#cups
This clean cup! I washed the cup then drank from it, leaning against a leather wall. Eight whole years of prehistory, searching for a cup of swilling-in-the-night-air. When it was found (filled with sawdust and feathers) we rejoiced!
Jul 3, 2025
Jul 3, 2025 at 11:34 PM UTC
Why my favorite coffee cup
You delight my soul
The roundness of your body
As you fill me with your taste
The texture of your glace
When I put you to my lips
And though I bought you In a shop
With money from my labour
I know you never
Truly
belong to me
May 28, 2025
May 28, 2025 at 3:36 AM UTC
You envelop me
As if i'm a cup with a knocked off handle
i fit into Your velocity
Some unknown fingers stacked us into the same cabinet
The one used for the fancy kitchenware
The kind they would crack out when they want to impress
So i pray that they're not vapid as that
After all the greatest of virtues is depth
If they open this godforsaken shelf
They'll notice the flaws i carry on myself
Cracked rim and a missing grip
Damage that even self-love couldn't strip
Love is always more potent when coming from another heart
Porcelain is not as supple as a self-sustaining cat
That can lick the lumps of dirt from her wounded back apart
i heard that mangled cups go to waste
But i swear that i will tear through the trashbag and
Piece
By
Piece
Or shard
By
Shard
Crawl back between Your smooth curves
Your fingers on my face trace sharp swerves
The heat radiating from your nail beds
Soothes my vision of all possible reds
And i revel in your medicine
i desperately need to heal
Your ceramic skin is an effective insulator
The blisters i give You only urge your loving to grow greater
You don't seem to care that i don't have a handle to protect You from the scalding bitter tea
That washes up at my rim like the sea
No,You accept the imprint of my hellishly heated wounds onto You
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 2:50 PM UTC
"Restless. As if you haven't really met yourself yet. As if you'd passed yourself once in the fog, and your heart leapt - 'Ah! There I Am! I've been missing that piece!' But it happens too fast, and then that part of you disappears into the fog again. And you spend the rest of your days looking for it." – Libba Bray, The Sweet Far Thing
I.
We were never really afraid of emptiness
Only of void, the hollow
Which will never be filled anymore
As of an ember dying to ashes
As a photograph blurred by times
We fear only when we know
Tomorrow will never come
So when we can still see further
We abuse distance, we corrupt
Aloofness, we betray the intimacy
Of nature, we deny time of its place
It's occurrence, we unconsciously
Disrupt a timetable set to make ends
Bearable––
Not anymore
II.
Why do we even put only thirds
of coffee in our cup,
only to come back for more
In fear of content, overwhelming space?
Distance?
It is this fixation to this fear
that we fail to think of coffee running out
III.
We think in fragments
We fear the whole
Of the day being morning and afternoon
We hate the night for being night
The long stretches of hours
We could have slept,
because the darkness justifies rest
The day we could have played
because the sun justifies the break from monotony
Instead, we go in reverse
IV.
To counter fear is to think backwards
The other way––not really forward
We cheat.
We do not sleep simply because we might not awaken
We do not go out simply because we might only be ushered in
We do not try because we might fail
It is okay to sit right here
In the middle of space
Filled with comforting thoughts
That distance is a choice
from something
Not from nothing
But we will all wake up one day
From a restless night––
The sun is up, the light seeps through the window
Where the cup was lying empty on the table
This time, when we ask for the whole of it
The coffee have run out.
Mar 7, 2025
Mar 7, 2025 at 11:06 AM UTC
so many choices, I am riddled with doubt
eight of cups, which one is the one
so many chances, I am riddled with dread
eight of pentacles, build myself up again
so many crooks, I am riddled with trepidation
eight of swords, I feel powerless just waiting
so many critics, I am riddled with consternation
eight of wands, I knew you were coming all along
Apr 1, 2022
Apr 1, 2022 at 11:57 AM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, version two?
I feel content
for I thought it to be satisfaction in a poem sent
yet the polars are polars
despite a fine line in between growing bolder
listen
for I define my own definition
satisfaction is the acceptance fulfilled
of having a cup half filled
yet content is the embrace of the enough
it's so humble to be touched
appreciating the made
for the reflection might be a blade
for the youth
for the drain for the truth
the empty half & the half full state
hoping for a better taste
from the cup before
lips to stumble none or nor
-------ravenfeels
Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 3:28 PM UTC
sometimes all you can do
is look the shattered chalices
at your feet
and you mourn the loss
of the happiness
you were building
Dec 15, 2021
Dec 15, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
heart leading the way
fearlessly listening to what it has to say,
shining armor bursting with creative energy
connecting with his inner beauty
fire and water meet in his soul,
the son of cups and his heart of romantic gold
May 3, 2021
May 3, 2021 at 9:13 AM UTC
_Grease
Wagon
Paper cups,
Hot chips and sauce;
Sticky fingers dip in for just one more..._
Nov 1, 2019
Nov 1, 2019 at 3:28 PM UTC
although i left, i think my cup is still half full and not half empty
half full because you complete me
full because i’ll see you again
not empty because i’m glad i got to experience you
although i miss your full naked body on mine and the empty plastic cups on your bedside rack
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 3:05 PM UTC
the two of cups
spoke for the two of us
what more is there to say?
what more is there to do than trust?
that the two of cups
is the two of us
Dec 6, 2018
Dec 6, 2018 at 9:41 PM UTC
my words are measured:
two cups of cold with a hint of
warmth
to make it convincing.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 4:33 PM UTC
i remember your coffee scented hair,
your hot coca smile,
yet i'll never forget that cup of ice in your eyes.
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 1:31 AM UTC
mornings brew a coffee-colored universe:
milky way of latte mixes,
spiral galaxies whirl on the caffeine-intoxicated mug
ground beans fell like the Geminid showers,
the aroma danced with rising planets,
and swirling reverse black hole of sweet bitterness lets you taste warmth and satisfaction.
like a shot of caffé espresso,
i would never think twice drinking:
though it scorches the mouth
i'll take the stellar influx,
just give you the taste of heaven
that the cosmic dreams only had.
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
Revenge itches, where love never reaches,
It itches in the shared cups,
in the shared beds
in the shared bodies,
But never, in the shared hearts,
For these days, they are not shared
All love is today,
Is a folkdance in a folkworld,
With folks one will never truly love,
But pretend to be loving, Living
How lively!
The roads, the parks, the brothels,
All flood with bodies, not souls
For the vessels are empty,
staring at each other's empty faces,
Prizing empty words to one another,
And mocking anybody different,
How lively!
And in such fragrance too,
Some bear to protest,
The lively call them dead,
In which case, dying is more beautiful
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 4:15 AM UTC
I never drank out of my
empty vessels..
They were expendable
holders.
Instead I put Ketchup in them,
my chips diving deeply.
Every so often a chip would sink
into this cup sinking slowly...
Only to be found once the potato morsels
had clung to every tomato..
Nov 10, 2017
Nov 10, 2017 at 4:35 PM UTC
Her charm became undone
Exact moment as her cups
Came off for some other
Her hot passion with me
Sadly became an addiction
Videoconferencing with lots
And she proclaimed proudly of it
Unaware that it is not a good habit
She surely used to be cute until then
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 3:34 AM UTC
I do love my little egg cup,
His brother much the same,
He holds my egg so perfectly;
Boiled eggs are not a game.
They bounce about for 4 minutes
Before they take their test,
They need a place to hold them straight;
My egg cups are the best.
When the soldiers are awaiting,
Those buttered friends of mine,
I need my little egg cups
To keep them all in line.
They come with little cosy hats
To hide their eggy heads,
I take it off and just like that;
Prepare for eggy bread!
© Karen L Hamilton, 2013
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:26 PM UTC
Cup your palms around
that candle dear lazy
Spells to cast to the wombs
keep our ghosts outside
peering into tent *****
yellowing irises and
stamens strangely swaying
but nonsense
Butte no
out there
they stalk you dear lazy
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
Though the lines are false - The words hold true, We lose our minds to the little ***** that our brains have - Lost, Treasures we believe mean more to us than those who buried them - Why follow a stray letter that blows towards our lovers, Caught blind & broken- with only the last words that may have said I Love You, Watch us laugh realizing - That our Pain causes everyone else the humor they seek, Flee from the land and - Find the place our roots first began to grow, My understanding of I that found - out he was she, that began at we, Oh to feel the tears of our holy faith - infrequent but ever so prevalent, Finding out that big words we use take - small ones to explain their meaning, Pleased with the dictation, this line looks stitched, A Puzzling fear causes the hand to quake but it fights the - shiver, tell a story about what was written, lose yourself in a call for - eyes, These are the last words of this poem they mean very little I Love You
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
the roses on her grave are dead,
so am i
the ground is frozen solid,
can you hear the deer wander
reincarnation
can you hear the flutter of the butterfly wings?
abandoned tea cup in the shed
now a spiders home
i'm alone
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 4:33 AM UTC