meganspoetry - Tumblr blog

meganspoetry · 6 months

Text

'six' is a short poem about my younger self.

#published #poetry

1 note · View note

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

Autumn—Winter, 2022-2023

Titles in bold indicate that the work is only available through purchasing the anthology or magazine.

Fiction

Above

Hunger

Ribbon Thread

Water and Glass

Non-Fiction

Death and Disobedience in del Toro's Pinocchio

Imago Dei

Recapturing My Ferocity

The Lost Peacock Garden

Tuesday

#published

18 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'misery

was when you gutted your heart like a fish

and seared it in butter for them to eat.

I could make whole new worlds.

then misery

became exhaustion

and— unable to create—

I had to find a friend that I didn't have to feed.'

'misery,' - Megan's Poetry #1325

22 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'the shiniest snake of all

says I should bite the brightest apple on the tree.

it's sharper than snow white's ever was—

I'd never survive.

should you see me destroyed, not damaged,

says the shiniest snake,

you will feel regret.'

'I know better— of apples and snakes and heartless men,' - Megan's Poetry #1324

11 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'if we blind and deafen ourselves to survive, we live but we live mutilated [...]'

thank you for tagging me!

show the last line you wrote and tag as many people as there are words!

tagged by @bebemoon 🤍

“your fingertips felt like dew drops on my skin"

tagging

@hopes-for-the-nights

@sapphicmoonwitch

@etherealnymphe

@ethereal-drivel

@piscesmoonseapearl

@fruitcakeflowers

@tempestofstarlings

@wistful-giselle

@meganspoetry

#there's more but it's not very fun <3 #wrote this yesterday very upset actually

11 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'it would not have its picture painted—

no sonnet nor statue could be made of it—

what do you do with pain which can only be felt?'

'artless,' - Megan's Poetry #1323

4 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'my skeleton is water-logged;

uncried tears creep into the bones.

they'll open them up in future years

and there they'll smell the rot.'

'the dam,' - Megan's Poetry #1322

5 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'the beast, it thrives on blood and bugs,

but most of all it desires flame—

it sets alight that which is soft and bright

and when it is ashes does so again.

I will not meet it with the clanging of blades,

which only melt in its malevolent forge,

but will retreat into ice and stone that seeps,

cool, should it wish to make me no more.'

'the beast,' - Megan's Poetry #1321

#poetry #poem #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled words #spilled thoughts #spilled prose #life quotes #spilled ideas #toxic relationship #conflict #spilled love #spilled heart #spilled everything #spilled truth #spilled tears #spilled feelings #spilled pages

9 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Note

🏠

Thank you, and I hope you feel well soon! 💚💚💚💚

'Jaja’s defiance seemed to me now like Aunty Ifeoma’s experimental purple hibiscus: rare and fragrant with the undertones of freedom.'

Aunty Ifeoma's Garden, from the novel 'Purple Hibiscus'

Those modified purple petals were made in a human's image. What does that mean— at night, do they admire the stars?

The gloss of lipstick, a winning goal, an experimental purple flower— are these things what it means to be free? The birds and I were sculpted by the same hand, but they understand this question better than me.

There is love that warms but does not burn— what wonderful wisdom is this! But where do such embraces lead— in what direction should I turn? The path beneath my feet is patterned with purple, and I fear that there are no thorns.

I think I know— we can, perhaps, instinctively discern— what freedom is. But how do we draw the line between freedom and sin?

I wonder if the flowers wonder about this.

for an ask game: send me a 🏡 if you want a poem about a fictional place that your blog reminds me of 💕

#🏡#purple hibiscus #poetry #poem #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled words #spilled thoughts #spilled prose #life quotes #spilled ideas #spilled heart #spilled love #spilled everything #spilled tears #spilled truth #spilled feelings #spilled pages

11 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'at my core I am a writhing mass of muscle—

it cries out to everyone I know.

forgive me. forgive me. forgive me.'

'forgive me,' - Megan's Poetry #1320

14 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'my mouth no longer speaks—

it is my limbs, crying out in agony, that do for it.'

'pain,' - Megan's Poetry #1319

5 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'change comes change comes change—

whether anointed in gold and purple silk,

drinking honey and bathing in milk,

or jeered at in the stocks and beaten in the streets,

change comes change comes change,

marching in on silver feet.'

'change comes change comes change,' - Megan's Poetry #1318

6 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

happy new year 🤍 one of my resolutions is to pay more attention to this blog, so you should hopefully see more posts from me soon!

#happy new year

2 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

x

5 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'A teapot's handle is a listening ear.'

'afternoon,' - Megan's Poetry #1317

16 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Text

'thou hast embedded a rose in my heart / I am unpicking thorn after thorn / the flower unfolds, unfolds, unfolds / and with every new circle there is an angrier burn'

'the rose,' - Megan's Poetry #1316

#poetry #poem #spilled ink #spilled poetry #spilled words #spilled thoughts #spilled prose #spilled ideas #pain #spilled pages #spilled emotions #spilled love #spilled truth #spilled heart #spilled everything #spilled poem #spilled journal

3 notes · View notes

meganspoetry · 1 year

Note

🏠

I absolutely adore your poetry!!

"But if I sit alone at my table, strange things happen. Cracks open in the floor. Zombies crawl out and start roaming around. It's a mood disorder. I can't control it. That's what I told Chiron."

"And is it true?" I asked.

Nico smiled thinly. "I have a note from my doctor."

The Apollo Table in Rick Riordan's 'Trials of Apollo'

Solitude is not so lonely as you might think. More feel it than you know, especially the dead— at every empty table, quiet birthday, desolate evening, their cold grey hands reach out, and stretch— as if to say, fear not, fear not. We are here. The cold earth is the oldest tomb of all, and it stands steady beneath my feet.

But look, the cracks are opening.

The cracks are opening; light is crawling through. (A bronze lid, somewhere, is lifted.) Look, look, the cracks are opening. (A Hades figure is returned to my hand.) Yes, light is crawling through— he has bright eyes, and wheat-like hair.

for an ask game: send me a 🏡 if you want a poem about a fictional place that your blog reminds me of 💕

18 notes · View notes