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I am the tiger. I lie in wait for you among the leaves broad as ingots of wet material. The white river grows beneath the fog. You come. Naked you submerge. I wait. Then in a leap of fire, blood, teeth, with a claw slash I tear away your bosom, your
i-dreamlovebelieve: A Little Girl’s Poem (Poem of 9-11) Her hair was up in a ponytail Her favorite dress tied with a b ow. Today was Daddy’s Day at school, And she couldn’t wait to go. But her mommy tried to tell her, That she probably should
Recite a poem. Read the first page to one of your favorite books. Read the little blurb on the back of your shampoo bottle. Do a tongue-twister. Say something in a different language. Share an anecdote. Do the rains in Spain stay mainly on the plains?
“ […] Light your eyes at the flame of the lusters! Kindle passion in the glances of churls! To me you’re all pleasure, morbid or petulant; Be what you will, black night, red dawn;There is no fiber in my whole trembling bodyThat does
Just because I’m a ever-changing zany who wants to live 10000 lives, I’ve decided that I’m going to prepare myself to arrive to my thirties as a brechtian punk performer who does stand up punk-slapstick versions of Brecht’s poems,
Dagmar Krause making an astounding version of one of my favorite Bertolt Brecht’s songs, “Moldau Song”. The music and the lyrics always give me goosebumps. “Moldau Song” (Bertolt Brecht, Hanns Eisler - 1956): On the bed
i-dreamlovebelieve: A Little Girl’s Poem (Poem of 9-11) Her hair was up in a ponytail Her favorite dress tied with a b ow. Today was Daddy’s Day at school, And she couldn’t wait to go. But her mommy tried to tell her, That she probably should stay
I love all of you, even the parts of you that are rough and raw and you don’t fully understand yet. The parts which push me away or hurt me as you continue on this lifelong journey to find yourself and happiness. I wouldn’t miss the adventure even
aliascquinn: You can’t and I know it, so I hold on while you make up your mind. Mine was the first heartbeat you listened to, and you don’t seem to realize that I can hear yours too; a steady, patient sound which never lies to me.
aliascquinn: Hell (short) - C. Quinn
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Here’s a drawing of Robyn Whyte reading one of her erotic poems at the Buttcracker. Sorry, asian dude who read poems about poo and anal sex, I can’t remember your name. I was really tickled by your stories, though.
story-dj: Love As The Stars Went OutPoems from my new poetry anthology!A collection of poetry from the end of the world. Poems of love, feeling and emotion, the collection encompasses all of life, and even beyond. Simple and elegant, the book contains
wicked-naughty-diva: Save yourself. “Give me the waters of Lethe that numb the heart, if they exist, I will still not have the power to forget you.” ― Ovid, The Poems of Exile: Tristia and the Black Sea Letters
mr. newsman - my beer poem.
Mmm… More beautiful spoken word shit.<3 This one is a tad darker. 4 Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
I've Dreamed of You So Much by Robert Desnos
A short poem from André Breton’s First Manifesto of Surrealism
goodluck-godspeed: It starts small The shape of your teeth The smell of your hair The skin above your leather boots The raised veins all over your hands Your weathered vest One single silver bangle A permanent song in my head The curve of your neck when
Less Than Two Weeks“El Mark” by Glassjaw Who the fuck wants to live forever? Remorse. When you stab me in the back with your dream.To keep this body sober I show my life for all to see:do you see me? Do you see mein a battle the size of my thumb?Always
guante: “Remember: white supremacy is not a shark/ it’s the water.” A poem about challenging ourselves to have a deeper, more nuanced, more complete understanding of what we mean when we say the word “racist.” It’s bigger than just “people
“Give me the waters of Lethe that numb the heart, if they exist, I will still not have the power to forget you.” ― Ovid, The Poems of Exile: Tristia and the Black Sea Letters
“A thousand half-loves must be forsaken to take one whole heart home.” ~Rumi, Words of Paradise: Selected Poems of Rumi
“Give up to grace. The ocean takes care of each wave ‘til it gets to shore. You need more help than you know.” ~Rumi, Words of Paradise: Selected Poems of Rumi
sweetsurrendermm: sumisa-lily: “A thousand half-loves must be forsaken to take one whole heart home.” ~Rumi, Words of Paradise: Selected Poems of Rumi I heart Rumi. Good Morning or is it afternoon ? @sumisa-lily Hot and sultry non the less
missvalkyrie1: sumisa-lily: sweetsurrendermm: sumisa-lily: “A thousand half-loves must be forsaken to take one whole heart home.” ~Rumi, Words of Paradise: Selected Poems of Rumi I heart Rumi. Good Morning or is it afternoon ? @sumisa-lily
sumisa-lily: “Give up to grace. The ocean takes care of each wave ‘til it gets to shore. You need more help than you know.” ~Rumi, Words of Paradise: Selected Poems of Rumi
sumisa-lily: “A thousand half-loves must be forsaken to take one whole heart home.” ~Rumi, Words of Paradise: Selected Poems of Rumi
Support me on Patreon => Reapersun on PatreonPrompt: @sassydoctor9: Anyone… ferryman of Hades (gives passage over styx)An AU where Will is Charon, ferryman of the dead over the river Styx, and Hades!Hannibal has a thing for scruffy antisocial
mashamorevna: “I remember you. You were made of light.” — Maria Eugenia Calderara, from Poems of Exile; “I Still Don’t Know Your Name,” (via horrorshow)
adrasteiax: “Strip our loving of dream pay its secrets to thunder and ransom me home.” — Audre Lorde, from Song in “The Collected Poems Of Audre Lorde”
blurays:ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND2004, dir. Michel Gondry— poem by Alexander Pope
2006barbie-deactivated20210102:ODE TO SEPTEMBER // 1. ‘The Dwarf’ from The Collected Poems of Wallace Stevens // 2. “On Disappearing”by Major Jackson // ( 3 & 6 ) // 4. “Fall,” from The Living Fire: New and Selected Poems by Edward
every wall of her room was a collage dedicated to her friends. when I was younger, I liked it. there were photos of me. memories of drawing on the driveway in sidewalk chalk, elaborate halloween costumes, wandering around the mall, birthday parties.
violentwavesofemotion: “How to forget you in the bite of winter?” — Marina Tsvetaeva, tr. by Vadim Erent, from “Poem of the Mountain,” c. 1920
violentwavesofemotion: “The moon has taught her to love. She loves, I can assure you. But when she loves, she loves darkly. My own, my very own Priestess of Death.” — Lola Ridge, from To the Many; Collected Poems of Lola Ridge; “Hellish,”
fiestyvxn: winged-serpent: Auguste Raynaud, La Nuit “I love the silent hour of night,For blissful dreams may then arise,Revealing to my charmed sightWhat may not bless my waking eyes.” ― Anne Brontë, Best Poems of the Brontë Sisters
imbryonykate: Send me a ‘hi’ and I will put my playlist on shuffle, write down the first line of five songs and give it to you as a poem.
crazycomicchick: You’ll love me yet!-and I can tarry Your love’s protracted growing: June reared that bunch of flowers you carry From seeds of April’s sowing. I plant a heartful now: some seed At least is sure to strike, And yield-what you’ll
thicklet: Ations by Shel Silverstein. My favorite poem and future feet tattoos. With this, I welcome you to my tumbl abode :) * now i finally know the name of this wonderful author/cartoonist. YIPEEE
mi-fanno-bella: helpmefixmyself: I actually liked this poem of mine. No one else did, but I’m posting it again because I’m actually proud of this one ok. i love this
keysofshadowandlight:Original ‘Nevermore’ water color and ink illustration done for a friend on the inside of a “Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe’ leather bound edition. If you’d like one as a unique gift for yourself or a friend,
violentwavesofemotion:Adrienne Rich, from The Complete Poems of A. R.; “The Dream of A Common Language,”
fuckyeahtattoos: My name is Jander Franco, and this is my ninth tattoo. Is Edgard Allan Poe, and the Raven is for a poem of the same name written by him. I got the raven on my veins cuz I was a heroin addict. In the poem the raven says “Nevermore”,
visual-poetry: »a small bouquet by frank o’hara« by natalie czech natalie czech uses calligrams in an attempt to confront and intertwine text and image. she reverses the process established for hidden poems of inscribing a poem into an existing
objetpetita: Handwritten draft of one of the last poems of Sylvia Plath ‘Sheep in Fog’The hills step off into whiteness.People or starsRegard me sadly, I disappoint them.
violentwavesofemotion: Nikki Giovanni, from The Collected Poems of Nikki Giovannii; “Poem,” c. 1969
victoriousvocabulary: TROUBADOUR[noun]1. any male wandering singer or minstrel.2. one of a class of mediaeval lyric poets who flourished principally in southern France from the 11th to 13th centuries, and wrote songs and poems of a complex metrical form
So it wouldn’t let me post an audio link for some reason. But nevertheless, due to an amazing amount of pestering from friends, here is one of my favorite and most recent pieces, spoken by yours truly. Sorry for the roughness of my voice, Texas
thoodleoo: this is a conversation, or a poem of sorts, i suppose, that i imagined between sappho and a girl realizing that she loves another girl. it’s a bit of a personal project, i guess; all of sappho’s part in the conversation is taken from the
gvldngrl:My soul writes poems of you in words that don’t exist. The songs I sing about you are composed of words I dare not utter. The scattered beating of your heart speaks to me in morse code. Maybe one day I will love you loudly.
story-dj: Love As The Stars Went Out. A collection of poetry from the end of the world. Poems of love, feeling and emotion, the collection encompasses all of life, and even beyond. Simple and elegant, the book contains all the poetry of existence. “This
buttonpoetry: “I can think of more Black people who’ve died young than old. The grave is the only promise I’ve ever known to stay true.” — Dave Harris, from Patricide
fa-sabrun-jameil:Mother says there are locked rooms inside all women, kitchen of love, bedroom of grief, bathroom of apathy. Sometimes, the men, they come with keys, and sometimes the men, they come with hammers.- Warsan Shire
Writing poetry is like a breath of fresh air- Relievingdestiny-idgaf
I am a single flower Who was plucked earlier than the rest And was told to finish growing without any soil @destiny-idgaf
tattoos-org: My tribute to my love of poetry and my great grandfather. The quote says “ I was sixteen years of age when I left my english home, and set out for Canada across the briny foam” which is from a poem of hisShow 300,000+ other TATTOO lovers
memoryslandscape: “Don’t give me anything to remember you by: I know how short is memory.” — Anna Akhmatova, from “Poems, 1957-1966,” The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova, transl. Judith Hemschemeyer, ed. Roberta Reeder (Zephyr Press, 1997)
![“ […] Light your eyes at the flame of the lusters! Kindle passion in the glances of churls! To me you’re all pleasure, morbid or petulant; Be what you will, black night, red dawn;There is no fiber in my whole trembling bodyThat does](https://69.media.tumblr.com/avatar_09ed4df49674_128.png){kind=avatar}
![victoriousvocabulary: TROUBADOUR[noun]1. any male wandering singer or minstrel.2. one of a class of mediaeval lyric poets who flourished principally in southern France from the 11th to 13th centuries, and wrote songs and poems of a complex metrical form](https://31.media.tumblr.com/005fc1d326c937e04a4b4cba3c4baee0/tumblr_np7mw6Ge3M1r47bczo1_250.jpg)
