#art and literature

[fromstormsend]

Contrasts of GENDRYA ;

“The Baratheon look was stamped on his face, in his jaw, his eyes, that black hair. Gendry had to be Robert's.”

“Arya had her father’s eyes, the grey eyes of the Starks.”

[sadiahakim]

— Sadia Hakim // sadia hakim's writing journal

[flowersforfrancis]

I fear a life of mundanity.

[artemlegere]

Spirit of the Night

By Arty Jules

Beneath the silver frozen moon, As starlight brightens everything, And moonshine glow makes colors sing, Your ears so sharp, in fine attune.

What mysteries lie in the dark Bright sentinel against the sky - So can your hear the tears we cry? While life for many, just a lark.

Your heart unblemished, Lord of all, Do you look down and weep instead? With soul so pure, with naught to dread. You love all creatures, great or small.

Pray take me on your midnight dance, I need the blessing of your grace, Surreal dream in time and space. Don’t wake me from this wondrous trance.

Oh, spectral spirit of the night, A painting done in monochrome, Your aura peaceful as a poem, Fly me to destiny’s delight.

Artwork: Spirit of the Night, 1879 by John Atkinson Grimshaw (British, 1836-1893)

[suspiro-desafinado]

-Yobana Lemm

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

𝐄𝐝𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐯: Rainy Street Corner

* * * *

Rain By Jorge Luis Borges Translated by AZ Foreman

The afternoon has brightened up at last For rain is falling, sudden and minute. Falling or failing. There is no dispute : Rain is a thing that happens in the past.

Who hears it fall retrieves a time that fled When an uncanny windfall could reveal To him a flower by the name of rose And the perplexing redness of its red.

Falling until it blinds each windowpane, Within a suburb now long lost this rain Shall liven black grapes on a vine inside

A certain patio that is no more. A long-awaited voice through the downpour Is from my father. He has never died.

[Art and Literature]

[poeitivity]

[dreamworldgirlzine]

sneak peek at some merch we’re making for the zine! fun, girly, handmade and fitting perfectly within our DIY theme 💌⭐️ you know you want some. follow us on instagram or subscribe to our newsletter to get updates on when merch drops!

[beemintty]

death will come for us; it is inevitable.

old bones, daniel lieske | state of siege, albert camus | vergil | the creation of adam, michelangelo buonarotti | last words, louis XIV | the unabridged journals of sylvia plath, sylvia plath | ophelia, friedrich heyser | the chronology of water: a memoir, lidia yuknavitch | antony and cleopatra, william shakespeare

[versesnmoon]

‏~ إياك أن تخسر امرأه رأت كل عيوبكَ وما زالت تُحبك 🖤

~ اس عورت کو کبھی مت کھونا جس نے تمہارے سارے عیب دیکھے ہوں پھر بھی تم سے محبت کرے..!!!

[conn-artist]

I ADORE characters that just have something subtly wrong with them. Just the slightest thing that makes them uncanny, like they don’t belong in that world.

Like how the Darkling has looked 17 for centuries.

Or how Miguel has claws instead of spider grip.

Or how Nimona’s eyes reflect light like a cat’s.

Or how Connwaer never got sick.

Or Achilles hair being gold while everyone else’s was brown.

You know, just little things that’s say “this one is different. This one is not like us.”

[sadiahakim]

But, you can't simply spend your whole life waiting for a miracle to happen, a person to appear, and a hand to hold.

— Sadia Hakim

[classicsandschmassics]

Just a little opinion piece revisiting my Master's subject of ancient Pastoralism and comparing it to Cottagecore.

[artemlegere]

The Damsel and Orlando

Artist: Benjamin West (American, 1738–1820)

Date: c. 1793

Medium: Oil on canvas

Collection: Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City, NY, United States

Description

The Italian poet Ludovico Ariosto’s epic "Orlando furioso" (1516) enjoyed revived popularity in the eighteenth century. In this melodramatic scene, the costumes, the physical types, and, especially, the poses are reminiscent of the style of the Italian High Renaissance, which West greatly admired. The hero, Orlando, is shown as he learns that he has lost his place in the affections of Angelica, who now loves someone else and has dispensed with a jeweled bracelet Orlando had given her. The painter concentrated all the work’s tension in the theatrical pose of Orlando, who, in the wildness of his grief, loses his mind.

[edwardian-girl-next-door]

August, from The Procession of Months (c.1889). All the poems were written by fifteen-year-old Beatrice Crane and illustrated by her acclaimed artist father, Walter Crane.

info via publicdomainreview.org

art via pinterest

text id under cut-off

[text ID: "Before the heat of day

All in the misty morn,

Comes AUGUST with her gifts

To men, of yellow corn,

With shining hair bound up,

And deep blue misty eyes,

And lips the colour of

The poppies that she ties:

Her soft maize-coloured robe

Doth flutter to her feet;

Her lap is full of corn

And summer flowers sweet.

Her hands with poppies filled,

Of glowing scarlet hue,

Bound up together with

Fair cornflowers of blue

And now the corn is gathered

And 'neath the setting sun,

With lovely light above the hills,

She knows her time is done."]