#poetru

[darichonne]

insta: @darichonne

[fluttering-slips]

To a Daughter Leaving Home

When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away on two round wheels, my own mouth rounding in surprise when you pulled ahead down the curved path of the park, I kept waiting for the thud of your crash as I sprinted to catch up, while you grew smaller, more breakable with distance, pumping, pumping for your life, screaming with laughter, the hair flapping behind you like a handkerchief waving goodbye.

Linda Pastan

[rasmasandra]

Bottled Summer

With every summer that passes, I long to find a way, to bottle up summer, like a soft and mellow wine, so that when the winter comes – I can savor it again. In the dark of the long night, as the north winds howl, I’d take a bottle of summer, uncork it and let the scent of it, the warmth of it – fill my room. Could we bottle summer? and if we did, we’d be trapping the magic, that…

[unverbalise]

The Dreamy Canvas

Written by Writer Shweta Ranjane and Edited by Editor Mrinali Jadhav Dreams, they dance like flames so bright, they beckon me, to take a flight, to a world, where everything's just right. They are like kites in the sky, soaring high, my heart they satisfy, yet fear creeps in, a looming sigh, their distance from reality, gets me alarmed. Time, a precious gem, so rare, an enigma wrapped in a…

[reno-matagot]

𝔎𝔬𝔰𝔪𝔬𝔰 𝔉𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔷

Une cosmogonie de bleuets pour un univers-jardin, l'ombre d'un pétale évanoui d'étoiles.

Des centaures goûtent aux fruits de l'été, il est trop tôt pour te lire: j'attends sous le porche mauve du matin.

Charme de ton souffle mordoré de verts, de scintillements purs, j'aspire au feu, brûle un peu mon corps, dans la carapace opaque où j'ai chaud, me déplie..

Saisons pleurées sous les glaïeuls, les enfants pâles de l'hiver ont caressé tes cils. Cygnes ébahis, parés de splendeurs, visages blancs constellant le vent.

Le Carnet des Poèmes Gratuits • 4.2.23

[smallboyonherbike]

okay i saw the poetry polls w one about an orange and ofc immediately thought of this rita dove poem that i memorized in high school for an assignment where we had to like read it and convey the emotion. and it's not like i still could recite it unprompted but when i see it again i can hear myself as a teen reading it bc i would read it into my ipod nano voice notes and play it back and go ahh my voice sounds weird recorded. but anyways it's just. SO good. why is orange imagery so compelling. i don't even like oranges just clementines.

[erickaclay]

Like a flower breaking earth.

You’re still here in all your flesh and memory serves to correct me on the little details caught up all around me like dead skin in dust. How often I look at photos memorizing the ghost lines of a gone face, paying my condolences to an empty casket and curled consciousness, yellowed with the wear of bringing you out and setting you in my sun. And grief is a cruel mistress, keeping the…

[syn4k]

im gonna go to my computer

im gonna turn o n my computer

open files. Make file folder for proj nebus episode 11

set obs recording location to episode 11 file folder

turn off computer and record nothing until i am ready

we are doing this shit

but not righr now because i have an over ightn foeld trip tomorrow for a poetru competition thing FUCK i forgot to go over my poem. Balls. Big balls with nut sacks. Penis. Expletives. In tired

[wemadestones]

The camelian hasn't been seen;

After years, it comes to bloom;

Showing yourself in the full moon;

Its own scent is sweet;

Sleeping in winter's waning moon.

[darichonne]

insta: @darichonne

[purepain]

how do you describe love

to someone who only knows hate

you cant describe love with words

where hate is only known by speech.

[hiddenonemakhfi]

A million times we have met yet the reality overshadowed all my writings..

-M

[unverbalise]

Amaryllis

Written by Writer Odangchetla and Edited by Editor Mrinali Jadhav Home was better than a monument. So I thought flowers would create the illusion. The florist lured me for the Amaryllis. How cannot they? They are possessed with the language of flowers. But they also want to take home money? So I bought a potter bud. Unaware of what it will serve, when bloomed. I was shy of love. Ranked the…

[ljmmurray-blog]

hi, i’m leá.

i’m currently writing a poetry book.

hope u can relate maybe. ♥️

[smallboyonherbike]

i was trying to remember this poem for the LONGEST and would kinda recall it every time i saw a post about oranges but not enough to find it and then i saw a uquiz reference another rita dove quote and was like OHHHHHHHHH

anyways i memorized this poem to recite for an english class in high school so even tho i haven't seen it in forever it's like an old friend :)

[chandtarasblog]

کوئی اے شکیل پوچھے یہ جنون نہیں تو کیا ہے

کہ اسی کے ہو گئے ہم جو نہ ہو سکا ہمارا