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Ileana Amara Jan 2021
these are the nights, the late hours
relentlessly dripping into flawed poetries
pondering about love and scratching old scars.

IA ☕
Ileana Amara Jan 2021
what would it be like if we run the world?

all love, all chaos, all mess of fragmented thoughts & emotions
contained in an individual entity; all moving in a unified direction.

IA ☕
01.14.21. | "spill out your thoughts."
Ileana Amara Jan 2021
most poets seem to be too drunk in love,
vomiting out words as their heart throbbed

while i was one who stayed sober,
after a few bad hangovers;
writing as i clutch a bottle of wine to cope,
maybe next time, i'll pour it onto a glass of hope.

IA ☕
01.13.21. | not really one for drinking but i hope i got the message right.
Ileana Amara Jan 2021
what most people try to look for,
but it's a tunnel vision;
meant to limit one's complexity.

IA ☕
01.11.21. | watched something quite insightful earlier and here's my thought/s about it. i used to think i have to find my purpose which was so often believed by the myriad as something that's entirely capable/responsible of the good things to come. but it's a tunnel vision to keep our lives confined in this singular purpose or perhaps something that's grand.
Ileana Amara May 2020
still the same old person
asking herself nearly 2 a.m.
do I get coffee or get some sleep?

IA ☕
Sally A Bayan Mar 2017
Dinner is done
everyone's settled
the evening.....like the moon.....is full...
the weight of the night has itself eased into mine,
my expected moment of slumber...now distraught...
the Heavens are purpled
twilight drapes have fallen,
winds of March...bellow
.........my pillows
..............are hollowed
.......................by my elbows
......as a distant rooster crows........
i lie on my abdomen...legs swing back and forth,
catching inspiration, a word, a daydream...a thought,
i grab a pen falling, i grasp a journal, a book,
...............everything is within reach
but, not...the....long..................stretch
of hours....of a sleepless night...whence
....spiced...spiked...and sugared memories...
..........accompany me...and sail with me
.......as i cruise along this lethargic sea
'neath a silent dark, where aches are loudest
.........domed, by an unworded loneliness,
i am wearied by a flow, that is endless,
.....this minute...imagination is ceaseless
........i reach for my mug....but, it's empty
.........................i hear no liquid seething
this moment,  a dark sea, should be brewing....
this hour, verses must be a river, overflowing,
...enfolding, this cool and starry, starry evening...
.......i am caffeinated....even without coffee....

Sally


Copyright March 23, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
(a nonsense poem, most of you might say
...... a new coffee poem...spun today...)
Israel Rivera Jan 2017
My caffeinated brain is buzzing bright
As increasingly imposing thoughts take flight
Effervescent and light there is no way that I might
No matter how I try somehow to hold on to them tight
There is no sense in having to fight

Just let them do what they may and run amok
This how creativity becomes unstuck
Flowing and bursting through all the usual muck
Rhymes and verse that leave me dumbstruck
It’s enough to leave anyone awestruck

Before long my thoughts, they no longer incend
The trail in my mind no longer bends
My mind is at ease, it has made amends
My thoughts slow and descend
I drop my pen and it ends
Hannah Anderson May 2014
I think I love too easily.

I find it so simple to pick out the best traits in somebody.
I like to know what makes people tick and what makes their pupils dilate. I can fall in love with the way they talk about
their favorite shades of color
and the way they pick out groceries.


I am interested in the way people take their coffee
and if they prefer tea better.
and why
herbal
caffeinated

I find myself loving people for their laughter
and the crinkles beneath their eyes when they smile.
And I think it’s so cute whenever they suppress their grins
when they think of something funny or memorable.
I love the way people talk about life
and what’s on their mind;
it’s nice to know that there is more
more to discuss than the sounds on mattresses
and the type of plant they inhale.
You are beautiful.
I love the way people spill their hearts out when they’re happy
or when they’re sad.

Sometimes, when they don’t let me love them,
it makes me want to love them even more.

And even when they don’t love me back, I still continue to love.

— The End —