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Ilonka 4d
in the evenings, I watch sunsets from the porch of my sleeping house, how the sky divides into thousands of tones,

in the mornings, I feel the sun change the flowers of the field letting the light flow as long as it should,
dancing bees cut ways for those who do not know the meaning of life,
it is enough to look at them and the anxiety of our humanity disappears like a last dandelion blown by the innocence of a child,

freshly opened daisies lust in the morning dew, I smile good morning to my faithful friends who never betrayed me, the company of serene petals is all I need in these times lived in imaginary cages,
in the distance, in there are still voices shouting for freedom, then slowly get lost in the daily dust,

suddenly it strikes me a longing to live as before, to walk with my hot coffee on the paved streets, among the lost minds,
to look into unfamiliar eyes and touch familiar hands, to smile even when it hurts and when the night awakens to fall asleep with my thighs uncovered exhausted by the toil of a full day,

 I look at my dry hands from too much gardening, I return to my much-loved present with lovely flowers, tall grasses that reach over my knees, with dreams hidden here and there when I blink…
Payton Mar 1
Resurrected, I arose
for mornings thick with lust
and love and caffeine and naked kisses
And again, when night came
I did too, and fell sweetly, sinfully  
prey to the small death
ushered in with a grand symphony
of your name
This poem was written in 2020.
Anais Vionet Jan 18
What do theologians call a life without events?

The lights of my prison-like room dawn before sun's first blush.
I open sand-papery eyes as my AI announces the morning.

I begin the puppetry of morning routines:
I study my pale inmate face as I polish the porcelain.

I look less of a drowsy-angel than a zombie as I splash cold water
on the face with an almost determined lack of expression.

I’m absorbed in an ocean of predawn cold
as I 5-mile-walk away my sleepiness - this small freedom
- keeps me fit and acceptably sane.

Later, bathed in hot indifference,
and clothed in exhausting obligations,
I dine, at my reserved table, with my gang of irritations.

Soon I’m ready for another taxing day
of waiting for the disease to run its course.
Isolation express! Leaving on track... wait - we're going nowhere 🙃
Anais Vionet Jan 3
On this winter morning
I’m daydreaming
of warm summer daysprings,
blue lake glistenings,
butterscotch skin,
heartbeat quickenings,
and unmade decisions behind blue eyes.
lying in bed, on a holiday morning, the mind is free to frolic
The coffee is on
It won’t stop simpering
The mugs are jingling
The sugar spoon is glistening
The creamer is singing
Hello, come make your morning Joe
Hurry on now
You’re not paying for this show
Lacey Clark Dec 2020
Each time we sneeze
a flower blooms across the sea.
I squash 6 clementine slices into my oatmeal
the tangy juice combined with earthy grains
feels a lot like the sunrise peeking through the kitchen.

The condensation outside the kitchen window
is like citrusy carbonated rainwater.
Waking up is a quick race
to pacify yesterday's absences
or excesses.

The oatmeal creates a gooey padding
As the rather **** juice
waterfalls down my gullet
Splashing into the empty, roaring chamber.

We're making offerings to a candle flame,
Dried elderberry flowers and 2 clementine slices.
Smearing black coffee grains across our cheeks
Ruminating on the care of our foremothers
Ever dwelling in the roots below
lex Dec 2020
slow mornings are my favorite
for i can simply stare out the window,
drink coffee,
and think.

whether it be cloudy or sunny,
it's always nice to bask in the low light.
the sun streams through the window with an orange glow and i wish nothing but to stand in it forever
Danté Le Beau Nov 2020
I lie,
My head placed between your *******,
Rising and falling with every breath you take,
The smell of your skin,
And the feeling of your delicate fingers running through my hair,
I hear the birds outside singing,
This feels what life is for.

I raise my head to see your smiling face.

"Morning handsome!"

As your voice fills my ears,
I am complete.
Sarah Pavlak Nov 2020
You are there in my morning coffee,
I can’t keep it down.
Erian Rose Nov 2020
It was his sunset-painted heart,
dulcet-washed eyes, and
his contagious laughter that
makes my mornings
and anxiety-filtered moments
spark little fires
deep inside.
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