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kharacore · 1 year
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jenny holzer
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agirlinachevy · 5 months
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it all goes on - april 10th 2022 at 23:37
the traffic lights change even if no one’s waiting for them there’s music on the radio even if no one’s tuning in it all goes on life goes on
-a girl in a chevy- april showers
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What does the Fool symbolise (in Tarot and beyond)? How does it relate to our lives? Read all about it in this new poem.
For more poetry about mystery, magic, philosophy and life, as well as essays, recommendations and resources, follow me on social media!
Links here
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einzilpik · 9 months
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Vom Sturm
Dieser Sturm ist stumm.
Der Wind wagt keinen Ton.
Der Himmel lässt Rosen regnen.
Wellen schieben die Blüten an Land.
Dort kniet ein Mädchen im nassen Sand
Und sammelt mit der Hand
die Rosen in ihrem Schoß.
"Hilf mir auf dein Pferd, nimm mich mit auf dein Schloss!"
"Hab weder Burg noch hab ich ein Ross.
Bin nicht mal Reiter..."
"Tja dann", sprach das Mädchen, "Leider..."
Und war plötzlich aus Schaum.
Alles war nur ein Traum.
Nur nicht der Sturm in mir. Der Sturm. Der Sturm!
Dieser stumme Sturm!
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omnipublication · 24 days
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Forthcoming Book "Jayanta Mahapatra: Modern Critical Views"
Jayanta Mahapatra is one of the most eminent voices in contemporary poetry.📙📖
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a-minus-content · 1 year
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The last page of “Nashville,” by Tiana Clark from /I Can’t Talk about the Trees Without the Blood/
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ditchghost · 1 month
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Published March 2024 selection of new experimental poems by Anvil Tongue Books
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fourletternamespro · 6 months
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In the Last Place I Saw You: A Collection of Poetry for the Grieving, the Lost, the Misfits, and the Hopeless Romantics
New Book Release, On Sale Now
From the author of “In the Shambles: Revised” comes the next installment in a collection of works that you have never quite experienced before. Unlike its predecessor, “In the Last Place I Saw You: A collection of Poetry for the Misfit, the Lost, the Grieving, and the Hopeless Romantics” is not a haunted and captivating confession. It is an illustration. In the Last Place I Saw You” is like walking into a fever dream of the imagination. It embraces and articulates without hesitation just how far the mind will go to live through the things we never expected to face or have to live through. It summons the curious voyeur of tragedy and commiserates with those who were left behind in the spaces that steal our rationality like sunlight in order to survive. - In the Last Place I Saw You Click on the photo to be redirected and purchase on Amazon.
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Read the full article
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ozythepoet · 1 year
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silenciobarnes · 1 year
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20230309 | 02 | #poetry the shore looks far too-far away no sails, no wind, no oars one anchor, drifting on a pause feelings so remote, con- trolled by whim, this tragic, floating thing, unmade of broken thoughts and dirt, and harsh reminders of what might still remain despite all efforts to bury chests filled with sad treasures bookshelf trinkets, ornaments no holiday would claim decommissioned fireplaces dream of warmth, not baubles placed on mantelpieces, just to take up space that once be- longed to the imaginations of lovers with big plans the inability to swim turns land into punchline no setup, despite the humours blood, bile, and phlegm attest dyscrasia diagnosed by lack of anything that's good waters lap against the hull, while sailing on these hardships . Hashtags 'they' told me I should add 🤷🏿‍♂️ #poetrycommunity #contemporarypoetry #personalreflection #introspection #resilience #hardship #humanexperience https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp48BoUukLN/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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ICYMI: Book Review of #RootedAndWinged by #LuanneCastle. A collection of poetry revolving around family, life, death, and the Sonoran desert. https://suanneschaferauthor.com/book-review-rooted-and-winged/ @catpoems @flpbooks
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kharacore · 1 year
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julia bianco, under the canopy
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agirlinachevy · 5 months
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ashamed - march 6th 2022 at 11:21
shame is probably the worst thing i’ve ever felt and i’m so sorry if you’ve ever been blamed mistreated abused ignored or berated because of something over which you have no control you may be different but you are not wrong you are not all they say you are you are so much more and you deserve so much more
-a girl in a chevy- marching
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aweddle83 · 1 year
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Please come out to see my art and the work of so many wonderful artists, and poetry; I will be reading; I plan to be there unless I’m having surgery , even though my ligament is torn in my right foot, on February 22. Poet Laureate @vocabulous Andrea Vocab Sanderson will be hosting poetry and music. 6-8 pm, 115 Plaza De Armas. #blackart #blackpoetry #blackpoets #blackartist #blackhistorymonth #sanantoniotattooartist #sanantoniopoetry #sanantonioartsandculture #autisticartist #autisticpoet #disabledartist #disabledpoet #contemporaryart #contemporarypoetry #spokenword #slampoetry #music #jazzpoetry #sanantonio #downtownsanantonio #sanantoniotexas https://www.instagram.com/p/ColSnwTMORo/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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einzilpik · 2 years
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Am Anfang war Feuer
Damals, in der alten Zeit
Da war sie das Neueste vom Neuen: die Eisenbahn.
Und wurde ein Teilstück eingeweiht
War alles auf den Beinen, ob Frau ob Mann.
Welch ein Spektakel, welch Sensation!
Das zischte und schnaufte und klapperte
Das quietschte und pfiff und ratterte
Und ward umweht von Rauchesschwaden.
Ärzte warnten vor nem Gesundheitsschaden.
Und pünktlich war man auf die Sekunde genau -
Man dachte doch praktisch bei all der Schau.
Der Konduktor trug Frack und Zylinder,
Mütter trösteten die weinende Kinder.
Wie ist es heut'? In jeder Zeitung steht es zu lesen:,
Die Bahn ist nicht mehr das, was sie mal gewesen.
Erst gingen das Zischen, dann Dampf und Rauch.
Mit der Zeit verschwand das Klappern auch.
Wo Feuer war fließt lautloser Strom.
Es fehlt ganz buchstäblich die Sensation.
Und weil man so ganz auf jedes Erlebnis Verzicht,
Verzeiht der Kunde die Unpünktlichkeit nicht.
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swallow
you’ve twisted my bones while i’ve devoured your cries and you’ve shoved your shame down my throat well, i can flex i can serve i know how to swallow shame and i know your moves, your mending, your molding and when you’ve broken from bending i’ve camouflaged my own bruising to care it’s true we’re both wounded but you will never know the fear of frontline or how a mother swears at servicemen…
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