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#american poems
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Thoughts on the gendering of Chinese pronouns
Edit: I replaced the word "colonization" with "westernization" in the last frame for accuracy. This comic was originally intended as personal vent. I didn’t expect it to get so much attention, and I will admit I wasn't as careful with wording as I could have been. The original comic and its wording can be found here with an image ID. 
Also can the racists and ra/dfe/ms get off my post and get better reading comprehension. This post was about my grief for western influence unnecessarily gendering something that wasn’t gendered before, not saying that gender roles and misogyny never existed in China so stop derailing the post.
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enthymesis · 5 months ago
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Sylvia Plath, from Unpublished Poems; “Barren Woman”
Text ID: The moon lays a hand on my forehead,
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weltenwellen · a year ago
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Joy Harjo, from “Break My Heart”, An American Sunrise: Poems
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lifeinpoetry · a year ago
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I am doing my best to not become a museum of myself. I am doing my best to breathe in and out.
I am begging: Let me be lonely but not invisible.
— Natalie Diaz, from “American Arithmetic,” Postcolonial Love Poem
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jawnkeets · a year ago
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James Wright, ‘A Blessing’ from Above the River: The Complete Poems and Selected Prose (1990)
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feral-ballad · 7 months ago
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I loved you before I was born. It doesn’t make sense, I know. I saw your eyes before I had eyes to see. And I’ve lived longing for your every look ever since. That longing entered time as this body. And the longing grew as this body waxed. And the longing grows as this body wanes. That longing will outlive this body. I loved you before I was born. It makes no sense, I know. Long before eternity, I caught a glimpse of your neck and shoulders, your ankles and toes. And I’ve been lonely for you from that instant. That loneliness appeared on earth as this body. And my share of time has been nothing but your name outrunning my ever saying it clearly. Your face fleeing my ever kissing it firmly once on the mouth. In longing, I am most myself, rapt, my lamp mortal, my light hidden and singing. I give you my blank heart. Please write on it what you wish.
Li-Young Lee, from The Undressing: Poems; “I loved you before I was born”
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heavensickness · 2 years ago
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I tried to ask my parents to leave the room, but not my life. It was very hard. Because the room was the size of my life. Because my life was small.
Chen Chen, “Chapter VIII”
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lifeinpoetry · 3 years ago
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I am doing my best to not become a museum of myself. I am doing my best to breathe in and out.
— Natalie Diaz, from “American Arithmetic,” The Mighty Stream: Poems in celebration of Martin Luther King
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luthienne · a year ago
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I never call your name, but you are in me like the song in the nightingale’s throat even when it’s not singing.
Dulce María Loynaz, Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems; “Poema LVII” (tr. James O’Connor)
(Original: No te nombro; pero estás en mí como la música en la garganta del ruiseñor aunque no esté cantando.)
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sunsetquotes · a year ago
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Maybe you weren't the one for me, but deep down I wanted you to be.
Khalid; Coaster
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luthienne · 5 months ago
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Water remembers everything it travels over and through. / If you have been in water, part of you remains there still.
Natalie Diaz, from Postcolonial Love Poem; “exhibits from The American Water Museum”
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thefugitivesaint · 3 years ago
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Maud Fuller Petersham (1890-1971) & Miska Petersham (1888-1960), 'The Assembling of the Fays', ''Through Fairy Halls of My Bookhouse'' ed. by Olive Beaupré Miller, 1920 Source
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luthienne · a year ago
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But spring is mine. In the heat trapped between our cupped palms, I hold every spring on earth.
Dulce María Loynaz, Absolute Solitude: Selected Poems; “Poema LI” (tr. James O’Connor)
(Original: Pero yo tengo la primavera. ¡Todas las primaveras del mundo en este calorcito de tu mano en mi mano!)
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