#sometimes i think i could write poetry

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

made a small poem with the Safety Sign Generator. something about hands.

#the levels of signal words goes in reverse from most serious to least also #Lu rambles #environmental storytelling #as an aesthetic tag not a technical description #sometimes I think I could write poetry #does it rhyme? no. did I think it sounds good? yes

[true-squid]

ok but you dont fucking get it. i love you and it doesnt mean what you think. its not heteronormative and its not nuclear and it cant be described in a way that has words. there arent words for it. its not queerplatonic. its not romantic. its not platonic. its none of those things. its incomprehensive. its unwordable. its not because youre my lover or my mother or my sibling or my friend its none of those things. you dont fucking understand. we fuck and we share our feelings and we abandom the status quo and part of the point is that we dont make sense. isnt it? isnt it?

i feel alterous. thats the best word for it because there isnt one thats better and i dont think there ever will be. its not about not wanting to be romantic or sexual its about being different. its about a new fucking category, a secret third thing, yes and no, what happens when you mix everything and nothing together.

its because i see love differently. ive recontextualized it, made myself to view it in a way that is outside of the general conception of love. i want to explain it to you but i just cant. i want to but i dont know how. you need to feel it. you need to know what its like to be alien

im aromantic and im asexual

#aroace #aromantic #asexual #poetry #squid writes #this is meant to be a poem #the “you” is just part of the poem #its not directed at anyone #ive just been thinking about this a lot #and what its like for me being asexual #i dont know where to look for people who experience asexuality the way i do #so sometimes i feel pretty alone #like an “other” #i dont think its bad to be other i just wish i could find the other others

[greenand-blue]

Chris smells like the forest, woody, earthy, with all the force of an early spring monsoon. Green tea with milk and honey, dirt and sweat and the faint iron of blood from bruised knuckles and scraped knees and busted lips. The clean scent of the hand lotion he uses to desperately soothe the screaming calluses on his palms from climbing everything in sight that he swears is unscented. The quiet understanding and security of a library. Middle shelf liquor and willingly bloodying your knuckles for the ones you love. Spitting blood in the sink at 2am and praying no one sees it. The restless whispers on the wind of “let’s go”. The sharp scent of the middle of the night, right before it snows.

Chris Kratt smells like adventure.

Martin smells like the ocean; salty and sweet and inviting and dangerous all at the same time. Chocolate ice cream and vanilla lattes and a foraged meal in the middle of nowhere. He smells like the grace and patience and protectiveness that can only come with being an eldest sibling, the glue that holds everyone together. Dirt and sweat from the trail, the spray deodorant he only bought because it had a kraken on the label. Clean linen and little bits of everyone else, parts of his family rubbed off onto him from the constant hugs he offers. He smells like it’s his god given right to seize every day he’s given. He smells warm, like hot chocolate with extra marshmallows. Watching the sun set over a calm ocean, feeling safe.

Martin Kratt smells like home.

Aviva smells like lavender, fresh and wild. She smells like oil and metal and that fruity body spray she shares with Koki that the two insist on stocking up on whenever they’re in Germany. Black coffee and espresso shots and energy drinks, she smells like too much to do and not enough sleep. Gears turning and a fire burning in her belly, a desperate fight to make sure her hard work will one day pay off and her legacy will be remembered. Constantly striving to be better; a better inventor, a better friend, a better human. The same hand lotion Chris uses, but she is humble enough to admit that it smells like fresh cut grass. Pride and confidence and the skills to back them up.

Aviva Corcovado smells like innovation.

Koki smells like a wood stove, fiery and passionate. The fruity body spray she shares with Aviva, mixed with mocha lattes and the sweat of weightlifting. Hair oil and silken bonnets. The exhaust her computers spew out. Brown liquor and fried food. Hot maple syrup served at a diner with waffles and strawberry lip gloss. The scent of being unafraid to throw a punch when her family is in danger; never starting fights, but always ending them. She smells like getting the last laugh and blackmail and always having something on someone.

Koki smells like family.

Jimmy smells like freshly baked bread, warm and inviting. Hearty meals wafting from the kitchen, welcoming his loved ones inside to rest after a long day. The warmth of a wood stove. Old Spice deodorant and sickly sweet clouds of the best weed, which no one knows who he gets it from and he refuses to tell, but at least he’s willing to share. Stone washed denim and green apple shampoo and new converse sneakers and fearful curiosity. Skateboard decks and scraped knees and Neosporin and band-aids from one too many falls. He smells like talking your way out of a fight, immediately getting help when someone’s hurt. Chocolate covered kettle corn and movie nights and vanilla bean frappchinos.

Jimmy smells like togetherness.

#ft my personal headcanon that Chris uses to get into fights a lot #and still does sometimes #anyway #idk what this is #but I like it and I think it’s pretty #it could either come across as kinda creepy or really poetic #wild kratts #martin kratt #chris kratt #2d martin kratt #mine #2d chris kratt #aviva corcovado #jimmy z #Koki #wild kratts koki #my writing #does this count as poetry #ah fuck it #poetry

[weirdopponent]

FRUITS THAT COULD HAVE BEEN GROWING ON THE TREE OF KNOWLEDGE

The apple, the classic, bright red like struck skin

fits firmly in your palm.

You crush it in your teeth and between your jaws, it snaps like broken bone.

Scavengers feast on what remains, what you leave behind.

The pomegranate, cut in half, bleeds like a heart

from four chambers, from its severed veins

which it doesn't need anymore, taken from its body like this

The peach falls to the ground and no one catches it in time

and it bruises readily, tenderly

martyred for the health of the earth

The cherry grows in pairs

One holds the other which holds the other back

When you split them apart, the ladder of your ribs aches in sympathy

The apricot shines golden from its perch in the golden sun

reminding you of the guardians blinding halo, its fierce flaming swords

Is it ever blinded? The fruit is sweet on the tongue

A banana?

That's just silly.

#dont have anything from my other stuff progress was really slow on both today she is red and no stars tonight #also im just kind of embarrassed posting fanfic sometimes #its easier to write since half of the work is already done #so i have a lot more of it than my og stuff #originals #poetry #poets on tumblr #this was mostly imagery practice but i kinda like it #i wanna add a rhyme scheme to it maybe #something else i havent done lately is alliterative verse but alliteration is so fun. especially if you focus on mid word instead of the beg #inning of the word #christianity tw #lmfao #i could change the ending to make it more serious too like #the previous drafts it was funny i think but the more i worked on it the less it fits #OH WELL #was still a fun little thing to do

[britneyshakespeare]

can you believe there was a time in my life where i wanted to be a professional actress

#this blog was witness to it #tales from diana #i dont think i could handle being an actress even if i were talented enough and had the professional opportunity #i just want to lick a first folio. that has been my dream #i used to want to ACT though i wanted to ACT act #like i played music and that was the era in my life when i REALLY started writing poetry #i forget entirely sometimes that that era in my life was. the era when i wanted to be an actress #i think i just like actresses. or love rather. i find them so enchanting #is there anything more charming than a good performance? those shadows? that make you feel? #probably not. i would love to embody art. but i'm not even good at making it #ah oh well #the art i'm best at is talking to myself. and among some crowds i am very famous for that!

[amalgamationink]

NAPOWRIMO24 #25: BRIEF MENTAL HEALTH QUESTIONNAIRE

#prompt: a poem based on the proust questionaire. it can be based on your answers to the Qs; on the Qs; or you can write a new questionnaire #i think it's pretty obvious which one i went with. i'm not sure i like the result but i like the concept a lot. i'd like to return to it. #maybe with some answers? formatted more like a questionnaire? idk. it could be good i know it could #right now it is SOOOO teenage emo poetry. but that's okay. sometimes that's what you have in you. #napowrimo 2024 #napowrimo #spilled ink #writeblr #poetry on tumblr #poems on tumblr #poets on tumblr #poetry #poems #poem #damien.txt #img desc in alt text

[ramayantika]

Yes, I won't be there around you all the time. I won't be able to wipe your tears with my fingers all the time. I don't miss you as much as you do when we are apart. I roam the world, with dreams and aspirations as huge and as wide as the sky. They tell me you haven't been a good wife forget being a good lover but it is you I want to come back home to. I will not be home for months but I will send letters, ten pages long for every month with a small love poetry that will only make sense to you. When I win the world, I am a star for them, a performer and artist in their eyes, a nomad who roams around leaving pieces of their creation everywhere but it's you I choose to come back every time every night in the warm bed that you make. It's your lips that I seek to steal a kiss from and it's your embrace that would take away all the tiredness from my limbs.

#samridhi speaks #what is this #samridhi in her feels #love is a choicw #could I ever tske a break from my dreams and aspirations never? that sometimes makes me wonfer where would I stand in a family setting #especially indian famililes #sure I will bitch and cry about my work get angry and stomp my feet hard everytime I do a dance step wrong #but fuck it I love it I want all the beautiful and ugly parts with it #I want to see the world dance in it and write hundreds of poetry and stories #but it's only one person I want to come home to who knows me that my heart solely belongs to him in whole #there's so much to see so much to learn and create #I have had some boys telling me oh you would make a good girlfriend #if you break up or something and if I am singlr I would literally marry you later on #and somehow that makes me see the because oh yes a woman practicing dance is pleasing to the eye and she will be traditional #and she'll be soft hearted so yeah good bahu #what do you even know about me #I would choose dance over everything₹ #I will literally bleed cry sweat around to make things work #these guys think yeah she wears pretty dresses is a devotee of krishna and all so nice snd good no squabling #some told me you are pretty you shoulf pass your beauty to the next gen #and I was gagging internally #I want to create a legacy for every woman after me who is enriched with art wisdom and knowledge #whose face shall shine with divine wisdom from years of seeking knowledge #fuck taking breaks from career to be thst supposedly good gf or wife #my parents spend so muvh money and time fot my studies and dancing #my mother sits with me as I create and discuss dance and I would leave that all to be your idea of a good bahu and mother

[oh-cramity-its-amity]

its so weird to read some of my old fics (do NOT do it but i'm just being hypothetical rn) and reading it. like who even was this person?? i completely was in a haze back in 2020. i literally was posting 3 chapters a day. A DAY. what in the WORLD was that shit.

anyway i remembered some STUPID sappy shit and i didnt remember if i'd put it into a fic or not BUT I FOUND IT.

She and Hope had been dating in secret for months anyway, and any attempt to go talk to Ryan only filed her disposition of displeasure upon knowing that she couldn’t tell anyone, Molly especially, it destroyed herself mentally. They couldn’t really go anywhere near the school, always having to lie to everyone about having projects together when Molly wasn’t around them. It’d consisted with 9 PM - 2 AM intervals of being able to actually see each other. Hope would sneak through her small bedroom window with a portable record player and whatever she had gotten from the vintage record store downtown, and Amy would always fall asleep around eleven because of her internal clock. She would always wake up to find a single sticky note stuck on the edge of her desk whenever she woke up to her alarm the next morning. One of them, Amy still had tucked inside of her phone case, a heavily detailed human heart, with blue and red ink sketched onto a neon pink sticky note, there was a caption that headed the small paper reading the phrase over every now and again makes her almost melt every time. “You have my heart.”

yeah idk why the fuck but i thought of this fucking idea again today and i was like "omg did i ever put that heart note thing in a fic???" yeah you fucking did.

all that to say ME AND WHO???? imagine. thats so fucking.... RAHHHH.

#NOT TOH FANFIC #see this is why i write fanfic. to enact some gay ass shit like this. #the fucking STICKY NOTE WITH A DRAWING OF A HUMAN HEART AND SAYING “YOU HAVE MY HEART” I AM ON THE FLOOR. #*sighs* sucks i cant reuse it on lumity though. #my friend making me realize i actually have rizz but am just too much of a disaster to actually understand cues with people #its a MESS. im just all over the place. i literally ranted to THE SAME FRIEND yesterday (or the day before??) abt some girl jesus. #anyway i remember writing A LOT OF POETRY back in hs about this one girl and then the same girl i got to talk to-- #--my first actual conversation with her i blurted out that i wanted to shave my head. she was like.... oooooo god i was A MESS #still slid into her school dms during covid and was like “haha guess what i actually mf did???” anyway all that to say underlying dysphoria #they're nonbinary now too and i kinda ghosted them like a complete idiot :(. its been two years or so but i still think of them... a lot... #actually i have more lore about this person and its like istg they actually really liked me but i could not pick it up. #we had such SUCH good chemistry and vibes. n they were really pretty. ughhhhhh. #anyway yeah idk crushes are weird sometimes. the universe knows how unstoppable id be with a partner #i feel like i was the reason they were able to find themself and their identity because when we were talking i always encouraged them #and told them to do what felt right. im glad they did. i think sometimes that brings me peace. like i served a purpose. #STILL showed them toh. STILL SHOWED THEM TOH. #we were talking about amity LMAO “this green haired girl seems interesting” SHE SO WAS. #...yeah i wish i could text them but i kinda probably fucked it up. #shitposting shit #idk what this post is i just wanted to talk about this dumb sticky note thing because im rotating it in my brain and remembering how #mentally ill i was back in 2020 #talking into the void yk how it isssss

[lookninjas]

1836.

greeted home tonight by fireworks above the pines, the whine of bottlerockets and somewhere the yapping of a small dog deeply unhappy the borderline between one year and the next nothing more than a few hours of darkness and the same streets waiting to find you in the morning

#365 #poetry #what's funny is that i swear to you that i have been writing one poem a day now for a number of years #i don't feel like doing division but there are years and there's a number it's definitely more than one #but i know damn well that if i did the math it would not at all divide nicely into a good number of years #like it's off by some strange number of poems #and i could dig and dig and never tell you how it happened #it's 1800 poems that's a lot of poems i'm not going through to figure out where i lost count at this point #but yeah i do think about that sometimes actually

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

the cry of "hallelujah" as both a praise and a plea. in English, "Praise God" is only a syllable away from "Please, God".

#sometimes I think I could write poetry #this isn't a poem it's just a random thought but I do love mixing legitimate linguistics with whatever my brain comes up with #so. yeah #Lu rambles #faith tag

[writerwithtoomanyships]

One thing I've tried to learn is that there are people who will never be as connected to poetry as I am. There are people who won't understand it's just as much a part of me as my heartbeat, my bones, my soul, there are people who won't understand it brought me back from the dead, how it killed me and revived me and brought me out of what I've been through bruised and scarred but alive, there are some people who never had the connection to poetry I did, that I still do, because when the were falling poetry wasn't the branch they managed to grab onto for dear life. I forget this a lot.

#rambles #my rambles #the irony is i get hurt a lot bc of this #i say something poetic or show a poem to the wrong person and theyre just confused or just give an uninterested response #ig its why i keep that part of me to myself now #sometimes im scared ill never find someone as connected to poetry as i am #someone who understands my body is more ink than blood #idk #its a weird thought #it feels like everyone who adores poetry as much as I do died decades or centuries ago #do you ever wish you could back in time? to your favorite poet in particular #and just hug them and tell them you feel what they feel that both of you thought no one else ever would and write poetry with them #just be there #knowing youre not the only person in your time period to think in broken poetry #logically i know theres other people like me who probably feel what i feel and who loves poetry to the extent i do #but theyre always out of reach #how do you tell someone when you were 14 you were in a mental hospital and there was a rotting apple outside your room window #and it was the most poetic thing youve ever seen #how do you tell someone when you were even younger than that you saw a dead crow on the side of the road and it broke your heart so much #that you scribbled a poem (still your favorite one) about its stolen flight into one of your many notebooks #so it could be immortal #how do you explain all that to someone #especially someone who has never grabbed hold of a poem til their knuckles turned white bc it was the only thing keeping you alive #putting this in the tags bc i doubt anyone will read it

[angelhound]

.

#have been writing lately instead of painting and idk…. how i feel about that #never have i considered myself a writer #i mean i write bad romantic poetry sure. but im writing fiction. novels if u will. and i Like it. :/ #its uncomfortable. idk. maybe if i make companion paintings itll feel less obscure. perhaps a web comic will come out of it #ive never been into structured writing ever ever. but it felt… salty. like sweat drying on your skin. gratifying. to finish a whole piece. #it was a fit of mania perhaps. and i have more still bubbling there is much to create. i just have never created in this format before #hate it almost. digging my heels but its pointless to resist where the water knows to go you know? i cannot feel this way about painting #if that is not what is meant to be made at this time. the wild horse of inspiration will not bend to my comfort #yes i know i am an artist in the worst way. yes im aware of how i sound. i am not proud but i suppose i cannot either be ashamed #if i cannot be another way #idk i always wanted to be an airhead lol. before anyways. my grandfather does not understand his gift is as enviable as my own #hes not an airhead you could not imagine so after listening to him. but he is enigmatic in that way. #socialized better maybe. the gift of living as you imagine because you are not imagining at all #i never wanted to be reclusive. driven by fits of madness. but i dont have another way known to me #the life i imagine is lived by those who are not imagining it #but idk i think less nowadays. it helps to figure myself an unsocialized dog. something to be solved by careful hands #ugh. god with how i talk sometimes i wonder how it surprises me to become a pos writer. who else talks like that #anyways im incredibly ill still lol going to again attempt to shower the virus out of me

[ficsforeren]

So as a writer whose first and only language is English the porcelain comments got my attention. I and many others write the term "porcelain" or "porcelain skin" just like you do. It's actually a term that can mean many things such as: a light complexion, smooth/clear/unblemished skin, or delicate/fragile. If people give you problems with how you use it, adding a bit more context might pacify them. Maybe just something like: "Her skin reminded him of porcelain, as beautiful as it is fragile. As if he gripped her too tightly, he could shatter her into a million pieces to be scattered across the winds." Maybe that way they wouldn't misunderstand how you mean it. But either way I say write it however you want because your writing is absolutely brilliant even if you actually meant to give the Reader a description (which most of us know you didn't use it with that intention). But if you limit yourself to what only a few people care about instead of writing how you want to, it may make you worry when writing in the future. So, what I'm trying to say is just ignore any rude comments like that and do/write what makes you happy. Because when you enjoy what you write the rest of us can tell. And those of us who really like your writing will be able to feel the enjoyment you had when writing the piece and that will make us even happier to read it.

dudeeee I WISH I could write something as beautiful as that, you're brilliant 😭😭😭 that sounds like a poem omgggg I don't think i could write that even if i tried 😭 but yes, thank you for the support and your advice. You're right, that way people wouldn't misunderstand. I'll try to improve my skill and hopefully I can write as good as you one day too 😊

also, you're very sweet, thank you so much for your kind words, baby ❤️

#honestly i feel so jealous of people who can write fics so beautifully that they sound like poetries #i'm writing Ice & Fire with Aleks right now as you may have heard a thousand times before LOL and every time I read her part i was in awe #there's a love scene where she used pretty words to describe the moment the tension between the characters and i was in AWE #still am #i wish i could write like that but #sometimes i can't even think of a word to write cause my vocab is so limited 😭 #but i'll try my best to write and be better everyday! #kana answers stuff #kana gets some love!

[bugpov]

it takes suffering in order for one to know god, but they do not need to know god in order to believe in them. blind faith in god is the rejection of all fear and letting light be your guide. in that, you will surely find the clarity needed in order to see and the wiseness in order to go as far as you must. skepticism in god is the denial of fundamental truth and willful ignorance disguised as peace of mind and safety, or normality. in leading a life of such ignorance, one has chosen a path of fear and darkness in which you will surely fail. a blinding righteous light will shine upon your shadows and errors for wiseness will be inescapable upon the waking of your death and you will be at the mercy of love.

#snail sounds #just use discernment when light shines upon an idea #like it's fine to just be curious. just dont go too far #and dont jump to conclusions just cuz ur ego made up some conspiracy #the ego is just something we all made up to make up for the absence of gods voice in our heads that are just out of tune with it #i dont even read the bible these are just words that came to me n i think it's interesting #honestly i sound so pretentious but i promise this is so sincere #i just write so much poetry #and i feel like god speaks through me sometimes cuz it just comes out of nowhere . i just type or write some pretty profound things #without even thinking about it #maybe it's cuz i have moon in my third house libra + mars #my 3rd house moon gives me intuitive knowledge i think #kinda like how someone with moon in 12th could easily tune in to the frequencies of other peoples minds due to the mutability #of the 12th house and the intuition of the moon . basically just a slight mind reader #who can barely make out the energy of your inner voice and interpret it in their own way whether it's true or not

[smrookie]

i think i change my mind on richard siken's crush

#the first time i read it i called it beautiful but like mostly incoherent and incohesive #i reread some bits today and maybe its bc i havent gotten the change to pick apart poetry in a fun way in too long but. actually #i appreciate it more noq #now #also i think his poetry is best when its read aloud. i found some channels on youtube that do that and they all have like under 1k views #but r so well done!!!! #anyway. sorry to mr siken i get what u r trying to say purely based on vibes #i wish i could know what was actually going on in his mind but i think theres fun in never rly knowing #you are jeff is a personal favourite now #actually i'll talk some more: i think i said this last time but the recurring motif is violence and love always coming together is rly #special #bc its not just shallow violence sometimes its gore and its uncomfortable but u rly. Get It #hani pretentious hipster side is coming out but.... i wish i got to pick apart poems like these in school #the ones at school r also great but usually its stuff thats more easy to write essays abt LOL i mean im glad #if little beasts came out for a levels i think id piss myself #anyway. i also read a lot of quora posts to see what other ppl thought. soooo cool how one thing can be interpreted so differently

[roublardise]

.

#sometimes think about the poetry i wrote about him and i'm like #get so angry #he doesn't deserve that he doesn't deserve my nuance #how i both write it worst and better and the humanity i try to keep #he doesn't deserve shit from me and i wish i could stop giving </3 #might delete later