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#young poets
dionyrtal · 8 months ago
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FINAL NOTE: This is a really basic post to share my ideas about self-publishing. I want to strongly stress that self-publishing is as valid as traditional publishing. You are not “less” of an author if you choose to self-publish. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask!
[ig: dionwrites]
[buy me a coffee]
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bohemianfreaksblog · 2 months ago
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Work song - Hozier // Richard siken // Mahmoud Darwish // crush- Scheherazade- Richard siken // you are jeff - richard siken // henry in a letter to alex- red white and royal blue by Casey Mcquiston // Boot theory- richard siken // Orestes by Euripides (translation by Anne Carson) // A primer for the small weird loves - richard siken // Charles Bukowski
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apoemaday · 3 months ago
Young Poets
by Nicanor Parra
Write as you will In whatever style you like Too much blood has run under the bridge To go on believing That only one road is right. In poetry everything is permitted. With only this condition of course, You have to improve the blank page.
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kittywritesmistress · 18 days ago
In the cremating ground , my body will cremate
and in the released heat my dear most mom's tears will evaporate
Almighty will suck out the pure shit of my soul
and the devils inside will be bashed
ignited till it turns into ash
Wander on the clouds aimlessly
eavesdrop my death gossip shamelessly
I will fly to my graveyard hopelessly
I will lurk the Earth agelessly
my soul will watch the cremation
muted growls and shouts
echoing in an invisible cage
I will be pleased to see the haters sympathizing
accompanying the occasional screams of mourning
blessed to watch the family members uniting
bewildered to see the Town making me focus of attention
without any secret intention
For my loved ones , my death will be unbelievable
and my loss pain will be unhealable
ah this becomes the remarkable event in my life
oh my darling death , claim me as one of your wife
let me bake the cake in oven
while cozying in my new mansion in heaven
pitying my fake sympathizers and well wishers are destined to be burnt like barbeque in hell
I will haunt the weak criminal souls within their bodies
to the extent till that sinner dies
O' my death , take me to the state of rest
as living for the common desires which are worthless waste
Make me void of anger , jealousy , love , lust and sadness
Let me shake the heaven with all my madness
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unjadedwords · 2 months ago
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here are some poetry prompts for you guys! 🕊 hope they inspire you <3
don’t forget to check out the guidelines in the middle photo above. do tag me on instagram as well (@unjadedwords + #unjadedprompts) so i can see your works! can’t wait to read your takes on these prompts <33
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the-stars-collided · 26 days ago
Just because the world isn't dancing to it, doesn't mean your song isn't beautiful
Maybe it has more to do with the fact that they can't dance than you being incapable of singing well.
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trans-writes · 4 months ago
have you ever noticed that as we get older, as time goes on the things we want for ourselves get smaller and smaller and smaller? in kindergarten they asked us what do you want to be when you grow up? we were five and we said i want to be a scientist! i want to be a doctor! i want to be an astronaut! i remember when we still had hope like that and again, when we were twelve they asked and we said i think i’d like to run my own business, someday i want to be an artist i might like to be a baker but the still air was dancing with but that wouldn’t pay the bills when we were sixteen, a teacher stood at the front of the room and asked us again what we wanted for our futures our answers were mumbled in voices heavy with stress and lack of sleep our eyes stayed fixed on our desks,  and when we replied it was hesitant, like even our barest hopes were too much to ask for i want to be able to pay rent it would be nice to have a kid one day, maybe i hope i’ll be happy, at least some of the time i want to be alive i don’t we had dreams, once --r.a.b.
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therebepoems · a month ago
I was told I wasn't meant for this world. That the world is too much for me.
It wasn't meant to be a compliment. It wasn't said that I'm just too good and pure to be here in this awful place.
It was meant to be a "You're too weak to walk these streets. You're too naïve and a liability. You can't even look people in the eyes." Kind of way.
And I know that most of that is true.
But I'd like to believe that maybe sometimes I am too good for this world. And that being here any longer is changing me, not in a good way.
I'd like to believe that I can learn to be strong without becoming tainted. That maybe I can still be good and pure somehow without becoming primal on the streets.
I'd like to believe.
Alex Delorme
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kittywritesmistress · 20 days ago
Looking at the silent dead hopeless night sky
Gazing at our moments on titanic
Looking at the same shooting star that we encountered on ship and recalling that i had said "someone is dead"
Now I have to say it again by replacing someone with JACK
The cruel rain is drenching me
I am walking hopelessly like a defeated warrior
Merciless sea waves hitting the dock are laughing in triumph
There's something shit going on in my heart, its paining so much
Feeling like thousands of inhuman ice spikes penetrating into my heart
Someone is digging a pit in my stomach
Feeling like the world turned into hell
I am not feeling the surface i am walking on
You have gone to a place where i can't follow you back
Your picture is blurring in my watery eyes like the way you got drowned in the ocean
And I am drowning in your love
My throat is tight and clogged with emotions
Feeling like the neck is coiled spirally
My legs and hands going numb making me to stumble on my tracks of solitary life
The millions of stopcocks stuck in my nasal passage are struggling me to inhale
Breathe is clogged by the fact
I can't see you again ever and my dear most passengers
Because you are lost in some unknown world .
But you are alive in my heart
Begging the Hades to drop you back on earth in my arms
Holding you tightly , nobody could seize you
I have nobody to hold hand tightly
Nobody to entwine the fingers with
Nobody to jump back when I jump
Nobody to give me a flying feeling
Nobody to feel me
Begging for your feathery magical touch
Wanting you to come back singing , "come Josephine, my flying machine"
the world is feeling timeless
Your angelic words ringing in my ears
Your happy face is flashing in my eyes
Cannot bear the torment of destiny
Seize my money , myself and everything but exclude my jack
Dreading how will I sleep with your memories cluttered in my brain
Your death is the worst nightmare to me which will haunt me for the eternity of my life .
The feeling is equivalent of losing a father
Nobody to respect and protect me like a daughter of own flesh and blood.
Nobody to caress the hands on my forehead
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unjadedwords · 2 months ago
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i used to be lost, subconsciously searching for a home i hadn’t known yet. now, i’m in a different feeling of lostness — aware of my home but sadly back to merely yearning for it, a star now far out of my reach. (can you tell that i’m senti?)
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