Tumgik
Text
POETRY FOR YOUR MOON SIGN
Tumblr media
✰ my masterlist poems written by someone who has the same moon sign as you <3
Tumblr media
☾PISCES☽
Edgar Allen Poe, A Dream Within a Dream
“Take this kiss upon the brow! / And, in parting from you now, / Thus much let me avow – / You are not wrong, who deem / That my days have been a dream; / Yet if hope has flown away / In a night, or in a day, / In a vision, or in none, / Is it therefore the less gone? / All that we see or seem / Is but a dream within a dream.”
June Jordan, You Came with Shells
“You came with shells. And left them: / shells. / They lay beautiful on the table. / Now they lie on my desk / peculiar / extraordinary under 60 watts.”
Toni Morrison, It Comes Unadorned
“it comes / Unadorned / Like a phrase / Strong enough to cast a spell; / It comes / Unbidden, / Like the turn of sun through hills / Or stars in wheels of song. / The jeweled feet of women dance the earth. / Arousing it to spring. / Shoulders broad as a road bend to share the weight of years. / Profiles breach the distance and lean / Toward an ordinary kiss. / Bliss. / it comes naked into the world like a charm.”
Tumblr media
☾AQUARIUS☽
W.B Yeats, A Coat
“I made my song a coat / Covered with embroideries / Out of old mythologies / From heel to throat; / But the fools caught it, / Wore it in the world’s eyes / As though they’d wrought it. / Song, let them take it / For there’s more enterprise / In walking naked.”
W.B Yeats, The Lover Tells of the Roses in His Heart
“All things uncomely and broken, all things worn out and old, / The cry of a child by the roadway, the creak of a lumbering cart, / The heavy steps of the ploughman, splashing the wintry mould, / Are wronging your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart. / The wrong of unshapely things is a wrong too great to be told; I hunger to build them anew and sit on a green knoll apart, / With the earth and the sky and the water, re-made, like a casket of gold / For my dreams of your image that blossoms a rose in the deeps of my heart.”
Louisa May Alcott, The Lay of a Golden Goose
“Oh! Be not rash,” her father said, / A mild Socratic bird; / Her mother begged her not to stray / With many a warning word. / But little goosey was perverse / And eagerly did cry, / “I’ve got a lovely pair of wings, / Of course I Ought to fly.”
Tumblr media
☾CAPRICORN☽
John Milton, Sonnet 19
“When I consider how my light is spent, / Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, / And that one talent which is death to hide / Lodged with me useless, through my soul more bent / To serve therewith my Maker,”
Jala al-Din Rumi, The Guest House
“This being human is a guest house. / Every morning a new arrival. / A joy, a depression, a meanness, / some momentary awareness comes / As an unexpected visitor. / Welcome and entertain them all! / Even if they’re a crowd of sorrows, / who violently sweep your house / empty of its furniture, / still treat each guest honorably. / He may be clearing you out / for some new delight. / The dark thought, the shame, the malice, / meet them at the door laughing, / and invite them in. / Be grateful for whoever comes, because each has been sent / as a guide from beyond.”
Gwendolyn Brooks, a song in the front yard
“I’ve stayed in the front yard all my life. / I want a peek at the back / Where it’s rough and untended and hungry weed / grows. / A girl gets sick of a rose.”
Tumblr media
☾SAGITTARIUS☽
Lewis Carroll, A Boat Beneath a Sunny Sky
“In a Wonderland they lie, / Dreaming as the days go by, / Dreaming as the summers die: / Ever drifting down the stream – / Lingering in the golden gleam – / Life, what it is but a dream?”
Dante Alighieri, From “Inferno”
“It’s the pain / of the people down there that empties my / face. / It’s pity / that you’ve mistaken for fear. / And it’s the long way / that pushes us now. / Let’s go.”
Victor Hugo, Tomorrow, At Dawn
“Tomorrow, at dawn, at the hour when the countryside whitens, / I will set out. You see, I know that you wait for me. / I will go by the forest, I will go by the mountain. / I can no longer remain far from you. / I will walk with my eyes fixed on my thoughts, / Seeing nothing of outdoors, hearing no noise / Alone, unknown, my back curved, my hands crossed, / Sorrowed, and the day for me will be as night.”
Tumblr media
☾SCORPIO☽
Sarojini Naid, Autumn Song
“Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow, / The sunset hangs on a cloud; / A golden storm of glittering sheaves, / Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves, / The wild wind blows in a cloud. / Hark to a voice that is calling / To my heart in the voice of the wind: / My heart is weary and sad and alone, / For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, / And why should I stay behind?”
Shel Silverstein, Dreadful
“Someone ate the baby. / It’s absolutely clear / Someone ate the baby / ‘Cause the baby isn’t here. / We’ll give away her toys and clothes. / We’ll never have to wipe her nose. / Dad says, “That’s the way it goes.” / Someone ate the baby.”
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Aftermath
“When the summer fields are mown, / When the birds are fledged and flown, / And the dry leaves strew the path; / With the falling of the snow, / With the cawing of the crow, / Once again the fields we mow / And gather in the aftermath.”
Tumblr media
☾LIBRA☽
Maya Angelou, Caged Bird
“A free bird leaps / on the back of the wind / and floats downstream / till the current ends / and dips his wing / in the orange sun rays / and dares to claim the sky.”
Emily Dickinson, Good Morning – Midnight
“Good Morning – Midnight – / I’m coming Home – / Day – got tired of Me – / How could I – of Him? / Sunshine was a sweet place – / I liked to stay – / But Morn – didn’t want me – now – / So – Goodnight – Day!”
Elizabeth Barrett Browning, My Heart and I
“You see we’re tired, my heart and I. / We dealt with books, we trusted men, / And in our own blood drenched the pen, / As is such colours could not fly. / We walked too straight for fortune’s end, / We loved too true to keep a friend ; / At last we’re tired, my heart and I.”
Tumblr media
☾VIRGO☽
Robert Hayden, Those Winter Sundays
“Sundays too my father got up early / and put his clothes on in the blueback cold, / then with cracked hands that ached / from labor in the weekday weather made / banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. / I’d wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking / When the rooms were warm, he’d call, / and slowly I would rise and dress, / fearing the chronic angers of that house, / Speaking indifferently to him , / who had driven out the cold / and polished my good shoes well. / What did I know, what did I know / of love's austere and lonely offices?”
Jack Kerouac, How to Meditate
“Thinking’s just like not thinking- / So I don't have to think / any / more”
William Faulkner, Study
“Muted dreams for them / for me / Bitter science. Exams are near / And my thoughts uncontrollably / Wander, and I cannot hear / The voice telling me that work I must, / For everything will be the same when I’m dead / A thousand years. I wish I were a bust / All head.”
Tumblr media
☾LEO☽
Walt Whitman, I sing the Body Electric
“I sing the body electric, / The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,”
Oscar Wilde, The Ballad of Reading Gaol
“Yet each man kills the thing he loves, / By each let this be heard, / Some do it with a bitter look, / Some with a flattering word, / The coward does it with a kiss, / The brave men with a sword!”
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Friendship
“A ruddy drop of manly blood / The surging sea outweighs, / The world uncertain comes and goes; / The lover rooted stays. / I fancied he was fled, – / And, after many a year, / Glowed unexhausted kindliness, / Like daily sunrise there. / My careful heart was free again, / O friend, my bosom said, / Through thee alone the sky is arched, / Through thee the rose is red; / All things through thee take nobler form, / And look beyond the earth, / The mill-round of our fate appears / A sun-path in thy worth. / Me too thy nobleness had taught / To master my despair; / The fountains of my hidden life / Are through thy friendship fair.”
Tumblr media
☾CANCER☽
Shakespear, Sonnet 147
“My love is as a fever, longing still / For that which longer nurseth the disease, / Feeding on that which doth preserve the ill,”
Robert Frost, Acquainted with the Night
“I have been one acquainted with the night. / I have walked out in rain – and back in rain. / I have outwalked the furthest city light. / I have looked down the saddest city lane. / I have passed by the watchman on his beat / And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. / I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet / When far away an interrupted cry / Came over houses from another street, / But not to call me back or say good-bye; / And further still at an unearthly height, / One luminary clock against the sky / Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right. / I have been one acquainted with the night.”
William Blake, Auguries of innocence
“To see a World in a Grain of Sand / And a Heaven in a wild flower / Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand / And eternity in an hour”
Tumblr media
☾GEMINI☽
Rudyard Kipling, Blue Roses
“Half the world I wandered through, / Seeking where such flowers grew. / Half the world unto my quest / Answered me with laugh and jest. / Home I came at wintertide, / But my silly love had died / Seeking with her latest breath / Roses from the arms of Death.”
John Keats, To Sleep
“Save me from curious Conscience, that still lords / Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; / Turn the key deftly into the oiled wards, / And seal the hushed Casket of my soul.”
Lord Tennyson, The Eagle
“He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, / Ring’d with the azure world, he stands. / The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; / He watches from his mountain walls, / And like thunderbolt he falls.”
Tumblr media
☾TAURUS☽
John Donne, Air and Angels
“Twice or thrice had I lov’d thee, / Before I knew thy face or name; / So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame / Angels affects us oft, and worshipp’d be;”
Audre Lorde, Recreation
“my body / writes into your flesh / the poem / you make of me. / Touching you I catch midnight / as moon fires set in my throat / I love you flesh into blossom / I made you / and take you made / into me.”
Margaret Walker, Lineage
“My grandmothers were strong. / They followed plows and bent to toil. / They moved through fields sowing seed. / They touched earth and grain grew. / They were full of sturdiness and singing. / My grandmothers were strong. / My grandmothers are full of memories / Smelling of soap and onions and wet clay / With veins rolling roughly over quick hands / They have many clean words to say. / My grandmothers were strong. / Why am I not as they?”
Tumblr media
☾ARIES☽
E.E Cummings, Love is more thicker than forget
“love is more thicker than forget / more thinner than recall / more seldom than a wave is wet / more frequent than to fail”
Mark Twain, Genius
“But above all things, / to deftly throw the incoherent ravings of insanity into verse / and then rush off and get booming drunk, / is the surest of all the different signs / of genius.”
Paul Laurence Dunbar, Ships that Pass in the Night
“Out in the sky the great dark clouds are massing; / I look far out into the pregnant night, / Where I can hear a solemn booming gun / And I catch the gleaming of a random light, / That tells me that the ship I seek is passing, passing.”
Tumblr media
338 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
Twitter people are very upset about this. I, however, am chuckling.
106 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
sam sifton, from the nyt “what to cook right now” newsletter
37K notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
the time travel agency seamstress (that one Tumblr post) |  Karolina Żebrowska
Tumblr media
95K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
177 notes · View notes
Text
today, April 23, is the date that my Ted Lasso Station Eleven post-apocalypse Shakespeare AU begins and ends on:
“I believe you’re in my seat,” said Trent to the moustachioed stranger parked in B35 of the National Theatre. “I do beg your pardon,” exclaimed the stranger in a Midwestern accent. “I guess my eyesight ain’t what it used to be, if it can’t tell a hawk from a handsaw, or a 35 from a 36. But I’m keeping you standing. I’ll just scoot my boot over by one, shall I?” They performed the awkward seat shuffle common to theatre stalls the world over. “I like your glasses,” added the stranger. Trent removed his glasses and stared at them, then wondered why he had done that. He put them back on. “Thank you. Can’t see the stage without them.” The stranger hummed in agreement. Trent focused on removing his notepad and pen from his blazer pocket. He flipped to a new page and wrote at the top: Lear review, April 23, 2016. The date was notable at the time because it was the 400th anniversary of William Shakespeare’s death. In later years, of course, this would be eclipsed in importance entirely by what was to come.
all the men and women merely players
28 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Trigonometry (2020-)
50 notes · View notes
Text
its fast fashion to YOU. im wearing a forever21 sweater i got during the bush administration.
61K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media
42K notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
What should we call him?
2K notes · View notes
Text
I mentioned this in conversation with my 90 year old land lady and she said she could relate because there’s an 80 year old man at the flea market who flirts with her.
I said, Oh, is there really such a difference between 80 and 90?
She said, Yes, he’s still not mature enough.
23 year old at work is flirting with me
13 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media
CODA (2021)
4 notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
To The Substitute Art Teacher - Jordan Bolton
208K notes · View notes
Text
A little advice from someone studying extremist groups: if you’re in a social media environment where the daily ubiquitous message is that you have no hope of any kind of future and you can’t possibly achieve anything without a violent overthrow of society, you’re being radicalized, and not in the good way.
83K notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
268 notes · View notes
Text
A strange alien doctor stands near the unconscious body of Padme Amidala. “It appears she has lost the will to live.” A older man with a limp hobbles closer with the aid of a cane. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” says Dr. Gregory House.
53K notes · View notes
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Mackenzie Davis & Gugu Mbatha-Raw in Black Mirror: San Junipero (2016) dir. Owen Harris
697 notes · View notes