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poetrybyonur · 5 months

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When many people don’t even bother to read you when they pick you up, but only wish to look at your pretty pictures, we value the ones who choose to read us from cover to cover, relishing each paragraph and page, folding the corners of their favourite pages of us, not wanting to put us down. I cherish the ones who chose me to be their favourite book.

An older spoken word I redid. Please click on image to hear me speak.

Background music by Two Lanes.

#poets on tumblr #love quotes #love poetry #romantic poetry #love poem #romantic writer #onurtaskiran poetry #poets and writers #gentleman poet #love #poetrybyonur #spilled ink #writers on tumblr #spoken word #spoken word poetry #book lover #favourite book #british male poet #cockney

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mad-girlslove-song · 4 months

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"I have known that I have wanted to be an incredible mother for as long as I have feared being a regrettable daughter."

Blythe Baird

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megleepoetry · 1 year

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#10 word story #poets corner #spilledink #spilled thoughts #poets on tumblr #poetry #poetscommunity #writers of tumblr #10wordstories #writers #writers community #writerscorner #writers corner #spoken word poetry #spokenwords #poets of tumblr #spilled words #spilled ink #spoken thoughts

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i-am-just-a-girli · 6 months

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Their Second Choice

I hate being the second choice

I always am

I'm kind of pretty

But I'm not that kind of pretty

The one that boys look at photos of

I'm not a "look at her photos" Kind of girl

Not to boys

I'm just another girl they think is kind of cute

I'm just their second choice

And it just feels bad

Because,

This idea that he could never like me the most of any girl

I will never be his "most"

...

By:- @raeganspoetry on Instagram

#poetry #spilled poetry #spilled ink #poem #poetrycommunity #writing #spoken word #spoken word poetry #spoken poetry #second choice #pretty #insecure #Instagram poetry #raeganspoetry #someone in the comment box of the reel wrote #you're the first choice to the right person #and that was so cute & true 💕

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mareenavee · 2 months

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Amaranthine

For Indoril Jinumon, for January's Prompt:

“It’s no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then.” ― Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland

The Nerevarine answers Vivec's musings in Metempsychosis.

Amaranthine

I have had the misfortune of knowing you – the god whose power was borrowed from the Heart of this world. Half-golden light, half-darkness – all blight, awash with empty words which so few will ever understand. I asked for peace. You gave me lies. No matter how hard I tried, I could not escape my fate. You say you have seen a tear in the tapestry, the blank space which became my place in lore and legacy. You’ve killed for less. I’ve killed for more. The blood on my hands will not wash clean – not after all I have done. Not after all I have been. Or will be.

My illusion of freedom was sundered the second I set foot in Seyda Neen. I could not know it then, not as time bent and warped around me. Sunset staining the far horizon red, all that was left was to move forward. Through dust and uncertainty, I persisted. And still do. And will. Because I must – or else, what then? Yet you, in your great wisdom, and with great force, insisted I turn back – as if destiny was so simple to twist out of shape, or cut away with blades unseen.

You’d tried that once – ages ago, while ash and magma flowed. The Heart. The argument. The spear that pierced, cracking spine and sternum. Things I should not remember. Yet, in dreams – if they are to be trusted – I do. Though my skin no longer bears its scars, the mark of betrayal remains – a stain on my soul, reborn into new vessel time and time again. I did not want to believe, until I saw the grief in your eyes. You seek forgiveness. I offer only that which you deserve. Sorrow, the haunting of a hollow promise – shattered, shapeless – and the memory of murder most foul. -> Read the rest on AO3

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poetdreamerfool · 2 months

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the hill I'll die on

I'm running up the hill Sysiphus rolled his boulder Trying to get to the top So I can snatch beauty Out the eye of the beholder while I was running the world jumped out of my palms and landed squarely on my shoulders--

Atlas wasn't playing this shit is heavy but all the tragedy and triumph I faced got me ready I just gotta hold it steady one foot in front of the other a wise man said don't have it covered have it smothered only stop to help a sister or a brother

I love you too I just hate me still I wont let death take me until I break free and find peace

maybe its up there next to the beholder maybe up there the world is a little colder thats why I approach this climb like I'm a soldier.

march - march - we in the garden of Eden and stopping is the apple don't bite. don't ever bite.

#spilled ink #poetry #alt lit #prose #creative writing #poets on tumblr #writerscreed #original poetry #freestyle #slam poetry #spoken word poetry

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keepscrollinghun · 6 months

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we teach live, Sir - Rafeef Ziadah

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits filled enough with statistics to counter measured response.

And I perfected my English and I learned my UN resolutions.

But still, he asked me, Ms. Ziadah, don’t you think that everything would be resolved if you would just stop teaching so much hatred to your children?

Pause.

I look inside of me for strength to be patient but patience is not at the tip of my tongue as the bombs drop over Gaza.

Patience has just escaped me.

Pause. Smile.

We teach life, Sir.

Rafeef, remember to smile.

Pause.

We teach life, Sir.

We Palestinians teach life after they have occupied the last sky.

We teach life after they have built their settlements and apartheid walls, after the last skies.

We teach life, Sir.

But today, my body was a TV’d massacre made to fit into sound-bites and word limits.

And just give us a story, a human story.

You see, this is not political.

We just want to tell people about you and your people so give us a human story.

Don’t mention that word “apartheid” and “occupation”.

This is not political.

You have to help me as a journalist to help you tell your story which is not a political story.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre.

How about you give us a story of a woman in Gaza who needs medication?

How about you?

Do you have enough bone-broken limbs to cover the sun?

Hand me over your dead and give me the list of their names in one thousand two hundred word limits.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre that had to fit into sound-bites and word limits and move those that are desensitized to terrorist blood.

But they felt sorry.

They felt sorry for the cattle over Gaza.

So, I give them UN resolutions and statistics and we condemn and we deplore and we reject.

And these are not two equal sides: occupier and occupied.

And a hundred dead, two hundred dead, and a thousand dead.

And between that, war crime and massacre, I vent out words and smile “not exotic”, “not terrorist”.

And I recount, I recount a hundred dead, a thousand dead.

Is anyone out there?

Will anyone listen?

I wish I could wail over their bodies.

I wish I could just run barefoot in every refugee camp and hold every child, cover their ears so they wouldn’t have to hear the sound of bombing for the rest of their life the way I do.

Today, my body was a TV’d massacre

And let me just tell you, there’s nothing your UN resolutions have ever done about this.

And no sound-bite, no sound-bite I come up with, no matter how good my English gets, no sound-bite, no sound-bite, no sound-bite, no sound-bite will bring them back to life.

No sound-bite will fix this.

We teach life, Sir.

We Palestinians wake up every morning to teach the rest of the world life, Sir.

#from the river to the sea #palestine #poem #spoken word poetry

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albertxylin · 6 months

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Touch

It's incredible what can be stripped away without losing meaning. Light, words, sound, Everything except the presence of another. How we communicate through our bodies, Through held hands and touching foreheads, Tight embraces and the feel of panting breath on skin, Cool and wet and yet the sweat evaporates anyway. Fingers draw circles as they map anatomy, Revelling in the joy of discovery Of a secret known by two. It is the gentle cupping of a face, The leaning in for a kiss, The intimacy of a shared bed And all the love undeniable even unsaid.

#2430 #I watched some incredible theatre today #I know the end #body fiction #love #touch #intimacy #writing #original poem #poetry #spoken word #poem #spoken word poetry #daily poem #poems

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nashira · 9 months

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seen a tiktok that said "I grew 25 years older but so did my parents" please do not attempt to contact me I am beside myself grieving

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shy-girl04 · 26 days

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youtube

"What is love?", you ask

My head spins, recallin' every song

Story, words, and glorious things I ever heard

Every cliché rings in my ears

Like a bell announcin' the birth of a new day

Or the death of yesterday

Depends on how you hear it

I haven't a clue

So I ask love, "What are you?"

Love replies

Can't you feel me? I'm here

I'm the one holdin' your hand, remindin' you not to forget me

I'm the warm feelin' in your belly when you don't know why

I'm the ache to the core when one

Someone sways to the other side of a vibe

I'm the tingle on your skin when it's

Touched by the tip of a thrill you can rely on

The knowing, when your eyes meet eyes that recognize yours

And hold you, loose enough to move freely

But tight enough to never let you fall

I'm the breath you take in and let all the way out to the end

When you're held and your shoulders drop into arms

You flop that feel like a blanket of truth

And wrap you and sooth you

To the moon you thought was in the sky

I'm the backbone that holds it all together

The vertebrae stacked on top of each other

When it's all gone pear shaped and wrong

I'm the bitin' on your lip keepin' it zipped

Swallowin' words that could wound and rip apart

I'm choosin' kindness over bein' right

I'm the fight in you when you don't know how

The life in you when it's gone right out

I'm life when I'm near, hope without fear

I'm nothin' fancy in a world drippin' in gold

But a beautiful jewel never bought, never sold

And when you open your heart and let me in alone

You'll know who I am, because I feel like home

Imelda May

#lyrics #poetry #words #love #imelda may #spoken word poetry #music #Youtube #Spotify

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poetrybyonur · 10 months

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Effleurage: a delicate stroking motion in massage. The word is taken from the French word “effleurer,” meaning to stroke as one would a flower. That is how I would touch you, my love, my beautiful flower.

A spoken word from a couple years back that I’ve redone. Click on poem to hear my Londoner voice.

Background music by Blank & Jones.

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mad-girlslove-song · 7 months

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"What if, when I finally figure out who I am, I can't stand her? Harder to imagine, what if I loved her?"

- Blythe Baird

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megleepoetry · 10 months

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My heart is a hotel, giving shelter to those just stopping by, and I have never really minded. But I no longer have a room available for you.

-I hang the closed sign up when I see you coming now.

#10 word story #poets corner #spilledink #spilled thoughts #poets on tumblr #poetry #poetscommunity #writers of tumblr #10wordstories #writers #spoken word poetry #writerscorner #writerscommunity #lost love

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loveindeeair · 3 months

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Bleeding Words

#words #my writing #writings #writing #spoken word poetry #poetry #short poem

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mudaship39 · 4 months

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Heart of Dragon Fire, Soul of Phoenix Flame, & Ocean Blood of Sea Fairy

Chapter 1: Verse:

The Land and the Seas, She Calls To Me, Her Long Lost Child Home:

Ever since I could remember

Ever since I was a child

Every night in my dreams

I have always heard an earth voice

I have always heard an ocean song

A voice of fire and a song of flame that sounds serene, tranquil, calm, & melodic

An ocean song voice that was matriarchal, loving, & kind

An earth voice that was paternal, protective, & caring

A song that somehow sounds like the very ocean itself

A voice that somehow sounds like the very earth itself

An ocean song that sounds so recognizable to me

As a Southeast Asian Vietnamese or Kinh Indigenous and East Asian Chinese or Hoa person of color

An earth voice that sounds so familiar to me

As a Kinh Indigenous and Polynesian Tahitian Indigenous Pasifika

She is calling to me and saying that I am her long lost child

One that was stolen from the Earth, the Ocean, & the Sky a very long time ago

As a displaced state side disconnected diaspora

I know her voice but I do not know her face

I know her song but I do not know her touch

I know her voice but I do not know her embrace

I know her song but I do not know her bond

The land and the sea ever since they were a child

She has called them every night in their dreams

Her long lost child long ago that was stolen from her

A child with a body made of earth, made of ocean, & made of sky

She calls to them with her earth voice

She calls to them with her ocean song

The land and the sea however she weeps and she grieves

She grieves because her long lost child does not know her tongue

The land and the sea though every single night she weeps

The land and the sea though every single day she mourns

She mourns because her child born of fire, flame, & water does not understand her voice

She mourns because her child born with a body made of earth, ocean, & sky does not comprehend her songs

I know her earth voice but I do not know her touch

I know her ocean song but I do not know her embrace

I am a Vietnamese, Chinese or Hoa, French, & Polynesian Tahitian Indigenous Pasifika person of color

I am a displaced state side disconnected Polynesian Indigenous Pasifika and Kinh Indigenous diaspora

The land and the sea she calls to me her long lost child home but I cannot answer her

The land and the sea she calls to them her long lost child home but they cannot answer her

She laments because her long lost child does not know her food

She laments because her long lost child does not know her songs

She laments because her long lost child does not know her dances

She grieves because her long lost child does not know their cultural identity

She grieves because her long lost child doesn’t know their traditions, culture, heritage, & customs

She grieves because her long lost child knows her voice

She grieves because her long lost child does not know her face, does not know her touch, & does not know her embrace

She weeps because her long lost child does not understand her earth voice

She weeps because her long lost child does not comprehend her ocean songs

She weeps because her long lost child with a sea fairy aura has never swam in her seas and has never set foot on her soil

She weeps because her long lost child with a body made of earth, ocean, & sky has never been home

She grieves because her long lost child’s fire dragon heart is not whole

She grieves because her long lost child’s flame phoenix soul is not complete and is trying to heal

She grieves because her long lost child born of fire, flame, & water is split broken pieces trying to become whole

She grieves because her long lost child is lost trying to come home

The land and the sea she calls to me her long lost child home but I cannot answer her

The land and the sea she calls to them her long lost child home but they cannot answer her

I cry because I do not know my traditions, culture, language, customs, spirituality, & heritage

I weep because I do not know my cultural identity

She hopes one day they can answer her because they know her tongue

On that day, she knows she will cry happy tears

She will celebrate because her long lost child does know her tongue

She will celebrate because her long lost child does know her food

She will celebrate because her long lost child does know her songs

She will celebrate because her long lost child does know her dances

She will cheer because her long lost child does know their cultural identity

She will cheer because her long lost child does know their traditions, customs, language, culture, spirituality, & heritage

She will cheer because her long lost child does know their cultural identity

She will rejoice because her long lost child knows her voice, her face, & her touch

She will rejoice because her long lost child knows her embrace

She will rejoice because her long lost child has swam in her seas and has set foot on her soil

She will be proud because her long lost child understands her voice

She will be proud because her long lost child comprehends her songs

She will cry happy tears because her long lost child’s heart is whole

She will cry happy tears because her long lost child’s soul is complete

She will cry happy tears because her long lost child is finally home

On that day she will welcome them home with open arms

Her long lost child with a body made of earth, made of ocean, & made of sky

The land and the sea she calls to me her long lost child home but I will answer her

I will answer her because one day I will know how to speak her tongue

I will cry tears of joy because I do know my traditions, language, culture, spirituality, heritage, & customs

I cry tears of joy because I do know my cultural identity

I will cry tears of joy because my celestial and stellar dragon heart is whole

I will cry tears of joy because my divine and heavenly phoenix soul is complete

I will cry tears of joy because I am healed

I will cry tears of joy because I am finally home

#native artist #native art #indigenous #indigenous artist #indigenous writer #poetry #slam poets on tumblr #spoken word poetry #spoken poetry #indigenous creator

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halberdbooks · 10 months

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"You are not Cannon Fodder" by David M. Briggs

read by the author

#poetry #books #poem #halberd books vol. 1 #book #spoken word poetry #spoken word

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