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i’m telling you you gotta try poetry. that thread will turn into a rope

writerly-ramblings :

“The night is softer than the day, quieter, sadder, calmer, the sound of the wind tapping windows, the hissing of pipes, the entropy that makes floorboards creak, the ghostly night bus that comes and goes - and always in cities, a far-off distant sound that resembles the sea, yet is just life, more life. I realized that was what I wanted after my mother’s death. More life.”

The Cost of Living, Deborah Levy

soracities :

Czesław Miłosz, from “The Song” (tr. Czesław Miłosz), New and Collected Poems: 1931-2001

[Text ID: “Earth, do not abandon me.”]

deformititties :

“The Ragged and the Beautiful” by Safiya Sinclair

ID below 

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malojasnake :

— October, by Mary Oliver

aconissa :

Desireé Dallagiacomo, ‘Origin Story’, Sink / Deborah Levy, Hot Milk

[text ID: tweet by Danez Smith that reads, “If someone told me “Danez, no more poetry because poetry keeps killing children” I would burn every poem. If your love or false sense of security that semiautomatic weapon brings you is larger than children’s lives, you are a empty-hearted human and a danger to all.]

derangedrhythms :

…sad as the beginning of springtimes.

Rainer Maria Rilke, from ‘Letters to a Young Poet’, tr. M. D. Herter Norton

soracities :

“The more I understand of myself and the more I understand of the temperament of those artists whom I admire, the more I am convinced that what separates talent from genius is nothing more nor less than confidence: the ability not to be frightened of making a fool of yourself. This is a dangerous thing to say. It opens the door to sheer bravura. But that is a very different thing from the kind of confidence I am talking about. Bravura comes from the desire to impress which in turn comes from the same fear of making a fool of yourself. The confidence I speak of is not made out of the opinions of others. It comes from solitude.”

— John Berger, A Painter of Our Time

firstfullmoon :

mahmoud darwish / sharif s. elmusa, “flawed landscape” / fredrika bremer / naomi shihab nye, “different ways to pray” / mahmoud darwish, “the second olive tree” / miftah, olive trees – more than just a tree in palestine

when fady joudah wrote “my father says, in his country, because the earth knows the scent of history, it gave the people sage.” and when sharif s. elmusa wrote “my father remembered his twelve olive trees every day for ten years. he remembered the peasants saying to the olive tree had she felt for their toil, she’d yield not olives, but tears, and the tree answering, tears you have enough; i give you oil to light your lamps, to nourish, and to heal.”

lovesickbrat :

what’s your venus + ascendent combo?

aemperatrix :

J. Allyn Rosser, Deep Pond at Dusk in Heavy Rain against Pines

serpensoir :

‘I’m more than thinking about you – I’m living about you, my love, my happiness, (…)’

— Vladimir Nabokov in a letter to his wife Véra, 17 august 1924.

lettersfromvincent :

Love is the best and most noble thing in the human heart, especially when it has been tried and tested in life like gold in the fire, happy is he and strong in himself who has loved much and, even if he has wavered and doubted, has kept that divine fire and has returned to that which was in the beginning and shall never die.

Letter #143. Vincent van Gogh to Theo van Gogh. Amsterdam, Wednesday, 3 April 1878.

engulfes :

Life is filled with mundanities but as of late it all has a bit of a golden glow

hi pau !! i don't actually have anything to ask u im just using this to say i hope you have a good week 😁❣💞

hiiii thank you that’s really sweet i hope you’ll have a lovely week as well 💐🌷🌱🌼💖

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