#my fav poem ever

[swordheld]

how did u choose your username?

oh, this is a fun one!! i think i considered being swordtold at first, for that very ancient myth vibe of the sword being this narrative tool for adventure and structure and physical time, the parable being passed down through the centuries until it meddles into modern day rhetoric and ideology – a kind of fantastical tool, a spark of magic, of possibility.

i like the arc of the story of a place being physical / having it be held by time and hand alike, wearing with the years and having it become something different to each holder, each reader, each experience fantastical and individual.

having that kind of physicality to it; swordheld is the action of taking up and holding the sword yourself, choosing your own narrative, leading your own story. self-identity has always been something i struggle with (a novel concept i know, i know), so it felt right for this blog, since most of my older blogs before this one have been just me silently reblogging and never really posting anything myself, and i wanted this to be the change to that.

i've always had trouble wranging my social anxiety, esp. on the internet, and previously thought that keeping my words to myself helped keep the timeline cleaner, in a way, no messy thoughts for others to sort through, especially ones i believed no one would want to read anyway? but it never felt right, keeping myself apart from it all, esp. not in the way i so avidly enjoyed reading others' posts and additions, keeping their words close to my heart.

i wanted it to reflect that this was a space i was holding for myself? and i'm a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but this - this i think i got right. i love being here, on this blog, and the joy that it brings me. everyone else enjoying it too has been a wild ride that i never expected, and still surprises me, one that brings a little extra thrill to my heart whenever i think about it.

i had other urls that i liked, but i didn't want this blog to be tied directly to any of my fandom/story interests, since i wanted it to really just be a sort of archive of artistic inspiration and resource, like a little library or museum. i use them now as lil sideblogs of more niche interests now, which is rather lovely.

it hasn't always felt like it fit perfectly, the way that i'd like, but for some reason i can't think of really wanting to change it anytime soon. it feels mythic yet modern in a way that feels like puzzle pieces finally slotting into their place, something my own and inspirational to me, like a lantern i'm holding to make my way by. my own kind of light, if that makes sense – a star i know by name.

[vechter]

When I said I wasn’t with another girl the January after we fell in love for the 3rd time, it’s because it wasn’t actual sex.

In the February that began our radio silence, it was actual sex. I hate the tight shirts that go below your waistline.

Not only do they make you look too young, but then your torso is a giraffe’s neck attached to tiny legs. I screamed at myself in the subway

for writing poems about you still. I made a scene. I think about you almost each morning, and roughly every five days, I still

believe you’re there. I still masturbate to you. When we got really bad,

I would put another coat of mop water on the floor of the bar to make sure you were asleep when I got to my side of the bed. You are the only person to whom I’ve lied, knowing

I was telling the truth. I miss the way your neck wraps around my face like a cave we are both lost in. I remember when you said being with me

is like being alone with company. My friend Sarah wrote a poem about pink ponies. I’m scared you’re my pink pony.

Hers is dead. It is really sad. You’re not dead. You live in Ohio, or Washington, or Wherever. You are a shadow my body leaves on other girls.

I have a growing queue of things I know will make you laugh and I don’t know where to put them. I mourn like you’re dead. If you had asked me to stay,

I would not have said no. It would never mean yes.

— "A Working List of Things I Will Never Tell You", Jon Sands

[undeadvinyls]

The void calls your name, she says,

And to you, the universe is beautiful

And the universe, calls you their beloved.

And the world, It cradles you like an absence that crushes your soul. Can you, Can you call the world beautiful like it calls you?

i can <3

[yakultii]

really gotta sleep but just accidentally wrote a lil poem¿ for main yipee this poem is exactly how I feel about my entire existence but more specifically I was lying on my bed just now and visualising falling into a real life deep dark black hole that I couldn’t get myself out of which prompt this piece LMao

[eerna]

sometimes I take Millennium from my shelf and thumb through it and just. take in how amazing everyone involved with that zine did. and how lucky I am to be doing Night Divining with so many of those talented people. fandom is great yall

[gorillaxyz]

HIIII DAVID MITCHELL HIIIIII

[pocketgalaxies]

beau saying "oh the little bamboo wooden chimes! those are great." domestic much???

[solipseismic]

@redminibike1​

meditations in an emergency (cameron awkward-rich) & it is maybe time to admit that michael jordan definitely pushed off (hanif abdurraqib) & scarlet (telenova) & that unapparent summer air in early fall (@/yellowplumfruit) & honey (magic man)

[giantkillerjack]

Every few hours or so, I see something that makes me feel aggressively in love with autistic people as a whole and I just have to somehow deal with that and then like, remember I made tea.

I'll see posts from strangers that I never intend to follow up on or dig deeper into, and usually it's just, like, the simple things, like... bro, did you just see a photo of a train and then identify the exact make and model of that train down to the smallest possible manufacturing detail for no other reason than you could and you wanted to, bro??

I am in love with you, bro. I am kissing you on the mouth. I am picking you up by the waist and twirling you. I am serving you warm fresh butternut squash bisque on a crisp fall day in our backyard. I am cherishing you always, you beautiful son of a bitch. You legend. You fucking precious sunbeam of human life who deserved and deserves the best in this unnaturally cruel and dark world.

I am holding your hand through the years, bro. I am cradling your soul in mine through the long long storm until we've finally made it somewhere soft.

I will make this world soft for you. I will start with myself.

Your face is aging and yet you grow more beautiful each year. You give off your own light. Did you know that? It doesn't hurt my eyes at all. It is warm. I am proud. Unspeakably proud. The light on its own was always enough.

I watch every evening as the gentle sunset reflects its soft gold into your eyes. It never gets old.

I long for nothing more than to see you alive and at peace.

This is a thing I could never regret fighting for.

Oh my god I made tea

[incohorace]

I saw a man this morning Who did not wish to die I ask, and cannot answer, If otherwise wish I. Fair broke the day this morning Against the Dardanelles; The breeze blew soft, the morn's cheeks Were cold as cold sea-shells. But other shells are waiting Across the Aegean sea, Shrapnel and high explosive, Shells and hells for me. O hell of ships and cities, Hell of men like me, Fatal second Helen, Why must I follow thee? Achilles came to Troyland And I to Chersonese: He turned from wrath to battle, And I from three days' peace. Was it so hard, Achilles,  So very hard to die? Thou knewest and I know not— So much the happier I. I will go back this morning From Imbros over the sea; Stand in the trench, Achilles, Flame-capped, and shout for me.

I Saw A Man This Morning – Patrick Shaw-Stewart

[hotcinnamonsunset]

me, blogging every day: #loveeeee #❣️❣️❣️ #love is stored in the kitchen #mwah <3 #this is what love is alllllll about

me, tasked with finding poetry about love: …

[ungrateful-cyborg-moved]

8 and 12 (please!)

I'm not from the US asks

8. do you get confused with other nationalities? if so, which ones and by whom?

Kinda yes and kinda no.

It's never happened that someone thought I was from another nationality (aside from a few Swiss people assuming I'm Swiss, but then again I live in Switzerland so I'm not sure it counts). What does happen quite frequently is Americans speaking of someone saying they're French and when I look them up online, they're either Belgian or Swiss. This happens a lot about people and food x)

12. what do you think about English translations of your favourite native prose/poem?

To be honest... I don't read any translation of French stuff, considering I can just read them in French x) So no opinion on it, except it's nice if it gets people to learn more about other countries' art. I do feel about the translators, however xD

On a tangentially related note, I get the impression that our sense of humor doesn't translate well, though. Might be just anecdotal but the French stuff known in foreign countries rarely seem to be our funniest pieces of art.

Thanks for the ask, @anpansblog!

[slowtides]

Ursula K. Le Guin, "To Gahheya," from Always Coming Home

[warlordfelwinter]

read grendel again, which continues to just be a really weird book, so time to refresh my fucked up catboy design for him

[portokali]

also!!!! @thegarlicbreads tagged me to share my most recent, current & next read!!! ty lett that's a v fun game! 🍃

tagging @mothvhs @pherelpis @pinknoisemp3 @quillsand @catboyparrish @librarybi @byrons and everyone else who wants to do it!!!

[cozybi]

tamiko beyer, february