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I like my coffee really hot.
Direct from the coffee machine,
Freshly brewed and steaming skyward,
Nonetheless to the nearby microwave, I digress,
For 90 seconds of steam room added bathing of my mourning
Coffee, bathing in a Vincent Van Gogh almond blossomed mugging

During said 90 seconds, I flutter and putter among the kitchen
countertops, hithering and dithering all about, wiping, swiping
crumbs of prior day's excessive remaining excesses, carcasses of
grains and grams, fruits and vegetables, restocking coffee beans,
watering said machine's infernal thirst for double pure ground water,
ect. etc. etcetera

all of the above takes a little over a minute, whence I return to my still
pre-re-intializing heating microwave clock is  advising twenty four seconds till my additional brewing will be finite finished…

gawd, what the heck am I supposed to do for the next 24 seconds besides rock back-and-forth watching my coffee cup turn Vinny's
almond blossoms slightly more yellow?

Nah.

the internal ding resounds, with a write a poem dummy!
and so I did, even if it ain't exactly short and sweet or more
pissy than pithy

Ha!
while dashing off this scripty nitty gritty writy,
guess what?
my cafe au lay
grew cold again,
and so  the
poem repeats
itself...grrr...
now, me extra very hot & pissy
24.
24 years on this earth.
How time flies by.
Now that I’m 24, am I happy or tired?

My only wish is that my 24’s are my best.
I wish that I will be more happy than depressed.
I wish that I look at the world with kindness and not worry or fear.
I wish from now on, to walk on this path with hope and not misery.
I wish nothing but happiness and love for this 24.
May God bless me with peace and prosperity for this 24.

Nothing but laughter and light for this 24.
God please blessed me with the strength, grace, wisdom and courage for my 24.
Poetoftheway Dec 2024
“you should watch for what’s good and say so, watch for what’s bad and say that,
and be afraid of neither observation.
If you lose your temper, lose it; if you find yourself unexpectedly moved, admit it.
Keep your tools, compass and gyroscope,
clean, dry and level.”
Peggy Noonan,
columnist, author
<•>

good
Christmas Eve advice
getting harder to find,
wheat from chaff, and all that,
what’s sensible,
what’s defensible,
and what actually feels
A~ok!
as in
perhaps, it actually could be,
pause to think,
correct?
and:or:heck,
even right

so if you read the above ,
take it from a couple of senior geezers,
you just got a holiday freebie!
yeah, yeah, keep your powder dry,
just ain’t the same, sorry…

we talking tools and fools here,
them that keep you
on a course
of your owned free choice,
with an assist,
to  know your position & to
never to lose your balance

when everybody is
instantly
telling you what to think,
take that long pause,
use your tools,
to pick the problem up,
Rubik’s cube it,
twist and shout,
when the
solution emerges

‘tis the season for
preaching and overreaching,
but use this quietime pause,
look internal,
and keep your instinct and
inside tools oiled,
and mind open, clarified

wish you then, clear eyes, open ears & love;
wisdom, that’s up to you,
but, you’re a billionaire for sure,
use the grey cells you were given
thoughtfully & well,
and keep on looking for
‘what’s a good way,’
which is always an
everlasting work


                             nat lipstadt
12/24/24
5:45 pm
NYC
Àŧùl Oct 2024
O stone-hearted beauty!
To forget you,
I'm trying lackadaisically.
To overcome your memories,
I'm not trying sincerely.
To love someone else,
I'm trying half-heartedly.

O cold-blooded beauty!
To love you,
I tried everything in the dictionary.
To change your prejudice,
I tried my best.
To convince you,
I didn't get my chance.

O unfeeling beauty!
To miss you,
Has become a habit.
To feel you,
Has become an addiction.
To want you,
Is an undying passion.
My HP Poem #2002
©Atul Kaushal
katie Dec 2020
pieces starting to fall into place,
i no longer worry about saving face
i thought i had escaped loneliness back then,
but now i realized that it was nowhere near the end

a blank canvas enters the scene,
a slate furthermore wiped clean
i cannot say i’m moving forward with no trepidation,
but i’m positive that i no longer hold any reservations
happy birthday to me 🎂
Sammie Sep 2020
I know what it is
that keeps you up all night
C'mon now trust me
Hold on to your spirits tight!
This year was to let go of things
that hurt like a tightened rope
So that you could finally feel the touch
of your rejuvenated hope!
To embrace your new self
with utmost compassion
Give all those dreams
your wings of passion!!
All by yourselves you have
grown out the pain
And now you have lessons,stories
and way too many experiences to gain!!
A little bit of tears still
accompany buckets of laughter
(Cause baby, from here I see you)
With patience, belief and magic
You now live your "happily ever after"!
Everyday she falls in love with herself!
Oh hell yes! In her story
She is the chipmunk and she is the elf!
Druzzayne Rika Jul 2020
24
One more year ends,
Counting few others.

This is the time
of the blown out candles,
Unaired balloon,
No whipped cream,
And non received postcards.

The closed restaurants,
And unreachable phone lines,
and boredom filled eyes.

It is the time of truth
Looking into my lines,
I have seen many years now,
Never seen times like this.

A very happy birthday to me.
onlylovepoetry Apr 2017
Sunday morning lie-in,
she, ny times newspaper reading,
contentedly dress perusing-shopping,
in the bed both, but separated
by the distance of the electronic void

i am raven tapping poe poems on my diminutive IPhone,
twenty four inches distant from her lips

no notice taken of the man so overcome
writing his Sunday morn poems that are
drawn so deep from places
that make him so so so glad
good quality weeping
can be best performed silently

noticing that

- he writes best when writing of others, mostly, you

- he writes when the rented invisibility cloak covers his face
and
the wellspring offers him a choice;
write weep and tear
or
write weep and bawl
or just quit everything

whimsy laughs at his slo 'mo nonsense
his choices
this tough guy supporting a mountain of others,
the inversion of his inverted triangle,
him holding up the world

the worrisome grief that wears him down
best released in tears when writing about
you, go figger

and you notice stupid stuff
like why we use 'and' when it just ain't necesssry
how the core of 'believe' is lie
that ** ** ** rhymes with woe woe woe
and
that 24 inches is quite the distance when you are
** ** ** weeping and she don't notice

and how hard writing

only love poetry can be
even twenty four inches
from your nose
Amanda Kay Burke May 2020
24
It is hard to believe I am 24
Where have years all gone?
I've tried and tried to stop time
Hours continue ticking on
This short life is precious
Existence goes to waste
All the good this world offers
I have had only but a taste
I love watching every sunset
Hate what they all mean
Wish I was still young
Thinking what could've been
Always stuck in the could-haves
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