my poetry
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I take pleasure in my transformations. I look quiet and consistent, but few know how many women there are in me.-Anaïs Ninkyotocat | daniel bauerbarcelona, 2015
I live my life in widening circles that reach out across the world I may not ever complete the last one, but I give myself to it. I circle around God, that primordial tower. I have been circling for thousands of years, and I still don’t know: am
“I take pleasure in my transformations. I look quiet and consistent, but few know how many women there are in me.” –Anaïs Nin // kyotocat // photo by currencyofwill
whomthegodswoulddestroy: sassybrain: I JUST FOUND COMEDIC GOLD ON A PORN WEBSITE OMFG I WAS LOOKING UP PORN TO SHOW MY ROOMMATE JAMES DEEN AND I FOUND A GUY WHO CALLS HIMSELF LIMERICK LARRY AND HE WRITES POEMS ABOUT THE PORN VIDEOS I CAN’T BREATHE
“The Road Not Taken” … one of my favourite poems …
Our first writer this week is one of my favorites in the Tumblrverse. I read one of his works before, but somehow I have yet to feature any of his words. That oversight is about to be corrected. Making his long overdue Library debut, please welcome&hellip
quizzical-frisson: ithreatenedtostapleher: endofmarch: dialogues: (via gone! see profile for new link) sylvia plath “mad girl’s love song” (I think I made you up inside my head.)
Only exists in my dreams
Do you read me nudeOr half dressed for seductionSeeking arousal?All my words are dreams of youIn glorious dishabille
Launch me from the sharp escarpmentThis precipice of pleasure, painLet my brain gorge on intoxicantsBinding flesh and blood and sinew, synapseUntil burned and pricked and piercedFearsome, mad with stimulationAn arc of fire to test the chainsI howl out
Muted. Silenced. DumbYour body’s secret languageTattooed on my skinI cannot communicateIn words without your presence ~Arjay Eiff palavre: Tattoo
You leave the secret tattooed in plain sightThen palm away the pawing suitorsCaptivated by the coral gleam, unletteredIn the art of reading ciphers. But I have trained my tongue to trace the runeI know the transports of delight that waitUntil you open
thorntom: I love this poem, but it always reminds me of my ex, she had it written out and stuck on the wall next to her bed… I would read it, whenever there we were laid on her bed and there was a lul in conversation, I still know her favourite lines
thebonepalaceballet: cyberunfamous: All I’ve wanted by Amanda Katherine Ricketson Buy my Poetry Collection here Written for anon about loving your friend who is the same gender This is so incredibly accurate at the moment
Excerpts From My Human Sexuality Class Notes
If I find myself Hephaestion, I pray to the gods for mine Alexander. . Give me love, oh. Give me. Loneliness is a human condition. SLEEP is the heart pulsing in my head. It’s such a weird thing to know, that today’s pains are to be tomorrow’s
I suppose that if I were to close my eyes and rest I might choose to never wake to sleep, always in warmth and carelessness without the trouble and vexes that in conscious light awaits, only dreams only endless sighs and mutterings quiet peace
langleav: Check out my instagram here xo Lang
incidentalcomics: My ProcessThis comic appears in the Summer 2015 issue of The Southampton Review in a section titled “How I Trick Myself Into Getting to Work.”
langleav: filmandpapers: You are my poetry Thanks for posting this lovely xo Lang ……………. Love & Misadventure is available online via Amazon, BN.com The Book Depositoryand Barnes & Noble, Kinokuniya, Books Actually, Fully Booked,
eran muchas a las chicas que le decias lo mismo, en cambio yo era al unico que ame de verdad
cyberunfamous: The sun and the moon by Amanda Katherine Ricketson Buy my Poetry Collection here (for Payton and Laney)
xxx tumblr
Mmm… This is bloody brillant and worthy of being my first post. Thinking About You.
liberatetheminds: reroutedreams: lovesoulbounce: Dig if you will this stunning picture of Minnie Riperton on the cover of Wax Poetics Japan. this is 5,000 types of awesome. Come inside my love Perfect Angel
Favourite song, by one of my favourite artists.
May the dust lie light upon you: pirateskates: “What’s Genocide?” by Carlos Andres Gomezswarajist:...
impactings: today my professor told me every cell in our entire body is destroyed and replaced every seven years. how comforting it is to know one day i will have a body you will have never touched.
oravlalvaro: chelseaalysse: edgarwrights: “Everything in my head went quiet. All the ticks, all the constantly refreshing images just disappeared. When you have Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, you don’t really get quiet moments. Even in
sandersstudies:catasters:Completely unironically this is one of my new favorite pieces of literature
Whoso List to HuntBy Sir Thomas WyattWhoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,But as for me, alas, I may no more;The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,I am of them that furthest come behind.Yet may I by no means my wearied mindDraw from the deer,
lifeinpoetry: I shatterwhat light has done to me: in my wildest dreamswhere the given body is a form of flight& in this latest version I step intothe wreckage, to find the other side ofme blooming toward you. — Michael Wasson, from “Self-portrait
the château of my heart
mashamorevna: “My house has always been a museum of rage.” — Hazem Fahmy, from “In Which I Prefer to Blast Frank While the Door Is Closed,” published in Wyvern Lit (via lifeinpoetry)
lifeinpoetry: “Am I still to / blame for that night. Why do my hands still feel like blood.” — Kanika Lawton, from “Hot Mess,” published in Vagabond City
wethinkwedream: “my excessive heart / finds everything too small,” — Miguel Hernández, from Selected Poems; “Like the Bull,”
tosfumarewords: “where / do my words end, and where do you begin?” — Quinn Lui, from “Let the Congregation Whisper,” L'Éphémère Review (Issue VIII: Gossamer)
adrasteiax: “always water and darkness because now I eat the light; I am sun.” — Angel Dominguez, from “Don’t tell my mother if they kill me #2″ published in Brooklyn (via lifeinpoetry)
lifeinpoetry: My body is a haunted house that I am lost in. There are no doors but there are knives and a hundred windows. — Jacqui Germain, from “Bipolar is Bored and Renames Itself,” When
5ft1: Nathan Stewart-Jarrett reading Sonnet 102 ‘My love is strengthened, though more weak in seeming’
sistersofsylviaplath: “Beware. Out of the ash I rise with my red hair and I eat men like air.” — Sylvia Plath, from Lady Lazarus (via recommendedreadingroom)
uponthepages:went to my favorite local bookshop today and picked up another Sylvia Plath book. (-:
lifeinpoetry: I’ve exhausted my cruelty. I’ve arrived at myself again. — Jenny George, from “Reprieve,” The Dream of Reason
adrasteiax: “(…) the night was dark and love was a burning fence about my house.” — Audre Lorde, from Gemini in “The Collected Poems Of Audre Lorde”
violentwavesofemotion: Anna Akhmatova, from The Selected Poems of Anna Akhmatova; “My Heart,”
thecenterwillnothold: [ID: excerpt from “Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices,” Sylvia Plath It is a terrible thingTo be so open: it is as if my heartPut on a face and walked into the world.’]
pemsylvania: dudesinsnoods: pemsylvania: i love halloween i looked out my window and a kid dabbed at me I love Halloween (5)I looked out my window and (7)A kid dabbed at me (5) holy fuck its a haiku
Come home I miss your soft lips And velvet tongue Hands in your hair And your fingers Slipping under my shirt Pressing you into the counter The smell of fresh coffee Reminding me that this is home
oooh shit my audio page looks hella clean and pretty go look 8) so does my poetry page!
dumbdaisies: “It wasn’t until I was sitting on the floor of my shower hyperventilating your name into my hands when I realized that you were the air I struggled to breathe and I wasn’t even the dirt under your fucking finger nails” Journal
emaaanc: Soaked in scars and stretch marks,I could not fathom symmetry,Or beauty;But a constellation of kisses,Rendered my thighs a Home,My back, a sanctuary.It had nothing to do with How it all looked;And everything to do with How it all felt.
66point6: diaryofakanemem: I remember seeing them perform this live on my campus.. My jaw dropped within 10 seconds. holy shit
mydarkangel2pls: t1969: Orgasms!!!! Lots of orgasms….. mydarkangel2pls 😉 Oh t1969 you do know me so well! 💋😘😊😏💁🏻💦🎉😂😍❤️🌺😈💖🙌🏻 Yes, while some reflect at Starbucks with your Caramochalatta with skim
theblackdalia:theblackdalia: How to Mix Native Blood with Foreign Waters: A Lab This is the poem that won first place. this is incredible, thank you for loving my poetry. Oh my god
-poetic: It’s okay to love yourself by Amanda Katherine Ricketson Support my writing and buy my poetry collection
unresolve: I put this in my poetry booklet for school last year and my teacher pulled me aside the next day and told me how important I am to the world and that he understands what I’m feeling and we both nearly cried and yeah I’m really upset I
theparisreview: “My poetry has been called polyphonic, which is to say that I have always been full of voices speaking; in a way I consider myself an instrument, a medium. My friend Jeanne Hersch, who introduced me to the existentialism of Karl Jaspers,
mescalameee: first time posting my poetry. my hand writing is as scattered as I am.
![thecenterwillnothold: [ID: excerpt from “Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices,” Sylvia Plath It is a terrible thingTo be so open: it is as if my heartPut on a face and walked into the world.’]](https://64.media.tumblr.com/8ec56bf5a2a4bee849ec24c177478c4d/tumblr_pxsu4vlK1T1waees5o1_250.png)
