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#poetry month
amycre · 25 minutes ago
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Apartment Pet Peeves
Leaving dishes in the sink overnight
Forgetting to turn off the lights
Not hanging the bath mat over the side of the tub
A half-open tap going glub glub glub
When the stove is covered in splatters of oil
Or water takes a million years to boil
The sound of your neighbor's cackling laughter
Or a creepy crawly mouse up in the rafters
Crumbs from the floor attaching to bare feet
Freezer door left open, defrosting the meat
The smell of trash that needs to go out
These are apartment pet peeves that make me pout.
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haikusandstuff · an hour ago
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when you fall asleep
does my name turn over and
over in your mind?
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cricketmuse · an hour ago
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National Poetry Month: Elizabeth Bishop
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lunchboxpoems · an hour ago
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RAMADAN
You wanted to be so hungry, you would break into branches, and have to choose between the starving month’s nineteenth, twenty-first, and twenty-third evenings. The liturgy begins to echo itself and why does it matter? If the ground-water is too scarce one can stretch nets into the air and harvest the fog. Hunger opens you to illiteracy, thirst makes clear the starving pattern, the thick night is so quiet, the spinning spider pauses, the angel stops whispering for a moment— The secret night could already be over, you will have to listen very carefully— You are never going to know which night’s mouth is sacredly reciting and which night’s recitation is secretly mere wind—
KAZIM ALI
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tearinmyside · an hour ago
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NaPoWriMo, Day 19...
consummated
it always ends up coming down to this: completion, finality. it comes down to my mouth on your full bottom lip, your sofa's arm denting under the pressure, and my hands on your hips. you, saying you're wonderful, and me wanting desperately to believe it, wanting to hear you say it with your summer kissed skin over mine. the need is a perpetual thirst—three syllables of nectarous bliss tucked into my ribs, a bonfire of want we can barely conceal.
-kab
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drunk-on-writing · 2 hours ago
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"mirror" (tw)
the legends say that vampires disappear in front of a mirror but that doesn’t explain the way i’ve been vanishing because i’m no myth, i am flesh - i am a magic act in the flesh, losing flesh fading away piece by piece i pluck my own ribs and pick food out of my teeth with them, i drink water from the dips in my hips, i hallow out my collarbones until they’re bowls, i use my lip to feed lies to others i forget how much of myself i’ve lost until i catch a glimpse of my reflection sometimes i forget my mirror is a mirror; it looks more like a picture frame because i can’t recognize the person looking back at me
(cc, 2021)
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cacchieressa · 2 hours ago
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The Patience of Ordinary Things by Pat Schneider
   it is a kind of love, is it not?    how the cup holds the tea,    how the chair stands sturdy and foursquare,    how the floor receives the bottoms of shoes    or toes. how soles of feet know    where they’re supposed to be.    I’ve been thinking about the patience    of ordinary things, how clothes    wait respectfully in closets    and soap dries quietly in the dish,    and towels drink the wet    from the skin of the back.    and the lovely repetition of stairs.    and what is more generous than a window?
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sheshallfromtimetotime · 3 hours ago
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Oranges
I’ll choose for myself next time who I’ll reach out and take as mine, in the way I might stand at a fruit stall having decided to ignore the apples the mangoes and the kiwis but hold my hands above a pile of oranges as if to warm my skin before a fire. Not only have I chosen oranges, but I’ll also choose which orange — I’ll test a few for firmness scrape some rind off with my fingernail so that a citrus scent will linger there all day. I won’t be happy with the first one I pick but will try different ones until I know you. How will I know you? You’ll feel warm between my palms and I’ll cup you like a handful of holy water. A vision will come to me of your exotic land: the sun you swelled under the tree you grew from. A drift of white blossoms from the orange tree will settle in my hair and I’ll know. This is how I will choose you: by feeling you smelling you, by slipping you into my coat. Maybe then I’ll climb the hill, look down on the town we live in with sunlight on my face and a miniature sun burning a hole in my pocket. Thirsty, I’ll suck the juice from it. From you. When I walk away I’ll leave behind a trail of lamp-bright rind. -Roisin Kelly (x)
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lynniceberg · 4 hours ago
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Happy Poetry Month!
Giant Thunder by James Reeves
In the Desert by Stephen Crane
Sweet Love by John Keats
Alone by E.A. Poe
Sonnet 73 by William Shakespeare
My Cats by Charles Bukowski
The Lake of the Dismal Swamp by Thomas Moore
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van-oskuro · 4 hours ago
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Leviathan by Paul Buckley
In the depths of the darkest sea,
Floats a creature from whom all flee.
Encased in the shape of an enormous pitch-black whale;
Of its burning eyes, only few have lived to tell the tale.
It seems encased in an exoskeleton made of darkness,
No other creature can bear a likeness.
Steel ships are torn from bottom-up,
Like an inverted blowup.
All the stories always end the same,
With the survivor saying the monstrosity’s name…
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pflibteens · 4 hours ago
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National Poetry Month Annual Poetry Reading 2021
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secretwrlds · 5 hours ago
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i’m slowly sinking
into a dark hole
of sorrow.
my world becomes
a blur
of sad memories.
I don’t have
the strength
to stand up anymore.
everything around me
fades
disappears
along with myself.
a.r.
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filmnoirsbian · 5 hours ago
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haiku project / haikyo: abandoned japan by jordy meow
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margot-suydam · 6 hours ago
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Turtles On the Rampage
Turtles On the Rampage
Celebrating National Poetry Month: A Poem a Day Challenge Poem a day #19 is a response to prompts from NaPoWriMo and Write Better Poetry:1) Write humorous rant. In this poem, the speaker may excoriate to their heart’s content all the things that get on their nerves, and (2) write a “animal title” poem. In the words of Shakespeare,We beseech you, dear heron:“Away, you three-inch fool! “ You are…
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heavenisamechanism · 6 hours ago
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take care of yourself, sweetheart
the quiet without you an absence from the air an atmosphere we’ve grown gentle, enclosing holds me from parting to reunion
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keepmyfingers · 6 hours ago
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#19, Fairy Lights
I try to string These moments of joy Like fairy lights And hope for something meaningful in the spaces between Sometimes my heart just glows.
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heavenisamechanism · 7 hours ago
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autumn in spring
the intermixing of ice and sun grants sympathy to the experience of cats
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cityofchapin · 7 hours ago
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"A Statement from No One, Incorporated" by Justin Phillip Reed
For the 19th poem, I have chosen "A Statement from No One, Incorporated" by Justin Phillip Reed. #NationalPoetryMonth
I would like to say that my decision when choosing some of these poems was purely coincidental. I choose some of these poems a month in advance, after all. But it’s not coincidence; it’s just a sad fact of this country. Daunte Wright and Adam Toledo were both stripped of a future by police officers who shouldn’t have held the position in the first place. We can talk all we want. We can protest…
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mochiimoo · 7 hours ago
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'What is important,' he wrote, 'is to keep mind high in the world of true understanding, then, returning to daily experience, seek therein the true and the beautiful. No matter what the activity of the moment, we must never forget it has a bearing on everlasting self, our poetry.'
Basho (1644-94), On Love & Barley: Haiku of Basho
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