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Learning

lzlabs:

My heart never saw
the pink blossoms on a tree
or heard the songs
of romance whispered in the night,
then it stopped
it looked and listened
finding all
the things I love…


 

(via lzlabseesu)

— 8 hours ago with 72 notes
#poets on tumblr  #twc  #spilled ink  #creative writing  #lzlabs  #Queued post  #lzlabseesu  #poetry 
"Did I see you
on every line I wrote
as I borrowed the brightness
of each star that stands to light up
the sky at night?
How like sinners we keep…
we shall stay hushed
like the sounds of graves
very deep
very deep"
mydarlingwhispers, moonshines (via mydarlingwhispers)

(via mydarlingwhispers)

— 8 hours ago with 28 notes
#mywriting  #mydarlingwhispers  #Queued  #poetry 
I’m scared, mommy

ladymycroftmansfield:

Very little breaks the heart of a mother as efficiently as her own child frightened beyond consolation. The logical approach usually works, at least here. There’s nothing to be afraid of. You’re safe, I promise. Don’t worry. Think good thoughts. But tonight, all failed. And she comes out of bed shaking with a trembling voice, desperation in her eyes. She’s scared of her dreams. The ones that brought her to my bed at 3am last night. That make her lip quiver as she talks. And the ones that she probably inherited from me. I can’t hold her close enough, my own patience a knife edge. Why can’t she move on from this? Would it help if I tell her the images I f car crashes and betrayals will fade in the morning? That you won’t have vivid flashes when driving in the left lane or walking in an alley? I would tell her that I’d single handedly defend her from any onslaught, with a strength she hadn’t seen but knows is there. Willingly step in front of a train to spare her. I would tell her I command the angels on her behalf and the demons shake with fear at the strength of my conviction. I would defend her peace with the last drop of blood in my veins, the last beat of my heart. She would see me fall long before she felt death’s sting. No, I don’t tell her these things. She’s scared now, and I will not add to her nightmares by revealing mine. I stroke her hair and speak again firmly. The angels are standing guard. You are safe, I promise. Believe me. And she sleeps.

— 8 hours ago with 31 notes
#prose  #parenting  #ladymycroftmansfield  #Queued  #poetry 
"I was built from fragile things—but that doesn’t make me weak. If anything, it makes me stronger. This constant breaking, but also this eventual pull of all the pieces back together. Despite it all. That is strength."
Shelby Asquith, Always (via exahele)

(via exahele)

— 9 hours ago with 229 notes
#repost  #exahele  #Queued  #poetry 

donnydo:

Where do the sorrows go, when joy comes frolicking through the door?

— 9 hours ago with 39 notes
#Sunday night  #musing  #donnydo  #Queued  #poetry 
we have no copy of morning

isas-bell:

i am a 5 a.m. picture of you
tossing sleep into the breeze.
and a look at dawn,
pouring its vermilion
always at a different angle.

(via karmamax)

— 10 hours ago with 51 notes
#karmamax  #Queued post 
Dance with the Devil

allanegory:

These lines are nothing but self-therapy
And don’t hold any critical acclaim,
Mere symptoms of my search for remedy
And for a winning move in devil’s game.

For he has pitted me ‘gainst my own mind
And made me want to flee from my own head,
Made me my adversary, most unkind
I fear this game won’t stop until I’m dead.

But as my suffering depends on choice
My enemy has made a stern mistake;
I will be deaf to his alluring voice
And I will choose now all his rules to break.

And as I move now to a tune that’s new
The devil’s game became a dance for two.

(via allanegory)

— 10 hours ago with 53 notes
#Queued post  #poetry 

slowsway:

Closer

Learning dialect from silent film,
mannerisms stolen from hues
of the deepest blues. Pulling strands
loose from fabric shared, unravelling 
bodies stitched by hand.
To disappear under threads,
contented hearts unburdened 
by the structures that held us in place. 
Losing ourselves, becoming each other
and nothing in a moment blind and muted.
Absconding forms for formlessness;
Never closer, more further apart than ever.

— 11 hours ago with 30 notes
#Writing  #Prose  #Poetry  #Queue  #slowsway  #Queued post 
To the Wooden Bookcase

ghostsandonionskins:

Every scrap of love I knew
died screaming in that fire
when the axeman tore our dog from smoke
for the gawkers to admire

and the paper sang like gospel choirs
on the eve of the return
for the readers sweetly smiling
reading ink that didn’t burn

and the phone calls of condolence
rang against me like the lash
Every scrap of love I knew
committed into ash

Tell me there is more to this
a more not so absurd
and promise me an afterlife
where a man might find his words

— 11 hours ago with 41 notes
#poem  #ghostsandonionskins  #Queued  #poetry 
Learning

lzlabs:

My heart never saw
the pink blossoms on a tree
or heard the songs
of romance whispered in the night,
then I stopped
I looked and listened
finding all
the things I love…


 

(via lzlabseesu)

— 12 hours ago with 72 notes
#poets on tumblr  #twc  #spilled ink  #creative writing  #lzlabs  #Queued post  #lzlabseesu  #poetry