#baby's first poem

[whispering-imp]

Prayer for Baptism

Christ was risen, feverish, eract and hard. But your indifference is harder yet cold and flaccid. I cry out for a prayer on my knees at your feet in front of the sturdy cross to be drenched in the warmth of your Holy water. But the only wetness I have is unholy. My chalice, when filled, is empty empty empty These praying fingers dipped in sweet cummunion wine cannot sin without your crucifix.

@wodkapudding Thanks for indulging me in this. You gave me courage.

[explore-my-subconscious]

The sea will bring me treasure

The moon will guide my way

The clouds will always shelter me

The sun will light my day

The rocks will tell me stories

The trees will sing me songs

The stars will watch me carefully

The journey, friends will come along

The sky will grant me freedom

The dirt will keep me young

The weather will be in my favour

The wildlife, I will live among

The wind will fill my sails

The plants will heal my skin

The wood will challenge my rivals

The animals will be my kin

[pemguims]

The darkest evening of the year.

[ninadove]

@graythegreyt WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL US (me) YOUR BIRTHDAY WAS A FEW DAYS AGO. OUTRAGEOUS.

A little blue Kwami must have been watching over you, for I was thinking about your amazing Antigone-inspired poem for The Félix Zine when I wrote this. Thank you for always being so kind and supportive and for your damn right amazing art and poetry! 💚

(I have no idea how to format this for AO3. Maybe I’ll just embed the image. Who knows.) [EDIT: I did, in fact, just embed the image]

Alt text below the cut!

A contrapuntal poem about the Senticousins. Adrien’s lines are on the left side, while Felix’s are on the right. They are meant to be read separately, then together.

ADRIEN:

My lungs are filled with

Dried lavender. Cypress. Rose petals.

To be the protector of an unkind world,

— maybe even of you —

Love, or at the very least, praise;

That's all I've ever wanted, but

Maybe I'm simply bad at this.

A memory and a mirror;

you will find me there, always

FELIX:

Nostalgia.

It is a privilege

of the lucky, of the weak of heart,

of those who once had

something to lose.

I only have you.

I’ve only ever had you

and I will drag you into the future

kicking and screaming.

BOTH:

My lungs are filled with // Nostalgia.

Dried lavender. Cypress. Rose petals. // It is a privilege

To be the protector of an unkind world, // of the lucky, of the weak of heart,

— maybe even of you — // of those who once had

Love, or at the very least, praise; // something to lose.

That's all I've ever wanted, but // I only have you.

Maybe I'm simply bad at this. // I’ve only ever had you

A memory and a mirror; // and I will drag you into the future

you will find me there, always // kicking and screaming.

[sicc-nasti]

"More nails for the coffin"

The strikes of The Hammer ring Like keys on the piano Like hands on the clock .

[james-hinchcliffe]

Madness the price paid for your molten alchemy. Metal. Planet. God.

[x x x x]

Part of the Elemental Haiku series by @simmyfrobby

[magicofrobin]

jason todd did not pray. not seriously he wasn't religious, not really. he'd never believed in god before and now wasn't the time to change that but — as the numbers ticked down, creeping closer to zero & the blood started to fill his lungs, he prayed the hardest he ever had. begging who, or whatever was listening; please let it be painless, please let it be quick, please please stop the pain i don't want to die, please let him make it in time, please let him save me. he prays until it stops resembling anything close to what he learned the few times his mom took him to church and starts sounding more like what it really is: a scared little boy crying out to his father to save him.

the timer reaches zero. he only feels the blast of heat from the explosion for a moment before everything fades into nothing and the bird with clipped wings dies alone.

[the-californicationist]

John Price has a Craving

———

Starving,

He holds you in his hands tight,

Feeding you tongue with his mouth full.

He’ll spread you under his body, warm,

Filling you with pieces of his flesh,

Muddling his senses, and marinading his joy.

Your dark aroma lingering on his lips,

Sucking at your offerings, bountiful, sweet,

Stuffed.

———

For the @deadbranch 50 word challenge ✌️🩷

[tyriongirl]

Genesis 4:1-5, translated by S. R. Driver, from The Book of Genesis, 1905

A Clash of Kings, Prologue - Maester Cressen

Emanuel Krescenc Liška – Cain (1885)

Claus Westermann, Genesis : a commentary, 1984

Arthur Segal - Kain und Abel (1918)

A Clash of Kings, Prologue - Maester Cressen

Natalie Diaz, A Brother Named Gethsemane, from When My Brother Was an Aztec

Lovis Corinth - Kain (1917)

Genesis 4:6-9, translated by S. R. Driver, from The Book of Genesis, 1905

A Clash of Kings, Chapter 33 - Catelyn IV

Odilion Redon - Cain and Abel (1886)

A Clash of Kings, Chapter 33 - Catelyn IV

Genesis 4:9-14, translated by S. R. Driver, from The Book of Genesis, 1905

A Clash of Kings, Chapter 31 - Catelyn III

St. Omer, Benedictine Abbey of St. Bertin; c. 1190-1200

A Storm of Swords, Chapter 36 - Davos V

S.R. Driver, The Book of Genesis, 1905

A Clash of Kings, Chapter 42 - Davos II

Lazzaro Pisani - Death of Abel (1885)

S.R. Driver, The Book of Genesis, 1905

A Clash of Kings, Chapter 42 - Davos II

A Clash of Kings, Chapter 42 - Davos II

Cain and Abel - City of Zeven - 2015 (source)

Genesis 4:14-16, translated by S. R. Driver, from The Book of Genesis, 1905

[atopvisenyashill]

There were so many ways to die, and if the king should perish, who then would follow him? King Aegon himself, when asked, put forward his cupbearer, Gaemon Palehair, reminding the regents that the boy had “been a king before.”

As a bastard born of a whore, Gaemon counted for little in the court, so when Ser Gareth asked Lord Peake to make the lad the king’s whipping boy, the Hand was pleased to do so. Gaemon’s blood and Gaemon’s tears reached the king as none of Gareth Long’s words ever had, and His Grace’s improvement was soon marked by every man who watched him in the castle yard, but the king’s mislike of his teacher only deepened.

[rob3e]

Maggot - Dazey and the Scouts // The Mirrored Dog - @wings-of-angels // God's Country - Ethel Cain // I've Got All This Ringing In My Ears And None On My Finger - Fall Out Boy

[fandomchaosposts]

I need to say if he's doing this to get me hooked I already am like please just answer me I'm already gone for your smile and the way your eyes scrunch up when you're happy and the dimples in your cheek and the way you laugh with me and

[vampirewhohuntsvampires]

Slice Of Heaven [Title]

[triforcedtobehere]

Paradox of Love

Separate, we feel together

Together, we fall apart

I heal when you are wounded

Your loving cuts my heart

My affirmation breaks you

Your insults make me soar

Your kind smile makes me hate you

My cold heart keeps you warm

Your villany endears me

My compliments turned sour

My tears can fuel your giddy laugh

Your weakness is my power

Let's put aside our pain and pride, and promise not to fail

Our love can be born once again, the serpent eats her tail

[morallygreyintrovert]

My Terminal Darkness and Me

The doctor asked me to come in, his gentle voice saying this kind of news can’t be delivered over the phone

He says my diagnosis is terminal and I have been plagued with it all my life

The news doesn’t shock me, nor does it instil me with fear, I have know all my life that something was wrong

Voice strong and unshaken, I ask what flavour of tumour I have: lymphatic, thyroid, ovarian maybe?

No not cancer he says, this disease is not something one has, it’s someone one is

Observing my obvious confusion, he holds up a mirror and tells me to look at the lack of light behind my eyes

Some people are born a chromosome short, their hearing impaired but I was born with an absence of light

Looking back, it all makes sense now, my terminal darkness

Why I chased after love I was never able to catch, why I placed my goals impossibly out of reach, thousand of light years away

Hopefully years from now after surviving for as long as I could, I’ll donate my body to science

They will study my blood, my cells; everything that makes me, me

My contribution will lead to medical breakthroughs and a vaccine will be scaled out to the masses

The disease will never be cured for you see, light cannot shine without darkness, the same way life cannot exist without death

But my suffering will have not been in vain, the medicine will make the disease more tolerable

People will adapt and learn to live despite their darkness, they will eventually grow to love and appreciate the mutation for all that it is

But today most are still ignorant and avoidant, for they fear what they do not know and understand

As I walk by them, they dive out of my path and shield their faces

Anxious to be infected and forced to live with my perpetual state of melancholy and despair

So while they turn up their noses in disgust and campaign for my permanent eradication

I will proudly wear my disease as a shinning suit of armour

And oh what a proud solider I will be, because without my terminal darkness and me, there would be no light for all of you to see

[thatgingerloser]

A poem I've written in a fit of dysphoric frustration

my very first one, at that

When I settled into my house and truly began making it into a home, I realized my neighbors must have never truly seen me move in. I hear them talk all about the woman they assume to be the occupant just inches away from the doorstep I try desperately to make my own. the doorstep they still believe belongs to this mystery girl. Always staring confused when they don't see "her." outside. Always assuming "she" must be out of town and will be back soon. Always judging what must have come over that poor "girl." I see the world through a window In the shape of her eyes, and behind the ocular windows, I sit and watch my neighbors. Watching them stare at "her" house, wondering Watching them assume what "she" must be doing, wondering Watching them judge the actions of this "girl", wondering, Wondering what would happen should they learn she is no longer the houses occupant? What will happen to me when I change the exterior of her house? Why do I feel pressure to keep up some facade that their darling girl still lives here? I am not her, nor have I ever been, yet I feel this intense guilt. Guilt for simply being myself in what once was her space. Why must I sit in silence while they continue to believe this in woman? This mystery of the beautiful girl they believe so strongly to be staring out behind the stained and scratched glass of what once was her home. This is my house. Not hers. Their seemingly beloved lady moved out a long time ago. And in spite of them all, I will make this home mine.