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

 

 

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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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Poetry, Uncategorized

(untitled) – Karlee Sanders

give up
give in—
no

<give more>
<give generously>

you’re nothing
you’re worthless—
no

<you’re worth the sun and the stars>

can’t—
no

<can>

don’t—
no

<do>

good thoughts are preposterous—
absolutely not

<good thoughts radiate positive vibes>

ks

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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 children’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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