Poetry Lovers - Tumblr Posts
A diet moon.
A rid-yellow.
A taint-blue.
A might-heaven.
A sight-hold.
A might-teller.
A someone of great cumb.
A nice mice.
A tell chase.
A steel poetry.
A genre.
A stye love.
A steet tench.
A stime style.
A story toon.
She was.
She was a newer stance of her becoming me poetry.
She was.
She is.
Sunidhi
Insomnia
Sit in silence long enough
You'll hear my heart go
Thump thump thump
Hear my breath whisk across pale lips
And the cacophony of voices
That have taken up residence in my head.
~
Chatter, chatter, chatter
My mind won't turn off
It's too loud but at the same time too soft.
~
I twist and I turn
I scream and I shout
Looking for a way out.
~
The clock just hit midnight
My skin feels too hot
My bones are like lead
And I just want to rot.
~
Go to sleep
Go to sleep
But insomnia haunts
It pinches and tickles
Annoying my brain
Get up get up time to greet the day!
But it's midnight and I haven't
Sept well in a week.
~
Sandy eyes Dark circles hung suspended in pale cheeks
RIP my sleep.
~
Sit in silence long enough
Don't close your eyes
And don't go to sleep
Sit in silence long enough
You'll finally get why I am me
And you are you.
Do not stand
By my grave, and weep.
I am not there,
I do not sleep—
I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning’s hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight,
I am the day transcending night.
Do not stand
By my grave, and cry—
I am not there,
I did not die.
— Clare Harner, The Gypsy, December 1934
The poem is often attributed to anonymous or incorrect sources, such as the Hopi and Navajo tribes. The most notable claimant was Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905–2004), who often handed out xeroxed copies of the poem with her name attached. She was first wrongly cited as the author of the poem in 1983. In her obituary, she asserted that her authorship was "undisputed" and confirmed by Dear Abby. However, Pauline Phillips and her daughter Jeanne Phillips, writing as Abigail van Buren, repeatedly confessed to their readers that they could not confirm who had written the popular poem.
Along with a stimulating book, beautifully crafted poem, a soulful song and a delicious mug of coffee, a creamy bar of chocolate 🍫 gives you the self-love that you need to get you through the day! 😋
Just remember, if you are content within yourself, the love will shine through to your loved ones and coffee ☕️ chocolate 🍫 and a good book 📖 or poem ✍️ or song 🎵 is self indulgent paradise ♥️
Sorry, I'm having a bad hair day... 🤣
Ah... delicious coffee ☕️ 😋
A good book 📖
A well crafted poem ✍️
A soulful song 🎵 ♥️ 🎵
Don't Worry Be Happy - Bobby McFerrin
My first poetry book! ❤
Launching soon...
in another universe
i hope
i am happy enough,
confident enough,
strong enough
to be alone
katie
you are one of the reasons i believe in the existence of a living God.
-katie
in another universe
i hope
i am happy enough,
confident enough,
strong enough
to be alone
katie
Book: Night Drives by Samantha Camargo
July makes you want to dive deep into a pool of blue doesn’t it? 🩵
"Who is Reverie?"
Who is Reverie?
She is a maiden. An ingénue.
An angel whose rose-colored spirit is a natural lover.
She is a muse among the flowers. A dancer beneath clouds of white.
She waltzes into the fantasies of artistic souls and lonely hearts.
Her laugh is a birdsong, her smile a siren's spell.
Her body is a mural painted by rays of sunlight and a gentle breeze.
She is a dreamer who practices poetry and believes in ecstasy.
A nymph with invisible wings who wears sheer bliss like a string of pearls.
Know her, and your daydreams will be sweeter than ever before…
-Reverie, The Daydream Muse
“How much space will you need to grow?”
“A galaxy…”
“Trapeze” Elise Paschen
We are made of dreams and bones.
-David Mallet
Afternoon reading in the garden. 🪴📖
“The Mermaid” - Michael Faudet
.
•
.
my poem:
Show me where the boys have hit you
Where the knives cut through
I’ll kiss your wounds clean
With my magic spell of love
Care and caress
Who am I if not healing you?
My baby I didn’t birth
I can’t promise you my legacy
I can only gift you what’s free
My unclean and worn out soul
Body in shock
You lost a part of you
Gave your power to the men in camo suits
Your energy can’t be groomed
Can’t be tamed
I’m not here to change you
You won’t let me and I’m just the same
My favorite name is you
My body aches not with hurt
Only regret
I’m passionate in every way
Dramatic might as well be my middle name
I don’t wanna have fun
I wanna be loved
Explode in rainbows
Sugar in my veins
I’ll share my babies with you
I like you
And I don’t like anyone
Dr-g Daddy, Motherless Mommy, Bum Baby
I choose my family and I’m always adopting
Love, I’ll mother you like neither of us were
The choice is yours to commit
It’s really up to you
Up to you
.
•
.
my poem:
He sleeps with 2 pillows
I’m the third
Pillow or girl this week
Unanswered questions
Better left in my head
We’re living in different worlds
While in the same room
I see in rose and you’re committed to gray
Little fallen angels
You’re drifting away
Self soothing invisible pain
You’re a boy
Not a man
I’m not a wife
Can’t carry babies
Lifeless man
Child spirit
You never really grow up
Just get jaded
You take care of your dog, more than you do yourself