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semaokoko · 1 year

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The back of an old note has your name

Written in writings that symbolizes the

Drawings of a cartoonish character.

And the designs I have doodled have

Never, once, surpassed a pencil or paper.

These two instruments, the pencil and paper,

Are what I have used to remember and re-live again

You and an old love each time I sit and regret

And think and wonder and compare and reason

How I could have lost it all.

— The Pencil And Paper.

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avoidintellect · 2 years

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♥☻

To the end of time,

and I stay in line ,

each specific word that didn’t linger

but it stayed and soaked into each point

And my life stays calm

in the midst of the storm.

I must belong.

I feel no wrong

and does that make me

prone to violence

and in silence

I stare

into the mid air

cold tears slither down my cheek

it reeks

its a scentless and it creeps into your every pore

into my eyes its sore

and I blink,

strugglin’ to grasp a thought, tryin to think.

it won’t sink…in

leavin’ and sayin I’m not comin back

but don’t worry you will forget

before I leave , finish your drink and swear,

you don’t ever know, me from nowhere.

#perspective #spoken poetry #my poetry #thought provoking #poetsontumblr #poetsonig #poetsonpoetry #poets on tumblr #poets on poetry #love quote #poetry #poemsontumblr #poems on tumblr #poetscorner #blackpeople #blackpoetry #black poetry

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proseandtonic · 2 years

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Training Wheels

She loved him with shaky hands that had never touched before, a colossal high school heart and nothing has meant as much since

I guess now she can’t tell the eyes of a one night stand from the ones that will take the side of the bed next to the nightstand and pass her a cup of water in the morning, but that’s her baggage to swallow

She doesn’t need anyone else, but she’s convinced she’s ready to open up again even if it takes a tequila-soaked pep talk to get there

Last week she almost trusted someone, and her chest retracted quickly it was bone-crushing slamming shut with such conviction she was convinced it was audible she silently wanted to blame him, the one who ripped the training wheels off of her ability to love before she made it halfway down the street, before she could really take her hands off the bars and feel the wind float between her fingertips, sunshine gripping her cheek like a vow that the bright side would always be found, forcing her to sport skinned knees with a grin, pledging herself to self comparison forever thereafter

But instead she fell into the same old pattern - a drunk bar make out and a story to toss around to friends like it’s a goddamn paper route there’s something easier she knows, and she’ll find it once the hard stuff stops going down so smoothly

- Prose & Tonic

#poet #poetry #writers #writers and poets #poetscommunity #poetsofinstagram #poetsonig #writers on tumblr

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adlettres · 11 months

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the visitor, perhaps, walks in again— a red-handed doctor without a nameplate, faceless— to peel me off like stems of flowers, like satin petals; no longer wearable.

admer balingan, excerpt from metamorphosis, “seventh night” p.42.

#poem #poems #poets #poemsofinstagram #poemsociety #poetsonig #poetsontumblr #poetsofig #poets of tumblr

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amo-ridere · 1 year

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"Perhaps, art is useful after all." If you see morbid self-portraits being posted, 1) mind your business (especially if you're shared genetics) and 2), refer back to the first point. Your curiosity (or concern) is not welcomed. #PragmaticsVsPassions #mentalillness #poetrytwitter #freeverse #poetsonig #catharsis #signatured #death #deathobsession #artherapy #mindyourbusiness https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpvo5KWrqhY/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#pragmaticsvspassions #mentalillness #poetrytwitter #freeverse #poetsonig #catharsis #signatured #death #deathobsession #artherapy #mindyourbusiness

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ljthepoet · 1 year

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🗣 Same ol' Same ol' 💜 Add me to your favorites 💜 Turn on post notifications #spilledink #wordsmith #poetryaccount #poetsonig #wordporn #reelpoet #pennedthoughts #poeticsighs #poets #poems #poetryisnotdead #poetrycommunity #creativewriting #writers #emotions #poetrygram #poetryaccount #blackpoet #poetscafe #poetsonig #ljthepoet #lovepoetry #apoeticview #poetrylover #poetscorner #writers_den_ #writers_around #amwriting (at Montreal, Quebec) https://www.instagram.com/p/Coj8x-kuRvG/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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gideonlecray · 2 years

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Fly and be free #love #life #poetry #poem #poet #poetsociety #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #poetsofig #poetsonig #poetrycosmos #writing #writingcommunity #writersofinstagram #writersnetwork #writersofig #heart #art #soul #ink #dream 🦋 https://www.instagram.com/p/CiAfkesjHWz/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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mooberryink · 2 years

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》ℙ𝕠𝕖𝕞𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕡𝕠𝕔𝕜𝕖𝕥 QOTD 》What do you do when you’re blocked (writer’s block, reader’s block, etc.)? I’ve been loving these poetry prompts lately, really feeling the juice—but no pull? One topic discarded after another, joss paper in the wind, unable to settle. So, I did the usual: sat & stared at the walls, out the window, where a swallow is building a nest under the eaves (cute, but a messy pain); walked into the living room, the kitchen to open & close the fridge; thought about the rising cost of Sockeye salmon & things seemingly unrelated to poems. These took a while, but I'm somewhat satisfied. Happy Poem In Your Pocket Day ♡ xo Noelani 4.20 》Write a poem that anthropomorphizes a kind of food. 4.21 》Write a poem considering the following: - First recall someone you used to know closely but are no longer in touch with - Then a job you used to have but no longer do - Then a piece of art that you saw once & that has stuck with you over time - Close the poem with an unanswerable question 4.22 》Write a poem that uses repetition. 4.23 》Write a poem in the style of Kay Ryan. (Repeat prompt! A reworking of my silly “Kay-Ryan-esque” piece from 2017.) 4.24 》Write a poem in which you describe something with a hard-boiled simile. Reference: Raymond Chandler Painting: The Undergrowth in the Forest of Saint Germain by Claude Monet, 1882 #napowrimo #glopowrimo #nationalpoetrymonth #poetrymonth #poeminyourpocketday #pocketpoems #poetrytribe #instapoems #poetscafe #poetsonig #writers_den_ #writerswrite #writingprompts #writingtime #mystuff #bookstagrammer #nonbookishpost #nonbookpost #booklover #kayryan https://www.instagram.com/p/Cc84Jf_vPHE/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

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loudphantomlove · 2 years

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Crying in the middle of the day should be a

Thing, i mean it's always the day that

Overwhelms more than night.

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semaokoko · 2 years

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I am taking a cup of stolen milk

With Cabin biscuit and reading a newspaper.

And I am thinking about an argument I had with

A friend about painting a room off-white or blue.

On the day of the colour argument I wrote,

Blue is a favorite color and no one should

Ever have a problem with it

Because every shade of blue is cool.

And every shade of blue is to be loved.

— Every Shade Of Blue.

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firstdraftvalkyrie · 3 years

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Dreams

I still dream about you.

Never for any particular reason,

other than the times

I let myself

melt into my sheets

and believe

that I’m moving on

with the hope

that it will stay.

I still dream about you,

but not the good kind.

Not the ones I used to have

when I dreamed I was next to you

and could breathe in

the way you make me punch-drunk love

on your hugs.

No, not the good kind.

It’s the kind where I dream

that you show up or I run into you

and you don’t even know my name.

And I still feel

the same way,

but you don’t;

an endless dream-chase

of asking you

to look at me.

That’s the thing about

being a realist.

That’s the thing about

eating your promises for my breakfast

and dreaming about

your touch.

When I wake up,

I have to remember

none of it is real

except for the part

where I still read your letters

looking for you

to see me

reading you back to life.

It’s only real

when I love you with my whole memory

so deeply

that my body begs me

to rest

long enough to try to forget

once more.

--f.d.v.

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traumatocampa · 2 years

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haikkun · 4 years

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Sup

I keep a pretty paltry pantry

These days.

Not thinking much farther ahead

To a meal

Or a day

Or a face full of lead.

However minimalist,

I feel no compulsion

To answer single-word messages;

Ejaculation, expulsion.

Hey

Hi

Hello

Sup

Hot

Beaut

Cute

I could starve myself to death

And never be so thin

As all that drivel.

Call a paramedic

Scrape your jaw up off the table.

Consider yourself blessed

That I cannot be condensed

To return a one-word threat or

Condescension’s scathing

Vengeance.

I gift you more than you gave me...

By my silence.

_________________________________

Maureen Armstrong @haikkun

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adlettres · 1 year

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but for a while, poetry is wandering. patching, unremembering hideous wound marks on these hands. for a while. for a while. i'm breathing clean and anibong is home tiptoeing on my hair, on my skin, softly. lovingly.

admer balingan, excerpt from metamorphosis, “daydreams on my desk” p. 144.

#poetry #poems #poems and poetry #poetsonig #poetsontumblr #poets on instagram #poetsofinstagram #poetsoftumblr #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #spilled words #spilledpoems

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wayfaringauthorofficial · 3 years

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We dance this endless waltz, spinning around the cracks and holes in the stories we built. You lead me along, always careful to follow the choreographer's instruction. There is no other way. Fall in line or be crushed with ridicule and the promise of broken dreams.

'Ballet of Life." 1.17.21. ach.

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vivianrosepoems · 4 years

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