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The Dirty Vanilla
Like a Phoenix , I rose from the ashes of a burned-down trailer to spread the sort of love that penicillin could never touch.
ericka bonilla
New Orleans    the only way I know how to be vulnerable and naked with my thoughts.
JCabanilla
19/F/Philippines    Poetry is my life where I can show everything.

Poems

jimmy tee Sep 2013
Ingredients for 6-8 people
• 4 egg whites
• 2 egg yolks
• 100 g (1/2 cup) of sugar or 5 tablespoons of fruit sugar (alter to your own preference)
• 500 g (2 1/2 cups) of mascarpone cheese
• 4 small coffee cups of espresso coffee
• marsala wine (or brandy or cognac)
• 400 g of savoiardi or lady fingers (sponge cake fingers)
• dark chocolate powder
Preparation
1. Make espresso coffee, sweeten, and add the marsala wine (or cognac) to it. Let it cool a bit.
2. Separate the egg yolks and the whites of two eggs in two bowls.
3. Beat sugar into the egg yolks.
4. Beat the mascarpone into the sweetened yolks.
5. Add two more egg whites to the other two and whisk until they form stiff peaks.
6. Fold gently egg whites into mascarpone mixture.
7. Quickly dip both sides of the ladyfingers in the espresso mixture.
8. Layer soaked ladyfingers and mascarpone in a large bowl or pan (start with fingers, finish with mascarpone).
9. Sprinkle dark chocolate powder on top.
10. Refrigerate for one hour.
Sarah Spang Oct 2015
Before this
There was infinity, reachable by tiny fingers
And wide eyes
Scraped knees and
Bobbing heads disappearing into the trees.
'Nilla wafers and nap time
Took us off through the wildest jungles
Sent you drifting with a patched eye across the ocean
With ol' blue beard

One day, stark as the contrast between warmth
And a dash of ice-water
Every illusion used to protect, to comfort
Became as crystal clear
As shattering windshield glass.

I remember that day
I remember the clutch of fabric in my small hands
The spicy, familiar scent as I pushed it into my face
Feeling no warmth behind it, no enclosure of arms
Only the carapace
Your long-sleeved second skins
That filled the rich mahogany dresser
Long after you departed with the last you'd ever wear.

Not touching the cold stranger in the box made it real;
Nor the sound of it's door as it closed.
No, not even the earth piled atop the pile of
Crushed roses
The stone bearing our names.

It was the sweet, lingering scent
The essence you left behind
That had already begun to fade;
The scent that was as unique as rain on fallen leaves
Would one day leave
Just as you did.
McKayla Kimpel Oct 2017
His words tangle tightly in my brain
and ring fire in my soul,
just like an old-timey ballad  
spinning in the background, dusty on my stereo

That jet black hair keeps me weak in my knees,
voice as strong as our morning coffee,
Whispering my name
with sweet lines that remind me, I'm here for a reason.

And that reason will always be my home sweet home