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sxrgripp · 2 months

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you are capable of everything you desire to be

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littlewiseeyes · 19 days

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Black women.

Black men.

Black people.

🖤🤎

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aslisjournal · 5 days

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— If you ever wonder why our conversations are short, I simply do not have the capacity

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maxwelldpoetry · 10 months

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I mourn you, and you have yet to die. Years have passed, and your name still tastes bittersweet on my tongue. I do not know if you ever loved me, or if you could have had the timing been better. Time has told me nothing—it remains silent like you. I have written about you to the point of hands cramping, and you will never know which poems are about you. This is poetic secrecy at its finest, and yet I still feel more open than you ever were.

- maxwelldpoetry, “When time didn’t tell.”

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dangerousdesiress · 2 months

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#moodboard #poems and quotes #black tumblr #desire #spoken thoughts #dangerous desires #small words deep thoughts #impact #black poets on tumblr #unforgettable #powerful encounters #once in a lifetime

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typewriter-worries · 1 year

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happy escapril; here's a very old poem <3

text id under the cut

You’re not used to it.

You’re not used to having them want to know more about you; your pleasures, your pains, your intimacies, your vulnerabilities.

No, what you’re used to is your heartache being treated as bargaining chip; regretful feelings treated as this for that.

What you’re used to, is the trauma that has manifested itself inside of you being seen as currency; a way to pay for a pound of their flesh.

You soon find out that a pound of their flesh holds no weight. It’s a transaction that fails to go through; a purchase that never takes. One that was never meant to. The coppery taste of the blood in your mouth revels in a sense of irony.

What you’re used to is having that trauma rooted deep inside you disperse itself; a catalyst for an emotional transaction one after another. You scratch their back, they carve another tally mark into your chest.

What you’re not used to, is that same part of you, that god awful painful part of you; to be a story. A story of your pleasures, your pains, your intimacies, your vulnerabilities. It’s a story because it’s easier to digest that way; once the words have left your lips they’re a thing of the past, a regretful feeling.

To you, it’s just another anecdote that you choose to that occasionally masquerade as small talk; because there’s nothing to come of this. It’s a matter of time before the withdrawal begins again.

No to you, it’s no more than that; just a casual string of words to tell the next person; to tease the idea of beginning again. Your stories have collected interest but it’s too soon to cash out.

You consider giving the new person a formality. Telling them it’s just a matter of time before they’re just another added anecdote; another casual string of words to tell the next person. Perhaps the warning will be seen as fair.

But no, this time; this time, you’re sharing stories. Stories about your pleasures, their pains, your intimacies, their vulnerabilities. You’re not used to this.

Your anecdote, it’s now a flicker of the past. A string of words that they can begin to use to start tying the scattered pieces of you back together again.

You could get used to this.

#this is one of the first poems i wrote for a poetry book that'll probably never be published lmao #hope you enjoyed <3 #my writing #poetry #my poetry #original poetry #spilled ink #spilled words #black poets on tumblr #dark academia #classic academia

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shenice-alisha · 10 days

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the beauty of someone seeing your heart

as it is and not tearing it apart.

#shenicealisha #poet #poetry #black poets on tumblr #author #poets on tumblr #poem #christianpoet

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jamerasjournal · 2 years

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I wish I was your favorite book. So you’d run your fingers down my spine, spread me open, read my lips. I laughed and told you I said “olive juice” when you asked me if I said I love you. Because those two phrases look the same when you mouth them with no sound. Read them again. You were right the first time.

But I’m not your favorite book. I am just dust. Slipping through the hourglass that you call your hands. Still falling. Plummeting into a sea of sand that I call you. I want to ask why you haven’t closed your fists yet. Why you don’t want to hold on to me the same way that I hold on to you. Pack me in like clay. They say that grief is just love with no place to go, and that is why I’ve been crying.

Unrequited love is like holding your breath without knowing. Like one day I just woke up and realized I was drowning in you. Me, drowning- yet you only wade in me and call it swimming. I know when I exhale, I will blow down the walls you have built around yourself. I don’t want to be the big bad wolf. I fear that you will mistake this passion for fangs. Take your little red hood off and look me in my eyes. Or maybe it’s just a red flag. And these rose colored glasses that I’ve been regarding you with are shattered now, and I’m finally seeing your true colors.

You say that you love me, but it’s not quite the way that I need. And you fail to realize that you can’t just love something, you also have to take care of it. I burned myself trying to give you the sun. And the breadcrumbs you leave me are just salt in my wounds. And my heart is on fire. Give me your hand and I’ll light yours like a candle. And we can burn in this dumpster fire until something beautiful like a phoenix rises up out of it.

You don’t have to be afraid. Don’t you see the soot on my face? Smell the smoke on my breath? I have already walked through the fire trying to show you how much I love you. I plummeted through the ozone layer like an asteroid to get back to you this lifetime. And only you can stop this forest fire.

I can teach you how to fall. If only you believed that I will catch you. I am choking on the ashes that have dusted my lungs. It has taken me so long to get tired because you’re my favorite book. I want to run my fingers down your spine, spread you like pages but you keep me shut out. I read your lips. Did you say, “I love you?”Or maybe just “olive juice.” I’ll read them again. I hope I got it right the first time. Because if you don’t loop your fingers through mine, I’m afraid I can’t keep going. I am slipping through the hourglass you call your hands. There’s not much more of me left to give you. Draw your fists tight or I will leave you in the dust.

-jamera naquai, Dust To Dust

#poetry #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #poets on tumblr #poem #prose poetry #poet #poets corner #prose #black poets on tumblr #new poets society #poetry and prose #black poetess #modern poetry #the black poets #poets society #poetess #new poets on tumblr #poetry in motion

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saiwriting · 1 month

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i used to walk

without the heaviness of shackles

of spiritual suppression felt by those who made me who i am

i used to glide

beside birds and aspirations

immeasurable by none but the god i sought to reach

am i dead?

will i be soon?

my limbs stretch out

over water refusing to let me sink,

time is drowning-

drowning is freedom

for where do i go

and where do i come

from here?

-s.k.soublet

#spilled ink #writers on tumblr #art #language #black poetry #female poets #black poets on tumblr #writers and poets #poetry #poem #poets on tumblr #original poem #black writers #black woman writer

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sxrgripp · 3 months

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I said, "No"

and it was political

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#music #new music #spoken word #poets on tumblr #slam poetry #black tumblr #black poetry #black poets on tumblr #black musicians #dataleak multi #dataleak iii #Spotify #ashlee haze #black future month

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jasminesuntrell · 5 days

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No More Fucking Butterflies (19/30)

I have decided the next man I meet who makes me nervous is getting blocked, walked away from- I'll run if I have to. No conversation, no glances, no more whirlwind romances, I'm not giving chances. I'm through.

Who the hell decided butterflies in the tummy was something to romanticize in the first place? For me, I think it's my body trying to tell me to get as far as I can from this demonic creature who will only cause me harm but I kept thinking it's a good thing if his presence can make me stumble over words.

Hell no.

Neutrality is the way to go. The man you're mostly unaware of until he gives you good reasons to be. The one who doesn’t prey on the unbalanced chemical reaction that happens when you lay eyes on him.

And maybe the love story won't be the stuff of an indie romance film but it will be stable and real. It won't give you more material from which to heal. It will provide you with bliss more enduring than the intoxications of fleeting butterflies.

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aslisjournal · 9 months

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Excerpt from, “On a Summer Night” Asli Hersi

#poem #poetry #poems #tumblr poetry #poets on tumblr #black poets on tumblr #daily poetry #spilled ink #black poets society #poems and quotes #quotes #dark academia #light academia #books and libraries

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maxwelldpoetry · 8 months

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I will claw myself out from underneath this rubble and grow in spite of you.

Only I am allowed to be the death of me, and I will not perish yet.

- maxwelldpoetry

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jlmvision · 7 days

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i’ve been obsessed with this format of poem ever since i first read warsan shire’s ‘backwards,’ a piece where the second stanza is a repetition of the first in reverse. i love the idea that the exact same lines can mean entirely different things in the context of what came before and what comes after, and how this can shift mood and tone.

#poetry #poem #abstract poetry #insp. by warsan shire #black poets on tumblr #read this at brooklyn poets’ staff picks event opening for venus <3 #i’m trying to get away from such abstract pieces but i felt like this one deserved a nice debut #words #spilled words #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #poems on tumblr

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theorangelinepoet · 5 months

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You can’t hate yourself into loving yourself

🌱

#poets on tumblr #black poets on tumblr #spoken poetry #spoken word #black poetry #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #truth #theorangelinepoet #self love #self esteem

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sapphicjunglefever · 7 months

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𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 ✍︎︎.

a/n- this poem is dedicated to a special someone & i thought about her today.❤︎︎

(this poem is about me accepting the idea of someone loving me (inner thoughts fr.)

if i could just articulate it,

piece by piece,

bit by bit.

there would be no pure explanation,

that someone so vile, so burdened,

could possibly love you.

but someone showed you that idea,

you could never feel or know,

that her love was there, so easy to show.

she couldn’t possibly love me,

the you that could be silenced,

the you that couldn’t grow.

she stayed,

despite the burden,

despite the trouble,

so would she love you?

could she say it easily,

or would you say it and struggle?

@k3nn3dyxo @imjusthere2readbruv @kisskourt @poems-and-word @inmyheadimobsessed @inadvertently-writing @kaytpoems @abbiemhart @abenomeiiii @ihearttish @shurisvibranium

#black girl aesthetic #romantic #black poet #black poets on tumblr #black writers #female writers #love moodboard #gxg #love #sadbeautifultragic #inner thoughts #safe space #sad poetry #female poets #queerness #black love #wlw #wlw poetry #SoundCloud

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