May 2013
33 posts
“Let yourself become living poetry.”
– Rumi (via risikabel)
“I.
When I was trying to quit smoking
and we drank white wine from Mason jars,...”
– All That’s Left To Tell, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)
“I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she...”
– Pablo Neruda (via travelingnymph)
“Woke up today a woman
my lengthy curls fell in clumps
around my neck which,
I...”
– Woman by B. Mirante (via prettierthoughts)
“We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has...”
– Maya Angelou (via circumstanceanddisposition)
african-american ii
miguu:
i lost a whole continent. a whole continent from my memory. unlike all other hyphenated americans my hyphen is made of blood. when africa says hello my mouth is a heartbreak because i have nothing in my tongue to answer her. i don’t know how to say hello to my mother.
“But I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and I choose both.”
– Sarah Kay and Phil Kaye, “An Origin Story” (via larmoyante)
“Next I dream that love is swallowing itself.
Next I dream that love is made of...”
– Anne Sexton, The Break Away (via womens-lit)
“I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as...”
– Charles Bukowski, “i met a genius” (via semioticsofsloth)
“A poem begins with a lump in the throat.”
– Robert Frost (via byzantine-gold)
deannatroi:
let’s just drive around directionless through the fog
take photos of schools, closed for the weekend lose ourselves on back country roads park by a ditch lean against a signpost flush out anxiety by breathing in damp air find the middle of a field and just stand there the mist makes everything disappear just the two of us and limited visibility
your photos show me in muted colors...
“I bet if we dusted her heart for fingerprints, we’d only find yours.”
– Rudy Francisco (via tangerinedreaam)
prettierthoughts:
Every time a new person reads one of my poems it’s like an introduction. They are meeting me each time, and I am meeting them. Poetry is my “hello, I feel your pain”.
“Wait, for now.
Distrust everything, if you have to.
But trust the hours....”
– Galway Kinnell, from “Wait” (via litverve)
“All night I have slept with you
next to the sea, on the island.
Wild and sweet...”
– Pablo Neruda, from “Night on the Island”, in “Love Poems”, translated by Donald D. Walsh (via mitochondria)
“I am a reflection of my mother’s secret poetry as well as of her hidden angers.”
– Excerpt From: Geraldine Audre Lorde. “Zami A New Spelling of My Name: A New Spelling of My Name.” (via michinknows)
“Ask the poets
about their unrequited love
and they’ll sigh after it
like it’s...”
– The Elegy for my Tortured Soul (copyright Dali Regent, May 2013)
you, yes you: there are ways you can keep him,... →
deconstructs:
this is how you keep him.
you hew cedar beams from the tallest strongest trees and build a crawlspace small and tight and airy and light for you both to hide away in. you carry the bones of the branches on your small-girl back and don’t let your eyes wince with pain or else he will worry and…
Divine Despair: And if my heart be scarred and... →
divine-despair:
And if my heart be scarred and burned, The safer, I, for all I learned; The calmer, I, to see it true That ways of love are never new- The love that sets you daft and dazed Is every love that ever blazed; The happier, I, to fathom this: A kiss is every other kiss. The reckless vow, the lovely…
“Poetry, like jazz, is one of those dazzling diamonds of creative industry that...”
– Aberjhani (via poeticallyprofound)
“I opened “You slut” and found church pews
I opened church pews and found...”
– Let’s Start With The Insult, Clementine von Radics (via clementinevonradics)
“There are hearts that beat in time
with suffering
Hears that beat the rhythm...”
– joseph miezan bognini, hearts. (via black-poetry)
April 2013
51 posts
“deep in your cheeks
your specific laughter owns
all things south of the ghosts...”
– keorapetse kgositile, origins (for melba). (via black-poetry)
“On the corner—116th and Lenox
all in brown down to his knickers,
and leaning...”
– lebert bethune, harlem freeze frame. (via black-poetry)
“I’m never gonna wait
that extra twenty minutes
to text you back,
and I’m...”
– Andrea Gibson (via perfect)
“he was just back
from the war
said man they got
whites
over there now...”
– clarence major, vietnam. (via black-poetry)
“She was desperate and she was choosey at the same time and, in a way, beautiful,...”
– Charles Bukowski, Factotum (via larmoyante)
A Sweet Invitation
poetryoutlet:
Tickle me with with your honey legs, said the flower to the bee, Drink my nectar down to its dregs, until I swoon with love for thee.
Clothe thyself with my essence, spread my pollen far and wide, My kindred will know your presence, saying: Come inside, come inside!
So tickle their fancies, every one, then fly back home to me, I’ll kiss thy feet, beneath the sun, before I set you...
“the first word I teach my daughter will be “no”
she will sing it to me and...”
– The First Word I Teach My Daughter (via girl-violence)
“a policeman
is a pig
and he shd be in
a zoo
with all the other piggy...”
– sonia sanchez, definition for blk/children. (via black-poetry)
“All that I ran from,
I held
in my hands.
When I did jump,
I landed where
I...”
– quandra pettyman, the mood. (via black-poetry)
“How do I mourn the death of
four Americans, one child when death is everywhere-...”
– Coping - B. Mirante (via prettierthoughts)
“i
In view of the fading animals
the proliferation of sewers and fears
the...”
– Margaret Atwood, “They are hostile nations” (via growing-orbits)
Peace, Poet (Poem by Corinna Parr)
annmarcaida:
Each of us like you has felt this surge the rolling tide in ceaseless cycle; it demands we spill jellied hearts tangled fronds sea-picked spines upon an unforgiving shore.
Ann says: Among her many talents, Corinna Parr is a writer of literary erotica par excellance. You can find her work here.
Copyright 2013 by Corinna Parr.
Image: ILoveShelling.com
“My love has hair
Like midnight,
But midnight fades to dawn.
My love has eyes...”
– richard bruce nugent, my love. (via black-poetry) 