Tumgik
#Muriel Rukeyser
trashmuth · 10 months
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Muriel Rukeyser, Then  x  The Bear
2K notes · View notes
lisareadsthings · 1 year
Text
Tumblr media
3K notes · View notes
perfectquote · 12 days
Quote
Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry.
Muriel Rukeyser
156 notes · View notes
firstfullmoon · 3 months
Text
Tumblr media
Muriel Rukeyser, “Waking This Morning”
203 notes · View notes
mournfulroses · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
Muriel Rukeyser, from Gods & Mortals: Modern Poems on Classics; "The Poem as a Mask,"
237 notes · View notes
perfectfeelings · 7 months
Quote
Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry.
Muriel Rukeyser
154 notes · View notes
quotefeeling · 11 months
Quote
Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry.
Muriel Rukeyser
219 notes · View notes
resqectable · 8 months
Quote
Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry.
Muriel Rukeyser
120 notes · View notes
insilverrolled · 1 year
Text
Effort at Speech Between Two People
By Muriel Rukeyser [x]
:  Speak to me.          Take my hand.            What are you now?   I will tell you all.          I will conceal nothing. When I was three, a little child read a story about a rabbit who died, in the story, and I crawled under a chair    : a pink rabbit    :    it was my birthday, and a candle burnt a sore spot on my finger, and I was told to be happy.
:  Oh, grow to know me.        I am not happy.        I will be open: Now I am thinking of white sails against a sky like music, like glad horns blowing, and birds tilting, and an arm about me. There was one I loved, who wanted to live, sailing.
:  Speak to me.        Take my hand.        What are you now? When I was nine, I was fruitily sentimental, fluid    :    and my widowed aunt played Chopin, and I bent my head on the painted woodwork, and wept. I want now to be close to you.        I would link the minutes of my days close, somehow, to your days.
:  I am not happy.          I will be open. I have liked lamps in evening corners, and quiet poems. There has been fear in my life.          Sometimes I speculate On what a tragedy his life was, really.
:  Take my hand.          Fist my mind in your hand.          What are you now? When I was fourteen, I had dreams of suicide, and I stood at a steep window, at sunset, hoping toward death   : if the light had not melted clouds and plains to beauty, if light had not transformed that day, I would have leapt. I am unhappy.          I am lonely.          Speak to me.
:  I will be open.          I think he never loved me: He loved the bright beaches, the little lips of foam that ride small waves, he loved the veer of gulls: he said with a gay mouth: I love you.          Grow to know me.
:  What are you now?          If we could touch one another, if these our separate entities could come to grips, clenched like a Chinese puzzle . . . yesterday I stood in a crowded street that was live with people, and no one spoke a word, and the morning shone. Everyone silent, moving. . . . Take my hand.          Speak to me.
210 notes · View notes
perfeqt · 7 months
Quote
Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry.
Muriel Rukeyser
61 notes · View notes
thoughtkick · 1 year
Quote
Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry.
Muriel Rukeyser
382 notes · View notes
llovelymoonn · 1 year
Text
favourite november poems
marilyn chin little girl études
muriel rukeyser the speed of darkness: “poem (i lived in the first century of world wars)”
sanna wani lately i am trying
tory dent collected poems: “the moon and the yew tree”
maya mior re: your listing
marvin bell nightworks: poems 1962-2000: “obsessive”
lauren k. alleyene how could i have known i would need to remember your laughter
charles bernstein with strings: “a test of poetry”
carl phillips this far in
laura wetherington (& hannah ensor) feel piece 4
dean young dear friend
robyn schiff a woman of property: “gate”
margaret de laughter a pantoun
rick barot the flea
elsa gidlow oversoul
carl phillips stop shaking
warsan shire the unbearable weight of staying
manuel arturo abreu klangfarbenmelodie
marianne boruch keats is coughing
evan knoll blood makes the blade holy
risk (@mechanicrisk) my son, the two headed calf
francine sterle nude in winter: “self-portrait as an allegory of painting”
luci tapahonso a radiant curve: “elegy for my younger sister”
matthew sweeney alone
david harsent from “a dream book”
sanna wani tomorrow is a place
rachel blau duplessis: from eurydics: snake
hannah brooks-motl family dollar
matthew olzmann letter beginning with two lines from czesław miłosz
janice lobo sapigao silhouette
kofi
201 notes · View notes
phantomladyoverparis · 6 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
They Are Their Own Gifts (1978), dir. Margaret Murphy & Lucille Rhodes
42 notes · View notes
perfectquote · 1 year
Quote
Breathe in experience, breathe out poetry.
Muriel Rukeyser
196 notes · View notes
blogdemocratesjr · 1 year
Photo
Tumblr media
Muriel Rukeyser, Breaking Open
99 notes · View notes
riverbird · 5 months
Text
"I am the tree that trembles and trembles." Muriel Rukeyser, from The Speed of Darkness
15 notes · View notes