#i wrote a poem

[i-am-not-a-twinkie]

Child of the sun

Who was shining and bright

and child of the moon

Who lived by his light

The sun who shone for all to see

And was deemed a radiant bloom

Who only saw his brilliant light

Reflected in the eyes of the moon

The moon with power other's feared

As strong as the will of the sea

Brought to his knees by the warmth of the sun

By his side was where he longed to be

People said the moon was cold

With no light of his own

The sun saw only beauty

In his soft and eerie glow

People feared the sun would burn

Or his light would blind them

The moon found joy in his bite

And vowed to stand behind him

Their endless dance through the sky

Was plain for all to see

The beauty and grace of a love

That was never meant to be

And yet in the rare twilight

The time they shared together

On mingling breath hushed whispers said

A promise made, to be forever

But the day came the sun shone too bright

And was snuffed out too soon

And without the sun's radiant light

The moon was gone too

[pegawolph]

Lester is a lesser man

The power of a god high in demand

Once so cool and macho

Shoot- I dropped my nacho

[cosmic-blogs]

HOME SHAPED HEART

I am making a home,

Within myself.

And it is tough.

As I grow older

And winters become rough.

I worry if the foundation,

Is strong enough 

To hold up

All versions of 

me, from all pasts 

If my walls should  be 

stark and high.

Or have 

More windows

To look at the stars

The night casts.

If i will be able to

Withstand impending rain.

Now that I know,

Joy is a momentary flash flood,

Upon a barren desert of pain.

I acknowledge the worry

Hold it close

And tell it to rest.

I want my home

Within me

To be a sanctuary.

A place to rest

When I return

From adventures of life.

I want to walk from room to room

And in the vaults of my heart

With a song upon my lips

For the beauty 

That I may find.

I want to welcome

Reluctant love,

Enough,

To feel, finally at home.

I need to clear out spaces

For gardens with butterflies.

I want a waterfall of giggles

To wash away all grime.

I want a heart shaped home

With bricks, of gratitude

And a roof, of everything enough.

I will put soft warm lights

Outside the door.

The kind that make,

The lonely feel safe

From harshness of glare.

I will build my home

Inside the vales of gentleness,

Where the breeze,

On a warm summer afternoon 

Will be much needed

Respite for my friends.

I have to be gone for long.

Into the  frightening silent,

wilderness of self.

To pick out pieces of beauty

From dangerous woods.

To gather and to rake.

To draw out a map

And a plan for

My home shaped heart,

To house all my goods.

I have the strength,

I have to remind myself 

As I pave the path back

To myself.

I will make my home

Within myself, 

From silver curtains 

Of full moon nights.

And the quietning that comes

From a dawn about to break in love.

Even if takes all my will and

The  milk of my bones.

It is the hardest thing 

To make,

I know,

Because I have to do it alone.

.

.

.

.

[happydahlia]

cascading tears

I cry too much,

Usually over too little.

Things that seem so soul crushing in the moment,

But looking back they’re quite pathetic.

I try to stop the floodgates from opening,

To prevent the inevitable wave of self-disgust that follows.

But the crushing weight my mind bestows on every little thing forces them open.

Why does something that’s so stupid in hindsight hurt so much now?

I can’t stop it no matter how hard I try.

So I cry until I can’t breathe,

Until my hands shake and my lungs are aching.

And until every bone in my body feels as heavy as lead.

Over time I’ve learned that I usually have no need to cry,

That i shouldn’t be so wounded at every turn.

So I wipe my tears, take a deep breath, and push it away.

It won’t matter in the morning anyways.

A/N: hii! Same as alwaysss, likes, reblogs, and comments are all greatly appreciated. I love hearing how other people relate to or interpret what I write so if you’d like to share my messages and asks are open, or you can just leave it in the comments lol. <3

@world-seen

[deviljaythey]

Paper Bird - A Poem

Little paper bird, made from old books and scraped letters

You looked to the air, at the other swans waltzing about

But when you tried to take flight yourself

You crashed, and bent your perfect wings

You were broken, an ornament in need of replacing

But you were never one to just sit on that antique shelf

You’d rather glide across the sewer drains than be a decoration 

So you hid all the tears and smears, a gilded armor for yourself

Armed with insults and sarcasm, you cut anyone who came near

But you still looked up to the other swans

Their waltz cutting deeper than your words ever could

So answer my question, parchment pigeon 

Why do you hate when people hold you gently?

[crazycatsiren]

There is a void on my lap.

He is warm, cuddly, and purring.

He has big, round eyes.

He nibbles on my fingers.

I kiss him on his little snoot.

[loonarmuunar]

The water laps and pulses. Growling, stroking, choking.

Same place same rhyme.

Sickly blues and black eat at the metal, as it has eaten before.

History repeats. Same rhyme.

The ocean feeds, as it was force-fed your oils and skins. The sweat on your back like those back in your sweatshops like the sweat in your blood money. Blood to a shark, you followed to the depths.

Pulsing, stroking, choking.

Air is pulsing and beating, the rhythm in your chest a weak drum. Deus ex machina’s abandoned lover. How many days? How many hours? How many minutes?

Unsinkable, indestructible, immortal.

Choking and choking and choking and waiting.

Waiting

Waiting

The sun is gone

Waiting

Stroking, choking, dying

Repeat.

[stanleypolecat]

Dune inspired ocs and Baub Ofc

I'm NOT a fan of it, but I like horses and deserts so bruh it was a chance to use a horse oc.

That's just an inspired sci-fi story it has nothing canonical (but sand worms and Paul named Sol here, it's way cooler lol)

The story is structured like a western film mixed with science fiction.

The Horse guy is Liam Welley, he's a 42 yo thief and got found by the most annoying 15 yo goat in the world (The goat oc you know who is inspired by and his real name is Goathée, but he has several universes and this is the intergalactic one).

Goat bro named Sol Aphesis is emperor of two peoples (he's only 15yo but has that main character role yk😨🤯🤯💀) and wants to bring Liam to prison bc he murdered a few people 😛

But Liam has a mission, He has to find the Skadhoor Gate to save his wife who has been trapped in the grasslands for six years. He is not sure if she is still alive but he wants to go there anyway.

He does not rebel against Sol (It would be the equivalent of Paul Atreides, but Liam calls him Kid, lamb, child...) because to reach his village they will have to travel the road that leads to the Gate.

He plans to free himself from Sol only when he gets close to the Gate. During the journey, however, Liam gets used to the presence of the lamb and does everything to gain confidence with him who, On the contrary, Sol is strict with Liam.

Like his inspo counterpart the goat has visions that predict the future, but he still isn't sure why he's having the visions and he thinks it's due to the psychedelic substances in the sand (the melange from Dune lol).

Every now and then the goat faints like Dante when he meets Charon, Francesca and Beatrice and consequently Liam, who is a strong and muscular stallion, has to carry him on his shoulders.

Sol however, once awakened, does not thank Liam and continues to treat him like a criminal, but given the fact that he continually repeats "I miss my mum" or "I miss my dad", Liam decides to adopt him, But the boy has a lot to think about.

During their journey to the Gates they also meet a guard of the Aphesis empire who is a caracal called... Karakal...

He and Liam initially clash but then become friends (Yipeeeee 🖱️)

Towards the end, The three reach the Gate and Liam, who brought with him the magic pearl that helps the Gate open, places it where it was supposed to be placed but nothing happens. He is dejected and very upset, but a twist occurs, a ray of sunlight provided by an eclipse illuminates the hieroglyphics depicted on the marble tablets of the Gate and it opens.

Hoping to find his wife, Liam enters but finds only desert. The land inside the Gates was once covered with green grassy meadows, but after the war everything was destroyed.

His heart is even more wounded and in the distance he sees the silhouette of a person (a zebra followed by his people), he asks if his wife is with them, but the zebra feels threatened and attacks the three travellers.

Sol slays(✨✨💅💅) the zebra and gains the trust of his people, but Liam will become annoyed with Sol and lead to his death.

[niseag-arts]

The Canticle of the Grand Machine

we are the seekers of our knowledge we are the bearers of the true pledge surrounded by the whistling steam cogs within the grand machine We follow thus our fascinations The Omnissiah’s machinations sound the canticle serene cogs within the grand machine

we are protectors of mankind we’re with the will of Mars aligned we’re no guardsman nor marine but cogs within the grand machine

We have build for the empire cities, hives, shrines and spires Watch our iron glint and sheen cogs within the grand machine

We explore the galaxy In name of Humanity Go to places never seen as cogs within the grand machine

The flesh it has been left behind The Omnissiah’s path was signed We are tireless and keen cogs within the grand machine

[popcorn-plots]

Trick or treat!

I wrote a poem today!

When the Hershey's taste like campfire

and those cheap chocolate cookies taste like friends laughing in the night

and every dance reminds you of selfies with flushed, grinning faces

and those songs, that feel like a smile and the bitter goodbye of happy times together

and the wind in your hair reminds you of crisp apple pie, straw hats and sun sets in a hay bale on a strawberry field

You know you've lived a life of joy

[rumina-mi]

Queer Poetry

[lynx-kin]

When you get told to post the poetry you wrote in high-school be like:🧍‍♂️

ANYWAYS. May I present:

Clasped Hands, By Lynx-Kin(me)

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Soft and Warm

Gentle as the Breeze

It Crushes mine in its Grip

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Calloused and Rough

Utterly Humane

It Slaps away Mine when I Reach Back

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Large and Smooth

Patient and Serene

It Yanks away as I Reach for it

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Bright and Excitable

As Brilliant as the Sun

It Burns mine when I Grasp it

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Humble and Scarred

Calm as Still Waters

I Hesitate

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Never Pushing

Never Leaving

Never Hurting

There is a Hand reaching out for me

Soothing the Hurt

Softening the Pain

…There is a Hand Clasped in Mine.

[alexander-arcturus-black-lupin-r]

Dangerously Yours

Rudolph gave Catherine three things, his heart, his country, his dream. She shot him.

I gave you my time, energy and mind. You left me on read.

[cosmic-blogs]

PINCH OF HAPPINESS 

.

.I have to go and 

get my pinch of happiness.

I do that every day.

It loves to play hide and seek.

It runs amok, untamed 

But

I have mastered the game.

The good thing is ,it never tires

Neither do I.

I know where its favourite hiding

Spots are.

Most of the time.

Especially on gloomy winter days.

On a day like a lonely

Mountain peak.

It hides in the wedge

Of my window.

A drop of condensed steam

Rolling down like a tear

Upon a cheek.

I wipe it off, with all 

My gathered gentleness

And the glass clears,

Like the uplifting fragrance

Of a hundred flowers.

It hides sometimes 

Inside the pages of a book.

And as I search for it

Page after page,

In the mystery 

Of an unsolved crime.

A beautiful story

Unfolds the creases of my mind. 

It waits for me behind the last page.

And when I finish the tome.

It slides out and hugs me tight.

Sometimes it rides on the back 

Of a butterfly.

Polka dotted and purple.

Flitting,

With a need to just be beautiful.

I chase it with giggles 

My fingers stretched out 

In a pinch.

Between my thumb and forefinger 

Is all the space it needs.

Whether it is me turning a page 

Wiping a glass pane.

Or looking to grasp its wings.

The measure of space 

In between my pinch

Is all I need, 

To seek the bigness of happiness 

That likes to hide 

In little things.

..

[happydahlia]

real love

What is love?

An age old question.

One with endless answers,

Each variation pertaining to the heart that holds it so tightly.

Some say real love is indestructible,

I find that to be wildly inaccurate.

Love is delicate,

More fragile than an orchids bloom.

We often desert it when it breaks,

Deciding that something so tender can’t possibly be worth our time.

When we do remain at its side we live in fear of repeating our mistakes,

So we run or we rage or we hide.

The voice in your head may say that isn’t real love,

But the voice in mine disagrees.

That love may not last,

Yet it is love all the same.

Love is picking up the shattered pieces.

Wiping the blood from each other’s hands,

When the jagged shards cut too deep.

Drying tears when our words cut deeper.

Love isn’t always easy.

It isn’t merely sunsets with heads resting on shoulders,

Not just painting stories in the night sky while your lungs ache from laughter,

Or only an ever present feeling of warmth and light.

Love is more often brash,

It is a quaking thunder after lightning that jolts you from your sleep,

The final breath of a dying star as it falls from on high.

A brisk weighted sensation in your soul.

Love is all of these things,

Both sharp as knives and feather-soft.

It claws your chest open,

And then mends your cracked ribs with its kiss.

A/n: hiii!! likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated. I love hearing how other people interpret or feel abt my work so if you’d like to share pls feel free to comment or message me :)

<3

[rileylastname]

ode to cat: based on a true story

there’s a cat on my lap

he is taking a nap

which means that I’m trapped—

I have places to be.

so I give him a pat

just a brush on his cap,

the most gentle of taps

where he rests on my knee.

not a bop nor a rap,

not a shove nor a slap.

his eyes open a crack

and he looks up at me.

I decide to adapt,

wishing I’d had more tact.

there’s a cat on my lap

and I let that cat sleep.