#last time I wrote a poem was

[crybaby-bkg]

asking nerd Bakugou to give you a ‘pearl necklace’ and he starts grumbling about you tryna drain him dry but instead of pulling out his cock, he pulls out his phone to actually search for a pearl necklace </3

and to both his surprise and embarrassment, his phone is quickly tossed away in favor of you showing him what you’re actually asking for. he’s not mad though—not when you end up looking so pretty covered in white, grinning, and asking for another necklace <3

#I wanted to write this full out but my head actually feels like it’s gonna explode #I’ve been feeling a little more inspired lately tho which is great!! #I’ve been reading and watching (more watching) a lot of creative works/media #and I always forget how much it helps inspire creativity #I wrote a poem last night for the first time in a month I think #and now I wanna continue writing my original story and my tengen fic #I just hope the academic week doesn’t drain me too much this week #bc I would love to write more ;-; I miss it!! #bakugou treats! 🍬 #—new treat in the streets! 🍫 #my tags r still gone tho I hate this shit

[leonisandmurex]

A Princess named Anne

Princess Royal, The one most loyal, To the British crown, You recognize that frown? That steely glare?? You'd be forgiven to think she doesn't care, Well the opposite is truth! For who's stalwart duty skyrockets the roof? ANNE MAN! Who else would it be?! The Olympian, Equestrian, Farmer and Jockey, Her Father in another formation, Who squashed the Princess expectation, Snapped the pristine silver spoon, To criticism she is wisely immune, Scoffs at the presses "fairy stories", Not one to take all the glory, Slackest working royal...haha!! Nice try!! Because when all men are down who's the bloody standby?!?! ANNE GODDAMN! This timeless muse who can't refuse, Recycled garments from headwear to shoes, This devoted Mother, Grandmother and Wife, Who lives a Tim loving abundant life, This stoic blessed girlboss, Who doesn't give a toss, Yet CLEARLY gives a damn, There is no one like you Ma'am, Princess Anne

#man this is too busy :') gonna redo pics I'm not happy w another time I'm too tired lol #I wrote this before I had a blog :) that sounds sad :') & wasn't brave enough to post last year #...could hardly edit either #cringe at parts now but still think she's a 'stoic blessed girl boss' & much more :) <3 #Love you Anne hbd💕 #Princess Anne #Princess Royal #my edit #my poem #BRF #poem #British royals #Zara Tindall #Peter Phillips #Timothy Laurence #Prince Philip #Mia Tindall #Royal family

[joshuamj]

2. Do I End?

Do you really know what you're getting into?

If so, I'll tell you a secret:

Everyone's watching you.

#3rd life #last life #double life smp #limited life #trafficblr #mcyt #october drawing challenge #poetry #JoshMJ Poemtober #josh art tag #not a huge fan of the illustration but i do like the poem #its an acrostic poem lol #ive never written a serious acrostic poem before #the last time i wrote one was like in kindergarten and they either spelled out our names or like cat or something #this one spells out DIE :D

[dootznbootz]

Odypen definitely and equivalently adore each other BUT I weirdly can't see them as the type to actually say "I Love you".

They still definitely vocalize their love for each other but it's more so in "My Joy", and "Extraordinary Woman", "Strange Woman/Man", etc. And very cheesy lines (both say some cheesy shit in the Odyssey, and he definitely does in the Iliad as well. "Joy like a drowning sailor seeing land" bit???)

I could see "I adore you" but even then, that's probably during very specific moments but the actual "I love you"??? I just typed it just now for fic shit and... It weirdly just didn't feel right and I don't know why. 😅

Idk maybe it's kind of because I see them as over the top in ways, they love wordplay and riddles and I think they'd almost think "...That's not good enough >:( " about it??? I don't know???😂

#I wrote this last night. I'll do the asks I got later. don't worry! :D #I am the cheese god remember?😅 #I think these two would try to “out-cheese” each other and whoever is left speechless first loses #“I would forget my own name before I would ever forget you” bullshit. CHEESY #And yes. “I sleep in our nest with you or outside on the dirt” stupidity >:D #I plan for Odysseus as a beggar to ask why she waits so long. As he's been gone a longer amount of time than the time they had together #(Simply asking as reassurance. He knows his answer. Calypso asked him. but what about Penelope?) but she gets mad at the #“Beggar” and pities him as he must be telling the truth about having a miserable life if he never got the chance to know such devotion #How what they have could never be sullied by #something as trivial as distance and years. How the years with him were the best in her life. Only made better by their son. #'My dear Joy made songs and poems about love a reality as that was simply the life we shared. Even separated our 'song' will always echo #no matter how long it's been. I'LL make sure it always does. And I know he's doing the same... That strange man used to say that #even if he died his corpse would drag itself back to us before he'd ever give up.' #...I'm not one for 'odyssey zombie au' but when I first heard it yeah. :'D Came up with this back then #“His eyes as hard as flint or horn-” Bullshit! The sad lil fuck is hiding sobs with coughs and telling her to keep away for fear of her #catching whatever “illness” he has. The nice thing about being disguised as old means sickly old man works. #... #I'm noticing that Odysseus has a lot of silly oneliners while I write Penelope with a shit ton of set up :'D #They are so silly and I love them so much #...I wrote a lot :'D #Mad rambles #shot by odysseus #my headcanons #odypen #yahoo!!! #sometimes I wonder if I should tag this with more things but I don't want to taint the regular tags with my bullshit :'D I KNOW I'm insane

[nikoisme]

I was looking through my notes/drafts and I found this and I have no idea what I was on when I wrote this

as you can see I never finished whatever this was supposed to be lmao

#guess who the fuck this is about haha. take a guess. #the last time i wrote a poem it was like.. holy fuck about 4 years ago?? #i did it mainly for literature class and my teachers demanded that all our poems must rhyme #and it was often very limiting so i kinda hate it now. but oh well #i rarely show my poems so this is new #niko rambles

[felizusnavidad]

haiku about the end of the year

it’s this time of the year

when you say goodbye

to moments of doubt and anger and tears

don’t let fuckers win

screw them

let’s focus on goodness and light

they will never know these feelings

goodbye bad bad people

✨✨✨✨

once upon a time, in a faraway land in a small and shitty mall there was this "luxury" store and guess what was it called? ****Trend

there was a girl, poppy was her name she used to work in this place and oh, it was once her safe space but not anymore, what a shame

the job was shitty, that's not a lie her workmates were amazing though they made her laugh, laughed at her jokes (she even befriended the new guy)

and then one day no fun, no more she got the worst news ever "we are transferring you", the bad bitch witch tells her "to a different mall, a different store"

the store was far away from poppy's and her new team couldn't accept her there was one guy who fucking hated her she couldn't take it, she wrote her notice

i guess you can say she wrote her way out but she still had to stay for quite some time tried to be nice to them, was that a crime? "i will survive this, without a doubt"

crying sessions in the bathroom that was poppy's way to cope but then one day she just said "nope" new idea, sick leave, BOOM!

who's laughing now? i guess not them she's gonna have long christmas break she knows for sure that wasn't a mistake that's why now she is writing this poem

she also got a new job offer her teerico merch is on the way good things are coming, also, hey! she's taking the job, it starts next year!

she saw in the heights live in koszalin she met jakub gierszał with her bestie, bel she wrote her way out of this hell (maybe one day she will also meet lin?)

here's to new year, here's to the new chapter here's to uk trip and the eras tour in poland! here's to my friends, my moots from foreign land may poppy's life be full of laughter!

#is this anything? #idk #my name is poppy i am a poet #also yes i rhymed koszalin with lin #i wrote this at work #tomorrow is my last day #please be happy with me #(the fact that the name of my store rhymes with “land” made me laugh too hard) #(also bad witch is my regional manager i fucking hate her) #ILY BEL #thank you and enjoy! #this is the ballad of depressed girl or whatever #i saved every letter you wrote me* #why do you write like you're running out of time* #(yes i'm gonna use this tag for this poem or whatever the hell that is)

[cinnamon-notes]

TTPD Poetry Week #5

"death by the first cut" (song: death by a thousand cuts)

The first cut is the deepest, they say

It would aid and abet.

If you don't heal it fast

It's the perfect set-up

For your own death

The first cut is the deepest, they say

Did we need time for us or time from us?

Time apart

Time to part

The first cut is the deepest, they say

And it burns, it burns, it burns

More painful than paper cuts

More painful than death

Yet

There's nothing as painful as the time you left

For saying goodbye has always defined my death

@ttpdpoetryweek

#alright i definitely hate this one lol #i kinda had a sad weird and tricky time writing it because it's still a song i havent been able to listen to since my last brokeup yay #so writing about it was REALLY hard #but i tried #if i feel okay i will try to write another poem (a better one i hope) and submit it as a backup because i really hate this one #but im not sure i will be able to do that soooo pretend you didn't read this silly thing i wrote here :) #ttpdpoetryweek #cinnamon writing #cinnamon poetry

[mrcowboydeanwinchester]

From Every Tree

for spn poetry month, day 4: grief @spnpoetryrenaissance

will every poem i write this month be somehow linked to mary? the answer appears to be yes. this is about blue the sky is when dean and sam find mary's body in that field after jack brings her back. the grief they sing is an old song (and they sing it anyway)

transcript below the cut:

From Every Tree

My grief came to me in sunlight.

There was no rain;

We were not underground,

Already buried;

There was no darkness,

And no fire, either:

No one was burnt 

And nothing was broken. 

The sky was blue the morning you died,

Spring unfurling in green from nature’s palm.

Everything was beginning.

My grief,

my grief,

my grief,

The birds sung it from every tree.

It was an old song,

and it sounded beautiful.  

#wrote this last night and am posting it from the wrong train that i just got on. lol #no time like the present! #this started off just a series of words i liked and then spilled into a dean and mary poem #as does everything #marynatural #mary winchester #dean winchester #dean and mary #spn poetry #spn poetry month #ola writes

[sneez]

since i started testosterone in february i have been reading a stanza of andrew marvell’s poem ‘the garden’ every month to track the way my voice has changed. today i finished it :-)

#my voice #does it belong in that tag given that i am speaking and not singing. ah well in it goes #andrew marvell #it is exciting to finally be able to post this! given the nature of the project i've been working on it for a while #i can't remember if i was initially intending to post it but i think it's neat so you guys can see it too :-) a questionable gift unto ye #it's one of my favourite ever poems which is why i picked it. partly because it's a cracking poem but also because the garden in #question is very likely fairfax's garden given that marvell wrote it whilst he was living at his house to tutor his daughter :-) #i love the line about melons. i love the idea that fairfax was growing melons. his melonship #also 'the luscious clusters of the vine upon my mouth do crush their wine' is such incredible imagery i think about it all the time #stopping myself now before i start explaining all my favourite parts of the poem because then i would just be reciting the whole poem #sorry the audio quality changes quite a bit by the way i kept changing where i recorded #oh also i skipped a month because my voice hadn't changed at all (between the first and second stanzas i think) which is why the #number of months doesn't quite match up to the number of stanzas #i do wish i had recorded a stanza when i was one month on T given that my voice barely changes in the last few verses. ah well #anyway i hope you enjoy it my dear friends :-) holding you all in my arms #also as usual i have a few messages and things to answer so i will do that soon! i have been enjoying being active again after so long :-) #ive got a song to post soon too. he he ho ho ho. hum hum hum

[sothas]

currently (and slowly) working on my multichap fic atm but i had the idea to write a poem yesterday and now it won’t leave me alone

#it would be a narrative-ish poem focusing on nils’ rage at sil’s death #which. is a point of time that simply isn’t canon to me. but i feel like this poem would be cool to write #the last time i wrote a poem was probably when i was 11 sooo this’ll be fun LOL #gingerposting

[laneaconite]

Looking for Progress

When I'm home alone, you'll hear my whistle echoing along the white-washed walls. Or in the garden, handrake turning soil singing along to songs invented in my head. A poem can be a song if only one sings along instead.

My sister used to want to be a singer, we’d twirl back and forth together, making up what we thought were melodies, but our brother, he’d hear us and scream: "You sound like you’re skinning cats alive!"

Quick stab to the gut, good twist of the knife, scarred with stale blood still roiling beneath. He’d call it a joke but we’d call it a wound, That’s three against one!

We danced and sang for our amusement, for his, he cannibalized our dreams.

-Lane Aconite

December 29, 2023

#poetry #my work #lane archives #most of my poems do come to me in song fashion now #so in my head there's always an extended edition where I keep singing #for a sprinkling of personal lore: that's because after my major seizure episodes last yr I had cognitive deficits for months after #most heavily in that my auditory processing issues were way worse & my ability to focus was hugely reduced #before I was a 3 things at once in order to focus person but after my sound sensitivity from migraine was so bad it took 2 months to #even be able to listen to music again #and I found that I couldn't listen to music and do anything else like text or read so I just laid and listened and analyzed songs as poetry #from that I very slowwwly worked up to being able to listen and do tasks so now I'm back to a soundtrack most of the time to focus person #sometimes analyzing songs still distracts me but I used to not even hear the lyrics #Those months recovering alone were a kinda dark time but I really thank them for giving me the time to become a better poet #I think it's definitely notable in the work I wrote before my seizures and afterward like this one

[kohakhearts]

cons of going to a “good schoolTM”: insane workload, unbearable classmates, next to no support when you have any kind of extenuating circumstances Including literal hospitalization, etc

pros of going to a “good schoolTM”: the 9-5 lifestyle is genuinely a major improvement

#taylor.txt #the extenuating circumstances point was not me btw. i know someone who had his degree delayed an entire year because of two weeks in psych #we’re in a co-op program or else maybe it wouldve just been one semester but. lol #i hate it here…i hate it #but hey…at least i have the world’s shittiest health insurance! #some of my classmates say they dont feel like working full-time is easier than going to school full-time but it so is #for me. anyway. even when i fumbled my time management bad on the field and make no mistake i was incredibly busy plus i chose a field #notorious for Unpaid Overtime and Taking Your Work Home. even then. it was still easier than this #i would never do undergrad again. i loved everything i learned. i took interesting and awesome classes #but i would never ever do it again. miserable overworked spent most of it friendless until i got on the field #i have a friend who keeps being like idk how you did 4 physics classes this sem and im like girl we are education students…thats an average #semester for a physics major. how must THEY feel #also i have to say just you know. generally. ive worked full-time while living with my parents #AND while living alone. and 50 hours a week was incredibly manageable in the former arrangement. i even wrote and edited an entire novel #in the beginning stages of a pandemic while working 50 hours a week of retail and fast food hell. 40 hours full-time with weekends off #while living alone though? thats hard. i still managed to go to the gym almost every day #currently? i cant get out of bed in the morning. i am putting in 12 hour days and then goinng to bed unable to sleep because im so stressed #i have dreams about school. tangentially theres a really good marxist poem i read last year about this phenomenon in workers #ANYWAY. i have just 8 more days 4 exams 1 research paper and video project #i think i can pass and then thats it. my next semester is hell but just because scheduling the actual classes will be easy #and then i get to go back on the field and actually want to wake up every day. lol #and 8 days from now i will have my christmas shopping done and my apartment will be clean and i will be a fanfic writing machine #also my friends and i booked a demolition room so im sure that will be beneficial kfldjfldndks

[noxexistant]

foster child, fostered resentment

you want your mother. she is not there. she never was. you are longing for someone who never existed.

you are a sibling, not a child. you are nothing, you are alone. you have more brothers and sisters than you can count and you’re sure none of them remember you. you remember them.

you still have the shoes you wore that day, and every day henceforth because they were your only pair. they didn’t fit you then, and they certainly don’t fit you now. you have more shoes now. you keep that pair.

a backpack filled with everything that will still be yours tomorrow. the rest will be gone. you can’t keep track of what you’ve lost.

there is no common thread to follow back through your life. there are pieces of you in every bedroom, even the ones you didn’t decorate. especially the ones you didn’t decorate.

you are a guest in every house. you are a guest in the world. you ask permission before you touch things, before you move, before you speak. you want to go home. you are longing for something that has never existed.

a birthday card with your name spelled wrong. you keep it anyway, because your foster carer wrote words kinder than you’ve ever heard before. for now, she is your mother, and you are something less than her child. someday soon, she will never call you again.

you cannot tie your shoelaces. you cannot use a knife and fork. you cannot tie a tie. the internet is your mother, explaining how. you won’t remember, you were not taught young enough, but she is patient and she will explain again.

you taught yourself how to do your makeup and your hair. you went through phases relentlessly with nobody to stop you, nobody to ever tell you that you looked ridiculous. you didn’t care.

teenage peers were jealous of you. your freedom, they said. you can do whatever you want. nobody cares.

when’s your birthday, again?

people tell stories of their families, share old photos, talk to their parents. you want to join them. there are no photos that you have, no stories beyond ones that are already secondhand to you. there are no old photos of you. you have nobody to call.

you are strange. you don’t know how to fit in with these people, with all of these pieces missing from you. you make people uncomfortable.

a stranger tells you you look like your father. you have to believe them.

well-meaning people tell you that your family loves you. they don’t understand, couldn’t possibly, and you want to scream but you smile instead. it’s rude to correct them. you make people uncomfortable.

your photography lecturer shows you a picture of yourself, candid, smiling. “you should print it,” she tells you, “give it to your mum.” you smile. you delete the photo, eventually. you never print it.

you want your mother. you are an adult. you are a child. nobody raised you, and you didn’t do it yourself either. you stayed in that first bedroom. you never left.

nothing can ever make up for everything that you lost. you have to move on.

good-natured people will ask you about your parents. friends will forget. everyone you ever meet will assume.

you are always longing for something that is not coming. you hope you will wake up tomorrow at some age younger than this and somebody will save you this time.

you want a mother. you want a bedroom. you need to rent your first apartment.

#i am fine i am just having a moment #the last time i wrote a poem was as an exercise in a group home ironically #my poetry #vent poetry

[atombombicarus]

#poems on tumblr #some of my poetry #poetry #so this poem is called a love letter to nicotine and I wrote it last time I quit smoking #and I’m trying to quit again even tho I made that decision this morning and already fucked it up #my depression is really bad the past couple days and this is just #I am very melancholy lately

[thebleedingorange]

consumption

You must consume. Read            Watch Listen             Look. Don't you dare look away.

You must consume. Eat           Drink Devour              Indulge. You have only so much time                   until you must decay.

You must consume. Claw at it                   Rip it open Feed on it                Destroy. If you don't consume it,                               who will?

You must be consumed. Emptied              Drained Ruined                   Watched. Is there an end?

                               -thebleedingorange (me :D)

#poetry #poem #original poem #wrote this for nowhere girl collective #so i thought why not post it here as well #this is for last months theme #didnt have time to write anything this month :( #writing poetry #poets on tumblr #poems on tumblr #poetryblr #nowhere girl collective #november: ouroboros

[poranek]

i feel like writing poetry would be good for me

#id be awful at it too #last time i wrote a poem was when i was like 13 probably #🗃️📎