#about poetry

[heartofmuse]

Poetry is the human heart laid bare no matter the emotion that governs it for all that is felt is the truth of humanity!

e.v.e.

#about poetry #poets #poets of tumblr #poetry #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #poets on tumblr #quote #writers on tumblr #writerscreed #quotes #poeticstories #bitsofstarglow #inkstay

[beemintty]

i've realised i write poetry about silly things, little things that for some reason make me feel a whole lot of big things. i rarely find myself writing poetry about big things explicitly. no, i find that i write moments in time-- turn them into permanent fixtures on my phone or in my books or on my blog. i find myself marking little moments that make me wonder about bigger things-- little daisies that make me feel heard.

#my thoughts #thoughts #poetry #about poetry #on writing #on inspiration #on life #on love #nature #quotes #writting #poetry and poems #poetic prose #prose #my writing

[deanmekel]

The cycle of the poet

I saw the first snow fall of the new winter

I am reminded of all the words I wrote before

The words do not fall as easy anymore

Still, there is always the pull in my chest, the longing

I wish I could still be falling

I watched the snow fall outside my grandads house

I am reminded of a different life from long ago

The poet inside might be dying

I am standing by their bedside in a distant house

I am holding their hand

Outside, the snow is steady falling

I can still hear the words being whispered to me

There’s a snow globe melting on the mantlepiece

The familiar cat has curled her see-through body in front of the fire

I have read all the dusty books on the shelves

I would always end up here,

In the last homely house in the dark, in the snow

The last light to guide the ghosts home

The solitary oasis at the end of the world

I lived my life with the noise of waves in my head

I did not sail the world, but you never came back

Still, the clouds always told your story

For you, I write with the salt water snow in the light of the moon

Alone at the bedside of the last poet

I embrace my bruised body

I watch the snow fall, outside and inside my head

I had never cried like that before

I warm my hands to a hot mug

There’s a cold in my heart

It’s the dread of you leaving

I don’t know if I can hear the words on my own

My hands might be freezing

I watched you pick up a pen countless times, again and again

I carefully observed the movements you made

Every dot, every line is etched in my brain

I so deeply wish we could be the same

That I could still be the same

I don’t know how to translate the images of snow falling, ghosts calling, my bodily aches, onto the page

Alone in my head I don’t know what to say

When the whispers tell me of distant waves, winter days, the beauty of me

I don’t know if I can tend to the house on my own

I sit by your bedside, I am holding your hand

The cat is asleep at your feet

The last candle lights up the room

The dark is outside the windows

The snow is still falling

I know this is the last night

Your lips are not moving

But I can hear your voice

Giving me your last wisdom

For me to be you

For me to be me

You tell me, you urge me, hopefully,

Be honest

The candle burns out

I cry in the silence

I find my shovel and my coat

In the dark, in the snow, I dig a hole

Standing over your last resting place

I promise you

I’ll be honest

I close the door behind me

Shutting out the the snow and the dark

I sit down at the desk

I pick up your pen

The light of a single candle fills the room

I turn around to see a child standing there

I turn back to the desk

I put the pen on the paper and start to write

My first wisdom for you, child: be honest

#this poem has a lot of references to other poems of mine #poem #poems #poetry #writing #my writing #neurodivergent poets #poets on tumblr #poems on tumblr #about writing #about poetry #loss #cat #fantasy #imagination #snow #winter #writers block #snowing #snowfall #cold

[esuemmanuel]

Los poetas viven de la poesía. Aman por la poesía. El poeta no se enamora gracias al ser humano. Se enamora por la poesía. Su vida es poesía y va a coger por sentir en sus entrañas el placer de hacer poesía… y cada cogida será magistral, porque será poesía.

— Esu Emmanuel©, Poets live for poetry. They love for poetry. The poet does not fall in love because of the human being. He falls in love because of poetry. His life is poetry and he will fuck for feeling in his guts the pleasure of making poetry… and each fuck will be masterful, because it will be poetry.

#acerca de la poesía #about poetry #el hombre de la soledad #the man of solitude #writing in solitude #escribiendo en soledad #poetas en tumblr #poets on tumblr #writers on tumblr #escritores en tumblr #poeticstories #2023

[dabiconcordia]

The Trouble with Poetry

The trouble with poetry, I realized as I walked along a beach one night -- cold Florida sand under my bare feet, a show of stars in the sky --

the trouble with poetry is that it encourages the writing of more poetry, more guppies crowding the fish tank, more baby rabbits hopping out of their mothers into the dewy grass.

And how will it ever end? unless the day finally arrives when we have compared everything in the world to everything else in the world, and there is nothing left to do but quietly close our notebooks and sit with our hands folded on our desks. Poetry fills me with joy and I rise like a feather in the wind. Poetry fills me with sorrow and I sink like a chain flung from a bridge. But mostly poetry fills me with the urge to write poetry, to sit in the dark and wait for a little flame to appear at the tip of my pencil.

And along with that, the longing to steal, to break into the poems of others with a flashlight and a ski mask. And what an unmerry band of thieves we are, cut-purses, common shoplifters, I thought to myself as a cold wave swirled around my feet and the lighthouse moved its megaphone over the sea, which is an image I stole directly from Lawrence Ferlinghetti -- to be perfectly honest for a moment -- the bicycling poet of San Francisco whose little amusement park of a book I carried in a side pocket of my uniform up and down the treacherous halls of high school. By Billy Collins

#lawrence ferlinghetti #billy collins #famous poem #about poetry #photo pinterest.com

[bluemonkwrites]

they seem surprised

i read poems

these adult children

who must have seen

their old man staring

at the sun through

pencil dented fingers

#poetry #poem #micropoetry #spilled ink #about poetry #which I normally eschew

[nervouschicperson]

A Poet

You go shaking to the stage,

You strongly hold a page

Of thoughts you must transit

To raise the people from a pit.

Mouth opened, eyes fixed.

The silence that is mixed

With screams and cries.

Your voice, it sings, it dies.

The soul of yours right now

Is sensitive, strong as a bow.

How do you openly confess

While also wearing your defense?

#poetry #about poetry #my literature class inspired this poem #poem #original poem

[thatstartrekguy]

not the TNG crew trying not to doze during Data's poetry reading while I'm sitting here with literally a degree in poetry and on the edge of my seat absolutely vibrating over his poetic prowess

#“Ode to Spot”? #a BANGER #no but seriously #the fact that he's an android and creatimg poetry is one of the mpst beautiful concepts I've ever encountered #there is something so incredibly personal #intimate #HUMAN #about poetry #and here he is showing his respect for the craft #I wont argue that his work is phenomenal or in any way competes with the great poets we know today #but just the concept alone of an android composing poetry is groundbreaking all on its own

[starcat-reloaded]

Reread Valentine by Carol Ann Duffy for the first time since highschool English class tonight. In absolute bits. It was such a meme to a bitter and resentful 16 year old but as a newly heartbroken 24 year old it is destroying me Beautifully.

#starcat reloaded #polaris.exe #aren.exe #dylan.exe #carol ann duffy #about poetry #absolutely sobbing

[iaintnoflower]

Las palabras son un regalo

En ellas descubro mi verdad

En ellas encuentro la razón

#me #about poetry #about writing #about words

[heartofmuse]

Beauty paints itself unto the canvas of my heart who sings and keeps its song written eternal in the pages as a poem.

e.v.e.

#about poetry #poets #poets of tumblr #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #poets on tumblr #quote #writers on tumblr #writerscreed #quotes #poeticstories #bitsofstarglow #inkstay #poetrycommunity

[artax-risen]

i love reading a strange poem aloud for the first time. every word is a surprise, every changing emotion a sudden wave washing over me. i am wandering down a deer path in the sunlit forest with my eyes closed and the poet's hand is guiding me gently by the jaw

#poetry #words #about poetry #reading #recitation #reading aloud #artax speaks

[deanmekel]

In the silence

All the silence of the world

But the dripping of the rain from the roof

The rustling of the wind in the leaves

And the song of birds in the air

 

The silence in my head is there too

Only broken by the solitary words of a poem being written here

#poem #poems #poetry #writing #my writing #neurodivergent poets #poets on tumblr #poems on tumblr #shouting writing #about poetry #silence #quiet #rain

[vampire-yearner]

"[...] There isn’t some sort of coded message inside a poem, like a safe with a code. The point of the poem is the reading of the poem itself. What that means is that poetry is about the experience produced by the reading of this poem. And therefore poetry is much more about undergoing something than understanding something. It might take understanding to experience something, but poetry often treats knowledge as an embodied experience.

[...] It’s an art of language. It’s really about the body. Poetry and poets begin with an understanding that knowledge is gained through a kind of experience of the world.

[...] One reason I think we keep making poetry is because we are ourselves poems. There’s a verse in the Bible (Ephesians 2:10) in which we are described as the “handiwork of God.” But it’s the same Greek root that goes into the word “poetry.” It means “a made thing.” A more literal translation is that we are, as human beings, the poems of God. So we keep making poetry because we are ourselves poems.

[...] I trace poetry back to the story in Genesis, when God brings all the creatures of the world before Adam and says, “You name it.” Poetry is created in the world as one of the very first vocations and tasks of human beings, because poetry very often is an attempt to name the world properly, because to name it is to know it. And if we’re going to know it well, we’ve got to name it well, and if we’re going to name it well, we’ve got to pay very careful attention to this world that God has made."

#article #quote #about writing #about poetry #poetry #poetry and faith #commonplace #new york times

[halfelven]

i love poems with alternates. poems that changed slightly over time, but where the old one(s) still exist, printed, enduring. changing meaning because meanings change. and writing can be picked up again and unraveled. what if three hundred years from now only one version is known, and the other lies hidden, and then is discovered. and all the meanings have changed, and this older version was forgotten, but it meant just as much one time

#txt #about writing #sorry i’m being incoherent #thinking about poems given to poet friends #changed #about poetry

[vmaddesso]

Poetry…💖

#poetry #poets #poems #poetry reading #books #poetry books #chapbook #poetry love #poets on tumblr #poetry out loud #Hudson valley writers center #Jessica Cuello #Matt Donovan #Jennifer Martelli #about poetry #read poetry #am reading