#a poem of opposites

[milo-hypno]

I felt like fucking around with Wikipedia poems after waking up in the middle of the night, and I'm not sure this makes sense but I'm not working anymore on it so. Voila

[beingharsh]

"Mnemonic", Jenny George, The Dream of Reason

[timetravelsong]

𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝.

excerpts from a book I’ll never write

[trinalwilliams]

Light casts shadows, darkness reveals

Stars shine, bright, hearts that feel

Good and evil, intertwined

Defining each other, a delicate mind

Tlw

[catilinas]

prev post reminds me of my favouritest translation approach for when you can't choose between several interpretations either of a single word or a text as a whole which is just. translate it a whole bunch of times. you dont need one single perfect translation you can have like 70 that are all fucked up in different directions instead

[bumblingbabooshka]

B'Elanna Torres - Guilt, Truth, Rescue, Prophets & Poetry [Muse, Barge of the Dead, Prophecy] In which a false prophet isn't always a bad thing

[coffeexxcigarettes]

When We Share The Moon

-

Opposites attract,

They told me.

And I'd click my tongue in disapproval.

Yet I found myself drawn to your darkness,

Entranced by the absence of sunlight,

The kind I seemed to be born of.

Your starlight glitters on my skin,

Like cooling waves against my fire,

And I could drink a glass full of you-

And still find myself dehydrated;

Needing more.

I'm not sure if what they say is true,

Nothing in life is absolute

Or certain,

Except I feel most like myself-

I seem to like myself the most,

When I somehow end up beside you.

x

[fictiongods]

Did I have to write a color poem for my creative writing class? Yes, yes I did. Did I make the entire poem technically about fuffy cause they won’t let me rest? Yes, yes I did.

[anthemiswrites]

glowing tangerine

you turn 24 and the sun shines brighter

now the stars have more meaning

you're loved beyond words or comprehension

more than you've ever known

the price of your camera film drops

you're no longer anxious in the grocery store

and your tortoiseshell cat purrs like a motor

it gets easier

the weight dissipates

becomes light as air on your shoulders

you're happy and glowing tangerine

the war on yourself is over

the ICU forgot your name

it's a beautiful sunday morning in our heaven

and you're right at home

among sunshine and stars

[blueberryspyder]

I’m sure somebody’s already done this but I wanted to just compile The Victim’s rambling/poem here. I’ll add IDs when I’m off work, but below the cut is their part of episode 15

And a bonus (my favorite line so far)

[the-polyam-polytheist]

CONTROVERSIAL OPINIONS

the gods can speak through anyone and anything, so jot that down. you cannot fit them into simple archetypes (maiden mother whore CEO) for they are people and beyond definition

i place seidr and singing and songwriting into the same mental category, along with the slow gentle forming of clay and of paint and of resin spinning and crochet and lace, cooking and weaving and writing, is magic is an act of creation creation is an act of magic my voice sings sweeter after three years of testosterone sweeter still when i warm up with runes i believe that i am vitki first, man second. ash, elm− i am a rosewood tree, my gender uninhibited, the song and the singer nine birds, scattered

i read a physics article last year about how time is not a straight line but a choppy sea, water molecules slipping over and under each other, foam rising to the surface in glittering waves of now i think the gods are a bit like that ebbing and flowing, weft and warp, cosmic Venn diagrams overlapping each other, light through different windows

the gods can look however they like a Heathen is a Heathen regardless of bodymind and bigotry breaks frith i believe power misused is power wasted, and inaction often does both harm need not be intentional to merit weregild

i believe devotion is a practice not a feeling (i believe devotion's everywhere) to worship, for me, is an act of love for the world around and within me. i believe life is small and precious and must be guarded like a water source from a corporation

i believe in action and deed more than words the gods have given me both. the gods have given me much. how simple. how beautiful, to be loved by friends and lovers and cats how marvelous it is that i am happy.

[fewwordsmanyriddles]

[darlenicy]

Has anyone ever considered Musa & Helia being a thing? I mean just THINK about it! They're both the artsy ones in their group: Helia with drawing and poetry and Musa with her music. They would complement each other so well characterwise too. Musa could turn Helia's poems into songs and they could write songs together. Musa's music could inspire Helia to draw and vice versa Musa could imagine stories from the pictures Helia drew and combine the feelings and emotions in songs too. There is so much going on with them. Helia is the introvert and Musa is definitely the extrovert who would make Helia get out of his shy comfort zone and Helia would calm Musa's temper. I have so many headcanons for them!

[neuroticboyfriend]

When I die, I want there to not be a single thing I could have done about it. For me, that's peace.

[coffeexxcigarettes]

I was born into a family of sinners,

Of course I'd fall in love with a saint.

You remind me of freshly pressed linen,

A sleepy Sunday morning in all its glory.

I smell of cigarettes and rainwater,

Of yesterdays 'Let's just do it tomorrow's,

Of course I'd love you.

Of course I love you.

x

[shadowseductress]

In quiet fields, his heart still races, To rhythms of the urban beat, Skyscrapers etched in distant places, In his soul, the city's seat.

He walks through nature's vast expanse, Yet hears the city's vibrant hum, A dance of light, a siren's chance, In shadows where his thoughts succumb.

Each whisper of the wind reminds, Of bustling streets and crowded bars, Cityscapes within his mind, Neon lights and honking cars.

Though mountains rise and rivers flow, His heart belongs to urban sprawl, A love that only he can know, A siren's call, a constant thrall.

Concrete dreams and streetlights pretty, In his veins, the city's throng, A pulse that’s fierce, a spirit gritty, In every step, the city's song.

In open spaces, stars shine bright, Yet still, he sees the city's glow, An ember in the darkest night, A place that only he can know.

The city's breath, a constant friend, Within his heart, a timeless span, A love that time can never bend, Echoes of where life began.

-Varsha