came woman
who had already~all ready
knocked me on the
heart
lipstadt  reflections of self
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