Now I see.
Over your head.
Voice memos.
Every last one of them.
Memories recorded forever.
Bracing for impact.
Even when you die.
Rather when I do.
For when I’m no longer here.
Other than the death,
Unlike any other,
Rich sounds and laughter
To be heard from your ears.
Heard without any sound coming out.
I see the flowers disappearing
And the bees flying frantically
I see the leaves falling
And I see the birds leaving town
I see the snow falling
And I see the gloomy smiles
I see the bleak skies
And I see the emptiness
I see the clear skies
And I see the morning sun
I see a faint image
I see you in a mirage
I want to fly
I want to see you smile
I want to be by your side
While I'm still alive
All is lost.
I refuse to believe
Light still shines.
Hope is fading.
It is foolish to think
Strength remains.
I am ill.
I do not concede that
There is a cure.
Hope is slipping.
It is absurd to think
I will get better.
And this will all come true unless we reverse it.
It starts as a whisper, a storm in your skin,
a pressure so loud, it echoes within.
Not for attention. Not for the show.
It’s the scream you can't let anyone know.
It's the moment you drown, desperate to feel,
when numbness becomes the loudest appeal.
They say, “Just talk,” but the words retreat -
how do you explain pain that doesn’t speak?
You cover the marks, pull down the sleeve,
play the part that others believe.
But it’s never about wanting to die -
it’s about needing something to quiet the cry.
And still, you survive. Again. Again.
You wake and ache but try to remain.
Because somewhere deep beneath that ache,
you know there's more than what pain can take.
So here’s what’s true, even if it’s small:
You are not your scars. You are not your fall.
You are the breath that followed the burn,
the strength in choosing each twist and turn.
Let your voice crack, let the silence break -
you’re allowed to need, to bend, to shake.
And if the darkness clings tonight,
let this poem hold the light
These flowers,
they talk to me.
They comfort me.
I’ve seen these trees,
I’ve seen these bushes,
I’ve seen these leaves,
I’ve seen all of it.
But these flowers,
they’re walking with me,
they’re following me.
They love me.
They remind me why I’m on this hike.
This is why.
I’ve been in unfortunate forests,
but this is all worth it.
They create this waterfall.
I don’t know how they did it,
but they handmade it.
They’ve been listening too.
I’ve been wishing to see a waterfall since hour three;
It’s hour six.
They’ve been listening,
they’ve been waking,
they’ve been talking,
they’ve been building.
All for me,
to make my hike
worthwhile…
Autumn leaves; auburn pages of my past,
torn from a weathered book.
Who thought we’d be eighteen?
And yet here I am
-an adult?!
Sat on the waterfront,
watching the last of the autumn leaves fall.
Autumn leaves.
And with them,
the days of summer peel away-
brown fragments that crackle
on the water’s surface.
Each one turns
in the pale autumn light,
like capsizing miniature boats.
The evenings draw in.
The sunlight fades earlier,
spilling weak gold
across the lake.
And somewhere beyond the trees,
the cold is gathering.
Yes, this autumn has left,
and with it, my childhood.
But autumn leaves never truly will.
In their beautiful shades of gold,
I see your faces.
Autumn leaves fall,
and nobody knows
what will replace them-
only that life will persist,
In all its strange beauty.
And perhaps
that is all that is needed:
let now become back then,
and wrap yourself tight
in those almost-forgotten smiles.
I experience reality from my own Perspective.
If I had not existed to experience reality from my perspective I would not have experienced it at all.
Who can see if not me?
Who am I if not me?
can we be who we chose to be
Or are we known as who we thought we have been?
who am I if not me?
can I be who I want to be?
am I free or am I me?
Who am I if not I am me?
I am who I experience myself to be?
my experience is dependent on my own perception of reality from my own Perspective.
I love you too
The words reach his ears as I’m already up the stairs
Out of his reach
But never out of his mind
3 years of unanswered love
3 years of loving her anyway
3 years of watching your baby girl drift away
Until tonight
By noon the next day you’re in another state
Thinking about last night
3 years but now you have your daughter back
But in another state she is pulled from class
By noon she finally asked for help
3 years of unanswered prayers
3 years of unwanted hands
3 years of staying silent
Until tonight
By dawn the police will come
Asking for her report
But she’ll be thinking about last night
3 years and now his daughter will never be back
It took 3 years of staying silent
3 years of being his perfect quiet daughter
Now when she counts the years it will start from when she could breath again
While he can count the years since he was caught
We dance singing songs of Love.
sinister dreams of wild death.
I saw him preaching the Gospel after the Rapture.
Harvey Levin preached the good news in my dreams.
very strange that I woke up made a video talking about it.
Harvey Levin a tribulation Saint wild dream.
Praise Jesus forever.
Thank you Jesus forever.
A Lone Star
A star that shines so bright in the night sky,
It shines through the darkness,
But there are no other stars beside it.
It is alone, so is it lonely?
Or does it want to be alone?
Even when there is no one around this star,
It is still able to shine so bright.
It is the only light in the darkness,
And you can't help but stare at it.
You can't help but admire it
And wonder,
How can it shine so bright?
What made it shine like that?
Is it because of the darkness?
Or is it something else?
Does it have a reason why it shines like that?
Is it for itself?
Or is it for someone else?
Will someone be guided by its light,
Or will no one notice it?
Will its light eventually grow dim?
Or will there be someone to take care of it?
In the end,
Was the star able to fulfill its purpose?
“Don’t Leave Me This Way,”
but you left me with a heart full of pain.
I stood in fear with “No Way” out,
with doubt creeping into my head.
“Everybody Loves Somebody,”
but I was left here on my own.
I wondered, “Where Did Our Love Go?”
when you walked away and left me alone.
But somewhere beyond the darkest night,
“I See the Light” — a flicker, so bright.
“I’ve Got You Under My Skin,”
yet I won’t let the past pull me in.
So I’ll “Let It Be,” and carry on,
even when my strength feels gone.
“I’ll Rise” above the pain I knew,
and slowly find my way anew.
“The Best Is Yet to Come,” they say,
so I’ll keep moving toward a brighter day.
And when the darkness fills my sight,
I’ll hold on to that little bit of light.
Kindness is creating a space
An absence of self , a welcoming face,
A hand extended to pull someone up
To share their pain , drink their cup,
Kindness is tearing the barriers down
A comforting smile, not judging frown.
An embrace of solidarity
For we are one humanity
What makes us rich is what we share
Our time, our presence , our love, our care.
Heart racing, mind searching for answers.
So stuck. On the brink of tears.
Yet He remains good.
The need to control, the need to know.
Holding my breath for certainty that won't come.
Yet He remains good.
He holds my future in His hands.
With hope and purpose in His plans.
And for that, He is good.
Where does a man meet with his fate?
Will he be gone on a midnight freight?
Uneasy answers depend
on questions blowin' the wind.
I pray that God be willin' -
another studio album by Bob Dylan?
Autumn is not mine to desire,
but I have longed for it for months
Since death stole my love for summer,
I have craved Autumn like a lover craves her love
I want the cool breezes to ruffle my hair,
the sensuous moon to light my skin in the dark,
the bountiful harvest to prove that life lives on
in a dark world that color still lives and lights up
the world with bright colors of a changing world
that will soon be barren and cold but for a glorious
season, it is bright and bountiful and joyful for all
Hope Categories
Read wonderful hope poetry on the following sub-topics:
christmas, encouragement, faith, future, inspirational, life, losing, lost, resilience, strength,
and more.
Definition | What is Hope in Poetry?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.
Related Poetry Forms
prospect, desire, confidence, anticipation, belief, faith, wish, aspiration, expectation, optimism, promise, ambition, goal, achievement, concern, expectancy, fortune, reverie, endurance, daydream, dependence, fancy, reliance, sanguineness, utopia