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#poetry aesthetic
merely-a-fool · 8 months ago
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i want to grow old with someone in the way that we'll dance in the kitchen together even though our bones will hurt from it later and in the way that we'll know each other's favorite scents and in the way that we'll miss when we were young but we'll know that we have a part of that still in each other
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archaic-stranger · 3 months ago
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the poetry students
as requested by @shout-into-the-voiddd
reciting stanzas of your favorite poems under the light of the moon
pages covered in notes and annotations
repeating words aloud to feel how they roll through your mouth
a love for beauty and the many ways it can be expressed
quiet moments outside, listening to the sounds of nature
paying attention to little things others might miss
understanding the importance of diction and figurative language
studying the lives of famous poets, seeing how their worlds impacted their writing
the crunch of autumn leaves underfoot
an appreciation for those who can use a few words to communicate something infinitely complicated
long hours curled up reading in your favorite chair
feeling a sense of camaraderie between yourself and your favorite poets
thin poetry volumes stacked on your shelves
a love for metaphor and simile
reading the works of Langston Hughes and Emily Dickinson, Jamaica Kincaid and Lord Byron, appreciating the infinite variety
a messy desk, drawers filled with an array of papers
awe over how mere words on a page can transmit deep emotion
cloudy mornings
a notebook filled with half-formed poems, lines and stanzas borne from a moment of inspiration
warming your fingers on a mug of hot tea
seeking a way to capture the human condition in ink on the page
using poetry to make sense of your world and experiences
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redribbonedllama · 4 months ago
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In another universe the sky is always pink and I didn't give up on you, in another universe I'm a better person and magic is real and in an another one we still walk around the streets at late night holding hands and in another, we are together
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pixiesandillusions · a month ago
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Creeping, crawling creatures scurry in the night,
Rats and bats and spiders, nibble, out of sight,
Don’t look too carefully,
You’ll get a nasty fright!
Monsters in the bathroom, witches in the hall,
Hairy beasts and demons climbing every wall,
You won’t want to catch them,
When they start to fall!
Vampires’ stealthy footsteps cross the wooden floor,
Werewolves howling fearfully, beyond your kitchen door,
Don’t look outside now,
You won’t want to find out more!
Zombies with their wild eyes and their soulless grins,
Skeletons with their bony cheeks and their missing skins,
Listen for their rattling sounds,
But do not let them in!
Halloween is coming, what a scary night,
Ghosties, ghouls and goblins dancing in the light,
Here they are all coming now, feel the spooky beat,
If you listen, hear ‘em shout:
“TRICK OR TREAT”
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dyrdymalki · 4 months ago
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And so everyday i pray to a patron saint - no not the one from cathedral paintings, looking stern form their stained glass window palce.
I pray to a patron saint from wooden roadside cross, the one from small chapel in the middle of the wheat field, the one who chooses dirt roads for her rest.
I know and I pray, I pray and I know - what she is - she is an old woman, living with a cat, maybe a goat or a cow, she is an old woman, currently busy in her wooden house making preserves or collecting herbs.
And her miracles are not big, they are wildflowers at the edge of the field, cool clean water in a forest stream, her miracles are baskets full of wild blackberries and the sunlight falling from in between the trees.
Her miracles are not big, but she hears, hears and listens to me. And so I pray and know and know and pray to my patron saint.
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thenewcoma · a month ago
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WE ARE OUR OWN LEAVES
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wedarkacademia · a month ago
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“October had tremendous possibility. The summer's oppressive heat was a distant memory, and the golden leaves promised a world full of beautiful adventures. They made me believe in miracles.”
― Sarah Guillory, Reclaimed
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nocapesdahling · a month ago
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During the whole of a dull, dark, and soundless day in the autumn of the year, when the clouds hung oppressively low in the heavens, I had been passing alone, on horseback, through a singularly dreary tract of country; and at length found myself, as the shades of the evening drew on, within view of the melancholy House of Usher.
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coffeeacademia · a year ago
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if i ever find a lover that drives me wild, i will simply never stop writing poetry for and about them. what are they gonna do? blush madly? i'm already writing more poetry
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