#blackpenwritings

[blackpenwritings]

A deep disquiet consumes me so vast, like unarriving autumn trees tremor with unfilled promise yet summer burns them dry;

a barrenness unnoticed empty space between stretching, hollow-like void untouched by trace of green;

filled with rage and bitter anguish for a rain seldom seen soils weep for wish of rapture silver fog rolling in;

I see nothing no more wool of despair pulled over my eyes for the sake of existence, I exist breathing flame into strife;

the river moved into another body poured itself out of my hands hiding, preserving from agony before disquiet turns to sand.

- Tamarind Fall; disquietude.

[diomedrian]

Oh dear, May I hold your hand? May I introduce you to the fruits of my flesh? The thoughts of you have reduced my heart to an orange: peel away the miserable distance that keeps me away from you, hold my naked heart in your bare hands, devour me: all teeth and fingers. On days you aren't around to touch me, your absence holds me, presses against me like bruises on peaches. I keep picking out hours like seeds from the watermelon waiting for you to return. I think if angels were to crack open my head, all they'd find is honey and sunflower and thoughts of you, you, you. I blend in you like salt in sea at the splash of your tongue with mine. You hold me and I shatter into a riot of spring.

Nayha Y. "Ode to Fall." A Collaboration​ With @blackpenwritings

[themumbaiartcollectiveblog-blog]

-Bansini

Like reptiles, their hands wrap themselves around your throat and grip it tight, suffocating every word that had the courage to breathe on your tongue. From the day you were born, you’ve been taught to shut up, not share your opinions, and to listen to the rest of the world screaming in your head. Maybe it’s time to carve your words into knives, and rip their hands apart before you rip your own tongue out in fear of forgetting how to use it at all.

[maxwelldpoetry]

Favorite blogs?

@inkypetals @teacup13 @inkbyaporia @blackpenwritings @rhapsodic-gem

Amazing artists.

[authors-haven]

What poem book would you give recommend to someone who wants to write poetry?

Hi!

Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur – I haven’t read it, but I’ve heard very good things about it! Other than that I haven’t read much poetry, outside of poets here on Tumblr (some of whom do have chapbooks). I’ll give you a list of recs (the ones with a * by their url have chapbooks that I know of)!

@poetbitesback@inkskinned@inkmagician*@aphelionbruise@achingchest*@latenightcornerstore*@wildfairy* (I’m fairly sure she has a chapbook)@tristamateer*@blackpenwritings*Lastly, my poetry blog ( @elysianink) may interest you.

I hope this helps! If you need anything else, please feel free to ask! - @authors-haven

[brrrrgoesthecanon]

Get to know me

Rules: Answer the questions in a new post and tag 20 blogs you would like to get to know better. Shoutout to @darkeyes14 for tagging me! -Nickname: Yatu -Star sign: Scorpio -Height: 5'4" -Time right now: 10:25 pm -Last thing I've googled: Sketches tumblr Favourite music artists: Tyler Joseph, Alex Turner, Halsey, Melanie Martinez, Low Roar (band) -Song stuck in your head: Mrs. Potato Head-Melanie Martinez -Last movie watched: The Attacks of 26/11 -Last TV show watched: Sherlock Season 4 episode 2 -What you're wearing now: Grey tee-shirt and black jeggings -When did you create your blog: Well, I have two so soursweet14 was 3 years ago and blackpenwritings was created in the April of 2016 -What kind of stuff do you post: I basically just repost. -Do you have any other blogs: Yes, blackpenwritings. -Why did you choose your url: It was a joke, actually. I made a rhyme that went, "I'm sour, I'm sweet, and I'm not the best person you'd meet." -Gender: Female -Favourite colour: Tardis blue (and black. Can I have two colours?) -Average hours of sleep: I'm an INTP. What is sleep? -How many blankets do you sleep with: Humans use blankets to sleep? That's strange. -Dream job: Quantum physicist -Followers: 113 @lonely-flower-child14 @ladynfreak @basiliskslayer @summertimeghost @problemabouttheproblem @intplady @artsyintp @heir-of-arbok @disorganizedmess @teacup13 @maxwelldpoetry @bcw-writes @demeraimvu @quietlyplottingmischief @my-time-on-my-ride @lookatthisdreamyyou @thewalkingpoetry @stonecoldharts @nerdyintp @rarasworldbro

[blackpenwritings]

Subsistence is curse for weeds thriving in extreme harsh cold, numb weather grief bursting at the seams;

lillies move towards the sun- away from semblance of agony leaves fall, souls untethered crushed by sheets of teeth;

plush undergrowth filled with splatter poison climbing up trees till all is coarse scatter lined with grease.

-Tamarind Fall

[diomedrian]

Of flesh and bones, Of questions and doubts. Girl crying and hoping for answers. Who told you, you have to have a city named after you to have a kingdom? You have the entire mountains to reign over. Girl of wildlings, of wildlands, of the wild itself. Girl of forest, of fields, of feral. Curl your hands around the bow, stretch and let go. You don't have to look at the moon for the answers. You with your hands, like stars, you have it right. You don't cure the night because I hunt the beasts. You with your gentle heart, You with your scared heart, You with your hopeful heart. You have hands like the stars because the night keeps falling apart, because it's filled with all the screams it doesn't want. Imagine voices. Imagine murmurs. Imagine talking. Imagine shrieks. Imagine not wanting them and still having them. Imagine wanting to pull out every single voice out of your own head. I hunt the beasts here on land. There are worse things out there I am still chasing. But there's only so much one can kill, only so much one can bury. Girl, your hands do not cure the night because they do something even better. Your hands, of light, of fire, of love, they heal the night.

Nayha Y. "A letter from Artemis." After "You say my hands are like stars. But how is it that I have never been able to cure the night like you do?" Tamarind Fall

[themumbaiartcollectiveblog-blog]

-Rajkamal Aich

Creativity out of the unconventional. ‘Rain isn’t loved, when it brings rust When locked doors wouldn’t open, we do what we must, But the keys we hold, and the secrets they unveil, Turn red with rage, harder than iron and steel And suddenly the doors that could once be opened, are now slammed shut Some doors aren’t meant to be opened, when all their hearts can ever contain, is dirt.’ -Tamarind Fall

[just-six]

We’re all pieces of each other.

six word story // blackpenwritings

[maxwelldpoetry]

Do you listen to music in different languages?

Yesssss! If you have any recommendations, send them my way. Preferably with English translations if possible. I usually listen to songs in Portuguese and Japanese, and I got introduced to a beautiful song in Hindi *Urdu actually, thanks @whattheflippingkarahi* called Afreen Afreen courtesy of @blackpenwritings but I’m open to others!

[blackpenwritings]

Revelation of my identity feels often as a witch-hunt feels often as cemetery, riddled with the dead;

stakes cropping from the ground mistakes abound afire revelations, buried tombstones wilted heart, pyre;

acorns fall to the ground urging, begging, to grow no waters reach these lands no promise left to glow;

they seek and I am found, although, never truly too dead for resurrection too dead to ever breathe.

- Tamarind Fall; long past buried self.

[blackpenwritings]

A world of rampage, an orchestra of chaos.

We live somewhere little voices are buried deep within the earth to mute visions of freedom.

We live somewhere bigotry oppresses unrestricted expression, hatred burns at the bottom of our throats, a yearning to be heard settles deep within our gut, like a little cinder box, struggling to be broken open.

How strange it must be to think that the world we created is the one we're afraid of, where our own ancestors fought for decades to be listened to, only for the next generations to have to watch every word they speak.

How ironic it must be to think, that a promise of Independence turned into a graveyard for perspectives, a whispered murmur of liberation trying to crawl out from beneath headstones commemorating the courage of individual thought.

Normality is an illusion we're taught with an iron rod, a compulsion to adhere to.

Normality is the conformity shoved down our throats until we can't recognize who we are.

Normality is the creation of herds of sheep, their brains torn out to hardwire that being different is wrong, that poison is the only cure to wanting to be who we are.

Until the world of rampage orchestrates a symphony of repression, until compassion becomes a liability, and we're doomed to follow till death engulfs us all.

-Tamarind Fall; Insurgence.

A little late but this blog is pro-BLM.

[blackpenwritings]

We were built as shadows, brick by brick, with the light winding itself inside out of our chests until colour glowed into skin.

The fire shed itself, starving white light into hues, creating fingernails and nuances out of the absence of warmth.

It's probably true, maybe we were built in horizons, every city was an ode to the peace it could never revel in.

The light created us, and we moulded fractals out of it, storing its possibilities in glass lamps and burnt musings.

We crushed the embers until it dripped ink, we learned how to make it grow and it devoured everything.

Fire is just the sun unwinding itself out of wood, and we trapped it within our hands, pulling every inch of its life to harness our own languages.

We were built like shadows, and it breathed life into us. We were built into the light, and we taught it destruction.

-Tamarind Fall.

Based on the quote, 'Fire is just the sun unwinding itself from wood'.

[blackpenwritings]

If being broken is the only way I can be beautiful, I don't want to be beautiful at all.

Tamarind Fall.

[blackpenwritings]

You gave me a taste of what it was to be treated as a human. I have nothing left in my palms. Not words, not kindness. You took away what it meant to be feeling, until this giant hole in my chest left me rotting on my bedsheets for weeks. I've been pushing everyone away since you've been gone. Can't speak to my mother, lost faith in everyone's laments. You treated me with humanity and left me behind where I was never meant to be human. You gave me empathy, taught me to listen, made me believe that there must be people out there worth giving my life for. I did give my life in the end. Even though I always felt like I never had one to start with. I gave my life for you and you told me you never asked for it. You taught me empathy until it turned into cruelty. You taught me patience turns into resentment. You taught me that people get tired of listening to someone who treats you like a god just because you showed them a little basic human kindness. You taught me that I could give you everything and I would still be the one to blame at the end. The world is a kaleidoscope and I'm the outer paint, chipping away. These cogs and patterns are meant for someone else's life. I've only ever been meant for watching from the outside.

-Tamarind Fall.