#poetryisnotdead

[thetypewriterdaily]

💌 february intentions: i hope love finds you this month, in all the ways your heart needs it most. i hope it arrives when you least expect it and reminds you that you’ve been worth of it all along ❤️🫧🌻🌈🍓

[shannyhere]

pockets are empty, dreams on hold

bills stack high, and the nights feel cold i chase the hours, but they slip away working for pennies, day after day

i need the money, it’s all i can see freedom’s a price that’s too high for me counting the minutes, waiting for more but the struggle’s the same as the day before

[joshuamrl]

Who I am keeps me from becoming who I want to be, and who I want to be keeps me from accepting who I am. Oh God, will I ever find peace?

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

Someone PLEASEEEEEEE explain to me why these poets are allergic to using capital letters??? Genuine question because I am taking a Literature course and I want to strangle some people

[jaggedjawjosh]

Believe in your vision, for your confidence is the bridge that turns dreams into reality.

[connorlwing]

"I’ve given up on kindness,

softness no longer fits me.

I am angry.

More than anger,

I am fire, burning.

Waves colliding with the cliffside,

an endless, bloody battle.

I am the asteroid,

tearing through the darkness of the galaxy,

faster than sound,

colliding with an unsuspecting planet.

I am the sound of a hissing whistle,

the atomic bomb,

falling, imploding.

I am the war drumline,

a relentless rhythm of rage

pounding through my skull.

I am done with the facade of peace.

They have awoken 

The sleeping dragon."

-- Connor Wing

[sarthhakkk]

The most authentic relationships are forged in the crucible of doubt and support.

Sarthak

[blogbyher]

Franz Kafka wrote "All language is but a poor translation."

Now I understand why we are at a loss of words in the most intense moments of our lives.

[celtic-poetry]

In the shade

of an apple tree

I lost my innocence

& was born anew

Among grass

and bumblebees

something lost

was found again

I forgot

for a tiny second

oh bliss

-

how much it hurts

to be

& to be free

[sagessge]

[I have so much to say to you,yet I never utter a word,my eyes meet yours but our fates have separated a long ago,I know,And yet I write about you ferociously,fervently,But yet I think about you more than anything]

I have not seen you for long

Yet the image of you persists in my heart

As if you were never gone from my gaze

As if you never left me admist the ashes of my own hate

And you walk on our path so painlessly

I can see I was the only one in love

For I cannot move forward a step,without thinking of you,your brown eyes and your warm touch

I cannot move forward thinking of the way around you,the whole world lost it's charm

For you were the only thing worth looking at,only thing to be worth admiring or living for

I cannot yet bring myself to take a different path

I have loved you and your footsteps too dearly,I follow into them,yet don't let myself get lost in your love

I don't want that pain again

But perhaps I never got rid of it

I write about you alot,but I think of you way more

For your glimpse,your laughter,or a shrill word of yours that hit me like an arrow strains me time to time

When I see you again,and your gaze meets mine

My heart shoots a shiver all over my body

For I loved you with all of me,and all of me yearns for you and your presence

Knowing I might never receive it,Knowing you might never get to read what I wrote for you

Keep your gaze on those boys,talk all you want of them

Yet tell me if they look at you the way I do

Tell me if they write about you the way I do

If they love you the way I do

If their heartbeats utter your name and their eyes hold your face

If their actions resemble yours

Tell me,my dear,If any other loves you the way I did,the way I do

To be so aware yet to fall into this pain of love,is a foolishness

Yet I'd be a loon for you,a hundred times more if I could

[briannapastorpoetry]

But when I dream,

is that no different than meeting eyes with you every morning?

— Brianna Pastor

[thetypewriterdaily]

lessons from the sun: take small steps that allow you to make steady progress overtime. don't rush, but rise gracefully 🌥️⛅️🌤️☀️

[shannyhere]

i became a crybaby after you died

the grief hit hard, and i couldn’t hide every little thing made me break and weep memories of you cut deep in my sleep

but tears, they heal in their quiet way slowly, i’m learning to face the day though you're not here, your love still remains guiding me gently through all of the pain

[joshuamrl]

Torn apart by my purging, unrequited love, I’ve come to love deeply yet crave endlessly. My heart aches for your presence, though the Gods know I despise nearly everything you do. Love has turned to ruin within me—I fear I will never love again.

[kaleb-is-definitely-sane]

I was talking with my sister last night and it occurred to me that I write a lot of poetry during liminal and intermundane moments. Late at night before I go to sleep. A moment of mental stress. Immediately after awaking from unconsciousness. Feeling trapped between the past and the future. Longing for the beauty of the unattainable past. Stuck in traffic. Out walking at sunset, almost dying from the freezing cold temperature. Meditation on our childhood in the earth. Outside in a thunder storm. Imagining I was out in the woods. Something eerily like demonic possession. Dancing in the rain. Listening to the night sounds at midnight dejection. Melancholy contemplation in an unlit room. A late night obsession. Out, meditating, on a walk. The shock of a murder. Reading apocalyptic literature.

Humans are intermundane beings; thus it only makes sense that our poetry would be the same.

[jaggedjawjosh]

One's ability to empathize fuels their journey of self-improvement, seeding growth not just for self, but for all.