@firstfullmoon

synctest :

Du côté de la côte (Agnès Varda, 1958)

llleighsmith :

maybe i am a bit codependent but also we were not made to face the world alone

llleighsmith :

i am thankful for any small love that has ever graced my life

Question:

Hello <3 Is music important to you as poetry? Or do you listen to music a lot or not really?

Answer:

loooove music a whole lot!! my relation to each is different but both are really important parts of my everyday life :-)

Question:

the… lines make it a little hard to read ahaha they cut the verses in a way i think a new sentence is starting but it’s a continuation… or is the verse supposed to cut it?

Answer:

i have no idea what this is referencing to as i was away from tumblr for a couple of weeks…was this about a specific poem i posted? or poetry in general? because poets tend to actively try to disrupt an easy to read style in which each new line is a new sentence but rather cut sentences into several lines, play with where the cut is made, etc

Question:

hello! i noticed your last quote, the one labeled jeanette winterson from gut symmetries, is actually a bible quote. it's 1 corinthians 13:7 verbatim. just thought i'd let you know!

Answer:

omg i had no idea so sorry!!! it was not specified as being a bible quote so i assumed it was just from her

Question:

hi, was wondering if wolf hall is good? is it worth it in terms of plot, characters etc? 💕

Answer:

i personally loved it!! would not say it’s the type of book to read for a specific plot (there isn’t any tbh) but i found the character study of cromwell sooo interesting. as i said to previous anon it can be difficult if you’re not familiar with the historical context etc but in my opinion it is absolutely worth reading!

Question:

Thank you, thank you for doing quotes from Wolf Hall. Are you reading it right now? Can I ask what you think? I’ve been reading it for a couple months (very slowly) and am finding it more difficult than I expected. I think it’s beautifully written and every once in a while I’m just blown away by the beauty of a sentence, most of which you’ve captured here.

Answer:

hello! the quotes were actually queued and i read it back in june! i LOVED it, read it in only a few days i was so obsessed with the writing style & it’s so crazy that hilary mantel made me so interested in this dude from tudors england. i understand it would seem difficult esp regarding the historical context & theological references but it’s a period i’m very familiar with, which helped! i did get confused about the similar names tho. but yeah this book is such a wild ride

douceurs :

Strange Gods, Roxane Gay

His past lies about him like a burnt house. He has been building, building, but it has taken him years to sweep up the mess.
Hilary Mantel, from Bring Up The Bodies

I have endured it, you will say. I have come through. And pity and self-love will crack open your heart, so that at the first gesture of kindness — let us say, a blanket or a sip of wine — your heart will overflow,
Hilary Mantel, from Bring Up The Bodies

He once thought it himself, that he might die with grief […] but the pulse, obdurate, keeps its rhythm. You think you cannot keep breathing, but your ribcage has other ideas, rising and falling, emitting sighs. You must thrive in spite of yourself; and so that you may do it, God takes out your heart of flesh, and gives you a heart of stone.
Hilary Mantel, Bring Up The Bodies (via antigonick )

—something in the act of becoming. It will arrive with the morning light; something shifting and breathing, its form disguised in a copse or grove.
Hilary Mantel, Bring Up The Bodies (via antigonick )

bakwaaas:

🥘🍞🍅🥬🧄🍽

bibliomancyoracle :

Nothing’s Freudian anymore. A cigar’s a cigar. I want to love something.
I want to love something without having to apologize for it. Please don’t tell.

*

from “I’m Not Speaking First” by Hala Alyan

This is the year, in a kitchen
you brighten with pots of basil
and untidy mint, I see how
your life will open, will burst from
the maze in its walled-in garden
and streak towards the horizon.

— Maxine Kumin, from “Magellan Street, 1974”

aemperatrix :

Greg Kuzma, Another Day

I wake in the dark and remember
it is the morning when I must start
by myself on the journey
I lie listening to the black hour
before dawn and you are
still asleep beside me while
around us the trees full of night lean
hushed in their dream that bears
us up asleep and awake then I hear
drops falling one by one into
the sightless leaves and I
do not know when they began but
all at once there is no sound but rain
and the stream below us roaring
away into the rushing darkness

— W. S. Merwin, “Rain Travel”

When we are old one night and the moon
arcs over the house like an antique
China saucer and the teacup sun

follows somewhere far behind
I hope the stars deepen to a shine
so bright you could read by it

if you liked and the sadness
we will have known go away
for awhile — in this hour or two

before sleep — and that we kiss
standing in the kitchen not fighting
gravity so much as embodying

its sweet force, and I hope we kiss
like we do today knowing so much
good is said in this primitive tongue

from the wild first surprising ones
to the lower dizzy ten thousand
infinitely slower ones—and I hope

while we stand there in the kitchen
making tea and kissing, the whistle
of the teapot wakes the neighbors.

— Steve Scafidi, “Prayer for a Marriage”

“I have built you a shore with all my best words & still, the waves.”

— Claire Schwartz, from “Shards with Diffuse Light”

“I write things
down. I build a life & tear it apart
& the sun keeps shining.”

— Ocean Vuong, from “Daily Bread”

“All day I’ve built
a lifetime and now
the sun sinks to
undo it.”

— Anne Sexton, from “The Fury of Sunsets”

ijaazat:

blue? blue <333

It is necessary to go through life a little blunted, a little cloaked, how else to bear even a single day? The horror and the glory would overwhelm me.
Jeanette Winterson, from Gut Symmetries

This is a sea story, a wave story, a story that breaks and ebbs, spilling the boat up on the beach, dragging it out to a tiny dot. Life asails on its own tears.
Jeanette Winterson, from Gut Symmetries

you want me to bleed to death so that no one can tell what wound it was we shared.
Gut Symmetries, Jeanette Winterson (via decreation )

I was gargoyled with grief. A stretched taunted thing. A waterspout of misery.
Jeanette Winterson, from Gut Symmetries

I tried to copy other children but lacked their tough skin. I was a glove turned inside-out, softness showing.
Jeanette Winterson, from Gut Symmetries

Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
Jeanette Winterson, from Gut Symmetries

Without love what does humanness mean?
Jeanette Winterson, from Gut Symmetries

wrimwramwrom:

The Green Ray (Éric Rohmer)

When we killed what we were to become what we are, what did we do with the bodies? We did what most people do; buried them under the floorboards and got used to the smell.
I’ve lived my life like a serial killer; finish with one part, strangle it and move onto the next. Life in neat little boxes is life neat little coffins, the dead bodies of the past laid out side by side. I am discovering, now, in the late afternoon of the day, that the dead still speak.
Gut Symmetries, Jeanette Winterson (via decreation )