#my favorite poem

[mikaelasgraveyard]

As long as there is love, there will be grief.

The grief of time passing,

of life moving on half-finished,

of empty spaces that were once bursting with the laughter and energy of people we loved.

As long as there is love

there will be grief

because grief is love’s natural continuation.

It shows up in the aisles of stores we once frequented,

in the half-finished bottle of wine we pour out,

in the whiff of cologne we get two years after they’ve been gone.

Grief is a giant neon sign,

protruding through everything,

pointing everywhere,

broadcasting loudly,

“Love was here.”

In the finer print, quietly, “Love still is.”

- Heidi Priebe

[earmuffsforgirls]

[poetry-whore]

in the end

we

as in you and me

were never

meant to be

Courtney Peppernell

[zoeflake]

. . . Forever And Ever, Amen  —George Miksch Sutton A very little time shall pass --- A white-crowned sparrow’s song or two, a rustle in the grass ---- Ere I shall die: ere that which now is grief and sense of loss And emptiness unbearable shall vanish As curved reflections vanish with the shattering of a glass. By the wind I shall be scattered Up and down the land, By strong waves strewn along the farthest shore; No part of the dear world shall I not reach and, reaching, understand, No thing that I have loved shall I not love the more. No leaf of sedge nor cattail blade shall push Up from the dark mud toward the open sky But I shall be there, in the tender tip, Experiencing the steady surge of growing. No drop of water shall move upward, cell by cell, No sunlight fall on any opening fern, No breeze send waves across the yellowing grain, But I shall be there, intimately learning All that all things know and, knowing all, discerning The full significance of suffering and pain. No bird of passage shall fly north or south Breasting the stiff wind or pushing through the fog But I shall be there, feeling the deep urge That drives it otherwhere at summer’s ending, And otherwhere once more with spring’s return; Ever so thoroughly I shall learn The signs a bird must travel by, The many ways in which a bird can die.

Knowing the fierce drive of hunger, Day after day, season after season, brown in summer, white in winter, With the slender weasel I shall hunt, and with the rabbit die --- I at the place where the sharp white teeth Pierce the skin and the tearing hurts, I, too, shivering while the hot blood spurts. No vainly croaking, vainly struggling frog shall feel The water snake’s inexorable jaws Moving over and round it, slowly engulfing it But I shall be there struggling too, and crying An anguished, futile protest against dying. With the snake too I shall die: Clutched by sharp talons, borne swiftly upward from the shallow creek, I shall look down bewildered and surprised By this new aspect of a familiar place, Writhing, twisting, striking at the claws which hold me fast I shall feel the hooked beak closing on my neck at last. With the hawk, too, I shall die: I shall feel the hot sting of shot, the loss of power, the sudden collapse, The falling downward through unsupporting space, The last swift rush of air past my face. No creature the world over shall experience love, Drying its wings impatiently while clinging to the old cocoon, Leaping the swollen waterfall, yapping to the desert moon, Looping the loop above some quaking bog, Pounding out drum-music from some rotting log, But I shall be there in each sound and move --- Now with the victor, now with the vanquished, Now in the parted mouth, now in the feet, Now in the lifted nose, now in the bloodstream, Now in the pounding heart’s accelerated beat --- Experiencing the tender, quiet joy of mating, And blinding ecstasy of procreating.

A thousand thousand times I shall suffer pain, And that will be a mere beginning. A thousand thousand times I shall die, Yet never finally, never irrevocably, Always with enough left of life to start again: to be born, To grow, give battle, win, lose, laugh, cry, sing, and mourn, To love, hate, admire, and despise, Never quite losing the feeling of surprise That it is good to live and die; Learning to forget the word “finally,” Learning to unlearn the word “ultimately,” Learning, the long stretch of eternity having just begun, That joy, gladness, grief, and suffering are one.

[from Audubon magazine (September, 1985, pp. 86-87). If the poem is quoted, it should be in its entirety with full credit to George Miksch Sutton.]

[the-siren-recluse-song]

[and-corn]

[auroras-mindd]

i watched this episode yesterday and HOLY SHIT

“The weak breeze whispers nothing the water screams sublime. His feet shift, teeter-totter deep breaths, stand back, it’s time. Toes untouch the overpass soon he’s water-bound. Eyes locked shut but peek to see the view from halfway down. A little wind, a summer sun a river rich and regal. A flood of fond endorphins brings a calm that knows no equal. You’re flying now, you see things much more clear than from the ground. It’s all okay, or it would be were you not now halfway down. Thrash to break from gravity what now could slow the drop? All I’d give for toes to touch the safety back at top. But this is it, the deed is done silence drowns the sound. Before I leaped I should’ve seen the view from halfway down. I really should’ve thought about the view from halfway down. I wish I could’ve known about the view from halfway down.”

— Bojack Horseman, S6:E15 - The View From Halfway Down

[sweatermuppet]

Blessed Be by Sol Rios, published in Ghost of my Ghosts

[creekfiend]

Toad, Norman MacCaig

Published in The Poems of Norman MacCaig (Birlinn, 2011)

[itsthislake]

“The Summer Day” by Mary Oliver.

HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY ACE!!

Support me on ko-fi! ♥

[thepastisapebbleinmyshoe]

A Haunting in Connecticut -2009

The Haunting in Connecticut (2009)

[reallybadblackoutpoems]

arches and light: the fiction of john gardner (1983) - david cowart

"one decade at freddy's" !!!!!

[metamorphesque]

Paruyr Sevak, "To Go Mad" (translated by metamorphesque)

[luciddreams-like-electricity]

I love you, I’m glad I exist

[fairydrowning]

"The language of flowers and silent things."

– Charles Baudelaire, from Elevation; Fleurs Du Mal (tr. by William Aggeler), 1857

[cannibalgremlin]

i just wanna point out Scylla is known for eating 6 people from every ship, so her attacking 6 men from Odysseus’ ship is on par for the course. only difference is he told 6 men should have torches and were known sacrifices(to Odysseus and Scylla)

Odysseus is not just a captain but also a King, and also known for basically doing war crimes during troy.

he told Eurolyches to light 6 torches, arguably this could have been the 5 men Eurolychus trusted the most so he made them light it.

Eurolyches and the other 5 men were suppose to be warnings against mutiny while also being sacrifices. but Eurolyches lived(probably gave his torch to someone else) and because he lived the seed of mutiny and doubt lived, Odysseus’s warning basically went no where because the one he needed to get rid of lived.

Odysseus wasn’t just bitter and angry, he was trying to get rid of what could actually get them all killed and it failed. he had to chose between himself and the crew, and Odysseus has always been a symbol of humanity in people. is it really a surprise he chose himself?

wouldn’t you choose to save yourself? especially after you gave warning after warning to everyone?

Odysseus did try to get as many as he could home, but in the end they barely if never heeded his warnings.