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Despair and anguish fill my mind,
As the devil within me,
Makes me blind.
No more I see just pain and regret,
The mental strain,
No hope can be met.
I long to feel the gentle caress,
Of a good night's sleep,
But instead there's just stress.
What more can I do,
To pass the time,
If only they knew,
I could commit a crime?
Try to feel something,
Other than this,
Dark, desperate exhaustion,
Hoping for the feeling of calm, total bliss.
Their words cut deep,
Like knives in my skin,
And the voices harass me,
My soul lives in sin.
Forever, I'm condemned to a life of such sorrow,
Wishing and hoping,
There will be no tomorrow.
By Becky Crane.
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angelauniversalsky · 3 years
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#Dreambig #giveencouragement #givewhatyoucan #loveoneanother #giversareleaders #giversgain #giversglow #hopewithwords #poetrypassionkk #bekindbutbeyourself #unitedwewin #sharingpoetry #sharingpoetrywiththeworld #sharingpoetrytosurvive #writereadrepeat #readmoreindiebooks #followmeoninstagram❤️ #beyourself❤️ #writetosurvive #Cadillacmichigan #Traversecitymichigan #ourfuture #ourworld🌎 #diversevoices #deepwriter #instagrampoetry #♥️🌈 https://www.instagram.com/p/CKSk6wih0yF/?igshid=o52kdm83pb5t
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cuore-scalzo-cs · 5 years
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Ci siamo noi un Uomo e una Donna con tutte le nostre speranze le nostre paure che a fatica ogni giorno cerchiamo di capire cos'è questa cosa che noi chiamiamo amore.
Io e lei un Uomo e una Donna in cerca di una storia del tutto inventata ma priva di ogni euforia e così concreta che intorno a sé fa nascere la vita. #giorgiogaber #premiogiorgiogaber #musicislifeismusic #poesiainmusica #lamusicaevita #sharingpoetry #sharepoetry #artpainting🎨 #montserratgudiol #montserratlovers #amormusicapoesia https://www.instagram.com/p/Bu5t87ZFlVSSyurN4PovU9tI1FUk9dWOkk9O2I0/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=l6e4ndazgrlk
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The childhood nostalgia is strong with this one. This poem was written when I was a kid about the caravan that I've been going to all my life pretty much. Read the full poem using the link:
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Conversation
Nulle part, ici
"un lieu sûr sans lieu
nulle part
ici
 
mais il n’y a plus grand monde
aussi
sauf une tête une langue
tant que tête
et langue
 
après
ce sera vraiment fini"
Nulle part, ici (Antoine Emaz & Claire Chesnier), coll. “Livre d'artistes”, éditions Centrifuges, 2018.
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gaurav-ghanshyam · 7 years
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#blogging is #peace for an #artist हम वहां हैं, जहाँ से हमको भी कुछ हमारी खबर नहीं आती . मुकां ऐसे हो गए दरमियां हमारे, नफरत हुई मगर याद नही जाती. #sharingpoetry #naturepoem #artists #poemart #poemas #poes #drawingishard #frustrated #twinkletwinklelittlestar #icantdrawtheothereye #why #littlepoem #autodesk #janfabre #visualdiary #wip #minimalist #wood #firenzeagain #abstract #rain #water #pastel #bronze #unicorn (at Gajab Dunia)
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booksonthet · 6 years
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#PoetryMonth continues with #Seeds by Roger LeGrand from Flutter Press! We hope you enjoy these short little reads! #booksonetheT . . . #poetry #poetryofinstagram #sharingbooks #sharingpoetry #igreads #instabooks #bookstagram #bostonbooks #mbta #booksofinstagram
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graecellen · 8 years
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THE POETRY WORK GROUP
Dayton, Ohio is awash with literary folks, poets and writers. I feel so lucky to live where I do. Over the past several months, a few of us who write poetry have been meeting one Sunday afternoon a month to share poetry and provide each other with feedback on work-in-progress. This evening, I finished up some edits that came from thoughts from today’s group. There were only three of us this afternoon, but that was fine with me.
A work group doesn’t need to be large. It just has to be comprised of people you trust and who’s perspective you value. That’s critical. And, it’s not just about specific feedback. If anything, it’s as much about the act of talking about poetry. For me, it becomes an internal vocabulary I can use as I work alone at my desk later. For instance, today, I was listening to someone talk about what a poem “means.” I realized that sometimes a poem can create the illusion that it must mean something, when it doesn’t have to mean anything at all. And, indeed, some poems are intentionally trying to mean something. (But this is a discussion for a longer post at another time.)
Anyway, I was thinking that it’s interesting to observe what kind of dialog a poem evokes. Maybe that’s a good question to ask yourself as you write: what kind of discussion would this poem evoke if people were going to talk about it?
Truth:  A while back, when I was binge listening to the Poetry Foundation Magazine Podcast, http://www.poetryfoundation.org/features/audio?show=The%20Poetry%20Magazine%20Podcast (which is fantastic, BTW) I used to think about what the editors would say about a poem I had written as they bantered back and forth. It’s a fun exercise. When that conversation was not crystal clear to me, I knew I had to go back to the drawing board. Whether or not my poems will ever be discussed in that manner, is not the point. The point is, it’s useful for me to think about them that way. And, that’s at least one thing I get from my poetry work group—poetry talk.
If you want to know how we’ve structured our group or how we run it, message me. WRITE ON!
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gypsi-ami · 11 years
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The night raves,
standing in its rapture- from the deep of my bones, the clouds climb over my mind to clear the sky,
constellations reveal on my skin in the light of moon, evaporating such haze
As I look up, shadows speak in secrets to the warmth of the wind
the perfection of it all-  insatiable with will, in hope, thoughts carry my kiss from the night to the days…….
tumbling sure- crisp in notion….. for where it is meant ……
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sarahbethwrites · 11 years
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The Conditional
Say tomorrow doesn't come.
Say the moon becomes an icy pit.
Say the sweet-gum tree is petrified.
Say the sun's a foul black tire fire.
Say the owl's eyes are pinpricks.
Say the raccoon's a hot tar stain.
Say the shirt's plastic ditch-litter.
Say the kitchen's a cow's corpse.
Say we never get to see it: bright
future, stuck like a bum star, never
coming close, never dazzling.
Say we never meet her. Never him.
Say we spend our last moments staring
at each other, hands knotted together,
clutching the dog, watching the sky burn.
Say, It doesn't matter. Say, That would be
enough. Say you'd still want this: us alive,
right here, feeling lucky.
-Ada Limon
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cuore-scalzo-cs · 5 years
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Qual'e'la gioia più grande dì una persona illuminata? Incontrare un altro illuminato [..]per vibrare insieme sullo stesso registro. #jodorowsky #sharingpoetry #artecontemporanea #art #ineslongevial #loveyourself #musicislifeismusic https://www.instagram.com/p/BrOWW3OlHFI/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ngn4cn5rr5xc
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Conversation
Würm
"et l’eau ne lave plus l’eau
l’eau ne lave plus
la neige efface notre langue
le couchant
la moitié d’air
le lait est lent
et nous érigeons des lèvres
une tourbe du soir"
Würm (Ilann Vogt & Anael Chadli), coll. “Par la peau”, éditions Centrifuges, p.16.
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thealaina · 11 years
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A Random Thought
I'd rather bask in my silence in dark rooms or listen to my pulse beat on my eardrums as the sun pierces my pineal gland... Touch the rugged surface of your smooth skin and drown in the craters of your sweat or taste the nectar we think bees are made of that drip from your passion filled body..
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sarajanestrickland · 12 years
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e.e. cummings, "if I have made, my lady, intricate"
If I have made, my lady, intricate
imperfect various things chiefly which wrong your eyes (frailer than most deep dreams are frail) songs less firm than your body’s whitest song upon my mind - if I have failed to snare the glance too shy - if through my singing slips the very skilful strangeness of your smile the keen primeval silence of your hair - let the world say “his most wise music stole nothing from death” -                       you will only create (who are so perfectly alive) my shame: lady whose profound and fragile lips the sweet small clumsy feet of April came into the ragged meadow of my soul.
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