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 Feb 2016 Irene
Leila Valencia
A whisper of delight
Petals of softness
The cloth of beginning
The ribbon that ties the knot
Will become a beauty

A mother's touch heals the wound
And her mouth circles their hearts
A smile is a delicate stream that warmths the soul
A bud that is bursting
Will become kind

Their breathe touches the sky
Lights the stars and sparkles the water
A thorn will become if the soul is trenched with hatred
But he will learn that the soil is the most beautiful place to grow beauty and there it will be, the petals will fall
Hit the ground and leave behind what once was
 Feb 2016 Irene
syhlent blue
Stuck in my own prison

My thoughts have enchained me

Bound to these feelings that I crave

Desiring the closure that I deserve

You took my shallow heart and gave it depth

Then you left

Making me believe that there's so much more to hold on to

Then letting go

Now I'm the only one holding on

Also holding on to all these mixed emotions

While you let go of everything we had

I'm starting to think we never had it

Please disconnect me from these memories

I need to breathe

I inhaled you

You exhaled me

I give you more

You give me nothing

Now I'm trapped in this lost and found

And you'll never come back to reclaim what you once had

Maybe it's because you never lost it

You let it go and found something new..
 Feb 2016 Irene
Madisen Kuhn
i don’t want to be someone who writes in pencil
and eats too slowly and walks with eyes that
are glued to the sidewalk and tops of strangers’ feet
i’ve been underwater for so long that
i’ve forgotten lungs are meant
to be filled with air; exhaling seems
more like something found
on the second star to the right, rather
than a process that is meant to be
done twenty-three thousand times a day

i feel like an old woman who
looks in the mirror and all she can see
are wrinkles and white hair and tired eyes and
the absence of who she used to be

but i am not someone who turns away
from sunsets and pretends
that darkness is all i’ve ever known;
someone who thinks
the sun will never rise again

because the sun will rise again—
the words hiding inside of me will
find their way out, because
i cannot hold my breath forever

i am not someone who writes in pencil
and erases the bits that are too
honest and too imperfect and too real
to claim as thoughts of my own

i cannot keep my lips pursed and
hands tied behind my back,
i cannot keep pretending i am
a shadow of who i used to be

my tomorrows hold suns much
brighter than ones that have risen
over horizons of my past;
i have not reached the summit yet

there is so much more me
for me to become

each day, i am new.
 Feb 2016 Irene
Cup Noodles
I have never really been into poetry,
Nor have I been into theater.
I was never interested in animated films,
Or movies in general
And music was just a hobby for me

Then I met you...

And now it seems as if,
I have found myself remembering you, by just listening to music,
And spending many nights, sleepless and lorn.

I'm patiently waiting for the next blockbuster hit
To appear in cinemas, so that I may ask you
For a single day together, once again.

Now my ambition is to create a cartoon,
Similar to that of Ghibli's, because you had me by a thread,
On that day we watched Spirited together.

I became the stage manager of a production,
Worked hard so I could make you say
That you were proud of me, but more than that was
To simply make you something beautiful.

And now all I can do
Is write poetry,
Every time,
I think of you.
 Feb 2016 Irene
Jo Baez
Resume
 Feb 2016 Irene
Jo Baez
You never really know,
How much you **** at life.
Till you write a resume.
 Feb 2016 Irene
am i ee
masks
 Feb 2016 Irene
am i ee
how many do you wear?
do you even know that
you are wearing them?

can you see through all
the other masks?

or does it become a confusion
you cannot extricate yourself
from?

entertaining the thought
that you have many masks
is a beginning.

which ones bring you strength?
truth?
peace?
equanimity?

which ones pull you
deep into delusion?
lost in casting yourself as
a victim?

lost in hedonistic pleasure?
seemingly fun... but
at its core
suffering in another
mask....

chasing highs
never stopping
never going inward
never finding the silence

living in fear
attracting spirits
that feed off of fear.

how to climb out?

a practice lived with
great faith
a practice lived with
great doubt

great motivation
ensues

truth revealed
bliss realized.
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