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pluviophile Jan 2019
some words leave a bitter taste

they taste like strong, lingering coffee
at first pleasant, but eventually unbearable

they taste like inhaled cigarette smoke
something never forgotten
but a significant part of childhood

they taste like hiraeth
longing for a life from once before
one without a missing piece

father is a bitter word
Hayley Cusick Jan 2019
when you call me by my name

it’s a warm cup of coffee on a cold morning
the scent wafting room to room
the sleep in my eyes just falls away
and although I can’t see you
I can hear the smile on your lips
and I can feel the warmth in your chest

when you call me by my name
Saint Audrey Jan 2019
Broken security, better left to fend for
Single motives
I didn't care, or maybe couldn't
Prolonging my litany

Bad ideas, and all encompassed
Condensed in soil
All that weight that had at one time escaped me
Rooted in
Bound limb, still barely shaking in the wind

Rushing in, though silent
In the darkness, remained for the time being
For a while after
It remained unseen, and I never let it break
Unless I were to lose more in the crest
Than in the gentle erosion

Wistful despite my destitute
Predetermination
As the hallowed ground, ebbing between the night air
Saturated in amenity
Became all it could be

Should it have a will of its own
Saturated in its bleak acceptance
Breathing in the cold satisfaction

As slow and listless as the realization that
Dawned across the shallow boughs
In the fragile shadows stretching across the
Few stragglers
Ill content to let the ground below
Starved fields
Go unrepentant, for even the time being
And slowly, I look up
See the world stretching on
It's not for
The wait
For the post-mortem
So selflessly fed that disconnect
Stop calling me pretentious mom! You just don't understand my self expression!
L B Jan 2019
For Henrietta Swan Leavitt—

Henrietta
dark-eyed darling of the night sky--

A Swan
who sails
the heavens
deaf with lights
that pulse across your mind
In photographic plates
that number
many thousands
You see the differences in light
You swim the curves that grace the arch of heaven
between the cloud and pinwheel galaxies
You measure
their exquisite wakes of distance--
Become the glittering timepiece of the farthest stars--

Bestowed forever in your hands
the clock and keys of all existence
You know the bends of ages
You heard the voices of the light
of the angels
and of man

I hope you've found true happiness
gathered to your love
forgetful of the pond of space and time
and all that hopeless pain and counting
of perfection
and of loneliness
to which you were assigned

that in your hands unravel all....
The secrets of the universe
white and gray in motion...
brilliant beyond all measure
by which you were forgotten
and unvalued by design

Eulogized only--
as loving God
and as being kind
_

*copyright Liz Balise 2019,  Use only by permission.


Her colleague Solon I. Bailey wrote in her obituary that "she had the happy faculty of appreciating all that was worthy and lovable in others, and was possessed of a nature so full of sunshine that, to her, all of life became beautiful and full of meaning.”

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/HenriettaSwanLeavitt
I used to teach research to the seventh grade. Rather than argue plagiarism or whether Beyonce was a worthy topic for " American Women's History," I created my own little library of articles on 35 acceptable people so I could control their work and learning of the process.  They were all mad copiers-- literally taught to be that way.  I told them they would not fail for grammar struggles or poor technique-- only for copying and lack of citations.  I told them I wanted to hear THEIR VOICES and what THEY HAD LEARNED, except for actual quotes.  I was all over cross-checking sources, summary, paraphrase, and direct quotes.  You would not believe how hard it is to unteach wrong teaching and wrong learning.  

My little library offered such women as Rachel Carson, Georgia O'Keefe, Mary Fields (Stagecoach Mary), Elizabeth Blackwell, and Henrietta Swan Leavitt.

Hope ya like it.  Took all day.  I post no poem before its time.  Time now for wine and wood fire.
Murakami Jan 2019
Sitting at a cafè
You are hot chocolate-
Warming up my heart~
I take a sip.
...
The sweet taste I expected
Was now bitter?
You make my heart ache- burning my mouth, all of these emotions running through my mind- days- months-!

i feel awake.

Your words wake me up
Every heartbeat hurts
The sweetness I felt was now bitter
I told myself it was bittersweet
But you are coffee
And I like my coffee unsweetened.

I should have trusted my tongue
You are as caring as my coffee is sweet-

not.
Sometimes you expect sweetness, but all you taste is bitter.
Kalliope Jan 2019
I'm just a bitter soul
In love with love
And my idealizations
I see your potential
Know what you could be
Push you to be your best
Know what we could be
But at the end of the night
That's not you
And my inbox is still empty
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