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words-never-spoken · 1 day

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i would read you all my poetry

spill my soul out for you

prick my fingers with a pen

and write with my blood and bruise

and i would give you all i had

just to watch you throw it all away

and i'd whisper "i'm sorry"

as i beg you to stay

-k.c.

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jgmartin · 11 months

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me, after clearing my schedule to write:

uhhhh it was raining... and dark (and also night) and um... cold i guess?? anyway, something dramatic~ happened

me, stuck in traffic on my way to work:

Rain tumbled through midnight leaves, casting the forest in liquid moonlight. A low growl shook the horizon. Death had come.

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daydreamers-serene-musings · 3 months

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"A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness."

--Robert Frost

#robert frost #prose #writeblr #love poem #spilled ink #words words words #inspiring quotes #poetry #poetrycommunity #spilled poetry

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dariann-garcia · 5 months

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Una vez más, me encontraba al fondo de una copa, buscando en su reflejo la razón de por qué, esta vez, no fui suficiente.

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seleennee · 3 months

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And when someone's gone and you're the primary keeper of his memory ; letting go would be a kind of murder, wouldn't it?

#aesthetic #poetrycommunity #spilled thoughts #heartbreak #dark academia #poets of tumblr #love #poetry #poets on tumblr #literature #thoughts #quotes #prose poem #hurt/comfort #words

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soulinkpoetry · 2 months

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When his love enters my soul…

.

Music by Glorybox -Portishead ( Live at Roseland 1998)

.

#souls entwined #love #romance #soulinkpoetry #poetry #thoughts #feelings #making music together #she writes #poets on tumblr #poets corner #writers and poets #poetrycommunity

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sunkissed-summerdaze · 1 month

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Hey,

Our souls keep missing each other. Soon, they'll meet up and synchronize.

-E.S. Tues, April. 23rd / 2024 5:36a.m. @sunkissed-summerdaze

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aengell · 28 days

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Suddenly you’re 25

At a friends wedding

You’d always say, that they‘d be the first of your friend group to marry

You’re eating lemon merengue and cherry cakepops with white chocolate

You’re wearing a long white summer dress

The bride wanted an all white wedding

It’s the beginning of May, and the April snow feels like a thing of the past already

It’s like the warm embrace of spring, and its abundant green and yellow fields had cast a spell on everyone

April amnesia

They’re playing that one song by The Cranberries

You remember being 21 and sitting on the train back to your shared Berlin flat

Not wearing any makeup, your hair a faded shade of pink

Planning what your next Sunday bake project is gonna be,

What you’re gonna do next week on your free days,

Wondering when they stopped putting shoe sizes on the sole of the shoes,

What your next tattoo is gonna be

And what flowers you‘ll have at your wedding

You’re dreaming of a brick house with lemon trees in the backyard

Of a husband who’s tall enough to reach and pick the fruits by hand

Of making lemonade with just enough honey and maybe some elderflower sirup

Dreaming of raising a child, returning to your hometown, letting go, an endless spring, listening to The Cranberries with your mother and feeling at ease with April snow and imperfect banana bread

#poetry #original poetry #love poem #original poem #dark academia #poets on tumblr #writers and poets #poetrycommunity #poeticstories #lyrical poetry #cottagecore #divine love #taylor swift #messy writing

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holeinthehedgerow · 23 days

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Missed Connection

My heart goes out to anyone

That ever wrote a missed connection ad.

They smiled at you from across a train platform.

They were next to you at a red light.

They walked passed you on a street.

You are the real hopeless romantics,

With emphasis on the hopelessness,

But romantics,

Nonetheless.

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shareapoetry · 1 year

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I thought I never experienced love,

The rush in your veins,

The racing of your heart,

Things that people call butterflies;

But the love I found was nothing like that,

He was like a fine wine getting better with age,

While I was like a bird rotting in its cage.

He was full of calmness inside,

While I was like a turbulent storm;

Talking with him was all I needed to feel alright,

And his shoulder felt like home;

When he was with me I desired no more,

Because love is found in comfort;

Not in chaos.

Saumya Thapliyal

(Do follow @shareapoetry on Instagram💕)

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des-vanecido · 5 months

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| Mi Instagram//

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poemsonmars · 6 months

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i like to write using ink

of her favorite color,

in hopes of putting

more of her into my poems.

in hopes of getting

more of her out of me.

-mars

#10/2/23 #the ones about heartbreak #mars.poetry #my poetry #lgbt poetry #original poetry #sad poetry #original poem #poets on tumblr #unrequited love #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #button poetry #poets corner #prose poetry #poetrycommunity #writeblr

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daydreamers-serene-musings · 3 months

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"Read a thousand books and your words will flow like a river."

--Virginia Woolf

#virginia woolf #prose #writeblr #love poem #words words words #poetry #poetrycommunity #spilled poetry #deep thoughts #inspiring quotes #spilled ink #literature #lit #classic literature #quotes

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dariann-garcia · 4 months

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Justo cuando te haces amigo de la soledad, la vida te presenta a alguien que cambia tus planes.

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gargiyadav · 2 months

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What do I do with my grief?

I know not how to handle my grief.

Where to put it, how to tame its insurmountable spirit.

How to sing it lullabies for my voice always crackles up.

How to call out its name without fearing the worst.

What to say to it when it comes running to me like a child.

What to whisper in its ears so as to soothe its wild nerves.

I know I can very well discard it, get rid of it forever, but if that would have been possible, i would not be writing this poem today titled, "what do I do with my grief"

I know not how it's so capable of being so alive when I, the harbourer, has died so many times.

Isn't this grief that I carry in my belly, my child?

If that's the case, it should have died long time ago.

But here it is, chuckling and stretching its limbs, looking at me with its endearing eyes, waiting to be picked up with utmost affection.

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tragicc · 6 months

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Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry—

I am not there,

I did not die.

— Clare Harner, The Gypsy, December 1934

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