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 756° 
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.
 724° 
ap0calyps3
a casket my bed, my morbid rest
I am dead
I am blessed
death; a darkness that roams fancily dressed.
 584° 
OnLithium
Its always
The simplest
Of things
That can't
Be done
Even just
A quick
I'm sorry
 489° 
undefined
The call to Oblivion
gets harder to resist
A desire to be numb
so obviously persists
 332° 
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.
 311° 
Maria Etre
I took a bite
out of the unexpected
I was starving
to let go
of my "should's"
just to see what's
on the other side
of your flavor











*And it was sooooooo
satiating
 308° 
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
 252° 
Henryk
I'll gladly oblige the request you have
As I run my hands through your hair and drive you mad.

Look into my eyes, you see me smile, I'll take my time, we may be here for a while.

Gentle I'll be or as hard as you like
The feel of your skin, it gives me life.

The warmth of your body, my breathe in your ear
Do not fret, you have nothing to fear.
 230° 
Lily
I told the stars my pain, but they blinked in disbelief
As if the sky could not conceive a suffering so far beneath
Still their presence offerd a quiet relief
 208° 
Maria
A woman, who’s really tired,
Hasn’t even go to bed.
It’s past midnight and all over again.
Her bed’s still fully made.

A woman, who’s really tired,
Forgot what sleep is.
She spent herself but stably accepted
Her Destiny’s painful decrees.

A woman, who’s really tired,
Wants simply and plainly to be.
She stopped laughing long ago.
She rarer wants to speak.

A woman, who’s really tired
Of blaming herself for breathe,
A woman, who’s still feeling,
Has simply the right to live!
Thank you for reading it! 🙏💖
 207° 
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
 173° 
unnamed
nightmares plague my sleep
wake with a start to ticking clock
it reads half past three
 170° 
paul sheridan
nigel farage is a joke
is it’s on his fans the lies that aren’t
quite so funny for the rest of us, either
said the old bloke  ..
 165° 
Bekah Halle
Are we but pawns on a chessboard
That God just moves about haphazardly?
Or are we placed strategically;
And through God’s plans can claim: “Checkmate!”
 162° 
Aslam M
Problems will come
Just like the Rains.
Instead of  anticipating
For the Rains to Stop.
Just Get an Umbrella
And Simply Open it.
 147° 
TNS
Not today.

Cracks on my head
have appeared boldly—
scorching heat,
the culprit, smiles.

Wounds fester
and age with time.

Taunting sleep haunts along,
derailing any grip on reality.

Hopeless I am,
breathless and fallen.
 142° 
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.
 129° 
Ryan O'Leary
I don’t want dead flowers
on my grave or my name
in an obituary column to
say that I died peacefully

Tell it as it was, he ended
up just as rebellious as he
lived a Paddystinian on his
deathbed saying **** the J
 105° 
Cadmus
🐺

The more I understand man
and what he’s capable of…

the more I am convinced
the wolf was framed

and Little Red
wrote the story.

🧣🧣
Interpretations are often shaped by those who survive to tell the tale. Sometimes, the villain is just the one without a voice.
 103° 
Mimi
Everyone's addicted to something
caffeine
drinking
smoking
toxicity
hate
some will let their pain consume them so no one
has to deal with their problems but they keep
growing as they try to fix everyone else's
im addicted to the rush
of what?
everything i could do and don't do
just wanted to write something
 102° 
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.
 90° 
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.
 79° 
JD
somewhere out there
is a version of me
that only exists
in your mind


please hold me dear
please nurture it
please think of me
do not let me go
extinct
 76° 
Zahra Ali
You placed that long,
humming conduit in me
and I jolted, a surge in the
dam, my limbs stuttering
like loose wires, no rhythm,
no balance —just current.

My body answered—  
before I did.
 74° 
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.
 71° 
Mike Hauser
life can be
a tragedy
then again
filled with glee
all depends
on the steps you take
all of it being
one step away
~
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!

~
 68° 
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
 68° 
Jeremy Betts
I don't mean to tile such a simple question
But that's where I'm at
I don't know any further than that

©2025
 66° 
sandra wyllie
up or push it
down. Put it aside
or bury it with frosted
cream donuts and

chocolate. Drown it
in one-hundred proof. Cover
it like the weathered
shingles on your

roof. Patch it like your
ripped denim jeans. Iron it
out so no one sees
the seams. Pull the splinters

one by one and stick
them in the corkboard with
your black push pins. It's deep
and dark like the sea and bleeding

like a sonnet. Wrap it up and
tie it like a bonnet under your
chin. Now head held high. Fool
them with that wide-tooth grin.
 57° 
Caits
as much as I love its whispers
the tangle with the heat
the littlest deaths
of everything but ego
and idolatry

the heat left scars
whispering ink
just left stains
nothing
really pretty
or even very neat

I quit drinking
and that was that.
my heart used to flutter
when you texted me
I would gush at every compliment
but then
I was impatient to be called yours
you cut our situationship off
and decided we should be just friends
it broke my heart
as tears streamed down my face
but soon enough
I accepted it as that
but then
you became distant
and stopped replying to me
you left me on read/seen
it made my heart heavy
and stomach churn
I stopped begging for
your attention
and affection
now I no longer care
I do not feel anything for you
my heart is steady
I don't look forward to
your texts
I barely think of you
I am done
done with this mess
I will wipe my hands of
this situation
and leave it in the past
I just stopped caring when my effort isn't returned
 54° 
Amethyste
In a world where we weigh by ranks in the society
The richer the better
I am trying to see my self
For all that weighs in my inner me
But at times
It is hard
I have hard time visualising myself.
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