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 1721° 
Flawed as Negan
I have to sleep sitting up,
Little rest I must stomach.
Was I born with Judgement
Born to drown with the current.
What I'll do in an instant
to be a creature redeveloped.
Why can't I be equivalent
to the sweet lady ketchup.
This time, I lie on the potent
of my back for their insults.
Why do adults behave much worse than children?
 1257° 
Rob Rutledge
These halls seem somewhat hollow
A certain sense of sorrow
Now graces ancient stone.
Replacing familiar faces
With defaced family paintings
And cold ancestral bones.
Thrones thrown upon a pyre.
Fate becomes the folly
Tomorrow the unknown,
The brows of time are furrowed
Past spent, lost, or borrowed
Flowers forever bloom alone.
Rats, the last lords of ruin
Rule cruel shadows from the walls.
Twilight sighs at daylight's rise
All seems dark till darkness falls.
 977° 
Dom
We sat on the stoop,
Gazing up at a sky adorned with hues of lilac, blood orange, and navy blue.
The moon, shyly peeking from the corner of its deep blue doorway,
Cast a pale yellow light.
Overhead, hurried geese flew to make curfew,
Honking in desperation to race the sun’s head towards its bed.

Fireflies darted, their techno-strobing light taunting us.
We caught a whiff of the early evening, and a scent of timber ignited.
The orange and yellow plumes danced like inflatable tubes,
Erratic in their pursuit of more fuel.
They warmed with amber against the dark indigo hues.

The beauty of the scene was always captivating,
But it was even more mesmerizing when I looked into your eyes.
You had the power to steal my soul with just a glance.
If asked, I would willingly stab through my chest and hand you my beating heart,
Ted to leather twine, and wear your love like a necklace.
Note: This isn't about or to anyone, it's something I thought up at the moment. i am dreaming of an evening like this.
 818° 
Shang
the soft light from
across
the room
cast a shadow
on half of you
and i thought to myself,
i am in love.
her ******* were
still swollen
from the child we lost,
a quiet weight between us
that neither of us could hold.

she smiled her sleepy
smile and said,
"i want this moment to last forever."

and i thought to myself,
i will be okay.
i said this with more
hope than honesty.

and honestly,
i gave up on hope
the day you aborted our child.

i lay there,
a hollow figure,
a man made of silence and waiting,
watching you carry a burden
i had no right to share.

my voice, a whisper trapped
behind fears I couldn’t overcome.
no place at the table,
no say in the body
that carried what was partly mine.

the room grew colder,
not from the night,
but from the space
between your heartbeat and mine.

i was powerless.
like a shadow on the wall,
there but unseen,
a ghost with no name,
no claim to the life
that never had a chance to be.

the loneliness was a quiet scream,
a thousand empty hands
reaching for something
that slipped through fingers
no matter how tight i clenched.

and still,
there was love,
fractured, fading,
a fragile echo
in the hollow of my chest.
love for the life
that'll never exist
that I'll never experience.

you drifted to sleep,
the soft rise and fall of your breath
a reminder i could not change
what had been taken from us.
what was taken from me..

and i whispered
to the empty room,
to the child i’d never hold—
i would’ve named you
after the quiet.
for the quiet that followed
 619° 
badwords
Beneath the surface of our giving,
A quiet echo, always living.
The hand extended, the gift bestowed,
Holds traces of what the heart is owed.

In every act of kindness shown,
A seed of self is always sown.
A smile exchanged, a burden shared,
The giver leaves their soul ensnared.

Transaction speaks in whispers faint,
Not loud enough to mar the saint.
Yet woven in the tapestry,
Is the thread of reciprocity.

Evolution’s pen, so deftly writ,
Has carved the rules; we benefit.
To give is to connect, survive,
To keep the fire of bonds alive.

But purest light, we chase, we yearn,
For altruism that won’t return.
A gift devoid of self, of gain,
A spotless deed, untouched by stain.

And here, the fallacy takes form,
A standard raised against the norm.
To cast aside what’s real, profound,
For lofty heights that can’t be found.

For in the real, the flawed, the small,
Lies beauty woven through it all.
A kindness fraught with give and take
Still soothes the wounds that living makes.

Should we dismiss imperfect grace,
Because it wears a human face?
Or hold it close, and see it whole,
A blend of heart, and mind, and soul.

The saintly act, the selfish cheer,
Are not as distant as they appear.
For even joy in giving free
Forms part of our humanity.

So let us honor deeds once spurned,
Where subtle trades of trust are earned.
And measure worth by what is done,
Not by the motives of the one.

For if perfection is the goal,
We’ll find no virtue in the soul.
Yet in the flawed, the fractured light,
Shines something real, and something right.

Reflection
Altruism is no saint’s domain,
But the hand that lifts through joy or pain.
A mirror held to humankind,
Revealing heart, and what’s behind.
A Reply to:
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/4926937/what-about-me/

**Synopsis**
This poem, Altruism's Mirror, explores the multifaceted nature of altruism, juxtaposing the realistic, transactional aspects of human kindness with the idealized concept of selfless giving. The verses acknowledge that altruistic acts, though often celebrated as purely selfless, are deeply entwined with human psychology, biology, and social constructs.

Through vivid imagery and reflective tones, the poem weaves a narrative that critiques the pursuit of "pure altruism" as an unattainable standard, likening this pursuit to the **Nirvana Fallacy**. It invites the reader to embrace the imperfection inherent in acts of kindness, emphasizing that flawed and transactional altruism still holds profound value in fostering connection, survival, and mutual support.

The poem also highlights the inherent beauty in altruistic acts, regardless of their underlying motivations. It challenges the dismissal of acts deemed "impure" for carrying elements of self-interest, reframing them as authentic expressions of humanity.

**Artist’s Intent:**
The poet aims to reconcile the tension between the ideal and the real, urging readers to move past the binary of "selfless" versus "self-serving" acts. Through this piece, the artist seeks to celebrate the complexity of altruism, emphasizing that its worth lies not in its perfection but in its impact. By embracing the transactional nature of giving as part of the human condition, the poem calls for a more compassionate and pragmatic view of altruistic behavior.

Ultimately, Altruism's Mirror is a meditation on human nature, inviting readers to find beauty in the nuanced interplay between generosity, self-interest, and connection. It challenges the notion that altruism must be pure to be meaningful, suggesting that the flawed, everyday acts of kindness are the truest reflections of our shared humanity.
 479° 
Nyssa Jacobsen
We exist
In the spaces between the lines
In the pages of a story
That we write at different times

We live
In the subtle phrases
In the corners of a poem
That we read in early morning

We love
In between the moments
In a way we can't quite say
That we know is far too dangerous
 434° 
Julia Celine
Because I loved you
I fancied myself kind
To bow at your fingertips

Because I loved you
I felt myself strong
Enough to break

Your care,
Ever changing,
Floods me inside out

The dam bursts just
from the pinprick of a fracture

And I shatter

Because I loved you
 353° 
Michael Rudelich
She is a copywriter
at a law firm, where

the men remind her of

the creepy guy in the
produce aisle, with a

head of iceberg lettuce,

leering at her, smiling
—as she contemplates

the bright blank screen.
 340° 
Flawed as Negan
There was smashed soft walls,
and blood on kitchen floor,
I was just a mouse so small
as this apple lost its core.
Have you ever met a man so tall,
whipping and calling her a *****.
This world and its bouncing *****
lead me back to the day I became worn.

I pretended to be a corpse
Extinct like a dinosaur
Hiding under ***** black sheets,
hoping life would take a back seat
I was crunched in his jaws,
and this wolf had no remorse.
What makes you & your course,
You're just an item re-called.
 229° 
Andrew
I no longer relive them
Now
I live with them
 212° 
p1st0l
Blood on my hands and the bathroom floor
When will this stop? I wonder as it slowly pours
The blood comes from the cuts on my arm
How did I get here? What have I done?
This is about self harm
You always count on her
so why not
make her a necklace from the
beads on an abacus
and make it official.
 195° 
Asuka
I look in the mirror — I’m unlike anyone else.
The rarest gem on Earth, there's no one quite like me.
Each day I polish my edges, climb higher, rise stronger.
My reflection glows with aura, resilience, and shine.
Every part of me speaks of strength — and so do you.
You're not weak — you've just forgotten your power.
 180° 
Boma
Hardly anything on earth is free
Pay the price I paid for you
There's a lot you owe me
There's a price list too
From now on, every tear I shed costs a nickel
Every "I love you" costs a dime
Every little broken piece of my heart costs ten dollars
Maybe I'll be have enough to buy myself back
Thank you creator of the universe for the gift of life you have given me. Thank you for giving me everything I have ever truly needed.
Thank you for giving me the opportunity to experience this beautiful body and this wonderful mind. Thank you for living inside of me with all of your love with pure and boundless Spirit, with your warm and radiant light.
Thank you for using my words for using my eyes for using my heart to share your love wherever I go.
I love you just the way you are and because I am your creation I love myself just the way I am.
Help me to keep the love and the peace in my heart and to make that love a new way of life that I may live in love the rest of my life.
Aaaaaaamenn!!!
 172° 
lizie
i called you
when texting felt too heavy,
too many words stuck inside.

you picked up.

i tried to hide the tears,
soft breaths breaking through,
hoping you wouldn’t hear
the weight in my voice.

and still, you stayed.
 166° 
Carlo C Gomez
~
The day was orange
The word is yellow
Out like a light switch
Teeth a steady glow

The projectile's
Crisscross trajectory
Is no kindness

In the catacombs of this mine
Watch it leak
Watch it settle

What remains is
Subterranea, urania
Built to last
A moment to inhale
Before fade to black

~
El chamariz en el chopo
-¿Y qué más?
El chopo en el cielo azul
-¿Y qué más?
-El cielo azul en el agua
-¿Y qué más?
-El agua en la hojita nueva
-¿Y qué más?
-La hojita nueva en la rosa
-¿Y qué más?
La rosa en mi corazón
-¿Y qué más?
¡Mi corazón en el tuyo!
 159° 
bleedingink
I will lose myself
if it means you can have it all.

I will give everything
if it means you will smile again.

I will, I will, I will.
 138° 
Wind everywhere
A ticket to past,
I wanted so bad.
Relive memories or change them,
As they were crazily mad.

To be satisfied with the present,
Enjoying everything it gives.
Appreciating the stability,
As the water supports the ships.
To establish a beautiful harmony between past and present
Bound,
not for an eternity
Transient, this existence

Untethered,
bond with freedom
Know the boundaries
 121° 
Dorothea Daisy
It’s raining.
As they see the exit poll.
The difference too small.

It’s raining.
As they see the late poll.
Is Poland going to fall?

It’s raining.
They look up the last poll.
They won’t sleep tonight.
Nor will they tomorrow.
They won’t breathe.
They won’t… They can’t anymore.
And it’s funny because they used to love rain, but now Nawrocki is their president.
~
June 2025
HP Poet: Agnes de Lods
Age: 47
Country: Poland


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

Agnes de Lods: "My name is Agnes (Agnieszka), and I come from Poland. I grew up in the countryside, in a family rooted in rural and small-town traditions. My mother is a very intuitive person, and my father was always standing in the last row, quietly helping others, especially people with disabilities.

My parents gave me two ways of perception: seeing with the heart and with the mind. They didn’t have higher education, but our home was full of music, books, radio talks, and documentaries that showed the world in many dimensions. They helped me see that reality is full of tension and harmony, depending on what we pay attention to.

They gave me space to speak in my own voice. Growing up close to nature, I spent time observing, listening to the rhythm of the seasons. I learned humility, compassion, and what it means to face hard work and failure."



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

Agnes de Lods: "In Polish, I’ve been writing for four years. In English, two or three. But in a way, I had been preparing for it all my life by writing, reading, and observing the world around me.

I started sharing my reflections on Hello Poetry in December, just a few months ago. For the first time, I felt ready to express everything I had kept inside for years."



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

Agnes de Lods: "People. I love people. Every single person has a story. Sometimes strangers stop me in the street and start talking. I guess they want to be heard, and I love to listen.

Nature inspires me. And my dreams, too. Some of them come true, others do not. Still waiting for those lottery numbers to show up in a dream.

Books are also a huge source, just like music and art in all their forms. I am inspired by Karolina Halatek and Hania Rani, Marc Witmann, Umo Vide, Dror Elimelech, and Patricia Suarez (Colombian poet and painter), and many others."



Question 4: What does poetry mean to you?

Agnes de Lods: "Poetry is exceptional on every level. Metaphors express the unspeakable and have real power. They change the frequency of thought.

Poetry heals, invites contemplation, and opens doors to the many layers of human nature.

To me, poetry is sound, color, scent, even taste."



Question 5: Who are your favorite poets?

Agnes de Lods: "Sylvia Plath, Alejandra Pizarnik, Wisława Szymborska, Adam Zagajewski, Czesław Miłosz, Jorge Luis Borges, Pablo Neruda, Federico García Lorca, and many more.

I also read poems on Hello Poetry, and I am so glad to see many truly talented writers here. It means this world still has a chance."



Question 6: What other interests do you have?

Agnes de Lods: "I am fascinated by psychology and archetypes. I read Jung with deep interest.

I love sci-fi, deep conversations, walks in the forest, and learning new languages. But more than anything, I care about human connection and understanding.

I like to dance and play the piano, though I have not had much time for that lately. And I love connecting the dots."



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

Agnes de Lods: "Thank you so much for letting me share my story. I am so glad to be part of this community of sensitive souls. I feel good here."




Thank you everyone here at HP for taking the time to read this. We hope you enjoyed coming to know Agnes 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 #29 in July!

~
 88° 
Bea Hespera
Some things are better off dead
Buried in the ground
The memories stuck in my head
Spiraling around and around

My soul sits in its tomb
My hopes are the coffin it lies in
My inner child is the surrounding gloom
My dreams are the flowers lying on the stone

My trauma make up the walls that surround
My pain is the drawings underground
My soul was buried with the shackles that bind me
I had to bury it all so it would let me breathe

You have to stop looking behind to look ahead
That’s why some things are better off dead
 84° 
Jaime Sabines
Boca de llanto, me llaman
tus pupilas negras,
me reclaman. Tus labios
sin ti me besan.
¡Cómo has podido tener
la misma mirada negra
con esos ojos
que ahora llevas!

Sonreíste. ¡Qué silencio,
qué falta de fiesta!
¡Cómo me puse a buscarte
en tu sonrisa, cabeza
de tierra,
labios de tristeza!

No lloras, no llorarías
aunque quisieras;
tienes el rostro apagado
de las ciegas.

Puedes reír. Yo te dejo
reír, aunque no puedas.
 79° 
Yonah Jeong
water-loving
playing by the water
sunset
grain-fed
wild goose

long neck
Short legs
Wide beak
Long, pointed wings
Waterproof feathers
Feast table meat
Chasing geese

fool
teased for being stupid
No one can stay away
and befriends you

Walking down the street
distracted
Flying away
Serious
Worry-free
beautiful and charming voice.
 79° 
alex
Much like you
I feel pain
when I am wounded

I cry
when my heart
shatters quietly

I begin to doubt
when silence
lingers too long

And I light like fire
when I feel
seen by you

because, much like you,
I want to be truly loved
even if it’s the last thing I do.
We carry different sorrows but dream alike
 79° 
rick
when you trim your ***** and your mustache with the same pair of scissors
when you hand over your entire paycheck to the bartender of doom and glee
when you write a bounced check at the grocery store
when you sleep with a girl who isn’t clean
when you’re young, lost, broken and poor
when your childhood runs hard and your luck runs out
when your best friend is dead and your other friend is ******* your girl
when your dog sleeps in the afternoon and dreams of the neighborhood *****
when your nutrients gets replaced with Xanax bars over the one who just left
when your tired eyes meet the brick & mortar of strenuous labor
when the smile is so fake that it appears genuine
when you go all in on someone you weren’t 100% sure of
when you wait on bleeding knees for the unreliable god
when you bet on the boxer that crashed to the canvas
when the interest is high and the banks are closed and the creditors don’t care about grace periods
when you understand very little and you expel a whole lot
when the cord of anxiety strangles your very essence
when you turn out to be just as everyone expected

don’t worry

it’ll all turn around

and find you again

someway

somehow.
 75° 
Hakan
Remember me well,
These are the last lines.
Suppose I was a wind,
I blew through your life.
Or a rain,
Flooding beneath you.
Then the earth absorbed the water,

I disappeared...
 74° 
AM
I kept moving

a blur between places,

names half-learned,

mornings that began

already running

the wind at my back

felt like freedom,

but I never asked

what I was chasing,

or what was chasing me

I kept moving,
avoiding the silence

that carried the questions

I’ve spent a lifetime

outrunning
 73° 
Mary Huxley
I lost myself while trying to love you
 70° 
Carlo C Gomez
patient, optimistic travelers
gliding soundlessly along
moving walkways while sun falls
across gleaming surfaces
of aluminum, glass and peace
 65° 
Chandy
Leaders of the past
Led the people
Now we have vernacular
Sharing stereotypes
Discrimination on different stereo types
Old like a commandment
Commanding like a caesar
Shaking like a seizure
Ruling in leisure
 63° 
RMatheson
Powder-white and goose-bumps
in the rain.

You slide down my throat like a...

My numbing mouth,
the flashing lights.
I can't control
my sleep tonight.
 60° 
Michael John
i
i am chuffed that you will act with honour
and kindness and i will try to reciprocate..
so  we can be friends..
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