#a poem perhaps

[lonesome-dreamsss]

his handprint may be burned into your skin but it's still the gentlest touch you've ever received.

#smth smth destiel #cas was always so gentle with dean #he knew of dean's pain and wanted to ease it!! #he wanted to be a good thing in dean's life!! #when he pulled him from hell it wasn't truly pulling #he cradled dean like he was the most precious thing in the world #and honestly he probably WAS the most precious thing in the world to cas #even as early as then #to quote 'when castiel first laid a hand on you in hell he was lost' #god they make me insane #dean winchester #castiel #destiel #supernatural #does this count as fanfic even if it's one sentence #a poem perhaps #idk it's something that i wrote so i'll take it

[kneeldownandwonder]

i know not why shame toasts with my name on her lips except for that i am a woman like her

#a poem perhaps #i wrote a thing #poetry #spilled ink

[luthienne]

Naomi Shihab Nye, Transfer; "Morning Birds"

#naomi shihab nye #transfer: poems #morning bird #words #poetry #typography #palestinian literature #desire is no light thing #a dream ago perhaps

[sageandscorpiongrass]

Loving You is Easy: On Love.

i love to be a lover <3

Jenny Slate, twitter | A Self-portrait in Letters, Anne Sexton | Bloom Into You, Sayaka Saeki | Kiss Goodnight, IDKHOW | Rêve d’Été, Shanna Van Maurik | You, Carol Ann Duffy | @\chenchenwrites on twitter | No One Belongs Here More Than You, Miranda July | Emily Dickinson, in a letter to Mary Bowels | What Love Will Do To You, Laufey | Pink Starry Flower Field, Jessica Hamilton | I Had a Dream About You, Richard Siken | Sunstone, Octavio Paz (tr. by Eliot Weinberger) | @/brozyglow on tumblr | Poem of the Mountain, Marina Tsvetaeva | Tranquility, Brian McCarthy | I Am a Grand, Living, Buzzing Thing, Emma Bleker | Sophie, The Altogether | When You Ask Me Where I'm Going, Jasmine Kaur | Virginia Woolf, in a letter to Vita Sackville-West | @/lilith-of-stardust on tumblr

[Image ID in alt text!]

#poetry #web weaving #prose #web weaving poetry #literature #parallels #web weave #on love #love poem #perhaps i should wait to post this but ah well! ive finally managed to work up the spoons to write ids! that will not be wasted! #༺✿ web weaves by basil ✿༻

[cultof-aphrodite]

Joy Harjo “Perhaps the World Ends Here”

#possibly my favorite poem ever #poetry #joy harjo #perhaps the world ends here #follow me on instagram @orangeblossom

[aurevives]

— Aure Vives, from ‘km ⇢ xo’

#for eimi #this was about ldr but that’s in the past. perhaps now it’s about our skeletons holding hands #poetry #my poetry #original poem #poets on tumblr #spilled ink #spilled poetry #lovecore #love poem #love poetry #original poetry #poem #my poem #poems on tumblr #love

[cryptidfuckery]

I don't want to become a tree.

I have a fascination with death. Not how it happens, not what happens after. I have a fascination with how death is handled by the ones left living.

I talked at length about it in the Egyptian gallery with you, surrounded by bodies misplaced. "Most of history we learn through the way we treat our dead." Which is true, I think, for the most part.

We have written and oral history. We have the skeletons of buildings and cultures left behind for us to interpret. But before that, before the corpses of civilizations we're still able to uncover, we have our own.

The oldest body ever found is argued to be 230,000 years old. Hundreds of millennia, a culture so lost to time and decay we can't hope to uncover significant artifacts.

Our bodies become the artifact. The way we were buried, where, with what, with who. Was there care put into our final resting spot? Was there effort put into the ends of our lives?

Most often, there was. Our bodies tell our descendants our status. Our injuries. Our community. Our loves.

Perhaps they'll debate. Perhaps they'll misinterpret. But millennia later, your body might tell someone how we lived. How we loved. What we cared about at our core. What we thought would help us after death. What we thought we'd want to continue our comfort. What the living needed to let us pass on from their lives.

You tell me you still think about what I said.

Many people talk about becoming a tree when they pass. It is a beautiful notion, one I've considered. A natural, living reminder of a life lived. A place for their loved ones to share a connection with. In a way, the continuation of a life; albeit in a different form.

But I don't want to become a tree. I'd rather become a forest.

Maybe it's a notion toward the state of our world. The lack of top soil is one of the prevalent factors of our declining environment. The way we've stripped it of the nutrients of decay.

There are ways to decompose naturally. In the ground with nothing but a natural shroud is the oldest and easiest way. A new, human composting method has been created for an urban option when the easiest is unavailable. An alternative to cremating. One that can give back to the earth.

My body might not be one that tells the story of my time alive on this planet. My body might tell a joke, or rest peacefully, or ideally decay away. My DNA will dissolve into nitrogen and an assortment of other elements. I will become no different or better than the dirt that lies around me. What was me will become something else entirely.

I'd rather become the top soil. I'd rather become the forest.

#fucking. blame raq for this #got me thinking about it again #perhaps..... a matching piece of writing to their poem??? #idk if i'd call this a poem but. i am not the expert on this #anyway dedicated to @inkskinned because yeah. they're part of this #@inkskinned #anyway!!!! feel free to ignore i just had to get it out of me

[poemsonmars]

grief is fucking terrifying.

it covers everything in

such a massive layer of pain.

of confusion. of rage.

i can't breathe through it.

one minute i'm sitting in

my childhood bedroom

and the next, i can't see.

i wave my hand in front of my face

and no one greets me in return.

i don't know who i am without her.

-mars

#1/16/23 #the ones about heartbreak #mars.poetry #my poetry #lgbt poetry #original poetry #sad poetry #poetry about grief #poets on tumblr #original poem #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #button poetry #prose poetry #writeblr #poetscommunity #perhaps i wrote this while think about natasha and yelena. and what about it #coming back with the jackieshauna brainrot to say holy shit this is so Them #choose your fighter i guess

[fictionadventurer]

NaPoWriMo #5: A poem inspired by a specific public-domain nature book

In this case, the section about the infinite variety of microorganisms.

Song of the Microorganisms

Praise the Lord, all you single-celled creatures! You bacteria and algae You diatoms and fungi Praise Him who brings you sun and sugars to feast upon Who makes waters and thermal vents for your homes He whose majesty is infinite Crafts and cares for creatures infinitely small Ever-generating life, the unseen throng Praise Him in endless, invisible song

#napowrimo 2024 #poetry #catholic things #more of a concept than a poem perhaps #this is what happens when you've been reading the praise psalms through all the morning prayers of the easter octave

[reallybadblackoutpoems]

the book of the lover and the beloved (c. 1300) - ramon llull

“my beloved: medieval babies” (talking about the guy below)

#love em #renaissance baby #not to be a fucking art major #but its so funny #i love art #i love when people make art #my hobby is #goign through our lecture ppts #and looking at babies #perhaps i will follow up with more #blackout poetry #blackout poem #author #book #poetry

[tosahobi-if]

ketchup accident

#ro: ??? #tshb sketch #tw: blood #i was thinking about quoting more ruan ji #specifically poem 63 from yonghuai #but i’d feel bad #especially since it’s such a lovely poem #also perhaps too melancholy for this #HAHAHA

[mournfulroses]

Margaret Atwood, from The Selected Poems of Margaret Atwood; "Nothing,"

#lit #margaret atwood #poetry #nothing #writings #selected poems of margaret atwood #words #one of my favourite lines ever perhaps #p

[recurring-polynya]

i want the boots rukia is wearing in this color spread more than anything

#rukia kuchiki #it is a truth universally acknowledged that Kubo sure can design an outfit but the shoes he comes up with #are in some entirely separate dimension of coolness #there are different color versions of this floating around online where they are brown instead of black which i think i like better #but those were cropped so you could only see one of her feet #if *i* had colored them i would have made them a little more colorful #and thanks to the magic of art being available to all humans i can and PERHAPS I WILL #not me trying to figure out if this is the same outfit she had in the ska ending #it is similar but it IS NOT she had a cardigan there instead of this wicked leather jacket and no cute scarf and most importantly NO BOOTS #btw there is some sort of poem floating between chad and tatsuki you can't read it but in one of the hi res versions i found you can #it says: beatnix 5506 humble-rumble on the road o the middle earth in my heart crush beat #the rest is cut off but says something like 'the man of the [something] colored' #what in the southern fried tom bombadil is that supposed to be??? #also ichigo has TWO wallet chains and cargo pants to nowhere. why. why kubo.

[mataurin]

Eggtober updates 10/13-10/16!

#eggtober #eggtober2022 #we got TWO art history inspired eggs served up hot and ready on the menu this evening #the other two were eggs my gf wanted me to draw so :) #the only thing going through my head everyday as I draw a new egg is that tumblr poem #leg so hot hot hot leg leg so hot I fry an egg #nothing up there but some oil sizzling in a hot p #sometimes I look at my dumb idiot little boy cat and I say out loud…. we’re not so different you and I #perhaps you look at me and also revel in the blankness behind my eyes #i digress #anyway it’s insane how people are always like hey draw a LOT and constantly and the same thing to improve :) #and I’m like whatever idiot until I see the improving quality of my eggs ://// #* #my art

[dawnsbreaking]

Transcription: Zayne's ST "Beginning"

i transcribed Zayne's ST story for meta purposes and thought I would put the transcription here for others to have it if they haven't unlocked it yet/to have it more accessible than it is in game

everything with "Foreseer:" is Zayne speaking directly, anything not attributed is the poem. i did it this way to make it easier to read the poem on its own, since that's what i hope to analyze in the future <3

Foreseer: Shift your gaze elsewhere. Foreseer: Your expression shall not even earn an ounce of my pity. Foreseer: Though it seems a night in the throne room was not enough. Foreseer: Perhaps you desire to be frozen with the wall as your paltry confessional? [Ice SFX] Foreseer: Better to yield now than later. [Page turning SFX] Foreseer: Could you still be interested in what I’m currently reading? Foreseer: …Certainly, ’tis a poem related to Astra. Its descriptions suit you. Foreseer: Would you like to hear it? - A great distance beyond, …. north of ice and snow, Atop the Divine Mountain, When Light pierces through howling blizzards, The divine sing of Destiny’s crest My Emissary devout, Will thou be lost in these celestial halls? Will thou have the courage to wait for Mine words? To unveil thy fate predetermined. - Foreseer: You appear to be fascinated. Foreseer: [Laugh?] Hmph, then don’t speak. - With the frozen kingdom awakened, Greedy ants fall into eternal slumber. The divine rest upon their thrones, Yet hidden daggers lie beneath their robes. Brazen trespasser, Arcticyons sing of thy requiem. Dost thou know where thy stands, Upon white, gleaming bones? - Foreseer: I don’t mind repeating this verse. Consider it a prophesy of your future. Foreseer: Are you frightened? Foreseer: If this is all your courage is capable of, you best forget about the Creatio Protocore. [Page turning SFX] - Traces of destiny like shimmering starlight, Bind people who have never met… - Foreseer: I’ll stop here. The last verse is rather strange. Foreseer: Do you truly wish to strike a deal? Foreseer: You ask far too many questions. [Ice SFX] Foreseer: Must your wild curiosity be satiated? - Celestial Savior, Is thou prepared? To save him from darkness? To be his sanctuary amidst rime and gale, To allow the descent… of miracles once again? - [END] here is the poem in its entirety without interjections just to make it easier to read:

A great distance beyond, …. north of ice and snow, Atop the Divine Mountain, When Light pierces through howling blizzards, The divine sing of Destiny’s crest My Emissary devout, Will thou be lost in these celestial halls? Will thou have the courage to wait for Mine words? To unveil thy fate predetermined. With the frozen kingdom awakened, Greedy ants fall into eternal slumber. The divine rest upon their thrones, Yet hidden daggers lie beneath their robes. Brazen trespasser, Arcticyons sing of thy requiem. Dost thou know where thy stands, Upon white, gleaming bones? Traces of destiny like shimmering starlight, Bind people who have never met… Celestial Savior, Is thou prepared? To save him from darkness? To be his sanctuary amidst rime and gale, To allow the descent… of miracles once again?

#i'm so obsessed with this scene that i'm kind of pacing the floors of my apartment thinking about it constantly #i think that it is one of those things we will look back on and think #'wow they foreshadowed this entire zayne plot here thats crazy' #i have some crazy theories i fear #but i think ultimately this scene is very cool in that astra is speaking directly to mc via zayne #and... perhaps i am insane! but. i think that zayne's myth is what starts the entire cycle of death and rebirth #also thinking about that john keats poem they used to introduce zayne #before the game's release btw. insane #but i think this idea of cycles and death and rebirth are really central to his character Somehow #there is also something to be said about mc Not dying in zaynes myth #as opposed to the other two #i think zayne breaks the cycle only to start a new one #getting out my red string but i promise im onto something #anyway um #love and deepspace #lads #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #li shen #love and deepspace zayne #foreseer zayne

[hersurvival]

The moment I awake, I flip the coffee maker on. It is still early, and though sunlight doesn't shine over my bed, my body can sense the oncoming light of day.

Decaf sits tucked away in the corner of the cupboard. For you, that is what we brew. I never drink decaf on my own, but this isn't about me, this about the shared moment of us sipping coffee side by side on the couch, sharing the red fuzzy blanket that lives there, finding something quiet to put on the television as we slowly wake up together. I bought this little can of decaf so long ago, for if I should ever need it. For you.

As the coffee brews, I open the curtains. The sun doesn't shine in through these windows, either, but it is beginning to look like it will be an unreal, blue sky day and the natural light still brightens up the space.

I hope hazelnut creamer will be okay, I forgot to ask what you prefer and it is my favorite, the only flavor I keep at all times. But if you'd rather, there is a few splashes of milk in the fridge and plenty of sugar.

You're still asleep peacefully and I saw no reason to disturb you so early. I had brushed your hair out of your face and gently kissed your cheekbone, fixing the covers around you, leaving you to finish your dreams first. But your mug awaits on the counter for when you're ready.

This mug of yours, clear glass and delicate, black outlines of leaves all around, has never been used. You once told me it was your favorite and I have saved it especially for your lips to touch. It would have continued to remain brand new had you not come along. It's been in the cupboard for several years, it was a gift at one time, but something told me it was never truly mine. It has always been yours -

Long before I ever could have known you, long before the desire of waking up to your face on the pillow beside me became apparant. Irrelevant, as you are here now.

And the coffee is ready, my dear, whenever you are.

#coffee #writing #poets on tumblr #poem #poetry #prose poetry #poetic prose #prose #prose writing #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled poem #spilled writing #spilled feelings #short story #original writing #this one is for you #I have never been a writer of stories #but perhaps a delusion will do