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Salmabanu Hatim Mar 2019
came home from work tired
yawned many times wife knew was
scream for hot coffee.
31/3/2019
Mohamed Nasir Sep 2018
In an aquarium
I've seen fish sleep. Suspended
as though in space. Yet I've never seen fish
yawn. I guess they funnel enough of tiny bubbles
of oxygen that allows them to frolic among the corals.
And under the giddy lights of the casino the gamblers too
carried away at the tables too wrapped up in placing bets
or plunging down the arms of bandits unaware oxygen
slyly pumped into the hall kept them awake to swim
as fishes in their glass world. Oblivious and
never wiser. Gamblers never gets
richer only poorer.
King Panda Oct 2015
this is where you
own our love
purse your lips and
twist mine
because I am the one who has
to sleep without
you no compromise
you said
as I ran my feet
over
the smooth 12,000
threads but no
body

even the patter of the
rain can’t soothe
it hits my face
in horizontal
crosswind and I sit in
that same fold out
chair on the porch
looking out across the park
at the children playing
in puddles

now when I think of
your highlighted jaw line
I am truly gaping at
the mirror that shiny
shiny reflection where my
eyes pop blue
and I’m magnetized at
your breathy yawn

what’s in your head?
what caused this
boiling
this cream that
settled on my coffee?
actually
already
easily
I am forgetting
interestingly
intriguingly
amazingly
you still taste sweet
when I blast music
in my car and then I hear
myself uttering
*thank you.
I always end up on my own at the end of a night,
Last one standing when dawn breaks on the sleep deprived.

As Sid once cried out "I'm so alone!";
Yet saving face all the time.
My soul hurts when I can't help it,
I try so hard but I can't let 'em know it.

That drained feeling at sleepless dawn
as the sun rises while I yawn.
Quote:
Line Three from Skins (2007-2013), S2E4 (Michelle), delivered by Sid Jenkins (Mike Bailey).
Dylan McFadden Feb 2019
Why should the Light return upon
Our cold and darkened land?  
When, into sleep, we drift and yawn,
So thoughtless of His hand...

We never think: "Someday it may
Forever cease to shine!"
We never thank – with thanks, befit –
For Morning Mercies' rise.

Why should the Light return upon
Our cold and darkened land?
But to awaken life at dawn
As He, in Goodness, planned...

We never, then, have an excuse
To fall into a dream
We never, then, can e’re accuse;
His Glory’s, daily, seen.

.
Lamentations 3:22-23: "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness."
Arby Sep 2018
The misty fog outside,
condenses into a speckled bedroom glass.  

Through which,
nestled deep under the blanket,
I hear the orchestra of a rainy 8am life.  

Bothered by the unconducted iso-rhythms
of dripping water droplets,
dropping onto the metal window sill,
I peak my head out from under the duvet
and yawn out the stale air from my lungs.  

I notice the coffee left for me
on the bedside table before she left.  
I grasp the warm little blue cup.  

I hear the birds in the trees somewhere below
warming up their sleepy little lungs.  

I close my eyes and feel the cold air
through the window.  
Hiding under my duvet,
I drift back to sleep.
Knit Personality Mar 2015
I need it when I wake at dawn
   And when I wake at noon;
I need it when I wake and yawn
   Beneath a silver moon.

And then my thirst cannot be slaked:
   I drink a couple pots,
(Or more if, when I waked, I baked
   And downed a couple shots.)

And never dare you give to me
   A cup of voltless Joe!
You'll quake with fear to watch and see  
   The hissy-fit I'll throw!

Coffee, I say!  Give me a cup!
   And fill it to the brim!
Give me a cup!  I'll drink it up
   With vigor, verve, and vim!

#
djkckat Dec 2017
every time i wake up
there's you getting unto my lap
like a masseur, you press your paws against my thigh
together every morning, we yawn and sigh
i'll miss your purr against my ear
and the meows i always hear
through my ups and downs i just hug you
you don't resist, because you love it, too
tonight, my tears are for you
i'll just see you in my dreams
good bye and kisses my little prince
-VICTORIA
Traveler Oct 2014
Lazy little dancer
She leans on me and sways
I hold her in the depth of night
And lose her in the day

Lazy little dancer
I feel her spirit yawn
I wake her when it's time to go
My longing heart sleeps on

Lazy little dancer
She leans into the wind
Her sorrow is a part of me
Until I sleep again...
Traveler Tim
re po
Alan Edwards Feb 2014
You wake upon a carpet soaked in wine
to feel the walls around you stretch and shrink
and press against the pressure on your spine,
unbed yourself as tucked upon by drink.
Unwind the vise that clamps around the head
and loose the ***** that tightens at the jaw.
You twist the tendons, heavy as a tread
and strip the bolts that drive into your maw.
You wobble, wisen upright with a yawn
and warble, crooning, swooning to the floor
and crumble on the carpet with a coo.
Your cogs are locked; your curtains let the dawn
abound, secured unfirmly as the door,
as bright and strident skewers ****** you.
I've never had a hangover.
King Panda Jul 2017
693
I wake up apart
and exquisite just
having slept nine hours.
there is a stout rain—
fallen, realized—water
on my mind in the
arms of the wind.
leafy is my yawn.
longing is my love.
and my hand rises
to rub my numb face
awake.
I am alive in this moment.
DivineDao Apr 2016
When an Author of poetry gains zero likes
                And the reads did occur:**

- you're unlikable, no one loves you, or your poems anymore

- your poem is a total crap

- your abstract art is so intense, people have to yawn and yawn, on and on, to get more oxygen for their brains (if there are any left, right ;) especially when being "deeply" in love => therefore => the lack of a like       
                            implies   =)             Pure Magical Love

- your poem was dealing with the fatal and devastating love nobody else could have possibly comprehend. To you the love-pain is still mean in its torterous palid beauty; and where the poem becomes an altar where you go, when you need to cry out all those beautiful teardrops.

- your descriptive sloppy skills repel the mighty sand castle grainiacs who claim they've reached to the bottom of a tremendously important words  ----> "The cunning Itch" and "This ****** **** Anguish" ~ long before they could have conjured and
      comprehend the totality of an idea of fertile feromones colliding with written opiats of a maddening desire

- your poem was overlooked because it does! I repeat! It does not play on the like-ability or un-like-ability of other writing subjects whose libido has to be saturated and satisfied as when dearest bjork and pj harvey are having a slowly approaching ****** of a concert which was deleted from the u-tube ( from un-understandable reasons ), but never from the sweet memory images and ability to play the song just for your self satisfaction

- your poem' is flying up up up above the mundane passing~stream of warhol's 15 minutes attention ... cosily stretching across the heaven's cerulean grey sky like a fine artistic sofa would undoubtfully do ~ in its utmost beauty : ;engaged to offer the after tired bohemians a nectary respite and those unutterly ******* delights

- you're probably having the enormous amount of the incognito anonimous league of wild n' witty obsessive admireres who pretend they don't read your poems < ==> when they don't press the like, you know you were pressed to any convenient dreamy surface in their daydreams

- or   you   absolutely don't write poetry at
All
Jon Thenes Mar 2017
foisting up at the strop of yawn
i remark,
impared
at the bluffers worn
it is kildy and capy
i'm underly mistaken
i plonder on my clothing
and part the towd ranglings
blind are the dawnings
it's still a mite
at four gone the night
and more a tune til the mourning
i am blowtard and sworn
i mumble back to kibble
and a mount full of scorn
Early morning nonsensica
I'm.....
leanin' in to kiss you
feelin' your heart beatin'
squeezin' your thigh
movin' in closer
runnin' my hand along your chest

You're.....
reachin' for me
pullin' me near
playin' in my hair
caressin' my cheek
nibblin' at my neck

We're.....
cravin' one another
searchin' to be close
achin' for that moment
joinin' the other in oneness
movin' together
takin' us both higher
achievin' that incredible passion

I awake...
I yawn....
I stretch.....
I moan......

"oh ****! yet another sweet dream of love makin' with you~"


2007

COPYRIGHT; Sabrina Denise Healey,
~Angelmom~
Grumbling engine underground
Again
Rotates and repeats.
The echo
The steamy yawn
Mellow fiend unseen
Creeps
Bearing teeth in metallic joints.

A fat snake's yawn
Blows and bellows quietly.
Uncoloured ornament at ten feet
Floats through that crawling wind
Full from everything it could eat.

***** sand in the far east
Rustic in the sense of dripping spit.
The blue walls painted over the white plain
Are scratched
White walls slain.

Drilling ripple
In the black pool
Ink
Coloured the lonely riddle.
A cold under the sun
Blinds our noses
Disguising away our senses.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Knit Personality Sep 2016
.

To My Cup of Coffee

Hazy and lazy…slow of registry…
Yawning and looking round me in a fog…
All the day long a traffic jam-like clog
Of thoughts congealed and thick and movement-free…
Were you not there each dawn to liven me—
To perk my senses, set my mind a-jog,
And give my sluggishness the whip and flog—
This jello-minded zombie would I be!
And afternoons I’d feel a lethargy:
I’d faintly flag, and laggardly I’d slog
And trudge and drudge and ***** through sludge and grog
Were you not there to fill me with esprit.
You turn me on and leave me all agog!
You are my princess: Kiss me! I’m your frog!


Arise and Shine

     I've heard it said
     To quicken the dead
A voodoo rite perform.
     But hear me well:
     You need no spell
The dead to wake and warm.

     You need but take
     A coffee break
And wet a corpse's lips
     With drops of Joe
     Until it show
A thirst for little sips.


A Drinking Song

I need it when I wake at dawn
   And when I wake at noon;
I need it when I wake and yawn
   Beneath a silver moon.

And then my thirst cannot be slaked:
   I drink a couple pots,
(Or more if when I waked I baked
   And downed a couple shots.)

And never dare you give to me
   A cup of voltless Joe!
You'll quake with fear to watch and see  
   The hissy-fit I'll throw!

Coffee, I say!  Give me a cup!
   And fill it to the brim!
Give me a cup!  I'll drink it up
   With vigor, verve, and vim!


Caffeine

To get to baseline I need a drug
Delivered to me in an oversized mug;
And if I need it, and I can't get it,
Holy mother of hell, I regret it!


Tea for Two

If you desire some stimulation
   I'll brew you a cup of tea;
And if you desire some relaxation
   I'll make it caffeine-free.

But spiked or not,—black, green, or Grey,—
   No matter how it's took,—
Tea's best enjoyed on a rainy day
   In a ******* with a book.

#
xavier thomas Nov 2019
When I wake up in the morning, you’re the first thing that’s on my mind.
I get out of bed, stretch real good, & yawn real loud so that you can hear me breathing.
I rush to the bathroom, quickly brush my teeth, wash my face, & run straight for you.
Running down the hallway, staring at your door, only to open it slowly to see if you’re awake.
I peek my head around the corner...
You’re eyes open as they lock onto mines with such joy.
Happiness appears on your face, reaching out for me.
Happiness upon my face, as my heart skips a beat.
Amazed with such excitement, I run as fast as I can screaming out a laugher.
We hug & kiss knowing that’s one of my favorite things.
When I wake up in the morning, our first words are:
—“I love you mommy”
—“I love baby”
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