#this is meant to be a poem | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

true-squid · 2 months

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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

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despondentbeauty · 8 months

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In another universe, you stayed.

— In this one, you didn’t and it ruined me.

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onawhimsicot · 1 year

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i know not many people would want to read a 10,000 word article about the minecraft end poem and how the author, Julian Gough, was never fairly compensated for his work and has made it public domain.

But it's a very well-written and heartfelt read, and he makes it very clear that none of this is a cash-grab and despite the fact that he is essentially a starving artist in this capitalist society, he only mentions his financial struggles despite Minecraft's huge huge success at the bottom of this article and not in the tweets so as to not dilute his message.

Anyway, I just think it'd be cool if those who are able to could support him in some way whether it be subscribing to his substack or donating to his paypal (that's linked in the article, you can ctrl + F to find it easier), that's all.

#Edit: Please look at the article for his paypal and his substack!! most ppl are reblogging a version where i didnt mention it oh gosh #im not really. the kind of person to make posts like this and i dont have the spoons to make it look nice.#my tumblrs not that visible anyway so i guess it doesnt actually matter #i just think that understandably not many ppl would read through the entire article and it makes me so sad that even in the article #he talks about how badly he just wants to make art and not play the capitalism game and still he doesnt talk about needing support #on the platforms where it'd be most visible bc he doesnt WANT to play the capitalism game even if society dicates it and its meant to #be an act of LOVE and just. yeah.#minecraft #minecraft end poem #mineblr

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panthermouthh · 7 months

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And I said, “Hello, Satan

I believe it’s time to go.”

#my art #southern gothic #been too depressed to create anything but I’ve made this today #the little rhyme has been in my head for a few weeks #spilled ink #I guess do people still use that tag for poetry or am I old lol #I’ve been writing in my journal pretty much daily and sometimes spitting out little poems like this #not much energy for art #so I’m not gonna pressure myself to keep it up #I’m just gonna enjoy the fact that I made this #I hope ur all well <33 #the devil #by the way this isn’t meant to be fan art of Robert Johnson #but it’s inspired by him and the stories of musicians who sell their souls to the devil #I am still thinking very hard and have mostly drafted a cornstalk fiddle comic #god knows how long it’ll stay in a notebook haha #my comic #comics

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duckiemimi · 3 months

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every time i remember the amount of times gojo’s official art pictures show him eating, there’s this little sadness that i get because i know geto would’ve loved to feed him and he would’ve loved to share his sweets with geto, like that one line in a citro poem, “i love you. i want us both to eat well.”

#jjk #geto #gojo #satosugu #the poem i meant is called ‘our beautiful life when it’s filled with shriek’ by christopher citro!

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whaliiwatching · 9 months

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you want it? come and get it

#spider man: across the spider verse #spider punk #hobie brown #this was meant to be A SKETCH #but the colors called to me… the style…….#making ‘collages’ like this is fun as hell #gettin so much new inspiration #im love the poem in the top left corner. important to me #also tons of these are my own photos!! like the patches i found in a store once #the comic text in the bottom left is from a venom comic #ironically enough considering 138’s history with venom #but it was just too perfect #also. the riot act makes a comeback #i might have to include it in every hobie-centric sketch i do from now on #thinkin bout him (& noir tbh) 24/7….#noir sees this starin @ him. just up and dies #like all of us lol

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sadghostgirl14 · 10 months

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#distraction #ugly #i want you #i choose you #sadgirl #heartache #heartbreak #relateable #healing #poetry #sad poem #used to love it #fight for love #fool for love #want to be loved #missing him #you broke my heart #ugly as fuck #meant to be

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sioster · 5 months

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„Wilbur's Redoubt”

On the 15th I revisited the poem Reduta Ordona by Adam Mickiewicz and pondered a bit about the similarites of situations potrayed there and the 16th. If I would to make a statement, the 16th can seem like a reinterpretation stripped bare of the hopeful tone, generals with completely different motivations ending up sharing a similiar fate.

Idk im just overthinking again lolol love you guys and im sad that i didnt make it in time </3 rip

proud of those boots :)

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mxxnlightsblog · 2 years

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"When we think of "meant to be," we automatically assume forever. But maybe it isn't supposed to last forever. Maybe it's just someone who is in your life to teach you something. Maybe the forever is not the person, but what we gain from them."

- excerpt from a diary I don't own. (via - southernsparkleandshine)

#life quotes #quoteoftheday #relatable quotes #quotes #inspirational quotes #english literature #love quotes #poems and quotes #booklover #romance quotes #romantic #meant to be #forever #happiness #book quotes

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silent-insanities · 8 months

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Everything in my life has been lost. And I don't know which direction to go.

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embeccy · 8 months

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"Eventually soulmates meet, for they have the same hiding place."

- Robert Brault

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seirette · 1 year

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For a happy marriage, all you need is...

#deltarune #kris dreemurr #noelle holiday #berdly #snowgrave #comics #‟Kris is also blue‟ Okay but they're getting ♥married♥ so you can't kill them. By the way I don't ship anything this comment is a joke #This is a reference to the 'Something old' poem (what brides are meant to have on their wedding day or whatever) you can look it up

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cuubism · 8 months

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i said i might write something based on Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda and well. yeah.

--

“Have you been thinking much of this time?” Dream asks.

They are at the beginning. The ancient, smoky main room of the White Horse, all the way back then, when that sweet, starlit entity had loomed over Hob with challenge and strangeness and then swept away again, leaving the start of a story in his wake. Only this time, Dream is sitting with him, and the rest of the room is faded out, as it had when Hob had first seen him, this collected truth of the universe.

(Dream does not believe in objective truth—of course he doesn’t, he is made of dreams—though he would not articulate it that way if asked. Hob, meanwhile, knows at least one truth, and it’s what he feels when he looks at Dream.)

“Don’t you think of it?” he asks, wrapping an arm around Dream’s waist, fingers over his hipbone. It is a dream, but that distinction does not matter to Hob much anymore.

“I suppose. I think of much.”

“‘Course you do.” He strokes his hand up and down Dream’s side, and Dream hums. “I wondered about following you. Think if I did you’d have been gone into smoke already.”

“Yes. I did not care to stay long.”

“Nor I,” Hob admits.

“Truly?” says Dream, with surprise.

“Was thinking about you too much,” Hob says. “How could I go back to just chatting with my mates when I had seen you?”

“Why did you stay, then?”

“You have to take time with your mates while you have it,” Hob says. “Didn’t need six hundred years of life to know that one. Just a couple dozen deaths. Had the rest of eternity to mull over you, after all.”

“And did you?” Dream asks.

“Oh, yes.” He pulls Dream close. Slides over until he’s half in his lap, straddling his thigh, perfectly placed to kiss him. Hands on his shoulders, his neck, the sharp cut of his jaw. Once, Hob had held him from afar, like a wish. Now, Hob holds him close, as dream, as friend, as lover, in his human way, with sweat and time and hands.

“I mulled over you like fine wine,” Hob says, twisting his fingers in Dream’s hair, and Dream smiles. Hob kisses him again. Sips of his mouth like mulled wine, indeed. But his love for Dream is nothing so fleeting as spice on his tongue.

Or as fleeting as Dream sometimes thinks it will be. Dream is a living love poem to creation. But he does not know how to be loved in the way Hob wants to love him. In the way Hob does love him. Hob thinks that Dream knows how to be loved as a dream is loved, as a hope is loved, as an ideal is loved: held in glass, or in the sky, distant, perfect, disappointing up close. Parts of him are held as bubbles in different souls, but never in entirety.

He knows how to be loved as a nightmare is loved, bloody fear and history, raw closeness, curling in the humors of the body. He has been loved as a story is loved, which is to say, as creation is loved, as transmission is loved, as distance, as connection, as hearts on radio waves, as endings are loved, the pathways of him, container and fill.

Dream does not know how to be loved as a person is loved.

Hob loves him still when he grows teeth, and when a sweet taste comes to his mouth. Hob loves him as potential, as uncertainty. Story unset in stone. In softening belly and uneven step. Hob will show him how to be loved as a person is loved, because Dream is a person, especially when he insists he is not, and Hob loves him as one, has loved him as one, and Dream, who is used to being loved as dreams, cannot comprehend this.

He asks, sometimes. Why? Not even in a hurt, self-hating way. In a genuinely curious way, for he is not used to it. Hob hasn’t had the answer to that. Just trust that I do.

This moment, kissing Dream in the smoke of memory, is an answer. This is the beginning, but a fragment of words comes back to him, read in the between-time, when they were apart.

“You wanted to know why I loved you.” His lips are to Dream’s skin as he speaks, moved to his throat, his chest, pulling open his high collar, as Dream shivers under him. In the Dreaming, things can be like other things in a way that makes no sense in the Waking; Dreaming-sense is like a collage, the distant truth of collected fragments. And so touching Dream’s skin is like stepping out into the earliest morning, before the human world’s woken up, and feeling what’s un-meant to be felt.

“I do not think love needs a why,” Dream says. “Yet I have wondered.”

He gets it, Hob thinks, except that he doesn’t let himself.

He traces the harsh line of Dream’s collarbone with his mouth. Dream is full of harsh lines and seems incapable of letting softness stick to his bones. “‘I love you because I know no other way than this.’”

“I am familiar with the poem,” Dream says, but his voice is caught on Hob's words, his long fingers disbelieving in Hob’s hair.

“Are you?”

“Between shadow and soul is where dreams reside,” says Dream.

“And what about Dream?” Hob says, looking up at him, stressing the singular.

Dream’s lips purse, and Hob goes back to kissing his chest, up his sternum, over his heart. “I know,” he says between kisses, “no other way. Than this.”

Dream tangles him up, long arms, legs curled together, shadow and star around him. Hob’s loved him so long that he doesn’t remember what it was like not to. He has been tangled up in Dream since the beginning. It is what he is.

“A dream resides where it is wanted,” says Dream, finally answering his question. His voice has roughened, his breath has quickened, affected by Hob’s touch, by the words of the poem. Each lick, and kiss, and bite coils the Dreaming closer around them. One day it might be harder to wake up than to fall asleep.

“It’s wanted,” Hob says, and claims his beautiful mouth, pressing him back against the wall. His hair in its uncontrollable frissons, his eyes in their changeable void, his needy starvation of a thousand unanswered love poems—this kiss is a response to those missives. Dream is in the shadowed parts of him, in his turning points, in the words he speaks. Hob sees his answer in the tears that bead along his eyes but refuse to fall, in his darkness and whimsical creations, and his surprised, gentle pleasure when he’s kissed.

Hob loves him so. There’s no moral or end to that story. Hob’s love for Dream is. Full stop. End of sentence.

#this is a little weird bc i was trying to capture how poems make me feel in the style of how i wrote it #hopefully some of you might like it because of or in spite of the weirdness XD #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #inspired by poetry #me writing this like i'm just gonna start putting verbs where theyre not meant to be used and making things negative in a way it's not mean #to be. let's see what happens XD

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pencap · 5 months

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GREEN

i am green green green down to my breath and blood and bones.

green with envy for all the beautiful things in the world that i cannot hold in my hands or press against my lips or swallow down whole.

green with sick all festering hurts i don't know how to heal and spreading poison i don't know the antidote for and hand-me-down aches i don't know the names of.

green with greed, the yawning void deep in my belly that wants and wants and wants and wants and wants from the day i was born screaming with want.

green with permission: yes please, come here, do as you please. i never did learn how to say no and mean it.

green like plants, like spring growth and summer leaves like basil and mint on kitchen counter tops like haworthia and pothos and monstera.

i am green green green down to my breath and blood and bones—

but maybe someday i will learn to hold the whole rainbow in my body.

- by sylvie (j.p.)

#spilled ink #poets on tumblr #original poem #poems on tumblr #poetry #writeblr #poetics #green #i am having complicated emotions about selfhood #and contradictory emotions and the parts of you that you chose to identify with #can you tell???#this felt like an outpouring to write #from idea to first draft was less than 30 minutes #honestly probably less than 15 #it's rough around the edges but i think it's meant to be that way #just a little bit

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sfsolstice · 15 days

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