collectingforgottenpoetry

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

— Thanksgiving 2006, Ocean Vuong, from 'Night Sky with Exit Wounds'

[text ID: Brooklyn's too cold tonight

& all my friends are three years away.

My mother said I could be anything

I wanted — but I chose to live.]

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i hope that when i die there will be an apartment with everyone i’ve ever loved in it and we are together always

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“Set wide the window.

Let me drink the day.”

-Edith Wharton

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and i'm carrying this profound loneliness that sits heavy in my chest

sometimes i can't help wondering who would miss me if i was dead

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"Nearing the end," I told my fainting soul, "Be brave; we soon shall reach the journey's goal."

Excerpt from "Ignis Fatuus," by Anne Reeve Aldrich. As featured in The Rose of Flame and Other Poems of Love, 1889 edition.

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

hello! if you would like to read this book, a copy can be found here:

i hope you enjoy the journey

“Come with me… those that tire at all of the world we know, for we have new worlds here.”

— “Preface,” by Lord Dunsany. As featured in The Book of Wonder, 1912 edition.

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Artists: Gustave Doré (1832 - 1883)

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friends of the library book sale, collectors corner. ithaca, ny. (it had nursery rhymes and short prose based on animals.)

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

You must fully understand the beauty of life, if you want to see the beauty of death; and life will be more beautiful from the reason of contrast with death. And death, again from the contrast with life, will be more tender in pathos, more subtle in rhythm.

Excerpt from Epilogue, by Yoné Noguchi. As featured in Japanese Hokkus, 1920 edition.

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

reorganising my bedroom and in love with this playlist I found:

i'm a wee lil' hobbit tidying up my home 🌿🌻🌷🌱

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

it's been years since you last haunted these walls

sometimes i wonder

how much of you still lingers here

how many particles of dust

were shaped by your molecules

am i still breathing you in

over and over and over again

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

I am slowly losing my mind over the shift towards video as the default media format.

I do not find this to be an efficient way to absorb information. I am bored and distracted by the time the largely unnecessary introduction is over. I can't use ctrl+f to find the specific information I'm looking for. If there are instructions to follow, I don't want to have to constantly pause and back up to the part I need.

At least give me a fucking transcript.

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

"...we make our journey alone, that few will ever know what we sought or understand what we have found."

Excerpt from "For truth was to me a breath, a wind, a shadow..." by Gerald D. McDonald, an introduction to Poems of Stephen Crane, 1964.

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

*sidles out of the shadows*

*opens jacket, hands you PDFs of every Loeb classical library text in the public domain*

*also hands you links to Gutenberg.org for searchable EPUB books, LibriVox for free audiobooks, the Internet Archive library and the Perseus Digital Library*

*also, if you're under 22 and in the US, you can get a free eCard for the Brooklyn Public Library, and access their entire digital catalogue*

*slides back into shadows*

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

i used to dream simply of worlds beyond the stars of adventures ahead of stories which had yet to be read my dreams are much more complicated now i dream of clean rain i dream of unpoisoned skies i dream of a world where everyone can happily, peacefully live their lives i dream of quietly sitting in the sun of watching the stars come out one-by-one i dream of a world where i still have hope i dream of a life better than what i was sold

free write, 14 nov. 2023

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

The living come with grassy tread To read the gravestones on the hill; The graveyard draws the living still, But never any more the dead. The verses in it say and say: “The ones who living come today To read the stones and go away Tomorrow dead will come to stay.” So sure of death the marbles rhyme, Yet can’t help marking all the time How no one dead will seem to come. What is it men are shrinking from? It would be easy to be clever And tell the stones: Men hate to die And have stopped dying now forever. I think they would believe the lie.

"In a Disused Graveyard," by Robert Frost. As featured in "New Hampshire," 1923 edition.

[collectingforgottenpoetry]

Three Wishes by Elinor Wylie. As featured in Black Armour, 1923 edition.

Three Wishes

Sink out of being, and go down, go down

Through the steep layers of emerald and jade

With warm thin skin of turquoise overlaid,

Where the slow coral spins a ghostly town

Of tower and minaret and fretted crown,

Give up your breath in sleep's subaqueous

shade,

Hold to oblivion; are you afraid

Of cold deep death? Are you afraid to drown?

You have three flashing looks, like fairy

wishes;

One burns your eyelids with a lightning-wink

Which turns into a rainbow world, and one

Shows sea-birds brighter than the silver fishes,

And one- the last wild chance before you

sink-

A flock of dancing clouds about the sun.