Poetry

For A Friend – Ally Ameel

if you were a river

I think you would be running

right through my heart

streaming across the pages

 

periods replaced by waterfalls

not unlike the tears that fell

as I watched you leaving

on the train

 

your hat in your hand

out the open window

worn and torn from age

even though youth

shown on your face

in the freckles

dotting your nose

 

I held my arms close to my body

because you had left a warm impression

on my insides

 

slowly shaking

like a flame

caught in the breeze

 

and your hat and hand

faded away

until they were dots

blending with the body

of the black locomotive

 

headed towards somewhere

I don’t care

because

it’s not anywhere close to me

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Poetry, Uncategorized

Something about a Coffee Shop – Ally Ameel

I’ve never understood coffee

but I see it’s simple way

intruding into the lives

and noses

of others

even me

the coffee shop on the corner

sits patiently waiting

I’ve never tasted coffee

with its smells and colors

a penny found on the street

heads side up

to the color of night

when you can hear the crickets

and the cars far away

but nevertheless

I find myself at that coffee shop

around 6:00 pm

after a day

that felt much longer than a day

and it’s not so bad

it’s got this eclectic vibe

that’s surrounds me

hanging in the air

and coffee

the smell doesn’t push me away

it opens the door

since 1985 it says

and I can see how the jazz music

and black plush chairs

could make you sink in

and forget the time

and I can see myself

reading for days

watching the sun rise and fall

and not even drinking coffee

just yet

people talking

people watching

let’s stay here

a little longer

 

ย 

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Poetry, Prosetry

iambic pentameter & my fingers – Iman Messado

i have dirty fingernails,
you noticed. what can i do but assume
that you love me? and if you say you don’t
then you’re a liar. because who takes care
to look so hard at the nail beds of hands
they don’t love?
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Poetry

The Look of an Old Book – Iman Messed

I’m afraid of prying eyes
and I no longer wish to be coherent
but i’m not sure i have cause to worry
i think it all depends
on whether or not
my heart is made up of words
i checked
it’s not
sometimes i read so much
that my heart is as heavy as that tome of shakespeare
you have hidden under your bed
that my tears smell like musty libraries
and my tongue can’t reconcile anything
save plot holes
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Flash Fiction, Poetry

(untitled) – Karlee Saunders

I never knew just how much I would miss the glances we would give each other every now and then as we walked

nor did I expect my hands to feel empty with every move I made

I didn’t realize the things I was taking for granted before he left

but now his eyes are filled with infatuation for another

and I’m still here

ks

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Prosetry

Heat Wave – Iman Messado

the heavy days of summer are over
the pregnant rain
and the ripening leaves
and the lazy breeze
embrace your still sleeping form
lying in the emerald grass
the heavy days of summer are over
sticky globs of strawberry jam
on thick cut meaty bread
gallons and gallons of too sweet iced tea
bumps and mounds on childrenโ€™s legs
young blood running freely from cuts and scrapes
the heavy days of summer are over
sleepy eyes – inky, deepest black, almost celestial
i wonder
if i stare long enough
can i reach in
and pull the universe out?
i want this heavy, heavy summer to last for an eternity
and i see it in your eyes
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Poetry

a.w. Circa 2009 – Ally Ameel

why did she write

so often

of fireworks

as if she could have become one

exploding into the night sky

finally being noticed

to hear the applause

of the wonder she created

did she solely want to be loved

for the colors that she held

I think of her often

like a foreign film

with scenes

that I have seen before

but can not recall the words of

sometimes

I sit on the steps outside

and try to make myself believe

that she will come again

that I will look down

just as I hear footsteps

denying that it is real

only to find her

looking at me

with twinkling eyes

to grab my hand

and pull me along

for another adventure

I still have the notes

that she passed to me

in the days when I so admired

being noticed

it was enough

that she would write my name

in big letters

with swirling designs inside of them

we would run away

the house shrinking behind us

our shoes slapping the pavement

as we laughed

trying to catch our breath

but running even faster

i can see her looking back at me

our hands still folded into each other

like an envelope

holding a secret

I could hear our whispers

intermingling in the air

as ice cream dripped onto our hands

and covered our mouths

she would have gotten mint chocolate chip

and somehow

we would be talking to the cute boys

and I would be glowing

because that was what happened

she would be bright

and somehow I would be bright too

and we would be an unstoppable force

even when I spilled soda

onto my shirt at the movies

we ran into the bathroom

giggling

hurrying back into the theater

we smiled to each other

as the plot became lost

but I knew that

only she would have left for me

I remember when I knew

I knew that she was leaving

and wasn’t coming back

I saw her again

but never the same

she still glowed and twinkled

but I had to learn to be bright

on my own

I hope

that she still

remembers me

I hope

that she

sometimes

thinks

of the times

when we shined

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