#original peoms
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I want a simple and quiet life. I want ordinary things in life like a simple breakfast with my own family. I want a life where home is not just a place to live but instead it's a place where no heartaches, where no-one grieve over people or different things, where no one hurt or fear from anything. I want a house where we all heal and we raise a family that doesn't need to heal. A simple life where we all eat dinner together while laughing over simple things.
#is it too much to ask??#dark academia#light academia#excerpts#fragments#poetry#poets and writers#dark academia quotes#dark academia aesthetic#spilled words#words#on grief#on life#literature quotes#original peoms#selections#classic literature#chaotic academia#chaotic aesthetic#life quotes#literary quotes#poems and quotes#dark academia literature#books & libraries#cottage academia
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A silent offering
Why would I pretend to love living?
Why drape myself in joy’s tattered cloth,
when the seams fray with every step I take?
I don’t smile for myself—
but for the silent comfort of a world
that cannot bear to see what I carry.
Perhaps because hating it doesn’t make it go away.
No amount of disdain
can fold these moments into nothingness.
How cruelly persistent time is,
dragging me along,
its hand cold, unrelenting.
How I’d love to donate these worthless years
to someone hungry for the future,
someone who would take this heaviness
and spin it into something dazzling,
something light.
@monachopsis-muse
—This life feels more fitting for another’s hands.
#quotes#poem#poetic#poetry#poets on tumblr#gothic#writers and poets#original poem#art#dark academia#poems on tumblr#peoms#poems and poetry#original peoms#poems and quotes#spilled writing#writeblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#writing#spilled poetry#spilled words#spilled thoughts#spilled ink#angst
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"To love you has never been a burden."
loving you is not like someone ordered me to do it, it comes naturally, its something that keeps banging my chest so i had to release it so it won't hurt me.
loving you has never been a chore, loving you has never been like a task, it come so naturally that i didn't know that i show it obviously.
loving you is more like a pattern, as natural as the way i blink my eyes, as natural as how my heart keeps pumping. Like, the process of breathing, its essential to life.
So, if you'll ask me why do i do it, I'll tell you that its like a natural phenomenon, that even me don't know how did it even start.
"To love you has never been a chore."
#poem#poetry#love poem#poets corner#spilled ink#spilled poetry#new poets society#poems and poetry#poets on tumblr#dead poets society#poetic#love poems#poesia#original poem#writers and poets#poems#poems on tumblr#poems and quotes#poemsbyme#original peoms#short poetry#book quotes#love quotes#writeblr#writerscommunity#writers on tumblr#writers#spilled writing#spilled thoughts#spilled words
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Blizzards of Fun, Meadows of Rabbits
BLIZZARDS OF FUN
wool blankets / red / white piles of / snow / red / snowmen and / snowflakes / the wood in the / basement is / burning / red / the light by the candles is / dying / red
MEADOWS OF RABBITS
wildflowers in the / kitchen / the sun is a ball of / lavender and / white yarn / a cricket is chirping in the / purple of the / daylight / through cinnamon / winds / the kettle on the / stove top / is a pond of / tea leaves and / flower heads / morning / everything is / silver slivers of / hope and / feathers / white / deer / under a violet / sun
Poetry First published in Spinzoablue Online Publication (2024)
#poetry#poems on tumblr#poets on tumblr#emma grey rose#cottage core#dream core#winter#my poems#original peoms
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I'm not good at reaching the top shelves.
I can only reach the liquor,
But I spend time with you in my dreams.
I could reach you,
But I'm so small now,
and I don't know what to do with my hands.
I reach for you in my dreams.
(Short)
c.r.
#original peoms#poetry#poem#aesthetic#poets on tumblr#spilled words#love poetry#original poetry#writers and poets#dark poetry#spilled poetry#spilled poem#spilled writing#spilled ink#spilled thoughts#poems on tumblr#poems and poetry#love poems#original poem#original poets on tumblr
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My poetry book is coming out December 2nd, only on Amazon or Kindle.
Titled In the Shadows by Tora Drevicky.
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On Voice
She, who is the artist, is the dumbest of them all.
For the artist makes no craft, nor controls capital.
She has tricked herself into the mistaken belief,
That art can be profound beyond science’s grief.
Who is she, to think she knows.
As here she sits and dares compose,
Some poem addressed to the dead, the lost.
Yet, now she wonders, has she come to that line crossed?
To the point she can’t go past?
They’d be oh so awfully aghast.
Yet that appeared the only choice.
To put down the pen, to give up her voice.
#lgbtq#original peoms#short peoms#lgbt pride#lgbtqiia+#poems and poetry#poetry#writing#queer#sapphic#transgirl#transgender#transfem#transblr#creative writing#trans woman#vent post#vent#venting#vent poetry#vent poem#short poem#my poem#dark poetry#my poetry
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A martyr for my love
She knows how to skin me alive
She doesn’t know my blood stained her teeth
Or that I have to kill my self just to touch her
Are we allowed to laugh?
When I’m in love I feel like a liar
You probably think it’s dumb that I could never tell you I love you
Blinded by the headlights so I jumped off the bridge
She’ll leave me because I’m a coward
Never could get your name to leave my lips
I talk about virtues with my head between your hips
I don’t believe in a god
Something worse has to kill me
I was a damn fool to believe anything could hold me
Salvation was only something i believed in when you touched me
If I die dirty, let it be under your tongue
Let me die a Martyr for you
My nature begs me to suffer
I can never have anything I want
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WOLF - short story poem
In the night we prowl, noses like bloodhounds & a feline stare. The birth of a werewolf. What are we looking for in this darkness anymore? I feel like a sheep in wolves skin when left to my own advisory on these walks. I wield but one weapon aside from my mental stamina for deep thoughts and reflection, a knife moulded from hard candy that tends to get sticky on my hands. I can only think so much before everything gets creepy & I start to run.
The girl is trying to sleep, despite all that had happened tonight. She sleeps with a night light, odd for a girl her age. Twenty years she’s been burdened with a deeply settled fear of the darkness. I wonder why she drives herself so mad when she knows she has a hard time sleeping with the light on. Perhaps she is the most odd for thinking this night would bring any more promise of rest than the past moons. In the midst of her tossing and turning, a glimpse of the ceiling seems to have caught her attention. In the ceiling, hands are pressing down through the paint but can’t seem to break the barrier. She reached toward the ceilings arms before descending back into her own embrace.
The girl got up this morning rather early but it seems she didn’t have the time to get ready. I swear she did, but time is not forgiving even to those of us grieving. She talks to the woman working in reception, but she is distracted by something behind me. There is a man trying to break his way through the wall in the hallway, is his goal the warmth of her alive body? if he keeps that up he’ll knock the bulletin board out of place, Does she not notice her reflection in the print to the left of him? Has she also not noticed the tears that have escaped her, they had covered their tracks well under the commotion from the unexpected visitor.
The girl is most likely a magnet for the strange and unnerving.
Instead of getting on the train home, she just kept walking. I think it is far too wet outside, she is unaffected by the downpour. There weren’t many lit up buildings left on her night prowl, but there was the church she walked into. She slumped down onto an old wooden pew and disappeared.
There was nothing strange or unnerving happening in the church, nobody trying to free themself from the girls' walls. I almost forgot about the girl after a while in our shared stillness. I thought she may have been asleep but as I try to get a closer look it appears she is crying quietly. I can't be sure she’s aware she's all alone in this church, but she did open her phone to make a call. Whoever she is calling is not picking up. She clasps her hands in prayer, the phone is laying in her lap. A text message appears, after she reads the message she resumes her silent cry.
How sad a sight, a young girl pleads for what she thinks is right. Her wings drenched in afterbirth, bursting from the back of her ribs as she asked me to die. Yearning to know why he would do such a thing like leaving her, like promising his return in the event of death. This story is as classical as the music is, with as much class as war has. She says the fresh air on her lungs feels nice.
Hey blog <3 I wrote a short story poem, I think underneath all the imagery and the metaphors or whatever, it's about a break up. Like a psychological thriller imagery thing about going through a break up. It's also up to your interpretation! I hope that makes sense, thanks 4 reading :D
xoxo
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APRIL
See my books go to my brother,
he'll love them when he's older.
And my vinyls to my big sister,
so her voice might just get bolder.
Send flowers to my cousin
she'll want to hear the news.
Tell her that I'm sorry
for having so short a fuse.
Give the crows some peanuts
so they know I won't return.
Read all of my letters
and please watch them as they burn.
Give my last breath to the wind
chimes,
and my age to the newborn trees.
Give my voice to the barn cats kitten,
And my direction to the flocking geese.
You know i will be leaving leaving
And I know it will be soon;
so send my body down the river,
and my soul up to the moon.
#mimi from heaven#my poem#original poem#poem#poetry#poets on tumblr#original peoms#words words words#writing#simply complicated
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my heart is a
rotted peach
that sits in my chest.
too sweet
too soft
to be touched
without falling to pieces.
#mimimurmurs#poems#prose#poem#virginia woolf#love quotes#original poem#poetic#poetry#spilled thoughts#sylvia plath#jeff buckley#original peoms#words of mine#you broke my heart#self love#self healing#healing#words#orginal work
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In the midnight's hush, a poem I shall weave,
With words that captivate, and minds it shall deceive.
Imagery and rhythm, a dance upon the page,
A masterpiece of wonder, to keep people in awe and engage.
From nature's beauty to love's sweet embrace,
Each line a stroke of art, a story to embrace.
With words as my paintbrush, I'll create a vivid scene,
A tapestry of emotions, like you've never seen.
So let your imagination soar, as the words come alive,
In this unique poem, let your spirit thrive.
For in the realm of poetry, wonders unfold,
Leaving hearts enchanted, and stories yet untold.
May this poem be a journey, a magical flight,
That keeps you in awe, from morning until night.
For poetry has a power, to touch hearts and souls,
And leave a lasting impression that forever unfolds.
#60s#70s#80s#pets#across the spiderverse#taylor swift#peotry#people#peoms#short peoms#my peom#original peoms
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In silent echoes of the night, my heart does weep,
Longing for a love I dare not speak, yet keep.
A solitary flame, burning with ardour's plight,
Alone I dwell, in the shadows of unrequited light.
Darling,
for I am the artist and
you, my favourite muse,
Everyone but you could tell
how long I burned for your soul.
#poets on tumblr#writers on tumblr#my writing#writers#quotes#a-moonlit-poet#writers and poets#poems and poetry#prose poem#undertale#unrequited love#poem#poetry#the tortured poets department#original peoms#original writing#original poem#writing#poems in tumblr#writeblr#writerscommunity#dead poets society#poetic#prose#love poems#lgbtq#female writers#please do support
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goldilocks :: I love brown sugar
I love brown sugar
Flavor
usually avoid white sugar
Flavor
molasses can be a lot
Flavor
But I love brown sugar taste
#short poem#love peoms#original peoms#poems on tumblr#poetry#writters on tumblr#writting#writers on tumblr#creative writing#poetic#reading#goldilocks and the three bears#tumblr tings#mothertreesap#writers#my writing#writing#writers and poets#writeblr#books and reading#love poem#poem#poets on tumblr#original poem#nightmare critters
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Beneath the weight of a heavy sky, i tread through shadows that whisper lies.
The walls around me grow tighter still, a silent battle, a war of will.
I am a bird with broken wings, yearning for the song that freedom brings.
Yet every step feels chained to the ground, in a world where love is a hollow sound.
They say they care, they say they see, but their love feels like a distant plea.
Empty echoes in a cavern of doubt, leaving my soul to wander about.
Depression's claws dig deep, unseen, a cruel master in this haunting scene.
Yet within me burns a fragile spark, fighting to guide me out of the dark.
Though I stumble, though I fall, i know there's light beyond this wall.
But what if the spark is not enough? What if my spirit, weary and rough, succumbs to the silence, the endless night, and fades into shadows, out of sight?
No voice will call, no hand will save, just an echoing heart in a silent grave.
#aesthetic#quotes#likefollow#angel aesthetic#daily qoute#deep feelings#depressing shit#art#bookaholic#grunge#sad peoms#personal#peoms#original peoms#love peoms#short peoms#my peom#sad stories#sad stuff#sad but true#sadness#sad#depressing#depressiv#depression#depressed#tw depressing thoughts#tw depressing stuff#the tortured poets department#sorry for being depressing
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I need more writer friends so bad!
I'm 17, they/them pronouns. I'll write just about anything, but I write mostly dark fantasy, thriller and horror. Almost always with romance as a subplot. I also write poetry.
I'm willing to read anything and give advice if you would like any.
I am hoping to be published the summer of next year. I should have several manuscripts ready by that point.
Comment or reblog or dm me if you wanna be friends.
#creative writing#writers on tumblr#reading#writing#authors#story#original character#short story#bookish#poetry#original peoms#writer friends#writers
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