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#pensive poem
nonverbaltenderness · 1 month
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*insert pomegranate emoji* Haunted. Sounds like a scary word, something you wouldn’t want to be. Then you’re haunted by a lost love, and that’s all you wish to be . . .
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sneggley · 8 months
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I wish I could properly tune you into the streams of my mind
For you to see them, feel them, hear them
They look like scent trails in old cartoons, except they will never be able to reach you
They have musical notes and blue-grey memories, swirling and dancing around our heads
They taste like apple cider and bubblegum
They feel like flipping through a warm book on a cold day; yet you’re so tired that you curl up in your blanket cocoon and fall asleep
Not caring about how sweaty you’ll be when you wake up, or the cavities in your teeth, the damp curtains, lit candle, or crumpled pages
Because all that matters is current comfort, all that matters is you
All that matters, is right now
All that matters, is happening
All that mattered, happened
And then I’m cold again
And suddenly, it never meant anything in the first place
And then I learn that everything to me, was nothing to you
Gently now, “what’s your favorite color?”
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unsuspecting muse
the cards of fate
are heavy and glittering gold
beautiful in my hands
peace in my heart
the memories I have
and create with you
in this stained glass
kaleidoscope mind
I forget so much is just
my imagination
how many times have I fallen
in love with my imagination
and called it by another's name?
I wonder if my mind
has a number
for the thoughts that whisper
or if they just manifest
and fall like leaves
all different colors
I begin remembering
how warm
you made my heart
and ache
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peterlorrefanpage · 11 months
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Peter Lorre with an edition of Bertolt Brecht's Svendborg poems.
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rumor-imbris · 1 year
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I dreamt I was all I dare dream of being butterflies flickering out of your open wounds, auroral lights on your path shrouded in darkness, springtide love to your death-ill heart
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iiicarus0 · 10 months
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at some point, i hit an age where i was confronted with the idea of faith.
my parents were both different flavors of christian and never pushed me toward any belief system,
just handed me a children's bible when i was seven and told me god would always love me
and that if i ever wanted to wake up really early on a sunday morning, they'd groggily take me to any church i wanted
and that was the extent of my belief. god was probably out there somewhere
but i liked sleeping in and that book was really boring and so it never passed through the front of my mind.
at some point, i hit an age where i started feeling lost.
couldn't shake the phrase "the simplest answer is usually the right one" when people talked about creation
and again when i read about how the universe came alive in a violent explosion, and again when i jolted awake
from my half-sleep one night, suddenly certain and terrified that one day i will die and there will be nothing,
that everything will just
stop.
at some point, i hit an age where i started feeling alone.
i firmly cemented myself as everyone's mere acquaintance and never the friend a person would first run to with news,
as the kid who was so convinced that they were undeserving of breath that they would never
even entertain the thought of loving someone or being loved back, especially not being loved back.
i would sit in my backyard, rural unmowed grass against my legs, look up at the sky
and feel nothing
then curse myself for wanting salvation.
at some point, your name on my tongue began to feel less like a sound
and more like a prayer, like a promise,
your ribs not ribs but a shrine, your mouth not a mouth but a pulpit, hands not hands but pure rays of warm sunlight held within mine.
i remember your lips on my forehead, remember wondering if maybe your lipstick had left a mark there
and secretly hoping it had, my own beautiful crown of red,
and it was dizzying, my body dunked under and brought up freshly clean and glorious and saved.
i remember feeling as though i'd follow you anywhere, i remember the word "devotion" running through my head when i looked over at you.
i remember finally understanding faith.
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poetictouch · 1 year
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Nor will I then thy modest grace forget, Chaste Snowdrop, venturous harbinger of Spring, And pensive monitor of fleeting years!
~ William Wordsworth To a Snowdrop
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desertdragon · 2 years
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Imitating Kitagawa Utamaro’s ‘Lovers in an Upstairs Room’ from the Poem of the Pillow series of Ukiyo-e prints
Some info on sex and euphemisms in Ukiyo-e
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arthur-r · 2 months
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(“no assistance” by ntozake shange, from “for colored girls who have considered suicide / when the rainbow is enuf”)
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side-stepping · 3 months
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two of my poems got into the uni lit mag!!
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bestrevolver · 4 months
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Southern Sky - Would You Love Me Until I Die? (on Wattpad) https://www.wattpad.com/1412818653-southern-sky-would-you-love-me-until-i-die?utm_source=web&utm_medium=tumblr&utm_content=share_reading&wp_uname=bestrevolver&wp_originator=q6iDVZlkYQKBSvQucw1ZP%2Fu7k1bcdE6uruppuAg0cPFbGEhyQ36Cpmu6LxF99JXQAyCVKea4%2FNpDU7zQNVpkIv5i71D9tKFdZ%2FtbcMQ4E4qRsq%2BFCMf4aDrehRoYEadS There are moments in life when a man may feel unlovable. Perhaps he has gone through a difficult break-up, or maybe he feels like he's not living up to his own expectations. Whatever the reason, feeling unlovable can be a painful and isolating experience. It's important to remember that everyone has moments of self-doubt and insecurity. No one is perfect, and it's okay to make mistakes. In fact, making mistakes is a natural part of the learning process. It's how we grow and develop as individuals. If you're feeling unlovable, it may be helpful to talk to someone you trust about your feelings. This could be a friend, family member, or a therapist. Sometimes just having someone to listen can make all the difference. It's also important to practice self-care. This means taking care of yourself physically, emotionally, and mentally. This might include getting enough sleep, eating a healthy diet, exercising regularly, and engaging in activities that bring you joy. Finally, remember that love is not something that can be earned or lost. You are worthy of love simply because you exist. It may take time to fully believe this, but with practice and patience, you can learn to love yourself and know that you are lovable.
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thebarefootcajun · 4 months
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stream of consciousness writing pours like salty tears
spilling onto the earth killing green life
sacrificial therapy
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wickedzeevyln · 5 months
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Silver
You wore a silver crown when you turned sixty, even with a pensive look, there is flair about your reticent smile, perhaps to ward off of gloom away from the trail of life falling behind and the failing time of your tomorrow. We held the bowl up to the light to see that the grains we share together weren’t enough for living impoverishes us of moments, mama wept knowing that your rocking chair…
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View On WordPress
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quillheel · 7 months
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// i know there's about a grand total of Two People here who plays Harry but PLEASE i wanna write a thread formed around their dynamic & specifically a scene of asking Kim for his glasses for w/e reason when alone, and in turn asking him to trust him. Kim trusts Harry, trusts him with his life, but actively testing it, reaching out and getting Kim to consciously relinquish control over to him through the medium of something he was so often bullied for as a child, revealing his face in totality without obstruction, the vulnerability of both self and emotion? the examination, the fear, the way his eyes have hurt him and others before, the test of faith?? the difficulty in which that comes to Kim, the gentleness yet unhesitating, the way it is still being asked???? 'although you beg me, curse me, hate me, i will not look away from you, you will not persuade me to stay my hand' 'i am asking how to endure it' 'on the strength of my having asked you' BEGGING shit
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rumor-imbris · 2 years
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You think you never do enough yet I sense flowers grow where even your shadow passes by
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thasallweare · 1 year
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Sonnet VII
Hartley Coleridge
Is love a fancy, or a feeling? No. It is immortal as immaculate Truth, 'Tis not a blossom shed as soon as youth, Drops from the stem of life—for it will grow, In barren regions, where no waters flow, Nor rays of promise cheats the pensive gloom. A darkling fire, faint hovering o'er a tomb, That but itself and darkness nought doth show, It is my love's being yet it cannot die, Nor will it change, though all be changed beside; Though fairest beauty be no longer fair, Though vows be false, and faith itself deny, Though sharp enjoyment be a suicide, And hope a spectre in a ruin bare.
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