Oh hey you’ve found James Evans Remick II. Poet, playwright and whiskey drinker in Cleveland Hts.
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heart or last week in poem titles
it has been a real struggle bus lately. there has been poetry but mentally i have just been hanging on. maybe? anyway i am trying. maybe we can try together?
poem titles from last week:
* fill your heart with the faces of all those you ever loved
* rocket to mars
* a carnival barker
* what do we recognize when we see our own faces?
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Van Gogh Forgetting to Breathe While Furiously Painting Trees
An unfinished poem. Ready to grow, we’ll see where it goes:
[Van Gogh Forgetting to Breathe While Furiously Painting Trees]
Unable to express their fears
they burst at the seams.
So he paints them bright
without mouths
#poetry#poem#words#spilled ink#writing#work in progress#van gogh#vincent van gogh#painting#ekphrastic poem#art#breathing
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last week in poem titles
to put silver on silver wings
car crash heart
in bronze
if I could dream
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last week in poem titles
last week amirite? it was a struggle. there was only one poem with a title. here is what it was and what was written:
to dream of botticelli
a morning
mourning
just another
brush stroke. alone
a star
painted in an eye
forgotten
#poetry#poem#words#spilled ink#writing#work in progress#art#eyes#botticelli#morning#mourning#love#poets of tumblr
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we charged our crystals under a full moon
[we charged our crystals under a full moon]
you said the energy
would be different tonite
as we placed them
side by side
i wanted to feel it
in my bones
the way i remember
the first time you touched me
all those years ago
#poetry#poem#words#spilled ink#writing#love#moon#full moon#worm moon#crystals#energy#charge#relationship#touch#bright
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last week in poem titles
* speckled hen
* japanese gin
* when i close my eyes
* silver
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Photo
this is just OOF.
Natalie Díaz, from “American Arithmetic”, Postcolonial Love Poem (2020)
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last week in poem titles
the last week of Feb was pretty productive.
to sing sinatra in an empty museum
she didn’t like roses
at night the air is thinner
treasure box
my therapist tells me i should talk to my dead father
greek chorus
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work in progress wednesday
[Love and the Weight of Time]
[Love and the Weight of Time]
We counted the stars until the night fell again
The numbers would not match up
We slept till noon a blanket of arms
Dreams just out of reach
We did not bother with the days our hearts busy with memories
And another moon always at the ready
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last week in poem titles
It was a very strange week. Not bad but still somehow off creative-wise. I started a bunch of poems but only 2 of them have titles.
Not having titles to start with isn't the norm for me. Here they are:
GreenTea The heart as a liminal space
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oof. ain't this the truth.
“We all have different reasons for forgetting to breathe.”
— Unknown
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pink paper
[pink paper]
we sat in her room.
she cross-legged on the floor,
me on her desk.
her back to me she eyed me
through the mirror.
she practiced arching her back &
i wrote the words to songs
i’d never sing. every night
we made paper airplane
after paper airplane.
and never tossed them.
the air was dead.
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Love Poems
[Love Poem #1]
Love can be:
[Love Poem #2]
When you finally break the surface There can be no surrender.
[Love Poem # 3]
Two boxers pummeling one another. They don't remember why.
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last week in poem titles
You forgot your login
We made up spells to cast
They say the eyes are the window to the soul
7pm coffee
Another word for hope
I liked the way she wrote notes on her hand
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7 P.M. Coffee
Work in progress Wednesday.
7 P.M. Coffee
The night sky a plum.
I say to the room.
Our bed. My cup. The t.v.
Shoes squeak gentle rebukes.
A blackberry I corrected myself.
Alone. Surrounded by the plants
I keep asking you the names of.
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Last week in poem titles
She told me her hair reacts to blacklight
Shell vessel
The sun in February
Reading up on black holes
#poetry#words#poem#spilled ink#writing#titles#black holes#stars#manic panic#lines#twcpoetry#notebook#scribbles
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last week in poem titles
Another rough week at work. Not much in terms of finished poems. We’ll see what this week brings.
putting flowers in a broken vase
January 25th (a haiku)
blood sport
making lists
the giant snowman 3 blocks down
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