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#poetry collection
feral-ballad · 2 days ago
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He hugged her like music. It made his ears whistle. The echoes, the tunes from a dream, were held there, hesitating in their throats like a very sad water.
Vicente Aleixandre, ed. by Lewis Hyde, from A Longing for the Light: Selected Poems; “Death or the waiting room”
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beyondgenre · 4 months ago
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And if happiness visits you again, do not remember it's previous betrayal. Enter into the happiness and burst.
-Mahmoud Darwish
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earlymoderngothic · 6 days ago
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an ever-growing collection
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fka-d-c-walker · 3 months ago
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Have you ever moved to a new period in your life and felt like you had a story that's already been finished? And that everything you learned in that story was the truth about the whole world? But then, in this new phase of your life, you find yourself unlearning everything you've just had to harshly take as fact? And you don't understand at first, whats wrong with acting like the world is set in stone? Because it just was.
I call this the Wave. The blue, corporeal form of delusion. Confirmation bias incarnate, that seeps into walls, and lights, and books and clothes. Making you call things in front of you, something else, someone else. In relation to what your life just was. And what it felt like.
To Slip Away in Real Time explores the metaphor of the Wave and the story of the Living Ghost and asks the question, what do we do about it? What does the existence of the Wave at all tell us about the course of our lives? And if there is a way back to shore, to dry land, what will it cost? What will it cost you? And what will it cost the Living Ghost?
To Slip Away in Real Time is a poetry collection with a stripped bare format in two editions! One as the poetry collection alone, and a second edition with the narrative in mind!
She's name price so she's completely free, with the door open for you to give any support if you are inclined. I appreciate everyone who's supported me on this journey as an artist and I'm looking forward to share more works with you all!!!!!
I do want want add that if you do want ro financially support the book, it won't let you buy it without credit or debit. So in that case I do want to say selecting the amount of zero (0) will automatically give you a receipt without without transactions at all! So you can still yk read it for free absolutely. No strings attached. And you can always support me directly through my p@yp@l and c@$h@pp @/Forwardalways21
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vodkatales · 3 months ago
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Do you think I can have one more kiss?
I’ll find closure on your lips and then I’ll go.
Maybe, also one more breakfast, one more lunch and one more dinner.
I’ll be full and happy and we can part.
But in between meals, maybe we can lie in bed one more time.
One more prolonged moment where time suspends indefinitely as I rest my head on your chest.
My hope, is if we add up the one mores it will equal a lifetime and I never have to get to the part where I have to let you go.
But that’s not real, is it?
There are no more, one mores.
I met you when everything was new and exciting and the possibilities of the world seemed endless.
And they still are, for you, for me, but not for us.
Somewhere between then and now, here and there, I guess we didn’t just grow apart, we grew up.
When something breaks, and the pieces are big enough, you can fix it.
I guess sometimes things don’t break, they shatter, but when you let the light in, shattered glass will glitter.
And in those moments, when the pieces catch the sun, I’ll remember just how beautiful it was. Just how beautiful it will always be, because it was us, and we are magic, forever.
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wedarkacademia · a month ago
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For    the poem I would make any sacrifice
For you:      I would sacrifice the poem
- Aditi Nagrath, Skirts, from above
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bottlecap-press · 2 months ago
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From Aiyana Masla’s chapbook, Stone Fruit, available at https://bottlecap.press/products/stone-fruit-by-aiyana-masla
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sinistr · 4 months ago
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Mahmoud Darwish from Unfortunately, It Was Paradise: Selected Poems
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romeostales · a month ago
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“my heart is not a house but i call it home” from Her Memory Will by Chyna June
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screamingtelevangelist · 5 months ago
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words x tarkovsky polaroids
— thirst by mary oliver // just kids by patti smith // attention by leila chatti // when i say loving me is like being a chicago bulls fan by hanif abdurraqib
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literature-cult · 3 months ago
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ok but if i genuinely wrote a poetry collection...would ya'll read it ?so
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feral-ballad · 2 months ago
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Safia Elhillo, from Home Is Not a Country; “Boys”
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beyondgenre · 4 months ago
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I just want a boring love. A love that doesn't need fights or arguments to keep the fire alive. A 'let's sit at home and read on opposite ends of the sofa' love. An 'I missed you at lunch today' love. An 'I would rather be at home with the love of my life right now' love.
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waxenheart · 3 months ago
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The vein in my neck / adores you.
Li-Young Lee, The City in Which I Love You from The City in Which I Love You
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cuddlymashmallow · 6 months ago
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-Nobody just leaves in one go.. We keep pieces of us, fragments of us, bits of us with other people. You lose a call every day. Until there's no more calls, until the communication ceases. I carry these fragments everywhere, and sometimes, that is enough.
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vodkatales · 4 months ago
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Memories are sometimes a relief, and sometimes they are torture. But we hold onto the memories, because they’re what we have left.
-13 Reasons Why
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darkpoetrynprose · 7 months ago
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“Out of my ignorance, I called you a homeland & I forgot that homelands are taken away.”
- Mahmoud Darwish
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paperbackpropensity · 18 days ago
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I just finished this wonderful collection of poetry by Jasmine Mans. In Black Girl, Call Home she touches on feminist issues, and what it means to be a queer Black Woman. I found each poem to be piercing, as good poetry should be. I can only imagine how amazing they would sound if performed.
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more-like-reyna · 8 months ago
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Memories
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Reblogs and comments appreciated🥰💙
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namitha · a month ago
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How Surely Gravity's Law
How surely gravity’s law,
strong as an ocean current,
takes hold of the smallest thing
and pulls it toward the heart of the world
Each thing—
each stone, blossom, child —
is held in place.
Only we, in our arrogance,
push out beyond what we each belong to
for some empty freedom.
If we surrendered
to earth’s intelligence
we could rise up rooted, like trees.
Instead we entangle ourselves
in knots of our own making
and struggle, lonely and confused.
So like children, we begin again
to learn from the things,
because they are in God’s heart;
they have never left him.
This is what the things can teach us:
to fall,
patiently to trust our heaviness.
Even a bird has to do that
before he can fly.
🌿Rainer Maria Rilke, How Surely Gravity's Law
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