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bluestthingsonearth · 1 year

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a poem about stillness.

#poetry #my poetry #carrie #carrie white #poetry portal #poetic stories #13cupsofteareblog #my art

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persephoneshellhounds · 11 months

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Will I ever possess the softness I pretend to have?

— Fray Narte

Gif from: Stealing Beauty (1996) // Dir. Bernardo Bertolucci

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iamgwenc · 6 months

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Respect = Love

"You were right. I'm not strong, neither am i brave. But I'm braver than you right now, because I'm ready for this to be finally over. Please stop toying with my feelings. Either kiss me, or break my hea-"

"Can you hear yourself right now?" He simply said. I was flabbergasted! How could he!

Before I could react, he strode towards me until we're inches apart and he smiled at me before he kissed my forehead.

"You never told me where so I kissed your forehead instead. I respect you, Cassandra, I really do. Respect is greater than love and before you ask, respect can come before love."

"So there's a chance?"

He didn't reply, instead, he kissed me on my forehead again, this time it's longer than the first then he left me standing there, speechless.

11.6.2023 | G.C.

Italized prompt by @urfriendlywriter

#spilled ink #writerblr #13cupsofteareblog #inkstay #poeticstories #writers on tumblr

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soulreserve · 8 months

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Winter-Long

Winter's cold is curled like a lick beneath underneath the beating heart. Like a hand of a stranger on my shoulder.

Your name is the white breath I realease from trembling lips. It escapes from me and into the dense air that carries cold with a purpose.

Loss is a constant companion, it doesn't fade with time. I watch it shiver outside under the burden of heavy snow.

What does it know of warmth? I let it slip inside, and sit by the fire. but little by little it takes over. It creeps below,

leaves my body damp and aching, swamped by run-away thoughts of you. And cold settles like a tickle in the lungs.

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fantodsdhrit · 1 year

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midwinter acacias drown inside me you say please bury yourself

in the snow

as poets salivate after [your] beauty on a leash with lines from gimmicky

postcolonial love poems

oblivious

to their firmaments

within:

delete my words all you [want] but you won't be able to decimate that

stinging temptation

that makes you pull

the strings of your dreamhouse abyss: you recoil because you crave control

absolute control

if someone comes

close

you retreat to your lavish hut: in your abode aching to be held by someone

telling yourself:

we all hide behind screens and touch ourselves when [we] push others away

lonely mirrors

after all

like stale gunpowder

passion is dour when you can't fathom your inside: rattles like the last sip from

salt water yearning:

i finish pages

but no one

bothers to read them: least of all you why do i recall your [gaze] at midnight

when the ceiling pastes

your voice onto

everything literally

everything

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kidgillis · 5 months

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I remember being told I must arrive at my sacred space. Only I will know when and where I am supposed to be. That those I meet along my journey there will teach me great things. That my only mission is to become who I'm supposed to be. I was born for this mission. With love, I was nurtured on this path. I've had many firsts here. I've taken many wins and losses. Ten years ago, I learned how to walk into rooms confidently. Smile on my face, head up, shoulder back, walking confidently in my stride. Twenty years ago, I learned how to capture the hearts of those I encountered. Allowing honesty to set my pace, having a mix of kindness escape my lips, and open intellect to express my thoughts while positive vibrations set my vibe. Thirty years ago, I learned how to embrace and release all that I experienced. Operating in divine feminine nature, intuned with my emotions, led by a God's spirit, and blessed with ancient wisdom and intuition - I became human. And I'm beyond delighted to continue learning in this place...This beautiful place.

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alexdelormepoetry · 2 months

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Sad is my favorite color

If it's you,

Your eyes

Ugly like mine.

Alex Delorme

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bottledandspilt · 5 months

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Farewell

Untie your hands, love, use your feet

Let go of my waist, dance to your own beat

It will be clear, if only you'd wipe away your tears

For your happiness, I'd go and face my fears

The wind in my sails, we're at your stop

Promise me I'll at least be in your map.

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heartweary-writing · 8 months

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Maybe I should have gone to you

In January, when the cold

Rang in the earth’s bones-

Shaking,

Shaking

Shaking you unsteady

Your heart heavy

Your mind ready

To unravel.

Yes, maybe I should have gone to you-

Even if you would have gone away,

Anyway.

J. K. L

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livingthroughwords · 8 months

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Your first love breaks your heart.

Your first situationship breaks your brain.

#writerscreed #inkstay #poetry #13cupsofteareblog #poeticstories #poetic stories #poem #spilled thoughts #writers creed #spilled poetry #situationships

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bluestthingsonearth · 17 days

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for @nosebleedclub's april prompts. 1. as good as you'll get

#my poetry #poetry #poetryportal #13cupsofteareblog #twcpoetry #re bumbleblossoms #poeticstories #poeticwhispers #writerscreed

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persephoneshellhounds · 2 months

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my heart flutters like moth wings, once caught flightless on ice cold fire it’s forever looking for the kiss of the flames, the softest, kindest, slowest way of dying so that i may rest in a chest that’s not my own — yours, would you leave flowers on my tomb, once more? virginal white jasmines, if you remember — the color and predisposition of a ghost. would you kiss my resting ground, softening under torrential poems? would you say a made-up prayer? (my lover, who art in heaven) would you love me again if death is my rebirth, my second coming, how angels weep right next to me, how they break over my sorrows — pathetic bodies made of light, but they never burn, they never crash like fading embers. my heart’s still caught on ice cold fire, it flutters, wingless i arch in my quiet aching, godless, limbless — i’m sorry i’m made this way. in heaven, god fucked up for the first time twenty five years ago, he can take me back tomorrow for all i care but would you pick me, take me back and kiss me, bathe me in biblical oil (even if it kills me once more?) if i promise not to die once more?

— fray narte, "going insane in october" | written november 1, 2023, 5:11 PM

photo screencapped from: saltburn (2023) // dir. emerald fennell

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iamgwenc · 6 months

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Useless.

She danced privately to

the moon in her room,

hoping she'll do it

to some man one day.

He talked to the sun

in his room, hoping

he'll do it to some

woman one day.

Two persons, longing

for the same thing, yet

too shy to even find for

that special connection.

All because of doubts and

useless fears.

10.29.2023 | G.C.

#spilled ink #writerblr #spilled poetry #poeticstories #escafeism #poetry on tumblr #poets on tumblr #13cupsofteareblog #inkstay

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soulreserve · 1 year

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Perfume

You become a sound that slowly leaches from my body into air with the softness of breath, a quiet keening, an undertone of heartache I've always felt.

You release from wrinkles, from birthmarks I have known and carried. From freckles that darken in the sun.

You unsettle from the folds of my clothes my hair my eyes like a memory—washed dried and fading fluttering outside on clothes lines.

You aren't gone although you are dissipating leaving in more ways than one. The perfume of you is still damp on poems I write with tears.

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fantodsdhrit · 1 year

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it's your [space] you keep me out how could you not: you want the

world

to matter to you you want life and also don't want it: you want it and

don't want it

when you know

everything you say

you don't

know yourself: juggling house of cards: often i find myself writing the [same]

things over and over

when other poets run thin

with nausea and give up i scribble till i reach the bones: with all the laughs

and phone glares

you wouldn't understand when you're sick of being you [you] leap into the

abyss: that prefect

dreamhouse abyss

with scales like our dragon: something is burning no one comes to douse the

flames

with someone else you verify yourself: god! i can't think of something flowery

allegorical

when i write like this: whatever this crude asinine fuming something is:

or

nothing

it's going nowhere i think everyone has everything figured out: [how to] breathe

and taste and

with whom to

share their beds

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pelicandensity · 4 months

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Poisoning the Well

anger suppressed misdirected out of proportion I can't help but feel every minor irritation is a plot against me struggling with unrealistic self-expectations I often wonder if this is what is poisoning the well

#looking inward #bvr #writerscreed #poeticstories #spilled ink #writtenconsiderations #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilled ink poetry #writers on tumblr #twcpoetry #spilled poetry #13cupsofteareblog #writeblrcafe #poetry #poetry reblog

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