#poetry hours!

[sparks-chaotic-cove]

"An Ode to the Destroyer"

Quixis, dear Quixis,

the one who bends all of this.

Quixis, oh Quixis,

wont you hear my call?

Quixis, relentless,

past and future words and tense,

Quixis, don't forget this,

You will one day be called.

Quixis, don't do this

Don't ruin all the fun.

Quixis, see through this,

Father's never wrong.

Quixis, dear Quixis,

I've harbored every doubt, but

Quixis, oh Quixis,

I am simply so devout.

[within-the-last-minute]

stay safe because i like being alive at the same time as you.

[taimanzano]

One of one. One, alone, one.

[poemsforthesehours]

Poem by Leslie J Anderson.

[sweatermuppet]

billy collins in response to being asked "if you aren't a poet, but were interested in getting started, how would you do that?"

watch the full video here

[lone-nyctophile]

The most beautiful things in life are not things. They're people and places and memories and pictures. They're feelings and moments and smiles and laughter.

[saintsebastiensbf]

Joanna Macy, from a preface to Rilke’s Book of Hours: Love Poems to God

[ajcrawly]

[filmnoirsbian]

Joan Tierney

[celtos]

rainer maria rilke, the book of hours

[obscoros]

gravity fissure is so badass i can't lie. here's essek looking beautiful right before he ruins someone's day with one of newton's laws.

INPRNT < if you want to take him home

[reallybadblackoutpoems]

protect your family from lead in your home (2020) - united states environmental protection agency

"im so full of lead paint yum"

[babygirlblogger]

i feel as if i have a good relationship with no one; not God, not my parents, my siblings, my cousins, my friends, food, education, nothing.

everytime, something goes wrong, i am filled with the thoughts that i am being punished for my sins; for being mean, for being angry and cold.

i feel like a teenage girl captured in the walls of my house with my soul imprisoned from guilt, karma, and regret.

[airlocksandaviaries]

Ethan Hunt x Hope Poem by @mumblesplash

[sir20]

Pont Neuf, Toulouse by sir20

[apoemaday]

Unhappy Hour

by Richard Siken

Going to a party where I knew you’d be, dudes bobbing for boyfriends, eyes shining like candy apples. I want to be a lamppost, or the history of plumbing. I am tired of being mysterious. You are drinking rum next to the laughing skullheads and I am unhappy because I am dead and I miss you. Once a year, day of the dead, you think you’d think of me more often. These people shoulda dressed up as their best selves to mix and mingle in the courtyard garden. If everything is green then why do I feel so blue? I would like to be a plain-faced man, living with you quietly. Leave the party but you can’t hear me you can no longer hear me. The dead are boring. Enlightenment is boring. We can read the minds of dogs. We make the black cats scatter across the grass. There is a better party where I am not a ghost and you are not Aquaman. I am like a pornstar, we are all of us pornstars aching to get back into our terrycloth robes. Gives me a headache, all this intellectual stimulation. It’s cold out tonight. I am here by the back wall, in the museum of the afterlife. I would like to be a flickering cowboy. I like the live music -- we only get the recorded stuff here. I would like to be alive again. I would like to say something about grace.