#poetic musings

[umabokil]

There is a rotten feeling of melancholy and loneliness on some nights which you can’t quite explain. You suddenly want to be buried—whether under the ground, under a comforter, or in a hug that’s here to stay, you don’t yet know—but you suddenly feel like mould and dust and the colour of a funeral on a dull day; you suddenly want to sit in the middle of a puddle of gloom and stare off at the white wall till daybreak peeks through the window crack. You want away; you want the ocean bed; you want stillness; you want nothingness. Because you feel like nothingness.

[blushingxpilgrims]

i could tell you now

or bite my tongue

until it bleeds

and hide you in between

the lines of my poetry

—i could tell you, 2024

[journey-to-balance]

Melted wax candles, dusk, vintage perfume bottles, cotton sheets, rose petals, a hand written love letter, gothic buildings on cobblestone streets, the ballet, polished copper, a quintessentially red lipstick, rivers that run through cities, a silk dress, afternoon tea, lavender, fine jewelry, French tipped nails, chandeliers, the women’s powder room, glasses of champagne, harps, a long trench coat, holding hands along a promenade, Victorian style lanterns lighting the way.

A Love Story...

[env0]

The moon is so beautiful tonight. Draped in gossamer clouds that billow er so softly in the evening breeze. Oh, how I wish I knew you were looking up to share this beautiful moment with me. Beneath the same shared sky.

[trustonlystars]

Do you ever fall in love with sunshine a little more? It’s the same as having more time to yourself. When you know you can skip something to stay back in your zone, the kind of sweetness that cancelled plans bring where you sneak out of parties with loud music and louder people. Do you ever think back on who makes the best cup of coffee for you? I still don’t know how I like my coffee, but every time my dad brings me one, it feels perfect. Do you ever see grace in these moments? Do you ever see how pretty castles your mind makes and such an honour it is for you to walk down that aisle? Do you ever listen to music play and wish to be a song someone cannot forget? Do you ever let music make that kind of home in your heart? The same kind that we find in Church hallways in the softness of hymns. Do you ever want to sit back right where you are so life could just be and you could take another sip of coffee and watch sunshine walk through shadows?

- trustonlystars | Jannie F

[brahmaninandigam]

And when the bleeding stops, and the cuts get healed, the scars become a story of Bravery. Of how they've survived the cruelty of the Swords. 

So I decided. To pierce hearts with Words.  Wounds, invisible. Healing, Impossible!!

[anxiety-banana]

i'm going to be okay i'm going to be okay i don't have another choice and i need to survive so i am going to be okay because i am not going to keep living like this so i'm going to be okay i swear it i am going to be okay

[umabokil]

Maybe I’m thirsty for heartbreak just to bleed, spill and pour into undying pools of raw, naked poetry.

[blushingxpilgrims]

look at me

i’m so poetic

(it’s pathetic)

how often i write about you

—pathetic, 2023

[weepingcherrytree]

boys like you for your beauty; poets love you for your ruin

— 𝒶𝓈𝓅𝑒𝓃 𝓀𝒶𝑒 | @weepingcherrytree

[livelincoln]

The Goat and the Sheep

Upon the crossroads' weary stone I stood, Two forms before me, neither bright nor good. A goat, with eyes that burned like brazen fire, A sheep, whose calm concealed no heart’s desire.

"Come," spake the goat, its horns a gleaming crown, "Life’s summit waits, though cliffs may drag thee down. The path is cruel, the edges sharp as knives, Yet glory’s height redeems a thousand lives."

The sheep, more mute, yet in its silence wise, Gazed soft with depths unseen by daring eyes. "Choose me," it murmured, low as twilight’s breath, "My path is quiet, free of toil and death. No heights await, no laurels to attain, But peace is mine—no triumph, yet no pain."

Between them stood I, bound by dire debate, Each course a prison, choice a bitter fate. The goat’s wild gleam bespoke a savage fight, The sheep’s soft gaze—a shadowed, endless night.

"Must all the world be thus—a cruel jest? No road unthorned, no haven ever blessed?" The goat laughed harsh, "To climb is to endure." The sheep replied, "And yet, the plains are sure."

At last, I stepped, though plagued by doubt profound, Toward trails unseen, unlit by stars around. The goat leapt bold, its mockery in my ear, The sheep kept pace, its whispers soft and clear.

"Too frail for ascent," the goat’s scornful cry, "Too bound by fear to reach the open sky." The sheep intoned, "Regret is but thy guide, When paths are chosen where dreams cannot bide."

And so I trod, though neither beast I tamed, Their courses yoked, their destinations maimed. For in their steps, I saw the same bleak shore— No goat nor sheep could grant my spirit more.

[the-quiet-girl-thats-invisible]

It's interesting to go through my old notes and find my old writings. Bittersweet for the love notes and heart-wrenching for the goodbyes. And yet, somewhere in the midst of them, it's a nice reminder of where I was, where I am, and where I have yet to be. I think posting them helps me let those pieces go and maybe help someone else feel seen. Sorry in advance for some of the angst to follow. But it's me, and if I'm too much, go find less.

[notmadebyhumanhands]

i expected the god of wine to look much older, much wiser— but no.

it was a random tuesday night when i met him. uneventful, if not for the silent storms brewing in his eyes. he was just a lad, even much younger than me. he wore, of all things, a hoodie — such modernity that belied the most ancient of souls; and when he shrugged off his jacket, i swear i could trace orion on the freckles of his shoulder.

his smile was slight and casual, amber eyes seeing everyone but never really looking, his lips — strangely enough — untouched by liquor. only everyone else around him were anointed by alcohol. he put his blood on ice and and one by one, without fail, they fell into intoxication.

a soothsayer held up death on a tarot card but all he saw was himself. the stars were scattered on the floor and the barroom awash in drunken stupor; amidst it all, the god of wine perched atop a pillar of sobriety. i think this was how he became more dangerous.

by the first light of daybreak, he rose from the barstool and left an inebriated frenzy in his wake. a vice with a deathlike grip on its patrons, and the god of wine departing calm & uncaring.

— Dionysus

[soaringwide]

Soaringwide: a new chapter

At the time of writing this, March 21 2024, 7:03 AM, I wanted to take a moment to write down where I'm currently at on my journey.

This blog is not my first one, but I wanted to start fresh in order to allow myself a space to grow into something new.

I'm just 30, which may sound like a lot to some, but is really not that much in the grand scheme of things. Throughout the years, I've been through so much, good and bad, and I've seen so many iterations of myself. I am someone who regularly goes through deep changes, because I like to reinvent myself, and also because, I think, it's what life is all about for me. To always yearn for more, and to start with yourself. Because, really, your whole world can change drastically if you just change the way you see, feel, and think it.

Soaringwide came to be because I'm learning how to fly again, after collapsing so hard I though I would never be able to. I don't think I'm there quite yet, but I've made so much progress, I have to honor that.

The thing is, I'm not proud of much but if there's one thing I am proud of, it's my resilience. Yet I'm tired of it being put to the test. I long for peace and healing, for joyful moments, love and laughter shared freely. I don't want to continuously feel like the sky is going to metaphorically fall on my face.

The other thing is that I want to be able to express all facets of myself freely. Explore what it means and share it with others, because there is limited meaning and pleasure in keeping it for yourself only.

I think I have a lot to say, a lot to share, and perhaps it can even help others to some degree, but for so long I just kept it all in, never daring to take that step out of my comfortable and lonely bubble.

So yeah, here's to the start of a new chapter.

[library-of-legion]

Martyrism

Thou comest to me with but one offer: thy soul—how pitiful. I hold the abundance of the heavens, yet there is beauty in thy lack. A soul such as thine is better anchored to the flesh. I ask but one price to be paid: I shall strip thee of fortune.

Thy soul shall ne'er be loved nor understood. I shall curse thee with the fairest pain— to dwell as the lowest among any society thou dost touch. And thou shalt endure this blessing, shaping from it a tear of malevolence.

A tear for a boon—these are my demands.

If thou dost accept, thou shalt be molded into a thing of great beauty: A red flower of war, to be admired for generations, a sacrifice for peace!

Yet from now until the day thy destiny is fulfilled, each time I deem thee worthy, a gift shall I bestow upon thee— a clue to how thy days shall end.

Dost thou accept my terms?

[teacupofhought]

Life will, one day, grow quiet. And you decide when it’s time to welcome that quiet—when mornings flow with routine, when stillness becomes a friend, and when enough feels like everything you’ve ever needed.