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#english poetry
ancientsstudies · 7 months
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I am too fond of reading books to care to write them.
ig credit: vintagesoul_reads.
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feral-ballad · 2 years
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Yrsa Daley-Ward, from bone; “nose”
[Text ID: “Last night I smelled you / in a dream.”]
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journalsofanaesthete · 6 months
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Poets are the people who wanted to be a poem but life had different plans for them and they became the ones writing them.
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zindagi-se-darte-ho · 4 months
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franz kafka, diaries of franz kafka // taylor swift, evermore // emily bronte, wuthering heights // ada limon, shelter: a love letter to trees // yusef komunyakaa, pleasure dome: new and collected poems // anne sexton, a self-portrait in letters // franz kafka, the blue octavo notebooks // robert frost, my november guest // albert camus, the plague // gbenga adeoba, a short essay on drowning // virginia woolf, the complete works // talin tahajian // e. m. forster, howards end // louise erdrich, the sentence // cynthia rylant, in november // virginia woolf, diaries // may sarton, recovering: a journal // franz kafka, diaries of franz kafka
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his-heart-hymns · 2 months
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A life unendurable but it was endured.
-Czeslaw Milosz,Nobel Prize in Literature 1980
Jo guzari na ja saki hum se ,
hum ne woh zindagi guzari hai.
-Jaun Elia
The resilience we exhibit in persisting even after enduring so much is commendable.
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December, from The Procession of Months (c.1889). All the poems were written by fifteen-year-old Beatrice Crane and illustrated by her acclaimed artist father, Walter Crane.
via contentinacottage.blogspot on pinterest
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[TEXT ID: "December" by Beatrice Crane.
Now wildly sweeps the wind
And wildly drives the sleet
DECEMBER fast draws nigh
Wrapped close from head to feet.
Her eyes glance restlessly
From shaken tree to plain,
The dark hair 'neath her hood
Is wet with frozen rain.
Her furry cloak she holds
With one hand round her form,
The other one lifts high
A torch to light the storm
Scance tree or shrub doth cheer
The dreary scene around,
Save for the moaning wind,
There is no other sound.
December's eyes grow sad
And fainter still her tread;
One hears a long, low sight
Which tells the year is dead. /end ID]
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nemralam · 2 years
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My eyes yearn to see you so come home from distant lands, beloved
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maihonhassan · 24 days
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In English we say:
"Every flaw i love in you except your absence"
- Mahmoud Darwish
But in Urdu Poetry we say:
"Jaise tujhe aate haiñ na aane ke bahāne, aise hī bahāne se na jaane ke liye aa"
- Talib Baghpati
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lepetitdragonvert · 4 months
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THE MOON MAIDEN’S SONG
Sleep ! Cast thy canopy
Over this sleeper’s brain,
Dim grow his memory,
When he wake again.
Love stays a summer night,
Till lights of morning come ;
Then takes her winged flight
Back to her starry home.
Sleep ! Yet thy days are mine ;
Love’s seal is over thee :
Far though my ways from thine,
Dim though thy memory.
Love stays a summer night,
Till lights of morning come ;
Then takes her winged flight
Back to her starry home.
Ernest Christopher Dowson
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amicus-noctis · 6 months
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“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man the less, but Nature more” ― Lord Byron
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burningvelvet · 11 months
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“Divorce me, untie or break that knot again, / Take me to you, imprison me, for I, / Except you enthrall me, never shall be free, / Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.”
Excerpt from Holy Sonnets: Holy Sonnet XIV aka Batter my heart, three-person'd God (1633) by John Donne / Sculptures by Stephan Sinding at the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek in Copenhagen; Tapmak [Adoration] (1903) and Slaven [The Slave] (1878)
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feral-ballad · 2 years
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Yrsa Daley-Ward, from bone; “this was the story”
[Text ID: “You can go and come back and go and come back and I shall always be here. I shall always be here.”]
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thepathetickind · 6 months
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I am not   sad anymore,   because I know   in another life   we will be   together 
by laurenmaerie, 'in another life' 
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maryrougeatre · 1 month
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Out of my thoughts! You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read, since I first came here, the rough common boy whose poor heart you wounded even then. You have been in every prospect I have ever seen since – on the river, on the sails of the ships, on the marshes, in the clouds, in the light, in the darkness, in the wind, in the woods, in the sea, in the streets. You have been the embodiment of every graceful fancy that my mind has ever become acquainted with. The stones of which the strongest London buildings are made, are not more real, or more impossible to displace with your hands, than your presence and influence have been to me, there and everywhere, and will be. Estella, to the last hour of my life, you cannot choose but remain part of my character, part of the little good in me, part of the evil. But, in this separation I associate you only with the good, and I will faithfully hold you to that always, for you must have done me far more good than harm, let me feel now what sharp distress I may. O God bless you, God forgive you!
Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
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zindagi-se-darte-ho · 6 months
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I can never read all the books I want; I can never be all the people I want and live all the lives I want. I can never train myself in all the skills I want. And why do I want? I want to live and feel all the shades, tones and variations of mental and physical experience possible in my life. And I am horribly limited.
— Sylvia Plath
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his-heart-hymns · 5 months
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I would recognize you in total darkness.I would recognize you in another lifetime entirely,in different bodies,different times. And I would love you in all of this until the very last star in the sky burn out into oblivion.
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