#insta poetry

[alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry]

I think about you all the time

and I never want to see you again

I hope your dogs leg got better

and we can never be friends

I have a folder of jokes only you would get.

It will never see the light of day.

I see something you’d like every time I go thrifting.

I look for a moment, set it down, walk away.

I pray for your mom. I pray for your brother.

I pray for the person you’ve become.

When I hand these prayers to God, I say,

“Make sure these get there safely,

but please, don’t say who they’re from.”

Victoria (thedailyvictorian)

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CxYPoL9r4CQ/?igshid=NzZhOTFlYzFmZQ==

[tcmreads]

i always feared my life would be the same song every day

- taylor c milnes

[backonmybullshhh]

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A post shared by Olivia Ann Rose 🕊 (@alltoowriting)

[thoughtofadumbteenprotagonist]

My hot literature take is that all the shit insta poetry you see would actually make great slam poetry the authors are just cowards

[goobthegoblin]

Amtrak… so limited by funding,

Can’t you see the possibilities?

A whole world of connect the dots

All while in the comfort of a train.

An ocean to cross

All while in a train.

London to Pari

While in a train.

Russia to Alaska?

In a train.

The possibilities are all that limit you…

But sadly, it is not true,

The monetary compensation you receive

Is so little that lackluster cannot

Even be conseved.

But will you not at least dream of Possibility?

Will you not dream with me?

The train off Hainan, China's island province

English added by me :)

[notasoupcompany]

[inkprilled]

I don't know where you are exactly, but I know you're looking at your phone, I know you're probably alone. So am I. It's nearly 10pm and I've been scrolling through Instagram reels all day, I haven't eaten or gotten up. But I've cried over people singing in the park to passers by, one women lost her mother and felt comfort in the songs. I've cried to family reunions and mother's singing lullabys to their babies, Ive felt this weight of grief for the things I want to experience, which is to not be so alone. But I still lay here day after day, I still like videos about things I hope to do someday. I'm not okay but I will be one day.

[fairydrowning]

– Diary of "fairy_drowning", October 15th, 2024, Time: 10:17PM

[TEXT ID: Flowers are growing inside my body and I wish to be with you so I can cut them out and give that to you. A bouquet of unsaid love is now turning into grief. END ID]

[sickly-sapphic]

[ID: A swirly, pink and blue background on all slides. Text reads; I'm laughing with my queer friends. We talk about queer love and queer sex. "God, I am such a lesbian, I'd literally throw up if I saw a dick irl!" I shrink back. She'll wonder why she doesn't have many transfem friends. "Women & AFABs" is written on a bright, rainbow sign. There's a trans flag on one corner, an intersex one on the other.

I sigh and walk inside.

They all wonder why so few transfems attended the meeting today. "AFAB Healthcare" is the title of the breast cancer awareness post on my for you page this morning.

They'll dare to wonder later why "all our beautiful trans women" are dying so young. There's a reddit post asking trans women what they think of the flag. There's 100 comments.

3 of them are trans women.

All of those have replies, telling them they're wrong.

They'll ask why trans women don't voice their opinions enough. I notice, quietly, I am far more acknowledged in conversation, with my longer hair and visible chest, than the girl across the table with buzz cut and a t-shirt.

They'll wonder why she doesn't keep contact with the rest of the group. My voice is too harsh, too loud. I don't qualify as a girl because or hairy legs or a weird nose.

They ask why so many transfems worry that much about passing. My mutuals repost and talk about punching terfs & kicking transphobes. They have never posted a transfem positivity post. They comment how little their transfem following is.

They scream predator at the trans girl in a collar and cat ears. She is 16. They comment how little they see trans girls in public these days.

I've been called a rapist, a groomer, a creep, for existing in online spaces since 14. It gets worse in short clothes or posts mentioning sex. They keep asking where to find good transfem voices online.

You drown, and you kill. You shout, and you maim. And you have the nerve, the audacity, to look me in the eyes and ask,

"Where are all the trans girls these days?" End ID]

[sincerelymarner]

daisy jones & the six, taylor jenkins reid

[alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry]

Tyler Knott Gregson

[tcmreads]

‘the new lost generation’ from the book ‘roaring twenties’ by taylor c milnes

[mera-mann-kehne-laga]

I grew up learning that

Grief is love with nowhere to go.

I've spied with my little tired eyes

How all those who suffer

Suffer only because they loved.

When I'm looking into your eyes,

I understand how much the heart can carry:

my grief, your grief, 

a heart can even carry another heart.

Like you carry mine.

Can you please hold it a little more gently?

It's made of brittle glass. Transparent. Fragile.

If you see closely, you'll notice some cracks in it as well.

When i try not peel my own skin off

To distract myself from the heaviness

Of the awkward silences between us

I realise how full of emotions, complaints, wants and needs i am,

Yet i don't utter a single word 

in front of you.

When i write about you,

I realise this might be a love poem.

not only because it has your mention in it

but because of the fear of this not lasting forever.

In my family, all those who suffer from a dead love 

tell me it will all turn to darkness,

One day the magic in your lover's eyes

Just won't be there.

but when i look at you, youre the sun 

yet i want to hold you. 

I don't care if i turn to ashes.

i hope i am your light too like you're mine. 

i hope this is a love poem 

only because there's so much hope in it.

[petrichor-moss-and-lightning]

found this in my camera roll from when i used to post my poetry illustrations on instagram

[smiff-spike]

Poem written four days after my grandfather died and one day before I found out, Smiff-Spike Danger

[notasoupcompany]