#my poem Tumblr posts

  • consciousnessblog
    25.10.2021 - 36 minutes ago

    What did you see?

    Your vision.

    Your dream.

    Am I still with you?

    Am I loved?

    By you.

    Our history.

    Became.

    It became.

    It is written in sand.

    Where we used to walk.

    Barefoot.

    By the sea.

    You and me.

    And the magic.

    Exists.

    It exists.

    Where are we now?

    Are we truly free?

    The history.

    It is already written.

    And the magic.

    Is inside us.

    We will love again.

    We will love.

    💖

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  • toonvanelk
    25.10.2021 - 54 minutes ago

    The morning after

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  • greywoodpoetry
    25.10.2021 - 1 hour ago

    October leaves with damp cheeks

    Tears falling from lavender skies

    Crisp, cool and charming

    All that was needed

    Amid summer’s blaze found

    In the peaceful goodbye

    As November calls its approach

    Blustery and chilled

    Autumn’s embrace open armed

    Waiting to close and wipe away

    October’s tears

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  • junebugzz
    25.10.2021 - 1 hour ago

    days like this, i’m glad my english teacher hates me bc that means im doing something right

    #IM QUOTING HER NOTES : #'the poem gives a relevant message that god gives everything to us unasked if we surrender ourselves completely to him' #LITERALLY WORD TO WORD!!!! WOMAN STFUUUU #like. have u seen my blog title 🤓 #the POEM!!! is about fuckin charity and sacrifice shown through spiritual example #(the poem is A Little Grain Of Gold btw. Rabindranath Tagore.)
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  • tisalonelydreamer
    25.10.2021 - 1 hour ago
    i am done staring at blank walls, wondering why the halls are empty. i am done staring at color, wishing i could feel bright again. i am done waiting for a reason. i am done wishing the end would come when i could claw back on my own. i am done wishing i wasn’t on my own. i am done thinking i was ever on my own. 

    i want to live. i want to live because maybe, maybe i can give myself a reason to.

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  • flammaelunae
    25.10.2021 - 1 hour ago

    (It's the kinda mood that allows me

    to write in brackets and mouseprints only;

    such an absurd thing almost to think

    all intensity got any less intense

    if you choose a smaller box to put it in.)

    So let me break down those lines for the sake of believing

    I could shamelessly write about my every feeling -

    by now I should, right?

    By now it should be easy -

    well, at least it's easier.

    I've died again - oh, god, not again,

    I can see everyone rolling their eyes

    up to the back of their heads;

    not turning away but loudly sighing

    at how I hardly follow my own advice.

    (The mortician laughs at my jokes

    as he closes the casket, we're losing count

    of how often we've repeated that very same scene -

    I'm getting tired, you know?

    Aren't you getting tired, too?)

    This morning I prefered the state

    of being up yet not fully awake,

    blissfull inbetween-feeling,

    last night's warped awareness still far away,

    taste on my tongue so bitter I mistook it for pain.

    (Some nights I still wanna slide back:

    fight the symptons instead of the cause;

    only in the spur of those moments,

    it seems easier.)

    There's nothing ethical about this hunger, is it?

    Just ask another self still dressed

    like a judge in court, you know -

    I'm weary of it, too.

    Exhausting just to hear them speak

    always the very same

    bad alibis.

    Exhausting to take a phrase,

    and tear it apart.

    May I stop to analyze now?

    (It's the kinda mood that allows me

    to haunt the same four walls I've left behind

    like I was still myself in the form

    of a forgotten ghost that never found home.)

    It's the kinda mood that allows me

    to take a bite of this vague reality -

    before it crumbles right at my feet,

    I wonder, did it get to shape me?

    #i'm not sure whether i'm going to delete this one later #but i still wanna post it first #logic won! clearly. #my writing #idk my main criticism is that it kinda misses a point #like it's an okay poem but it's kinda off track #especially that random line about hunger... how long did i not write about that anymore exactly? quite long definitely. #and like i know it relates to scorpio season and the feelings i mentioned in another post i made this morning #but like...... in the poem i still don't elaborate it like at all #also it's so weirdly ex-anorexic of me to be embarrassed about exactly those lines about hunger even if it's a metaphorical kind #and like why am i complaining about writing something so unclear when the feeling itself is literally unclear #idk i'm just ranting at this point #*game show host voice* this will lead to a whole bunch of indescribeable realizations! #does it show a lot that i'm a leo mercury
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  • raindropsindreams
    25.10.2021 - 2 hours ago

    A seagull's cry

    Now when we hear it,

    a seagull's cry,

    in all it's shrill glory

    tells us we're close to water

    But i wonder about long ago

    when the bird

    wasn't just a bird

    but a beacon of hope

    When it came soaring above the ships

    that had been long lost at sea

    telling hard-faced men, with

    faces browned by the salt and sun

    to hold on! it's not much longer now!

    soon the endless, deep blue waves

    will hold you no longer,

    soon they'll send you free

    And they'd shout with joy

    "Look, a seagull flying overhead!"

    and cry and be happy

    and dance in pure delight

    For there was never

    a song so sweet

    or a melody so divine

    than that shrill seagull's cry

    poem by Joana Soares

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  • raindropsindreams
    25.10.2021 - 2 hours ago

    The heart hurts

    Whoever says the heart doesn't hurt

    is as big as a fool

    as only fools can be

    Surely they've never felt the pain,

    the breath-taking grip of sorrow

    that leaves one blind with horror

    It's merciless, the pain in the heart

    an illness like no other

    making one sick and dumb and desperate for tomorrow

    It is like a big boulder

    tied to one's feet

    dragging a limp body to the bottom of the sea

    And it clouds one's kind with hazy fog

    Covers the world in the darkest shade of night

    Till there's only vulnerable, fragile hope left in the box

    So with the most desolate song in my mouth

    and only bitter poison in my chest

    i say to the fools:

    "the heart hurts, more than anything in the world

    and it's the most terrible pain, it eats away the soul

    and only a fool wouldn't say so."

    poem by Joana Soares.

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  • drewdaves-blog
    25.10.2021 - 2 hours ago

    Volcano

    bells as toe rings

    dark tones against

    black sand

    where she

    walked

    danced

    became the wind itself

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  • flamejos
    25.10.2021 - 2 hours ago

    track 10

    won't you ever late night text me

    unexpectedly, surprisingly

    saying how much you miss me

    or telling me all the things you never did say

    i have a lot of unsaid stuff myself

    bet you do too

    bet you think of me

    have you ever dreamt of me?

    cause i keep picturing us in that park

    where you taught me how to smoke

    and we danced along to

    whatever that musician played for us

    told you i used to hate cigarettes

    though you made them kinda sexy, yet dangerous

    which suits you just fine

    you said you'd quit for me

    cause i had already changed your life

    #ac#25out21#love#poem#poetry #even my phone misses your call btw
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  • quartzalynlove
    25.10.2021 - 2 hours ago

    Chill

    The chill in the air seems to stop time in its tracks

    Everything becomes more noticeable

    The changing colors of the leaves falling from the trees

    The excitement in others for family festivities

    Some people stick with the flow of time with never ending excitement for the Halloween season

    Some feel rushed by time and are already planning their thanksgiving dinner

    And some don't restrict themselves to the movement of time and are already anticipating the beloved Christmas season

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  • chiakinanami82
    25.10.2021 - 2 hours ago

    Too Many Cooks

    Too many cooks,

    Too many cooks,

    Adding their own ingredients,

    Messing up everything.

    There’s too many cooks,

    Too many cooks here.

    Trying to make everything appealing

    To everyone,

    Ruining the stew.

    Too many cooks,

    Too many cooks.

    They are stuck in a never-ending loop of

    Absurdity.

    Too many cooks,

    Too many cooks.

    Their world,

    Ruined by

    Too many cooks.

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  • pennedbyvaishdas
    25.10.2021 - 2 hours ago

    I heard the utensils being arranged after wiping them on the kitchen shelf. The noise of clattering vessels kicked my spines to get goosebumps. I sensed the tension between the silence we both held after the party. Just before the lightning had the hearts sink in the pit, I saw the first drop of tears in her eyes. I was so insensitive and ignorant, I couldn't do well giving her a pat on her back and saying that everything was gonna be okay. If I had done it before, would it have changed how things turned out to be? I had no answer to the questions going on inside her head. Then I saw her bare face which was usually completely buried under coatings of make-up and the dark circles under her eyes spoke about countless nights she had spent awake worrying, turning and shifting in anxiety. I couldn't understand it then, couldn't decode the reason as to why she had to hide herself at the cost of her peace. All I could tell was the way her suffering sounded under the heavy downpour we had that night. Holding her journal, I feel so guilty not giving her a hug that night to say, "It is okay not to be perfect all time." Or I should have just taken part along with her to go through all the pain and sufferings. When I was not even ready to wipe her tears, I have no right to stand beside her in her joyful days. Like the time already decided with whom she should be, I left her before I could see her in her brightest days.  She was like a flower, she budded, bloomed into a beautiful flower with colours of her own, when she withered, she was gentle and subtle about her withdrawal from this world, in the end, she was a giver to this world. I was nothing but another bug sucking life outta her.  I feel guilty for not giving her the assurance she needed in this life. While I was playing busy, I should have put off those excuses to meet her when she was failing, and falling hard to every blow of life. And yet another morning I mourn her absence and the scent of her care around the air. I called off everything and lay on the floor just like she did and watched the void to understand her and regret not doing this sooner. -vaishdas, 'she lost to my selfishness and I lost her...'

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  • pimsri
    25.10.2021 - 3 hours ago

    "It bore me away, wetted with spray, wrapped in a mist, wound in a sleep, to a forgotten strand in a strange land. In the twilight beyond the deep"

    Tolkientober day 25 : dream from Tolkien's poem, "The Sea-Bell, or Frodos Dreme"

    #frodos dreme #this is my favorite of Tolkien's poem #along with the errantry #I love his story and eveyr little bit about traveller finding their way to the lost shore #I'm fascinated by fairytale and it's so good and warm my heart to think that #that the world beyond our own out there is magical #and that there are still people who nowaday reach it #even if it's in dream #because even if it's in dream #it still speaks to us that it's real in our imagination #fantasy is more than as escape to me #and it's why I love this poem so much #even if it ends sad #pimsriart#jrrt#jrr tolkien #j.r.r. tolkien #tolkientober#tolkientober2021#illustraion#dream#fanasy#boat#sea#faerie#fairy
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  • ochenslozhno
    25.10.2021 - 3 hours ago

    rebecca solnit, hope in the dark

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  • ghosttap65
    25.10.2021 - 3 hours ago

    I see him coming

    Pale skin

    Black clothes

    Red lips

    With hands wrapped around a sword,

    I smile

    He bristles

    He does not want to fight

    He does not want to hurt

    He is tired

    So tired

    He is scared,

    Yet, he comes

    Step by step

    He does not want to fight

    He does not want to hurt

    He prolongs

    And prolongs

    He is broken,

    He waits

    Waits for me to shout

    Waits for me to weep

    Waits for me to curse

    Waits for me to cry

    Waits for me to fight

    He does not wants to fight

    He does not want to hurt

    But he expects all the above

    I do none,

    He stops in front of me

    A few paces between us

    With silence and wariness

    He does not wants me to scream

    He does not want me to break the silence between us

    No matter how uncomfortable

    He does not want to fight

    He does not want to hurt

    He is afraid

    He comes near

    He has no choice

    I embrace him

    He stiffens

    He expected curses

    He expected weeping

    He expected fear

    He expected anger

    He expected cruelness

    He expected a fight

    He does not want to fight

    He does not want to hurt

    He expected me to not understand that

    He is misunderstood,

    He wraps his arms around me

    He is hesitant

    He does not want to fight

    He does not want to hurt

    But he does not know care

    Does not know gentleness

    Does not know affection

    Does not know love

    He is lonely,

    He has traveled far and wide

    All around the world

    People curse his existence

    They name him pain

    They name him grief

    They name him curses

    But the worst curse they named him

    They named him death

    He does not want to fight

    He does not want to hurt

    But people say he does nothing but that

    He believes that

    He loathes himself

    He is bitter,

    Black wings sprouting from his back

    He always puts on a mask

    Mask of coldness

    Mask of indifference

    Mask of boredom

    He does not show

    Does not show he is hurt

    Does not show he is in pain

    Does not show he is in broken

    Does not show he hates himself

    He does not want to hate himself more

    He does not want to fight

    He does not want to hurt

    But he likes my embrace

    Likes my attention

    Likes my hugs

    Likes my gentlesness

    Likes this

    He wants it

    He has gone so long without it

    So I give it to him

    And he takes it

    And in return he takes care of me

    And of all the things I came to know

    I realized

    Everyone treated his feelings like a toy

    They failed to see

    He is nothing

    Nothing but a broken

    Broken

    Broken

    Boy.

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  • corvianbard
    25.10.2021 - 3 hours ago

    #3730

    Under the hymn Of the mighty cherubim, Everything seems grim, All the starlight dim, Chances of mercy so slim, Yet I still will go out of whim.

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  • trashytastechan
    25.10.2021 - 3 hours ago

    to you,love stayed in smaller packets,it was everywhere around your skin,the aroma in the air and the darker parts of the dust, to some it was abstract while to some it was an ink smeared text on their hearty paper, some spelt it as jesus while some chanted the winds and the rivers, some believed it was a destructed matter while some called it a bright wave filled with yearn and surrender,to your mother it was her lover's old poetry dusting her rosy cheeks, and to your father it was the way the gold suited his wrists, to you my darling, it was the home you've never been to,it was like the under of your eyes,that never stayed dry,but then one day you remember seeing the face of the boy who was nothing like how you thought princes were, who crawled to you smiling,"i'am so sorry darling for making you cry, i should have reached you earlier,i'am a fool for being shy,",he sang his apology like a ballad,while his palms reached to hold your arms, something dancing from his eyes to your tongue, "who are you mister?-", you felt something under your eye, something soft and plum like rasberries, "let's dance my love",he smiled.

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  • jordynhaiku
    25.10.2021 - 3 hours ago

    Rituals

    A morning routine

    Cool juice and toast on the plate

    The sound of birds' song

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  • corvianbard
    25.10.2021 - 3 hours ago

    #3729

    I repent At the depth of your eyes, For there I see The beauty of paradise.

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