Poetry irrelevant thoughts

[bayleen]

I wish I could write poetry the way my eyes do
I wish I could explain how the wind kisses the trees and sends the porch chimes into a frenzy.​

 

[bayleen]

If the moon fell into my arms,
I would hold her as if she were my own.
But if she slipped from my hands,
he would steal her light away.

I lack the strength to guard her glow,
he tells me, "It's just human nature,
it's just evolution."

But I fear we are an abomination.
He'll burn her, destroy her,
and then cry when it destroys him.
He knows it's wrong,
but his heart is blinded by the light.

The glaciers are melting,
fires have devoured my sycamore trees,
and he’s laughing on his moon.

I scream, I shout,
but he silences me with a grin:
“I trump your science." He says.
And what’s science against a man’s wants?​

 

[bayleen]

Coffee is my obsession,
black as the night when no stars dare linger.
It whispers to me in the language of shadows,
its bitterness an intimate truth I can’t unlearn.

Each sip is an offering,
each swallow a hymn to something ancient.

They call me old-fashioned,
as if my love for the past is a flaw.
An old soul, they say,
but they don’t know the weight of it—
how coffee cradles me when the world feels sharp.

This is not the chaos of a Red Bull,
or the cheap promises of canned energy.
Coffee is the earth’s heartbeat in liquid form,
Coffee is different—ancient, patient.
A ritual carved into mornings,
a quiet ceremony of life and longing.

In its blackest form,
it doesn’t energize me; it resuscitates me.
Each sip pulls me closer to myself,
like the tide to the shore, inevitable and constant.

They say it's addiction
I say it's devotion.

No other drink, no other force,
holds a candle to its darkness,
It is not just coffee;
it is the pulse beneath my skin.​

 

[bayleen]

2025 feels like a fading hue,
Promises of color, yet all is blue.
Waiting for change, a spark to ignite,
But all I find is the same old night.

Another feeling, another slip,
A fleeting hope from my fingertips.
If only the clock could bend, rewind,
To find the time I left behind.​