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timetravelsong · 11 days

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𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐟’𝐬. 𝐍𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬, 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞.

excerpts from a book I’ll never write

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themiddleofnothing15 · 8 months

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This is why I don’t love

It’s taken for granted

I give it away to the wrong people

It’s never returned how I give it

I’ve given you all the love I had

And you took a shit on it

It wasn’t important to you

I wasn’t important to you

This is why I don’t love

You’ve dug such a deep black hole in my heart and I can’t see and I can’t climb out, now I’m stuck there with you.

All the patching I’ve done has turned out to be for nothing because you’ve destroyed it again

Now here I sit back where I began. Back where I’m putting every tiny piece of myself together, undoing what someone else broke to pieces.

This is why I don’t love

Please leave, put us out of our misery

End it so we can move on

Kill it so we can rebirth apart

Walk away and let it die

Put this to rest so we can rest in peace

Let me go because I love too hard to let you go

This is why I don’t love.

Every time it’s a lesson

A mistake

A “wish I would have ran the other way”

A regret

A bad time in my life

Something I should have avoided and would of if I had only known

This is why I don’t love

#my poem #poetry #poets corner #poetscommunity #sad poetry #spilled ink #sad poem #writers and poets #poetic #orginal content #orginal poetry #i'm sad #poets on tumblr #female poets #spilled poetry

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blurmyface4 · 5 days

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My love

My heartbreak

My person

When you left

My creativity left to

It's hard writing now ,love

You were my muse

Now what do I do

The pages are empty

No words in my head

How do I write without you

You are my inspiration

My love

My heart

My person

My muse

my bloody life<3

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oresteias-heart · 4 months

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I am not me.♥︎♡

I will never be able to write something original, something new, something that has never been created.

I lack skills, I lack sincerity, I lack everything that should just make me, me.

I have no empathy, I lack compassion.

I fear I may no longer be human with how I stand and look out to the world.

I fear, that I. Even I will never be an original, never something new. That even my bones, my humanity, are stolen.

I will never be the art or even the artist.

I am no van Gogh, and I am no Picasso.

I am not even me.

— Oresteia…♡

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mooonling · 1 month

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I used to be scared to post my work, especially my poetry, because poetry has never been my strongest work— I will be dead honest in saying that I wasn’t even interested in writing poetry, because when I think of poetry, I think of Shakespearen sonnets with quartrains and couplets, and then I think that I’m not that talented to write like that. Especially when you take into consideration all the parts of English that are used like metaphors and similes and contrasts, like no way am I that smart.

But, I recently met a guy who writes poetry and he opened my eyes to see that poetry is art and art is very subjective. It doesn’t have to be a certain way. Also, art is a way of expressing yourself and you can never be wrong is expressing yourself, because who else is better at expressing you than yourself.

And if someone does harshly criticise my work, that makes two of us. At the end of the day, I am my biggest critic, because I am never happy with the way my work comes out. I am always upset that it starts off wonderfully, but I don’t know how to end it. That I didn’t use enough parts of speech to make it a proper poem. Eccetera.

I just have to accept what is my best and learn to improve overtime.

— PE. 10.03.24

#poet #poets corner #poets on tumblr #poetsandwriters #the tortured poets department #writers and poets #poetic #poetry #poetscommunity #female poets #original poem #orginal poetry

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splattered-ink · 8 days

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If every time

I thought of your name

a star fell for you

The sky would be empty

In mere hours

And when all the stars

Fell from the sky

I'd pick them back up

and use them to fill your eyes

You are more lovely

than any star

spinning, falling, or otherwise brilliant

you are the brightest star in the sky

and I hope you never lose your shine

I am enthralled by your words

Your thoughts drown me

in the most wondrous feeling

Floating amongst the stars

I have never felt more at home

#poetry #For Nakshi <3 #lit #writing #literature #virgils words #virgil writes #space poem #splattered-ink #words #writeblr #fragments #writing blog #poetry blog #creative writing #orginal poetry

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aphrodites-serenade · 2 months

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Bystander

Last year, there was a senior who caught my eye

A tall girl with bleached ends and painted dark lips

Thin brows but thick eyeliner

An expression that teased hundreds of secrets

Talked about wanting nails but always chewed on the ones she had

Laughed a lot with the girl seated next to her and rarely smiled at anyone else

I never knew more than her name and the face of her boyfriend

I wondered why out of the many boys, she'd chose one who looks like any other plain boy

A boy with no real power but lets you know that if he did, you'd never see the light of day again

A boy that cares nothing for the feeling of a girl, only what he can take from her

A boy whose first reflex when he gets you away from your friends is to slap you

I sat in my parents' car, watching and asking myself over and over again

Why, beautiful girl, did you choose him?

Even I know I wouldn't deserve you

But did you not think you could do better?

Were you taught to be quiet, too?

I should've asked at some point

After graduation, I never saw her again

But in my mind, she's walking in a field of flowers,

She's smiling and laughing with that friend who, like me, always watched from the sidelines…

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fluffyydumplings · 1 month

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Like A Painting - 그림처럼

A/N: I wrote this a year ago.. the reason why there is a korean title attached here as well is because… well… the inspiration behind this poem was actually the saying 그림처럼.. a phrase used often when someone gazes upon something of beauty.. anyways.. anyhow.. happy women’s day.. I hope you enjoy

She refuses to accumulate deep within her a child

You’ll regret it, they start with

What are you without your womb, they end indirectly with

What am I without myself, she thinks

For as she buttons up her skin and rises above their heads

She realises

They’ll never see her as the woman with wings as her reflection speaks

On the ground, in their convoluted minds she’ll always be

But what can a few convulsions and conversations of the what-nots and what-ifs not fix

And even if stagnant on the ground she remains

Standing is a feat that she can always beat herself to

And in that way

She’ll never be below them

For, even if she has to crawl her way back up

She refuses to lay lifeless on the ground

She’s been doing it for quite too long

After a while, you get weary and tired of doing anything

So, imagine not doing anything,

So, imagine being nothing but a pretty caricature on the walls

Imagine

Imagine how paralysing it would be for a human to stay still and play pretend

As a painting

As a picture

As an ideal

Her whole life she was expected to play a role

The altruistic mother who cradles her child to sleep,

The elder sister who stands as still as a mountain for her family to reach the sky

The deligent coworker who gets pushed aside despite building empires with her bare hands

But seasons come and go

And change is good for the heart

Therefore, she refuses to stick to the ground

Therefore, she refuses

No..

Therefore, she clearly will not be sticking to the strange principles that have been injected into her head

It’s all she has known

That was what she thought

But the world is broad

And all she has known is not all that is to know

They say that is how life is supposed to be for people like her

But everyday a tadpole learns how to jump and a caterpillar learns how to fly

For as they say, pain is the mother of success

Change is the mother of survival

Better and bolder

Brighter and Wiser

People grow

People age

People learn

People crawl

People walk

People run

People find ways to fly

They are peasants with high hats pretending to be Confucius

But filial piety is not much of a pity compared to all the bruises on her heart that they cannot see

So she leaps away

Away from the beautiful painting she has been entrapped in

For even with perfect strokes you cannot overlook the mistakes of this stupid ideal that have been glossed over with paint

She stares at the world she has known

She walks away

For all that she has known

Is not all that is to know

For all that she has believed to be true

Is not all that is true

This painting isn’t warm

This painting isn’t cold

Her forehead is warm

Her hands are cold

But..

She’ll recover

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crying-in-converse · 3 months

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once i write something down its a tattoo in my head

i've written down your name one, two, many times

my name you say, you say, you said

you say it like its something you are scared to forget

#my poetry #poetry #orginal poetry #original poem #poem #noromo35 talks

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cadaverinaflowerfield · 13 days

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dandelionsinthepavement · 5 months

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I wonder if there is a world out there where I am gentle. Where flowers like daisies grow from each step I taken— Where I have filed down my claws and I do not leave a mark on everything I love.

I wonder if I tried just a bit harder if my voice would be softer, kinder— I wonder if there is a time where I can be soft, and simple.

I wonder if there is a way I could get rid of this family heirloom, this anger, This anger that lingers— Under my nails, in my chest— This painful reminder of my harshness, The abrupt unkindliness of my person.

This anger has been passed down, Father to son, Mother to daughter— A gift that leaves your shoulders heavy and your chest heaving.

There is a reason so many in my family have taken to being loud— I worry that we are not built for being soft. I wonder if there is a day where I will be described as something safe.

When you are born among flames, The ash in your lungs is second nature— There is a reason my parents took up smoking.

There is this burning in my blood— I have my father's eyes ; I have his violence too. I have my mother's hair ; And her loud existence.

I am born into this anger. I am born with this burden. I hope that someday, I will mold myself into something loveable— I think I would enjoy being delicate.

#anger #poetry #poem #orginal poetry #original work #poems on tumblr #spilled poetry #poems and quotes #creative writing #beginner poetry #guilt #the burning desire to be gentle but the crushing guilt of knowing you were not built to be kind #dandelionsinthepavement #icarus.poetry

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timetravelsong · 1 month

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𝐈 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐢𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞.

excerpts from a book I’ll never write

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foaming-sea · 6 months

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I do not know whether to be relieved or mournful that you are not around anymore to figure out I'm not doing okay. No one looks into my eyes too long, to find me trying to bury something inside. Not anymore.

-04/11/2023

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vivvyflower · 1 month

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Okay

You made me want to write

About being in love

To write about feeling

Wanted

Sitting here now,

I wish I didn’t open up at all

I wish I didn’t tell you

I wish you didn’t

Ask me that question

Make me feel like I was on top

Of the world

Only to take it away from me

Over and over

This happens

I think I’m done,

I think I'll be a good aunt

But never a mom

My friend won’t get the chance

To be my maid of honor

And I’ll never get the life I dream of

It’s okay

It has to be okay

There isn’t another option

Because everything always has to be

Okay

#orginal poetry #poetry #words #words words words #spilled words #my words #poems on tumblr #poets on tumblr #original poem #writers and poets #poem #heartbroken #heartbreak #heartache

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oresteias-heart · 3 months

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❀✾❀ Lungs ❀✾❀

My lungs often betray me, it gets harder to breathe. They are old and rotten. Even they resent that of which I have become.

Sometimes I feel as though I shouldn't take a breath, that I shouldn't inhale and exhale.

That I shouldn't waste oxygen.

That I am a thief.

That I should rot beneath the surface of the earth even though I am already only a corpse underneath my skin.

And When I dance with another perhaps I should mention they dance with my blood rather than my bones.

They would only crack under pressure. Frailness that belongs in no world of living things.

— Oresteia…♡

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goneahead · 1 year

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A prairie winter can’t be tamed. Hungry and ice-feral, it tears across the snow-huddled land, ripping down trees and roofs and power lines. Come first light, we all stamp our boots at the cruel cold, blinking at the twisted world. Then a robin begins to sing, and the strain in our shoulders eases. We crack wind-raw smiles, grab tools and coffee. True resistance is just this, holding tight to joy, smiling as we pick up tools,

yet

again—

#goneahead poetry #poetry #orginal poetry #twcpoetry #poeticstories #bits of starglow

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