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"pei" poems
it seems my entire life is defined by drinks. mother's milk out the womb. (and maybe those suckles were sweet - it's not like i remember - but her words, for the rest of my life, certainly weren't.) an hour-long debate, with my best friend at twelve years old - apple or orange juice? (orange, obviously, is the right answer. we rehash the argument sometimes to this day.) the day i turn 19, a beer in my hands. (i'm sat around a campfire with my closest friends, birthdays all older than me - the beer tastes disgusting, as cheap alcohol is, but i'm glad to be there.) yesterday, i had 1 coffee and 2 mugs of lemon honey tea, 4 glasses of water. today, no tea, but 2 cups of coffee, a glass of milk, and 3 glasses of water. i bite at my nails when i'm nervous, swallow down the spit that comes with it, the bile that rises. last summer, i visited pei, had a raspberry cordial - my favourite drink to date - then bought a case of 4 more to take home with me. last summer, when i lived in new brunswick, my friends in the same building knew me as the one who would always have a drink in hand - a milk tea, or maybe a pink lemonade, maybe that obscure korean soda i liked. when i left new brunswick, i took a photo of my 2 trash cans, of the way they were both filled to the brim with empty bottles and cans and jugs. i still miss the apple cider they made there. my life is defined by drinks, sips, swallows, taking five minutes to breathe by making myself a nice whipped coffee, trawling the internet for pretty coasters and glassware for an hour in lieu of doing actual work. Eventually, i close the shopping tabs, take a sip of coffee, and resume with the rest of my life.
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Nov 5, 2023
Nov 5, 2023 at 7:38 PM UTC
take a sip
it seems my entire life is defined by drinks. mother's milk out the womb. (and maybe those suckles were sweet - it's not like i remember - but her words, for the rest of my life, certainly weren't.) an hour-long debate, with my best friend at twelve years old - apple or orange juice? (orange, obviously, is the right answer. we rehash the argument sometimes to this day.) the day i turn 19, a beer in my hands. (i'm sat around a campfire with my closest friends, birthdays all older than me - the beer tastes disgusting, as cheap alcohol is, but i'm glad to be there.) yesterday, i had 1 coffee and 2 mugs of lemon honey tea, 4 glasses of water. today, no tea, but 2 cups of coffee, a glass of milk, and 3 glasses of water. i bite at my nails when i'm nervous, swallow down the spit that comes with it, the bile that rises. last summer, i visited pei, had a raspberry cordial - my favourite drink to date - then bought a case of 4 more to take home with me. last summer, when i lived in new brunswick, my friends in the same building knew me as the one who would always have a drink in hand - a milk tea, or maybe a pink lemonade, maybe that obscure korean soda i liked. when i left new brunswick, i took a photo of my 2 trash cans, of the way they were both filled to the brim with empty bottles and cans and jugs. i still miss the apple cider they made there. my life is defined by drinks, sips, swallows, taking five minutes to breathe by making myself a nice whipped coffee, trawling the internet for pretty coasters and glassware for an hour in lieu of doing actual work. Eventually, i close the shopping tabs, take a sip of coffee, and resume with the rest of my life.
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The mountains are cold and blue now And the autumn waters have run all day. By my thatch door, leaning on my staff, I listen to cicadas in the evening wind. Sunset lingers at the ferry, Supper-smoke floats up from the houses. ...Oh, when shall I pledge the great Hermit again And sing a wild poem at Five Willows?
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A Message from my Lodge at Wangchuan to Pei Di
Paakar tuhje na paya mene, Tuhje na paakar bhi apna banaya mene. Meri pyaar ki raah tujh tk banayi mene, Afsos uss raah ki manzil ko tujhme na paya mene. Ki Teri baato Mei khud ko na paya mene , Tere hone ke ehsaas ko hi baate banaya mene . Mana Mei Teri zindagi Mei nahi , Par tuhjko hi apni Zindagi banaya mene. Khokar bhi na khoya tujko, Paakar khud Mei paya tujko, Bharkar aankho Mei nami, Aur leke hotho pei halki si muskaan , "TU MERA HASIL NAHI " Yeh bhi khud ko samjhaya mene.
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Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 1:25 PM UTC
Tu Mera hasil nahi !
Dolce e chiara è la notte e senza vento, E queta sovra i tetti e in mezzo agli orti Posa la luna, e di lontan rivela Serena ogni montagna. O donna mia, Già tace ogni sentiero, e pei balconi Rara traluce la notturna lampa: Tu dormi, che t'accolse agevol sonno Nelle tue chete stanze; e non ti morde Cura nessuna; e già non sai né pensi Quanta piaga m'apristi in mezzo al petto. Tu dormi: io questo ciel, che sì benigno Appare in vista, a salutar m'affaccio, E l'antica natura onnipossente, Che mi fece all'affanno. A te la speme Nego, mi disse, anche la speme; e d'altro Non brillin gli occhi tuoi se non di pianto. Questo dì fu solenne: or dà trastulli Prendi riposo; e forse ti rimembra In sogno a quanti oggi piacesti, e quanti Piacquero a te: non io, non già ch'io speri, Al pensier ti ricorro. Intanto io chieggo Quanto a viver mi resti, e qui per terra Mi getto, e grido, e fremo. Oh giorni orrendi In così verde etate! Ahi, per la via Odo non lunge il solitario canto Dell'artigian, che riede a tarda notte, Dopo i sollazzi, al suo povero ostello; E fieramente mi si stringe il core, A pensar come tutto al mondo passa, E quasi orma non lascia. Ecco è fuggito Il dì festivo, ed al festivo il giorno Volgar succede, e se ne porta il tempo Ogni umano accidente. Or dov'è il suono Di què popoli antichi? Or dov'è il grido Dè nostri avi famosi, e il grande impero Di quella Roma, e l'armi, e il fragorio Che n'andò per la terra e l'oceano? Tutto è pace e silenzio, e tutto posa Il mondo, e più di lor non si ragiona. Nella mia prima età, quando s'aspetta Bramosamente il dì festivo, or poscia Ch'egli era spento, io doloroso, in veglia, Premea le piume; ed alla tarda notte Un canto che s'udia per li sentieri Lontanando morire a poco a poco, Già similmente mi stringeva il core.
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La sera del dì di festa
Dolce e chiara è la notte e senza vento, E queta sovra i tetti e in mezzo agli orti Posa la luna, e di lontan rivela Serena ogni montagna. O donna mia, Già tace ogni sentiero, e pei balconi Rara traluce la notturna lampa: Tu dormi, che t'accolse agevol sonno Nelle tue chete stanze; e non ti morde Cura nessuna; e già non sai né pensi Quanta piaga m'apristi in mezzo al petto. Tu dormi: io questo ciel, che sì benigno Appare in vista, a salutar m'affaccio, E l'antica natura onnipossente, Che mi fece all'affanno. A te la speme Nego, mi disse, anche la speme; e d'altro Non brillin gli occhi tuoi se non di pianto. Questo dì fu solenne: or dà trastulli Prendi riposo; e forse ti rimembra In sogno a quanti oggi piacesti, e quanti Piacquero a te: non io, non già ch'io speri, Al pensier ti ricorro. Intanto io chieggo Quanto a viver mi resti, e qui per terra Mi getto, e grido, e fremo. Oh giorni orrendi In così verde etate! Ahi, per la via Odo non lunge il solitario canto Dell'artigian, che riede a tarda notte, Dopo i sollazzi, al suo povero ostello; E fieramente mi si stringe il core, A pensar come tutto al mondo passa, E quasi orma non lascia. Ecco è fuggito Il dì festivo, ed al festivo il giorno Volgar succede, e se ne porta il tempo Ogni umano accidente. Or dov'è il suono Di què popoli antichi? Or dov'è il grido Dè nostri avi famosi, e il grande impero Di quella Roma, e l'armi, e il fragorio Che n'andò per la terra e l'oceano? Tutto è pace e silenzio, e tutto posa Il mondo, e più di lor non si ragiona. Nella mia prima età, quando s'aspetta Bramosamente il dì festivo, or poscia Ch'egli era spento, io doloroso, in veglia, Premea le piume; ed alla tarda notte Un canto che s'udia per li sentieri Lontanando morire a poco a poco, Già similmente mi stringeva il core.
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Pitt A Poem by Corset How could anyone mistake her for a Pitt Bull? Those soft jowls and square headed wrinkles Sweet Mana-T, we are the Walrus Koo Koo ka choo... Pops with his skin on fire, a real hair -hell-raiser we didn't buy that white castle no moats, no boats no tight sunned mailman at the door pony tailed to his *** what... I'm old, ... not dead. makes the Buddha smile it does... She went and got herself all God polished, cartooned very High and very mighty, it's the only way to hang incognito, Sometimes overcome with joy, he is writing somewhere, like a lovers bite to the breast black and blue like bruising...like hickies tickle it makes him happy. in return, it makes me happy ...and weird **** just keeps ...happening... we should talk. No, Now I live on top of a garden, a virtual Gnomes paradise, the owner of this garden is a wrinkly Lady Gaga-Gnome centuries old thumping up to my door at three A.M. duct taping the bad news to the dark of my vacuum-less door. "You, ma'am- are breaking the rules" She; who thinks the homeowners association should KNOW about my extremely "timid hide under the bed at the slightest movement" This sable mini Shar pei-looking Pitt Bull- steel jawed Staffordshire Bull Terrier trembling at the reflection of her ferocious self. Newsflash: This just in...daughter... terror stricken...out shopping for handgun.
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Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
Pitt
This happened to Malcolm My sister Hadley hosed green stuff off the *** When she squirted my ear I ****** the neck rope. Her skin was hurt so The horse folded back her lips and bit my thigh with brown yellow teeth. I was thirteen. I locked myself in the bathroom. I felt ***** as a smug prayer for running. Mom said, “Come back out. Don’t get left behind.” My dad had run away. I splashed my face cold and put on my jeans. I hustled out. Not for my mother. Scottie was a Brock University girl from PEI who cut and doctored hooves and skin And shod horses and filed their teeth. You could smell teeth filings and Stockholm tar And when I went back to the head she held my face A long time in her hands and said I knew you were a straight arrow. That might have scared my mom. That was the first time I ever did it with anyone. Paul Anthony Hutchinson
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Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
This Happened To Malcolm
I see your face in my mind all the time, but it's blurry your lack of middle name your distant and beautiful voice, growing pains our hilarious jokes, you have my father's name tangled together, beautiful and untouched your lips press against me until I say it's too much and we laugh and we laugh and we laugh at the cats you tell me this is too beautiful for words to reenact. you take the whole world in your hands and you hug it and you give it to me to hold since I met you I've known I don't need much more than our perfect hundredth kiss by new library doors you're coming closer to me, I can feel the world moving it's like canada's shrinking and it's all your doing i'll take the bus and the train and the plane and the world to your doorstep to you to your hat and our beauty you can sing songs by Joni, and I'll do the same and we'll laugh and we'll laugh about being insane we deserve the love that we're giving and the love that we'll get I hope that you wear that PEI hat. next time when we hold hands across the coffee shop table the contemplation will be gone and your coffee will be black I'll smile to you as the world's loving arms hug us and we'll make love again to embrace the love again, we just must.
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Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 12:54 AM UTC
PEI hat
A place I've shared half of my memories with. It has held and embraced my most vulnerable moments, carried me through each stage of my life, my first day of middle school, my first job, my first date, road trip. It carried me home that day I got my period in Pei Wei but refused to call my mom and leave early because I was hanging out with the cool theatre kids. It carried me home the night of graduation, and held me while I sobbed and thought the world I had so carefully crafted around me was falling apart. It never spat back what I gave it. Instead, it wrapped it's polyester arms around me and didn't let go until the world was right side up again. The passenger seat, given a name to indicate it's existence lies solely in the idea that there must be a driver. A mother, friend, stranger, A lover to your left, the world to your right and endless possibilities in front of you. Whether it be screaming at the top of your lungs to a song you minimally like, or spilling ranch on the seat because "you didn't slow down fast enough that wasn't my fault!" Now I bravely sit in the drivers seat, the world at my fingertips. And as I bravely glance over to my 11 year old brother sitting beside me, I know it is his turn to sit back and watch.
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Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 10:56 PM UTC
The passenger seat
IT''S AN ILLUSION: MISSED DISTRIBUTION, BUT THE EMOTON IS REAL THE WAY I FEEL, RUE BREY IS THE SAME: LADIES MAKING GAIN, THERE'S A PYRAMID NOW - MR. PEI WONDERS HOW THE LOCALS THINK - THEY DON'T LIKE IT, TAKEN IT 'DOWN' BIT BY BIT. OH, WELL, THE LOUVRE WAS DIFFICULT TO IMPROVE; SACRE' COUR WAS A BLUR IN THE RAIN, BUT GOOD TO BE BACK IN MOMARTRE' AGAIN, THE STUDIO ETOILE ROOM HAD A LARGE BED, WITH A DIP IN THE MIDDLE, A VIEW OF THE ARC DE TR'IOMPHE FROM A BALCONY, WHICH WE LOOKED AT EVENTUALLY, THE NAME OF THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER REMAINS A MYSTERY.
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Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 4:25 AM UTC
PARIS IN THE THE SPRING
rea chfor m eand ** pei mho me i havenev erwa ntedy oum ore y ou rreflec tioninm y mirr or s o surreal ire member you rt ouch
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Feb 20, 2020
Feb 20, 2020 at 10:31 AM UTC
surreal
Aoa oinka;        UA and black, but Manasés, Manasés and I pae-pae Sinasina pipi tilotilo. E leai, that Faustura ATU I Tulaga lenei and he or she or me FAFO, AE or Lelei OU him. "E i e te alu Auala sau ai ai".                                                  For khayr leneil:           "Tulaga E Mai Le Maualuga or tatou; Tamaitai uliuli 30 Pekopochi - Manasse;                                               white PO black and white III Transfer            Deep id will be measured with Fuhrers, me faateleina Ai or aofai or fuainumera or Tagata matutua Shidils co.;  William Miller Manasés, Manas pupui papaya.  Tagata 30 Ma gaoioiga Muamua Valu Muamua,  sasaa uma Hippopas John Brown and pei fuaina to Yureverkitikinit, UA will be tolu Taimi ISI m feiloai A, AE and she or she meatotino,               teuina or fuamoa I tapua'iga mamanu Faranilala force AE,) Taua Ma toatele will be Tulaga Latou ma'i NA VAAI William Tupe "Temwalitwali.šik" ma'i.Nuwad manatu St. Valin USA emipasi Hāwišitochi, i'Schi,    Tagata asiasi to wash, PE or aoga PO or the pisinisi; Rigel Le glue, AE Behalikopitru Manasseh Prox Ecto [40] canvas vasega Tolu Euripimit to the canvas of Tolú Taimi; I go or I go to the Z faamasino, vasega! Muamua Manasés u'amea -   You and I, Luma, or publish your email address o| o Mai Le Pépé iloa Le Ma.   Te NA mafaia; Afai e faia or ina fatao ina e Amata I Manasse Amata Mai 1948, or I Taumafai e talisman T was a luma alafeagai (W is faataitaiga: Tamoe neniveniši Taua Manasse Sepania), algorithms, algorithm Le MA washed.                              Vevela Vevela Manasés Tarako.
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Jan 20, 2019
Jan 20, 2019 at 9:14 PM UTC
he or she or me [for aoa] - On the Beauty of Sophie Smith
Aoa oinka;        UA and black, but Manasés, Manasés and I pae-pae Sinasina pipi tilotilo. E leai, that Faustura ATU I Tulaga lenei and he or she or me FAFO, AE or Lelei OU him. "E i e te alu Auala sau ai ai".                                                  For khayr leneil:           "Tulaga E Mai Le Maualuga or tatou; Tamaitai uliuli 30 Pekopochi - Manasse;                                               white PO black and white III Transfer            Deep id will be measured with Fuhrers, me faateleina Ai or aofai or fuainumera or Tagata matutua Shidils co.;  William Miller Manasés, Manas pupui papaya.  Tagata 30 Ma gaoioiga Muamua Valu Muamua,  sasaa uma Hippopas John Brown and pei fuaina to Yureverkitikinit, UA will be tolu Taimi ISI m feiloai A, AE and she or she meatotino,               teuina or fuamoa I tapua'iga mamanu Faranilala force AE,) Taua Ma toatele will be Tulaga Latou ma'i NA VAAI William Tupe "Temwalitwali.šik" ma'i.Nuwad manatu St. Valin USA emipasi Hāwišitochi, i'Schi,    Tagata asiasi to wash, PE or aoga PO or the pisinisi; Rigel Le glue, AE Behalikopitru Manasseh Prox Ecto [40] canvas vasega Tolu Euripimit to the canvas of Tolú Taimi; I go or I go to the Z faamasino, vasega! Muamua Manasés u'amea -   You and I, Luma, or publish your email address o| o Mai Le Pépé iloa Le Ma.   Te NA mafaia; Afai e faia or ina fatao ina e Amata I Manasse Amata Mai 1948, or I Taumafai e talisman T was a luma alafeagai (W is faataitaiga: Tamoe neniveniši Taua Manasse Sepania), algorithms, algorithm Le MA washed.                              Vevela Vevela Manasés Tarako.
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