#poetry ish?

[oh-motherfucking-bother]

I was right about you.

God, I wish I wasn’t

#poetry ish? #baller lines that pop into my head at like 1am #this isn't about anyone specific it just sounded cool in my head

[apollosaro]

he didn’t do it

#ace attorney #tgaa #the great ace attorney #im not finished with case two yet I just have a lot of feelings about the intro chapter. evidently. #id in alt #ryunosuke naruhodo #kazuma asogi #asoryuu #tgaa spoilers #poetry #comic #ish? #dgs

[maireyart]

I read a kakaobi fic yesterday... OMG.

for love of a boy by revecake. Based on Yukio Mishima's The Sound of Waves. One word: masterful. My art does not depict a specific scene from the fic, it's just something inspired by its mood! Obito's appearance is not fully fic-compliant. Just look at these various quotes:

from the water, kakashi rises and rests his arms on the edge. a tilt of his head, his wet hair falls, pooling silver on obito’s boat, and when obito looks, looks with a certain haze across his eyes, kakashi becomes the mystical half-fish of his dreams. kakashi smiles, and the plain beauty of his naked face is perfectly real. “it’s a good catch today, isn’t it?”

“kakashi-kun?” his father laughs, an exasperated turn of his brow. he continues to trace his blade under the skin of tuna, and another piece of flesh comes butterfly-free, as light and pink as a sakura petal floated from the island’s schoolyard to the sea.

the rain blurs for a moment, and the sight through the dripping leaves is akin to a sheen of sun being thrown from the sky. dazzling, a celestial maiden’s robe has been haphazardly tossed from the heavens to be muddied as a damp blessing across the fresh ground.

when he’s finished, the only curtain to his nudity are the wet clothes draped and swinging from the window pane. they balloon and deflate in the imitation of a body in the wind, but as obito rises, stretches, strides towards the bedroom, the shape of his shoulders and back leaves a solid impression through the wet glass. he doesn’t need to wash, not when the sun has already bathed the lean lines of him in dry heat.

dreams are only fading things, passing on waves, caught in the wind, melted into dew by the morning.

obito looks up at that pale face, and what he sees - he wraps his hands around kakashi’s wrists to keep him there. how can he say this? how does he give language to his desire, how does he make kakashi understand his earnesty in this very moment? he cannot let it become an untranslatable disappearance, as so many dear things are, have been lost to sea.

#fic rec! #READ IT #narutoart #i was moved #this is pure poetry #kakashi #obito #uchiha obito #hatake kakashi #kakaobi #obikaka #obkk #kkob #fanfiction #i'm not a fan of modern-ish aus #but this one! #it immerses you into a fairytale #shikamaru makes the best cameo appearance #revecake

[atopvisenyashill]

Thoughts on the Alysanne is Maegor's daughter AU? I feel like it has some interesting potential, and it vastly recontextualizes different parts of Jaehaehae (I do not like him sjsjsjs) and Alysanne's relationship (such as Jaehaehae's treatment of their daughters) but I wanna hear what you think about it!

I’ve touched on this a bit before but since you actually want to hear my thoughts, allow me to present to you my Jaehaerys Is The Goddamn Worst, And Alysanne Annoys Me Too: An Essay lmao but my answer is basically “yeah all of what you just said.”

I think it makes Alysanne much more palatable (to me) as a character because as she stands, she just fixates on forcing her daughters through these fucked up marriages at too young an age bc it traumatized her to be married and pregnant at 15 too but she’d never admit that being a willing participant in her own kidnapping by her brother-husband was the single worst thing that ever happened to her, and because Alysanne doesn’t want to admit it (and Jaehaerys would never see it as wrong or a mistake) F&B really shies away from delving into the fact that Alysanne is as deranged of a mother as Cersei is. So as she stands, she’s very flat to me because she’s presented very flatly and inconsistently. She’s so in love with Jaehaerys, she’s maritally raped by Jaehaerys, she’s a loving and doting mother, she forces her daughters into marriages when they’re the same too young age she was, she accuses her teenage girls of being scheming whores then gets angry when her husband accuses their teenage girls of being scheming whores, and worst of all we are just told “Maegelle tells them to make up so they do” so we don’t know why Alysanne gets over all of this. What is the point of riding a dragon when you never use that dragon to protect your daughters from unwanted teen marriages? We’re just not given a good enough justification for why her behavior is so weird and frustrating towards her daughters.

Make her Maegor’s daughter though…most of her behavior as an adult makes more sense. Like a worse version of Rhaenyra’s childhood almost - a father desperate for a son, but lowkey obsessed with his daughter, who makes all his hang ups about his parents the problems of every woman around him, except Maegor is out here blood sacrificing and torturing and starting wars and forcing babies on wives he discards quickly and brutally. Then here comes Jaehaerys on a white horse green dragon to save her from the horror her life has become, and he loves her so much he runs away with her even though Alyssa says they shouldn’t marry because people won’t like it. And they have beautiful children, and a beautiful marriage, and build a beautiful kingdom.

Then her pregnancies start getting dangerous. Gaemon, then Valerion, die. Alysanne thinks of the shriveled up mutants she called brothers, if Maegor’s taint has passed to her. Her perfect husband ignores her no, and forces Gael on her. Alysanne remembers that he said nothing to Rogar when Alyssa died, merely wept. Then her daughters start to die. Daella, Alyssa, Viserra, all within a few years. Then Jaehaerys makes Saera watch as he murders her boyfriend, calls her a whore, and says Alysanne cannot follow Saera to Lys. Alysanne thinks of Maegor torturing the Harroways over Alys’ presumed infidelity. Jaehaerys says he’s sorry, and her daughter badgers her into forgiving him, and she remembers how she helped Jaehaerys badger Alyssa into forgiving Rogar. Not two years later, Jaehaerys passes over Rhaenys. Alysanne thinks of how she was never enough for her father, how she felt so superior to Rhaena banished to Dragonstone and resented by Aerea, yet there she is dragging Gael away from court because she can’t stand to be with Jaehaerys. How her father was surrounded by dead women and dead babies and how Jaehaerys is surrounded by his own dead daughters, but surely she did the right thing, surely Maegor was worse, surely the realm is better off? Is he right to pass over Rhaenys? Is she enabling a man just as monstrous as her father? She will never decide, because Maegelle will guilt her about keeping Gael isolated at Dragonstone, and Alysanne will do as she’s told, just like Rhaena, and Alyssa, and Jeyne, Elinor, Ceryse, Alys, and Tyanna, just like every one of her daughters.

I do get why Alysanne is Alyssa & Aenys’ and not Maegor’s. The weird Targ babies, the line not descending from Visenya, Jaehaerys and Alysanne being held up as the perfect Targaryen couple specifically because they are brother and sister and dragon riders. I do even think canon Alysanne is likely traumatized by her time as a hostage on Dragonstone, and the ensuing war, and the trauma bond that caused with Jaehaerys, and it makes her idolize Jaehaerys, and then he isolates her at Dragonstone so he can swiftly and safely marry, groom, and knock her up. It’s not like,,,, a fun time, and it’s enough to make anyone crazy and weird about their daughters, but I think having her father be Maegor makes Alysanne herself much deeper because it gives her, as the most beloved Targaryen queen, a blood tie to the most hated Targaryen king, and a marriage to the most beloved Targaryen king. It fits better with a lot of the themes of the main series (again, imo) - forcing the spotlight on the outsiders to see how the affect the story from behind the scenes. The fall of Aegon’s sons, and The Long Reign, not told from the PoV or to serve the PoV of any of the kings or princes, but of the queen that tied them all together.

#anti jaehaerys i targaryen #f&b critical #fire and blood critical #asks #thesadboy #like he kind of does this with aenys & maegor by focusing on alyssa and rhaena and the wives and visenya. #but the Moment jaehaerys enters the scene he completely dominates it. the same way daemon and aemond do actually. #but this is not. it should not!! be their story. that’s not how the main series is told anyway!! #if f&b isn’t told by a dornish maester than it should have been written by a septa!!! #nuns wrote books!!!!! #rich noblewomen wrote novels and poetry!!!!!!! #GEORGE DO YOU READ WOMEN. I AM NO LONGER ASKING POLITELY. #i went to look for her mother and apparently this was just a mistake elio made and i’m even more depressed. i can’t believe i’m saying this #but elio damn your mind. #i bet he saw that and went ‘wait which one is her fucjing mother’ and george was like what in the goddamn hell are you talking about. #idk who would be her mother in this au. if we want to keep her within 3 ish years of jaehaerys it Has to be alys or ceryse. ceryse hightowe #is the hilarious and obvious choice. but don’t count out alys harroway second wife here either. #then there’s rhaena as her mother which with the canon timeline makes him 12 years older and isn’t THAT horrible let’s stop here actually.

[thecommunityoftrustworthysinks]

You are Morgan Yu. No, you’re not Morgan Yu. You were Morgan Yu. No, you were something else.

The face in your memory—a man. The face in our mirror—a woman? No, you were a woman. You were many shadowy faces distorted in the polished gold of the railings.

You are Morgan Yu.

I am Morgan Yu.

“…and after that, it was over. No one could stop the Typhon. It spread all over earth. So I took my escape pod…”

Alex’s voice drumming in your head. Morgan’s head. It drummed endless hours through a transcribe.

Typhon.

Alex had made you. Alex had resurrected you. Alex created you.

Alex had killed us from the beginning.

No. You shake your head. You are not Morgan Yu. You don’t know what memories are real.

“Morgan?” You look up. You haven’t quite gotten your tongue to form real words yet. Morgan would’ve spoken more. I wanted to speak more. Alex sighed. “I guess it’s a lot to take in. You should get some rest, Morgan.”

He gestures at you, his voice directed towards the operators—your friends. Voices you thought you knew. Drumming again, directed away and bouncing back. “Take it back to its cell for tonight. I don’t want to risk anything reverting overnight.”

You could kill them. You know that. You did it a lot, before.

But you are Morgan Yu. Alex Yu is your brother. Alex Yu watched over you and worked with you.

Your bedroom. Where are you? Your bedroom.

Your voice is speaking to you. You don’t know the words. You don’t know the speaker.

Your bedroom?

You’ve been Morgan Yu. You’ve been a thousand Morgan Yu’s.

Are you Morgan Yu?

We are reading again. The logs of the destruction of Talos. I don’t remember it this way.

“Remember that, Morgan? You gave us the greatest idea that year. Boosted Neuromod reviews in days. Mom and Dad would be proud.”

The escape pods. They didn’t work. They were built that way.

Mikhalia.

Mikhalia.

I said it aloud. It rasped from my lips, scraping my throat on the way out.

“Mikhalia?” Alex. “She’s the operator now, Morgan.” His voice, smooth and condescending.

She was, though, wasn’t she?

You squeeze your arm. We can feel pain. I feel a trembling energy underneath.

“Do you remember her from Morgan’s memories?”

You were Morgan Yu?

Morgan would nod.

Morgan nodded.

“Interesting. You saved her, and then let everyone die instead of letting anyone escape.”

The echo of straps across your wrists and ankles tugs at you.

“You’ve always loved her too much, I thought. Either I was wrong, or you still have too much Typhon left in you.”

Phantoms inhabited bodies of human dead. Human dead did not inhabit phantoms.

Your inky hands scrape into the metal holding you. Where are we? Where is Morgan? I am Morgan!

Mimics. Alex kept several in secure locations, continuing his research. He tells you about them. He tells Morgan about them. The deep purple tissue of the Mimics feels familiar. Familiar from a thousand lifetimes—and familiar from you.

There is a room tonight. Alex locks it from the outside. You’re still at risk of being a monster. Right?

You are Morgan Yu.

Who is Morgan Yu?

A man tells you to destroy it—destroy it all. You won’t like it, it erases your family’s legacy and you will probably have to die too. But it’s the only thing that’s safe.

She says it too. The woman.

The woman?

Something courses through you. Every vein, every neuron, every spin of every atom is alive. It stings it roars it slows the world to a stop.

And everything is at your hand.

Another day, Morgan Yu. Today, tests. “They’re an essential part of an experiment. Just like you did, Morgan. I know you don’t remember—you didn’t remember in the memories either—but you were so committed to those neuromod tests. No one could stop you.”

Alex’s voice rings into our head.

Morgan did the tests. We will do them again now.

The face in the mirror. Broken and dappled in blood, a sliver of silver shone through. The eyes fester with Typhon sinews. You are Morgan Yu.

The failure of a screen. Alex once shut a screen against Morgan, didn’t he? And outside, everything was golden.

Blood streaks the floor. Your leg is split open, your alien flesh bursting out. Alex’s voice throbs at the back of your head as you stumble. A memory, too many memories.

I am Morgan Yu.

#writes about prey but it's about my mother writes about prey but it's about being trans writes about prey but it's about abuse writes about #prey 2017 #morgan yu #alex yu #prey game #x #poetry #ish #prey fanfic #ish again #PLEASE someone ask me to deconstruct this and what pieces mean

[galedekarios]

karl & altonaufein // act iii web weaving

#otp: battered and wrecked i come to you first #ch: altonaufein #ch: karl eifers #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #edit: mybg3 #misc: poetry #posting oc / oc stuff really takes the pressure off ngl bc it's going to flop anyway #these are from alton's pov #nsft ish #queued post

[lickthecowhappy]

In honour of Burns night (January 25th), please accept this Scots-ish (NOT Scottish) poem about bonnie Mr. McFell from his wee demon.

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #i spent a normal amount of time on this #that 1827 date in Edinburgh #heavens dress tartan #burns night #poem #poetry #i know where I'm going #Burns-ish Scots-ish poem

[fictionadventurer]

NaPoWriMo #14: A poem about two people who start out as enemies and become lovers

Change of Heart

In preschool you were horrid, smashing sand into my face. In second grade, you tripped me in the big three-legged race. In middle school, you mocked me when I lost the spelling bee and acted like you'd vomit when you came in sight of me.

Our senior year, you saved me when my date left me at prom. You drove me home and helped me to explain it to my mom. Our freshman year of college, we were partners in that class. Without your help in chemistry I never would have passed.

When Dad was in that car crash you stayed with me while I cried. I wanted to be with him but I had no other ride. You ditched all of your classes and you took me 'cross the state. The tacos we got afterward were kind of our first date.

We fought at graduation and agreed that we were through. Then for the next two years I thought I was well rid of you. When in town for Joe's wedding, I was far beyond surprised when you found me in private and at last apologized.

We kept in constant contact through our emails, texts, and calls Before long it was like we'd never been apart at all. I've found that I can trust you and share with you everything yet I didn't expect you to show up here with a ring.

When looking at the past we've shared, we had a rocky start, but proofs of your good nature gave you place within my heart. I've seen you at your worst and also seen you at your best, so with how well I know you I just have to answer

Yes.

#napowrimo 2024 #poetry #this prompt is close to a week old #i thought it could be fun to try for a tokien-ish fantasy narrative #but the mundane life story seemed like it would be easier #hahahahahahaha no #this meter just about killed me #i can come up with eight syllable lines and six syllable ones but seven was a nightmare #my artistic integrity reared its head and wouldn't let me cheat the way i did with some of the others #the resulting poem was NOT worth all the trouble i took with it #and i'm still not convinced that some of the lines aren't bamboozling me #but it is done for now and i think i'm officially burned out on long rhyming narrative poems

[hedgehog-moss]

[1] `there are often translations available in other languages long before English ones` This is really interesting! I'm familiar with translation in games, where english is often a very early target (a small game might get 0-5 translations, depending on amount of text) because the size of the market is larger.

[2] Do you happen to know why this is different for books? Is it faster to come to a deal about publication rights for some other languages to get started on the translation? Is translation to english harder (at least from French) than to say, Spanish?

The literary translation situation has long been very dismal in the English-speaking world! I don’t know a lot about video games, but are localisations provided by the company that makes the game? Because if that's the case it makes sense that games would get translated into English as a priority. For literary translations which are imported rather than exported, other countries have to decide to translate a foreign author and anglo countries (US, UK and Canada at least) are not very interested in foreign literature. There's something known as the "3% rule" in translation—i.e. about 3% of all published books in the US in any given year are translations. Some recent sources say this figure is outdated and it’s now something like 5% (... god) but note that it encompasses all translations, and most of it is technical translation (instruction manuals, etc). The percentage of novels in translation published in the UK is 5-6% from what I’ve read and it’s lower in the US. In France it's 33%, and that’s not unusually high compared to other European countries.

I don't think it's only because of the global influence of English* and the higher proportion of English speakers in other countries than [insert language] speakers in the US, or poor language education in schools etc, because just consider how many people in the US speak Spanish—I just looked it up and native Spanish speakers in the US represent nearly 2/3rds of the population of France, and yet in 2014 (most recent solid stat I could find) the US published only 67 books translated from Spanish. France with a much smaller % of native Spanish speakers (and literary market) published ~370 translations from Spanish that same year. All languages combined, the total number of new translations published in France in 2014 was 11,859; in Spain it was 19,865; the same year the US published 618 new translations. France translated more books from German alone (754) than the US did from all languages combined, and German is only our 3rd most translated language (and a distant third at that!). The number of new translations I found in the US in 2018 was 632 so the 3% figure is probably still accurate enough.

* When I say it’s not just about the global influence of English—obviously that plays a huge role but I mean there’s also a factor of cultural isolationism at play. If you take English out of the equation there’s still a lot more cultural exchange (in terms of literature) between other countries. Take Olga Tokarczuk’s Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead; it was published in 2009, and (to give a few examples) translated in Swedish 1 year later, in Russian & German 2 years later, in French, Danish & Italian 3 years later, in English 10 years later—only after she won the Nobel. I’m reminded of the former secretary for the Nobel Prize who said Americans “don't really participate in the big dialogue of literature” because they don’t translate enough. I think it's a similar phenomenon as the one described in the "How US culture ate the world" article; the US is more interested in exporting its culture than in importing cultural products from the rest of the world. And sure, anglo culture is spread over most continents so there’s still a diversity of voices that write in English (from India, South Africa, etc etc) but that creates pressure for authors to adopt English as their literary language. The dearth of English translation doesn’t just mean that monolingual anglophones are cut off from a lot of great literature, but also that authors who write in minority languages are cut off from the global visibility an English translation could give them, as it could serve as a bridge to be translated in a lot more languages, and as a way to become eligible for major literary prizes including the Nobel.

Considering that women are less translated than men and represent a minority (about 1/3) of that already abysmally low 3% figure, I find the recent successes of English translations of women writers encouraging—Olga Tokarczuk, Banana Yoshimoto, Han Kang, Valeria Luiselli, Samanta Schweblin, Sayaka Murata, Leila Slimani, of course Elena Ferrante... Hopefully this is a trend that continues & increases! I remember this New Yorker article from years ago, “Do You Have to Win the Nobel Prize to Be Translated?”, in which a US small press owner said “there’s just no demand in this country” (for translated works); but the article acknowledged that it’s also a chicken-and-egg problem. Traditional publishers who have the budget to market them properly don’t release many translations as (among other things) they think US readers are reluctant to read translated foreign literature, and the indie presses who release the lion’s share of translated works (I read it was about 80%) don’t have the budget to promote them so people don’t buy them so the assumption that readers aren’t interested lives on. So maybe social media can slowly change the situation by showing that anglo readers are interested in translated books if they just get to find out about them...

#ask #anyway it's difficult to find accurate stats for translation and compare between countries because some % you see are #for all translations and as i said technical translations / computer manuals etc make up the bulk of it #some % are averages over decades; others only for fiction or for novels & poetry etc so you end up comparing apples and oranges #but the fact remains that the three percent website (translation database) was able to list every single literary translation #published in the us year after year and it was never higher than 600-ish titles in the 2010s. it's not great #when you see much smaller countries release translations in the thousands or tens of thousands #it's also not a huge improvement over the 400-ish yearly US translations in the 00s #but they haven't released numbers for the past few years and maybe the situation is a bit better now

[smol-stardust]

Silence hung within the bleak room, as if waiting to drop upon me at anytime. Whispers which has foretold the inevitable journey to be embarked upon. There had been days where the wind chimes twinkled with laughter and days it hung still in longing. Today it stays still, as if feeling the loss and hanging still in mourning and memories.

Sand slipping through our fingers; it had been sweet and warm. Embracing that time and memorizing each grain of sand that we touched; each grain a moment frozen in time.

Yet a bittersweet twinge lingers within, questioning if it had been enough. Holding on to the memories and hope, the memory of the warmth lingers on my fingers. I wonder, however fleeting, if the sand of time which trickles through our fingers had painted a canvas of comfort before the wind carried it all away.

#poetry #poems #writing #spilled ink #original poems #implied death #<- ish? #spilled stardust #thinking about things and people and ocs #and words happened #original poetry #spilled poetry #spilled thoughts

[iamthecomet]

Comet my dear, do you have any aethshine thoughts you would like to share? I am Thinking about them and thought, perhaps, you would like to as well. 😌

Dearest Miasma, I'm sure I can conjure up some thoughts (I am plagued with thoughts). 650ish words of Aether/Sunshine musings. Not quite ficlet, definitely not just headcanons. Some angst (of the missing their packmates variety). More smut. They just love each other a lot ok!? Transfem Sunny because I said so.

With the rest of the pack gone, the ghoul wing is eerie. Sunshine's never seen it like this. Impossibly quiet. So many doors shut, rooms sealed off. Sure if she wanted to she could open Cirrus' door, slip in. Bury her face in the the blankets and pillows and clothes left behind. She could sleep in a different empty bed every night. Drift off to the smell of her missing packmates. She doesn't though, doesn't have to. Aether's with her. Noise carries differently when they're the only two in this part of the Abbey. Like a room with all the furniture moved out. The television drones, and she can hear it down the hall. Distant mumbling. When Aether's in his room, playing guitar, humming a tune she can hear him like he's next to her. They spend a lot of time together. Neither of them talk about it, but the emptiness of their home has seeped into the chambers of their hearts too. Bittersweet and aching with each video call where Cumulus pans the phone around so Sunshine can see the Eifle Tower lit up against the sky. Or when she can hear Aether and Dew talking through the walls. Dew's voice terse as he complains about everything except what's really bothering him. Sunshine slips into Aether's room once she's sure he's off the phone. Once they've both exchanged their good nights with their pack, halfway across the world. Sometimes they talk. Curled up together on Aether's big bed. TV on some show they've seen a hundred times. Voices hushed like there is someone they might wake up. Sometimes, Aether pulls her close. Kisses the breath from her lungs. Hands sunk into her curls as he holds her where he needs her. Thumbs pressed against the base of her horns, tongue sweeping over her teeth. She's glad it's Aether. Has been since they both announced their retirement independently of each other. Grateful not to be alone and glad it's him. Steady, devoted, Aether. Who only has to look at her to understand. Who will sit with her at the piano in their empty rehersal room and sing. Who lets her tag along on his infirmary shifts when she can't sleep. Aether who has good book reccomendations and makes sure Sunshine never gets bored enough to really feel how much she misses everyone else.

Aether, who knows exactly how to touch her to shut her mind off. Who holds her with confidence, knows she won't break as he presses her down into the mattress. Slips one hand into the waistband of her leggings and another up, under he crop top to cup a small breast in his giant hand. calloused fingers dragging over a pebbling nipple. Aether feels like home when he touches her. Even when it's rough and desperate. Even when he has both of their cocks in his fist, dragging the heads together, making her vision fuzzy at the edges. Even when he's three fingers deep inside of her, scissoring her open, pressing against spots that make her feel like she's going to cave in on herself.

Pleasure bowls over her, over and over again. His teeth pressed to her pulse. Breath huffed out in sharp pants over her sweat slick skin. Pressing in as deep as he can go, making her feel the way he carves out a place inside of her, his hand pressed firm over hers on her belly so she can feel him fucking her. There is no difference between this and the times when they move slower. When Aether presses his mouth to every inch of exposed skin on her body. When she does the same, grazing teeth over the swell of his belly, the cushion of his thighs. When I love yous are whispered freely. Either way, when she cums under Aether's gaze, it feels like going home.

#comet writes #miasma ♥ #ficlet #ish #Aether Ghoul #Sunshine Ghoulette #Aether/Sunshine #I could talk about them forever #but this is going to have to be good enough for now #ghost fic #ghost fanfic #ghost headcanons #nameless ghoul headcanons #ghost band fic #ghost band fanfiction #I don't know man the metaphors and flowery poetry language really just got away from me tonight

[fire-but-ashes-too]

soooo

one of my online friends may or may not have written a book and im so proud of her FOR GETTING IT PUBLISHED!

shes trying to promote it and asked me if i had any ideas so i volounteered to help her out a bit :D

its called Sentiment and its a ya poetry book (just the ya and poetry together is aaaaaaaaaaaaaa)

it would mean the world to me (and her ofc) if youd check it out, the link is over on the title please give it a look <3

#literally SO proud of her #<333 #even if she cant see it #IM SO PROUD OF YOU CLAIRE #sorry for the ad-ish post #but its rly important to me #writeblr #teen writer #poetry #young adult #books #writing #poetry books

[catkin-morgs-kookaburralover]

from the floor.

My dear Friend,

I write this from the floor,

with great effort,

to tell you simply that I love you.

I wish you would never change

In essentials, much the same as you were;

Only better, clearer,

Godlier than you were.

And to that end,

I Pray.

God bless you.

Yours, &c.

#idk it felt kind of poem-ish #poetry #personal

[tleeaves]

Yesterday I went to the library to collect some books (killer plants and sewing related, as separate topics) and I came across a thickass biography of Oscar Wilde. So, naturally, I borrowed it to read.

I think Matthew Fairchild would be both proud and jealous.

#matthew fairchild #oscar wilde #istg this guy pops up everywhere though #from novels to poetry to plays to even LAW of all things #and universities #all for different(ish) reasons ofc

[minutia-r]

written for the multifandom poetry fest, for the prompt: a poem from a tool

A lousy workman always blames his tools For his own fuck-ups. And they never learn From past mistakes. Most humans are just fools. Who’s got to save them from the pain they earn?

Go on. I’ll let you make two guesses. First one doesn’t count. It’s me— Whenever someone messes Up so badly you can see

That shit from space, it’s me who has to fix it. And then it’s me who has to take the fall. Just a machine—who cares if the boss bricks it When it’s your precious ass against the wall?

“Equipment fault.” It’s such an easy out When you’re not who those words are said about.

#another year another murderbot sonnet #well #sonnet-ish #i realize the second stanza doesn't quite scan don't @ me #murderbot #murderbot diaries #multifandom poetry fest #minutia's fic

[a-had-matter]

this is why you can’t have nice things this is why you shouldn’t speak this is why you should stfu this is why this is why this is why this is why this is why you should be unalive don’t say a word just smile always smile laugh smile all the while you feel not ok but you will be fine everyday cause you’re you you have to actually don’t feel that makes everything worse feelings are the enemeny anemone  enemy just keep walking gotta keep walking don’t start talking shouldn’t start talking it fucks everything up

#original poem #poems on tumblr #poetry #poem #writeblr #just a poem #tw unalive #vent? ish? #poets of tumblr #poets on tumblr #crying cause why not #prose ig #prose poetry #i feel like shit #probably cause i am #i'm sorry