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#poets
leonardospoetry · 2 days ago
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Still here, but not for long.
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yellowjackets96 · a day ago
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i just know these four would link up and run the nevermore dead poets society like it’s the navy
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(enid is a todd sun, charlie rising, todd moon. change my mind!)
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soulwr1ter · 2 days ago
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To all souls, may these 
words fill
your heart
with a tender
good night. 
May the stars kiss 
your dreams and 
fill your hearts 
with the shine of 
their warmth. May every 
hour of the night 
embrace your heart 
with the glow of love,
may the love of life
begin to softly
enter the cradle of your
being as it naturally 
begins to beat as you
open yourself for life 
to love you. May the 
sweetness of sleep 
fill those scars that 
nobody sees and 
peace give you the 
calm you need to heal. 
Let hope wrap its wings 
around you and shelter
you with all the strength
you could ever need
as the feathers
lay themselves against
your gently closed
eyes so that your heart's
dreams gain the ability
to take flight.
May your eyes open 
to the next 
morning to truly see
the preciousness 
that you are and
if you can't find yourself
then come to the
arms of my dawn and look
into the eyes 
of my sun as I
cover you
in the clouds
of these butterflies 
born from the breath
of my soul
and I will show
you exactly how
much beauty 
is inside you.
Here is a lullaby
to the love poem
that is your
soul so that
you will always
be able to find
the golden sky
that leads you
to the truth
of freedom and
always know that the
power of the 
love inside you
will never fail you.
-J.Wool, Tender Goodnight
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poetsandwriters · 17 hours ago
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Major Jackson in “Exalted Uterrance,” an interview published in the September/October 2010 issue of Poets & Writers Magazine.
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definegodliness · 2 days ago
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Black Nails
Shelter tempts Neath layers of past lives. Cold hands comb through Forgotten seasons; Stacks of rotten foliage, once vibrant, Now amassed as sludge. Cold hands, They seem so much older now, Frantically dig to Reach the allmother's womb. Shelter, Below the life lived, in the primal soil. I delve in deep, and keep My mouth, eyes, and ears, Closed. I don't want to be force-fed the becoming Of all that I am. Not anymore. Swipe the muck; a breaststroke Toward the wellspring, deep down. There, Den of root, and fertile earth, still malleable. I claw with aching fingertips, And sculpt a yore That feels like Home.
--- 24-11-2022, M.A. Tempels ©
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night-thief · 2 months ago
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“Your worst sin is that you have destroyed and betrayed yourself for nothing.”
- Fyodor Dostoevsky, Crime and Punishment
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ritikajyala · 10 months ago
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Last night, I told my mother "I wish I was dead" in a fit of rage and winter clouded her eyes. But it wasn't white and it wasn't quiet, it resembled something like helplessness and rage. She was in pain and I knew I hurt her. I wanted to say something, anything, but how do you withdraw a declaration of war? How do you stop the bombs that already destroyed homelands? In that moment I remembered how she always told me that when she was a kid, she was too afraid to sleep with the lights on. Not because she was afraid of monsters, but because she feared her grandmother would die. Because when you're a kid, not seeing it means it doesn't exist anymore. I saw the winter in her eyes again and I knew I had switched off the light, she wasn't angry, she was afraid.
And I also remembered how she always told me I'd always be 3 years old for her, always a child, and for the first time, I heard in the voice of a three year old "I wish I was dead". My heart broke. And I wanted to hug her and hold her, tell her I was sorry, that I didn't mean it. Before I could move a hand, she left the room. The entire evening, I saw myself as she saw me, a 3 year old child. I saw the child hurt herself and cry herself to sleep every week, fight her friends with her tiny hands and two ponytails, I saw her depression and her anxiety, I saw her yell "I wish I was dead" and I knew. I knew. I wanted to shout through the walls, yell and cry and tell my mother that now I KNEW, but I didn't. I wept and wept until I heard a quiet knock and a soft familiar voice whispered, "Dinner is ready".
-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire
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dreamsofacommonlanguage · 9 months ago
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Being queer saved my life. Often we see queerness as deprivation. But when I look at my life, I saw that queerness demanded an alternative innovation from me. I had to make alternative routes; it made me curious; it made me ask, "Is this enough for me?"
— Ocean Vuong
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juneacademia · 2 months ago
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the feral desire to disappear from life as i know it and completely reinvent myself in a city where nobody knows my name.
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metamorphesque · 3 months ago
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don't you just love it when poets thrust their hands into your chest, crumple up your heart and with the blood adorning their fingers write poetry so personal to you
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glasswriter1 · 4 months ago
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more otp prompts
"I'm not sure what to do with all these feelings for you."
"you're blind- you're so blind! why would i even do half the things that i do for you for anybody if i wasn't head over heels for them!"
"you really can't tell, can you?" A says. "I'm embarrassed by my feelings for you. I'm so dumb for keeping them alive. i love you. there. you heard it. happy now?"
"i wish i could spell your name with the stars."
"i think we both need a therapist to figure out whatever the hell this is." A mumbles against B's lips. "It's getting to my head."
"Me?" A asks. "Are you sure? Out of the billions of people out there, I'm the one you chose to love?"
"I'm not sure how long i can go on for without driving myself insane with all this love for you. Please just... just do with this confession what you will and set me free."
"I like how obsessed with me you are," A smiles. "Makes me feel like the most important person in the whole world."
"Stop smiling. It does things to me I'd rather not talk about."
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soulwr1ter · a day ago
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He flies touching the colors of her sky with the wings of his heartbeats singing dreams that her blue soul holds in the calm of its cloud hands to spread love in droplets of sun that kiss him with the sweet burn of her fire that he lights with the ache of the hunger of his gaze and she smiles between the intersection of the clouds, those magical lips in their celestial glow emitting a million whispered promises in the breath of a vivid rainbow.
-J.Wool, Breath of a Rainbow, Rainbow Whispers, Wonderland Soul
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 Él vuela tocando los colores de su cielo con las alas de sus latidos cantando sueños que su alma azul sostiene en la calma de sus manos de nube para derramar amor en gotitas de sol que lo besan con la dulce quemadura de su fuego que él enciende con el dolor del hambre de su mirada y ella sonríe entre la intersección de las nubes, esos labios mágicos en su brillo celestial emitiendo un millón de promesas susurradas en el soplo de un vívido arcoíris.
-J.Wool, Aliento de un Arcoíris, Susurros de Arco Iris, Alma del País de Las Maravillas
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randombookquotes · 9 months ago
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from a poem traveled down my arm- alice walker
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apoetsparacosm · 4 months ago
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“If you can’t be the poet,
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be the poem.”
-David Carradine
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weltonboys · a year ago
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intangible - madisen kuhn
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the-stars-collided · 2 months ago
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The feminine urge to become the kind of woman your father always hated
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