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phoebe-a-poetry · 3 months

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I don’t drink anymore.[which you might think is strange because all we ever use to do was sip until our souls melted into the shape of peace] [but it’s January and for the first time the world doesn’t feel like it’ll end even though cruelty blankets humanity but I guess that’s how it has always been] [I found God back in August in the middle of the week] [I was eating a sandwich listening to some crazy lady talk about her fathers rage and her mothers indifference as she fed the birds] [the way she loved burned a hole into my stomach and before I finished eating I was full of something so foreign my body almost rejected it] [thinking of you still slices me clean open and it’s painful but it’s growth so I never stop talking about it or writing about it or feeling it] I can’t. I’m afraid if I do that’ll be the thing that kills me.

#sobriety #poetsandartists #poets on poetry #poetry and prose #prose writing #sober #living sober

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autumnsunshine10 · 1 year

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Indigo Blues

Glimpsing the lady of the lake

Take a smooth swan dive

Into the indigo of wasted tears

Murky vision sand gritting

Algae tossed surface sun dappled

Dreams of floating far from

Where we are--love, or acute angina

Anchoring in place like Andromeda

When we long to tumble headlong

Into unknown waves...let's

Indigo away

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whispersofthepurplevalley · 19 hours

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On Silence, Emptiness and Acceptance

If I don't tell you, you won't know that I have been quiet for a while now. So quiet that I only hear the voices of my mind and soul. Everything else is the kind of music I carefully avoid. A nomad once, I have now settled in the abyss of nothingness. I am nothing. Nothing is me. This void is neither apocalyptic nor enlightening. It's just there, like a guest who visits without a notice and you are too kind to ask if they are leaving anytime soon. You let them stay for as long as they want and try to do your best to host them well. It's been three months now. Three months of quietness, silent suffering, harsh confrontation with bitter truths and cruel acceptance. Three months of standing at the centre of a nameless hurricane, letting the play of pressure weather me to the last limit. I wonder what I am curious about. My patience or the person I become if I manage to come out alive of this embraced torture.

From grief to fears, from fears to numbness, from numbness to detachment, from detachment to loneliness, from loneliness to falling for death, from the face of death to the gate of life: a circle I have covered way too many times. And in the process I have left the world behind me, the desire to dream, the urge to give value to my name and the eagerness to house love in me. All I am now is an empty space where there used to thrive a tropical forest once. Nothing seems to grow here anymore. Nothing can. It's a long wait, I can tell, before this destroyed soil chooses a seed again for flourishing.

"So this is what it is like to taste death before dying," I tell myself every day. An anthophile, I love daisies. Daisies tell me that resurrection is real. Who knows what I will be in my next life. Hopefully, the being is equally kind and equally in sync with art. I won't be me without words, painting, songs and silence.

-Sabina Yesmin

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thequotepie · 2 years

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Fall in love with poets and you will get to know how beautiful love can be :)

#poetsandwriters #poets on tumblr #female poets #dead poets society #young poets #writers and poets #poets on poetry #new poets society #poetscreed #poetsandartists #poetsandpoetry #poetsandtexts #poetry #love poetry #poetry about love

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silkwovenwords · 2 years

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I am learning to forgive myself from all the hurt and pain endured from others.

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ginadope · 1 year

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I have solar daydreams to give in to Spring used to land warm on my skin Green was greener, and it could Genuinely be seen We can take one more walk Just one play-pretend The shade in my eyes, it will decide: Fill us up to the brim Drain us, and leave Leave for the grim Kind of resolve

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snehadarkacademia · 2 years

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An excerpt from // the songs of the universe//

Stay tuned for more updates<3

SHRIKE

The beauty of the awakening dawn

Also means the fall of moon

All the red soon dead and gone

Is what means to be the flowers that bloom

With remembrance so ephemeral

Oh how dreary to be a flower

Petals so beautiful equally infernal

With all that water still devours

With remembrance deeper than roots

As dry and dead as us

And memories as sharp as it's thorns

How lovely and rare to be a cactus

Now all the flowers have died

In this dry desert of love

But the waters of the tears I've cried

Shall keep us alive beyond and above

In midst of this apocalypse

With no love left to water and flow

I'll be the shrike to your iron rooted memories

And along with the sharp thorns grow

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kharacore · 1 year

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how you spend your days is how you spend your life how you spend your days is how you spend your life how you spend your days is how you spend your life……!!!!!!

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grammymumzy · 1 year

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A great writer must wear a great hat, Any amateur poet knows that. If your topper's too slim, Or your boater lacks brim, Or your chapeau is fluffed, Or your bowler’s not buffed,Illustration © Chris Riddell 2016 If your beret has shrunk Or your fez is a flunk, And your pillbox is flat Or your porkpie’s no hat… You really should know, That the words will not flow. One’s hat has to pass, For its style and its class, Or, to put it more simply, If your hat is too …pimply, Too dull, or too ugly, or brown... Then the words will not work And you’ll look like a berk, Unlike me, in my marvelous crown. Poem ©Kathryn Evans 2016

#poetry #poetic #poe #poetsdaily #poetsandauthors #poetsandartists #poetsandwriters #poems

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fruitfulodyssey · 1 year

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Sleepless nights in her arms are coveted by men desperate for comfort.

She's peace & serenity incarnate..

Her embrace soft & warm,

Tender & welcoming, her touch

Sweet & graceful.

Her words nectar for the soul

As I'm snuggled up in her arms.

I Soak in her presence, drowning

In her nurturing spirit, shunning the hours.

I've found belonging in a home,

Who knew it resided behind skin & bone.

She held alittle tighter

& whispered

"Welcome, my beloved, I'm happy you're home"

- comfort in her arms

#poem #poetry #poet #spilled ink #thoughts #words #spilled thoughts #new poets society #spilled words #fruitfulodyssey #poetsandwriters #poetsandartists #poetsandauthors #original writing #black woman #black relationships #black love #writing promt #poetry portal

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moon-shower · 1 year

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I wish for a chance I beg of you, please if you could just know me you’d know you’d know that I’m worth something but they give me chances and chances and chances and I fail to prove anything

— moon-shower | some linger, but at a distance

#I love poetry because you don’t have to be good at it for it to be worth something #there aren’t any rules to follow or break #you can just write and it’s something #just by being written #poetry #poem #spilled words #original poem #light academia #dark academia #poets on tumblr #poetscommunity #poetsandartists #writers and poets

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phoebe-a-poetry · 1 month

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Truthfully it scares me, the unnerving thought of a home. Yes, I desire something to call my own. A space containing no loud noise, open windows to hear strangers living strange lives while I sit on a carpeted floor webbing my fingers out as if to weave myself into the structure itself. But my world had been small, and even then it was hard to swallow. And my ideas only knew bounds, they were soaked with shallowness and bred with mundanity. I was one thing, in one place, owning one handful of hearts. Something had known me my whole life, while I had not known myself at all. I want to be learned as I learn myself. Most pressingly, I want to be unlearned. Almost forgotten every night to be studied with unbiased come morning. What happens when I become my home? What happens if you want nothing to do with me?

#poetry and prose #poems #poets on poetry #prose writing #female writers #girlhood/godhood #poetsandartists #poetry #strange world strange girl #poems on tumblr #instagram poet #finding my way out of a burning home #i was the burning home

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autumnsunshine10 · 1 year

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Table's Turned

(Her:)

I can turn it off quicker

Than you can turn me out

And when you tune me out baby

Don't think I don't know what it's about

You sing "Walk the Line" convincingly

No trace of irony like you believe

I can't see your shuffling feet

Keep 'em moving and once you leave

Don't you dare try running back to me

I will be untouchable far from reach

Already laid the foundation

On a wall you'll never breach

------------------------------------

(Him:)

You pushed me away now you pull

Me in again and I feel this is a game

I can never hope to win with the rules

Made up on the fly, your whims

Changing in the blink of your wild eyes

Saying you realize you've been a fool

But you don't fool me...even with full lips

Pressed up against mine I can read

Between the lies on your plastered walls

It's a fool's paradise, Eden's fall

I walk the line that leads away from you

And if I look back, let me turn to salt

Inspired by the prompt: he/she came back

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whispersofthepurplevalley · 2 days

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Reconnect with your heart. Celebrate its uniqueness. Allow it the independence. It's not made to beat for all. Free it to be different, to be its own ordinary, to be enough to survive the wars of this world, to have its own rhythm, for it doesn't need to race to win love.

-Sabina Yesmin

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psylynt-p · 10 months

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[light me up]

become a fixture,

always of service,

hardly a pleasure past acting

as a little mirror... reflecting

back exactly what they want,

or else...

---

solace in understanding, solace

in seeing the part that doesn't change,

this heart and soul connection taut,

intimate with silence, rest, the short space

between breaths.

-

tired of waiting and tired of distractions,

I'd rather be combustible liquid, ready

to go.

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silkwovenwords · 2 years

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Ecstasy

My lungs are etched with the breath that lingers just to taste your soul again

Hedonism cracks through the walls and hisses at me

I lay in the water with my heart on fire begging to be in the sea

He looks at me with such a force, it's almost impossible to breathe

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