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13lionz · 23 minutes ago
Flesh of my flesh, When it’s dark and hell is hot, In the bleak mid winter And summer’s own spell. Blade of my sage, Stories spoken with edge, Of warriors in motion Cuttin’ mirrors in daze, A trance of a sort Like our poems on page, The sermons of past Paints the path for the age, For a future is written On the actions of presence, On this moment this day We rewrite every penance, Absolve every action That has haunted our story. Be complete not at peace, Vibe it high and aligned, You’ve been blessed w/ these wings, W/ a sword to your right. • • • #riseinpower #dmx #dogsforlife #reincarnation #buddhabowl #angelwings #poet #warrior #9 (at PLANET EARTH.SPACE)
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goldenpoetess · 24 minutes ago
instead of the translucent cloud of smoke leaving my lungs
i wish it was my soul leaving me
to drift off and dissipate in the air
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genevieve-lavigne · 56 minutes ago
What Survives
Who says that all must vanish?
Who knows, perhaps the flight
of the bird you wound remains,
and perhaps flowers survive
caresses in us, in their ground.
It isn't the gesture that lasts,
but it dresses you again in gold
armor —from breast to knees—
and the battle was so pure
an Angel wears it after you.
Rainer Maria Rilke
Translated by A. Poulin
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edge-poetry · an hour ago
someone: what feels like something difficult to do but isnt?
me: living
someone: what
me: what
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hart-forrest · an hour ago
On Lightning
When I learned  about lightning They kept It clean, Pure cut And cold.
But I saw red scars, What god Had given, Burning rivers Snap raging.
They said Biblical bursts of white But there is fire In the sky
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jimjakk · 2 hours ago
In Your Apartment for the First Time in Months
"This house / was once full of orange lotuses." #Poem: "In Your Apartment for the First Time in Months" #poetry
In your red dress you ask what you want me to say to you but Lagunitas sips the words I wanted in June out of me leaving only amber hops & honey to ooze from my mouth. You spit a tumbleweed toward the wall & it sticks. You say all I wanted was to know you. Here I sink into the quicksand of tan leather couch. This house was once full of orange lotuses. We would burst flame into bloom in the…
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blackinkmess · 2 hours ago
NaPoWriMo 2021 - Day 18
I feel the rhythm I let it move me I trust the flow this natural state of being. I will not question I will not analyze I will simply let it be. This feels so good I just want to soak in every single second. I want to surrender to this beauty. I want to drown in the wonder.
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Follow my instagram: @poetically.allison if you’d like to see more of my poetry ☺️
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headlightsforever · 3 hours ago
An “Image” is that which presents an intellectual and emotional complex in an instant of time. I use the term “complex” rather in the technical sense employed by the newer psychologists, such as Hart, though we might not agree absolutely in our application. It is the presentation of such a “complex” instantaneously which gives that sense of sudden liberation; that sense of freedom from time limits and space limits; that sense of sudden growth, which we experience in the presence of the greatest works of art. It is better to present one Image in a lifetime than to produce voluminous works.
Ezra Pound, A Few Don’ts by an Imagiste
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bboyibsta · 3 hours ago
Helena in the window
Helena in the window
With her tattoos and her bagpipeand her rainbow hair and her skirt that tore into pieces Helena needs new nail polishand a new rubber dildo she needs to sing but her dad’s in the next room, always working Jewish dad, single-minded dad, he teaches at OxfordMr. Lionel with his curly hair all white and stiff Helena divorced three times Helena had eight silver strands in an otherwise colorful…
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shadow-lilith · 4 hours ago
The Snake Pit
finding a warm body
isn't hard to do
I can stay warm at night
with any other fool
but do you feel
the throbbing chest
shortened breath
pupils expanding
welcome death
mouth to mouth
or skin to sweat
the never ending
pleasure threats
do you dream
of your Red Queen
the bitch you lost your bets
or is your mind
all squeaky clean
from the bind in bed with demons
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lnmpoems · 4 hours ago
My heart has become a shallow grave for other people’s disappointment. Disappointment that life didn’t turn out better. That I can’t fill the hole they’ve been so desperately trying to fill.
When they touch my skin, they leave a trail of tears and sadness that once there. Never leave. I am covered in invisible trails of tears and no one can see them but me.
I know the story behind each drop. These are stories that have followed me for years. They’re like lost souls with no real home. It’s like a house with no door or windows. My body is vacant of furniture and instead is completely bare.
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antipodeanwriter · 4 hours ago
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The road to Hell is paved with: good intentions? Evil thoughts? Misdeeds? Satanic temptation? Find out in “The Road to Hell”: a celebration and reflection upon Dante’s “Inferno”, the first part of the “Divine Comedy”. Another original poetry collection by Antipodean Writer now available on Amazon @ Join the conversation @ Visit the site @ #AntipodeanWriter #TheRoadtoHell #Inferno #DanteAlighieri #Dante #Poetry #DivineComedy #poetry #poetrycommunity #poem #poet #writer #poems #writing #wordporn #poetryisnotdead #writerscommunity #wordgasm #words #author #god #jesus #bible #gospel #christian #jesuschrist #poetsociety #poetrylovers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram
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pebblesfromtheshore · 4 hours ago
Table Manners.
She crossed her legs. Out of the corner of his eye could see a pale hint of skin. He fixed his gaze on her eyes. She met his gaze, the eyes laughed at him. "You will look eventually" she spoke in a lowered tone, casually confident.
"I might do alot of things….. eventually" he responded. However her gaze had more effect than the bared pale skin of her thigh. He shifted uncomfortably. Her eyes involuntarily glanced down, tracing the outline she sought, beneath the creased blue of his suit trousers. Satisfied she glanced up. His turn to smile.
He deliberately raked her with his gaze while she watched, pausing to watch the pulse beat in her neck, he saw her breathing shorten, quicken as his gaze slid down her curves, caressed by the dress, but still clear in outline. He licked his lips. She watched him intently, absorbing each part of his face, the scar on his forehead, the blue grey eyes looking into her own, the muscles flex as his jaw tensed. Her emotions betrayed as her dress puckered her excitement hardening visibly. He raised an eyebrow as he saw the echo of his own growing excitement.
"Hmmmm" it was the sound of approval. He roved lower, eyes over the curve of her belly, the round sweep as her dress clung to her creases celebrating her figure and disappeared under her thighs, no longer pressed together. Under the pressure of his gaze, she relaxed her legs and her thighs parted a fraction.
He lingered over her hands, resting on one thigh, nails sharp, but neat, strong colours highlighting their place on her fingers curled around a napkin He imagined how they would look curled around flesh, tightly held.
His discomfort intensified.
He looked up. "Shall we go?" More a statement than a request.
"Can you like that? " she nodded at the obvious bulge, eyes bright in amusement .
He stood up, uncaring, proud. She reached for her bag beneath the table, accidentally resting against him. He stiffen automatically, her neck arched, looking round she frowned "Oh that won’t do" she muttered. But uncaring he pressed forward, bulge pushing between the folds of her dress .
His hand pressed her shoulder upwards, she straightened against him. She could feel his breath behind her ear as he whispered "Don't play with me. "
He reached for her hand and drew it gently across the buckle of his leather belt. She breathed in hard. He let her hand alone, it lingered then dropped obediently to her side.
She twisted away towards the door, looking over her shoulder as he left notes on the table. Large notes. He caught her by the entrance as she paused. It was raining.
He slipped his jacket over her shoulders, hand gently brushing her, imperceptively, deliberately.
"Don't want to get wet" he mused.
"Too late" she whipped back, eyes meeting his, for a second. She held his gaze, invitation, answer, agreement, all in one look.
She turned and holding his arm they strode out to the car.
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depressionisms · 4 hours ago
I am learning the things
that can only be taught by the mountains
and the oceans
at their varying heights of authority.
lessons from cracked brick walkways
and what the northerners do not know
about sweet tea.
the tropics burn cool
and the pine straw falls into a bed
and come close,
and sit with me,
and let us write our own history.
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antipodeanwriter · 4 hours ago
Who are the dwarves? From whence do they come? What do they think of men? Find out in “Songs of the Dwarves”: which records the songs of war, sorrow, and laughter that form an important part of the heritage of these warriors and sturdy dwellers under mountain-stone. Another original poetry collection by Antipodean Writer now available on Amazon @ Join the conversation @ Visit the site @ #antipodeanwriter #songsofthedwarves #dwarves #dwarf #lotr #lordoftherings #goblin #poetry #poetrycommunity #poem #poet #writer #poems #writing #wordporn #poetryisnotdead #writerscommunity #wordgasm #words #thoughts #author #fantasy #poetsociety #poetrylovers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #instapoet #writersofig
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thotrimbaud · 4 hours ago
I talk about poetry, liminality, Roger Waters, and the role of art in politics with incisive blog Publius Enigma! Neat!
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multiglory18 · 4 hours ago
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Day 17: Upside Down Poem
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