anais vionet

anais vionet Poems

You "adults", you exasperate me
with your evasions and delays.
You're going to have to change
some of the ways that you behave.

Dear careless whisperer,
Some sharings are dagger-edged
and there is no escape when they're turned on you
no countermagic for the soul crushing embarrassment

(a firefly)

Put that imagination away before you hurt someone.

I stumble pajamaed, half asleep toward the object of my desire.
in memory, it calls to me, of passionate pleasures experienced prior.
The morning's night is the consummate time for secret rondeaus discrete.
With ninjaly sneak I arrive at the door - my illicit joy within reach.

Doot do, doot doot - News FLASH from boredom central.

I've got extra New Year plans.
My Ladybug & Cat Noir Onesie pajamas are at the ready.

Sunny and her love-object have broken up.

It was a selfie-inflicted wound - a slapdash pic taken,
that like a puzzle, revealed more than intended.

beauty is a witch
the kiss of light, a trick
a mask, a banquet
a spell, a curse

Last night, Lisa, Peter, Leeza and I were in her father's 50th floor study watching New York City. It's a corner room with glass walls from floor to ceiling. He likes to watch the city himself and has a small,5 seat sectional couch facing the view.

The left wall window looks across Hell's Kitchen to exactly where Sully Sullenberger crash landed flight 1549 in the Hudson river (it was 3: 31 pm and no one was home) . The right window overlooks Central Park and Upper Manhattan. Lincoln Center, almost dead center of the corner, looks like part of a toy train-set.

Draw a stick figure
future - diminished
and virus ransomed.

It was one of those gray but somehow bright-skied New England Wednesday mornings that made you sad for anyone who wasn't there. Fall freshness demanded my attention, like a hungry pet, from every open lattice-window in our stuffy common room.

As I watched, for a marvelous moment, the world was a cartoon whirly-gig. Trees, writhed, animal-like, to be free of their multicolor leaves, shedding them - like bad blind-dates. The four-color debris was immediately drafted away on gust-streams, those invisible elves, and politely scattered in corners.

Hangovers are a back-tax on fun.

To paraphrase T.S. Eliot:
'Can last night just belong to last night? '

It'll be an old fashioned Christmas,
with Santa due down the chute.
I bet he Purells his reindeer,
and Lysols his hazmat suit.

Can we celebrate, do we have that choice,
to fight against sour momentum and rejoice?

Of course we do - there've been vaccine changes,

Sophy's mom sent her a giant case of 'Fun dip' - a thousand packets of sour, fruit-flavored sugar. Is there anything more junkavore a parent can buy a child - well, ok, an 18 year old?

She LOVES them and so does Leong who's from China where, apparently, you can't get useless, non-nutritional snacks. The two of them are running around, all sugar hyped with their emo-grape-chemical-lips, sticking out phosphorescent-green-tongues and threatening to tickle everyone with cherry-red-fingers. It has me wondering, should I switch to dentistry?

I'm at an (outdoor) dinner, with Peter, some of his doctoral-student friends, professors and their spouses, to kick-off the Fall semester and Peter's second year in the doctoral program.

A 60-ish professor asked Peter, 'So, what impressions did you take away from your time at the Large Hadron Collider? ' In this setting, as a student pursuing his doctorate, Peter's comments will probably be noted and there's a watching anticipation.

On a recent Saturday morning, I was blue-collar grinding (volunteering at a local hospital) , when one of the doctors I've wo-manually labored for stopped by briefly to check on a patient. She had her young daughter, Ivy, in tow. I'd met little Ivy before. The doctor asked me, "Would you mind keeping an eye on Ivy for a minute? " "Sure! " I committed, bending down to get eye-to-eye with the girl and engage.

Ivy's an adorable little human. She's a sober 4 year old, about three and a half feet tall, with wavy chestnut brown hair down to her waist. She was wearing a yellow, "Beauty and the Beast" dress. Ivy's into all things Disney (who the shiar isn't?) . Disney seems to home right in on impressionable young minds like hers and mine.

I couldn't sleep. I was lying in bed watching the patterns reflected moonlight made on my ceiling when I heard the faint beep of the kitchen microwave. I smelled popcorn.

I decided to fill up my water bottle and see who was up. I slipped on a thick, terrycloth robe I'd gotten from Lisa last Christmas. It must weigh 15 pounds and it's so warm and heavy I seldom wear it.

The question is:
"Are people still collecting
memories, these days? "

It's both a bitter funeral for freedom
and the birth of new crime

anais vionet Biography

I'm a Yale University student (sophomore) . I like writing, and have these awful tiktok, Animal Crossing and pizza addictions =] As far as writing goes, I apologize - in advance - to anyone who actually knows what they are doing - i certainly don't. When the long list of poem types pops up I'm lost.)

The Best Poem Of anais vionet


You "adults", you exasperate me
with your evasions and delays.
You're going to have to change
some of the ways that you behave.
You aren't doing your homework,
you haven't cleaned the planet,
You aren't standing up to bullies,
you haven't been sharing your things,
and you're even playing with guns.
And you're pretending everything's ok.
You were taught better than this.
Sorry, but.. You're all grounded people.
And hand over those phones!

anais vionet Comments

Adrian Flett 19 October 2020

I like the good straight sense of your verse. Also the admonition we in this generation deserve.

1 0 Reply
Adam M 21 December 2020

Flawless Poetry! Like Adrian mentioned, there is a straight sense of verses

1 0 Reply
Bri Edwards 09 November 2022

anais says she spends some early a.m.s writing and caffeine imbibing. If she keeps it up, and if she desires it, I think she could earn a living at writing her poem-stories. It is often a delight to read her stuff here, which I've only done since I 'discovered' her quite recently. ;) bri

0 0 Reply
That Man Again... 11 April 2022

Another Robert Murray Smith false account.

0 0 Reply
aiden 31 August 2021

good work

1 0 Reply
Anais Vionet 25 December 2020

Thank you =]

1 0 Reply
Sandra Feldman 23 December 2020

An excellent poem of beauty and wisdom, yet carefully balanced with realism

1 0 Reply
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