#share my poems

[firefly464]

Is this anything

[jamjoob]

What if we were both doctors & shared oranges 🤨

[two-bees-poetry]

antigone was right

[sukinapan]

情書

[teaboot]

There's a rock beneath the river that the waves are wearing down All the sand and silt beneath it sinking low into the ground If you save it from the water then its red will fade to brown And leaving it's a loss as well as sides are sanded round If a rock lives in a river then to live is to be changed And to be molded out of shape as things around it rearrange But to die is not to vanish but to simply stay the same For a stone that's simply buried is a stone that shall remain

[gnawgag]

it’s their’s to burn

sharing a cigarette with joan of arc - dante émile ( @orpheuslament ) // photography by brendon burton

[seraphinesaintclair]

~ Seraphine Saintclair

[girlfictions]

Ellen Bass, “The Thing Is”

[idliketobeatree]

10. in the meanwhile as you chop down our roots measure out D E V O T I O N add lantern oil stir the concoction counter-clockwise. leave it to simmer on the lowest heat. [charles' book of secrets] poem by me art quote by @wordsinhaled

[chidoroki]

"Unstoppable" by Donna Ashworth

[boycritter]

my heart beats in my throat most days

baby my body constantly betrays me or whatever that guy from car seat headrest said.

[please reblog art!]

[kiisuuumii]

@kiisuuumii (songbird) [for anon]

[whaliiwatching]

sparks fly

cleared the smoke for you

[coolnonsenseworld]

A little promo with my little obsession on the side...........

Reminder all items are shipped from Poland - for details on shipping times check out FAQ or send me a private message!

 mmezzy.bigcartel.com

[angadgautama]

$ Soul_Pot

I'm soft hearted, don't hurt me that much.

Don't make false promises, false sworns.

I told you many times,

that don't make it hard again and again

I'm dying in your memories, so don't come to mind again and again.

Flower dries up but the smell never become dull.

Nobody cared about love, heart broke slowly slowly.

Even nowadays relations haven't no value,

But love never ends, breaths ends oneday surely.

When condition are contradictory,

Flower dries up Even in flowerpot.

Mostly who have smile faces,

Died up weeping in the soul-pot.

[whispers-in-the-margins]

On Wicked; Green-ness, and Burn Scars.

12.01.2024

Two Fridays ago, on its release date, I went to the cinema to watch Wicked. To my advantage, I had only seen The Wizard of Oz (1939) twice in my life and had never watched the Wicked musical. While I knew the basics of the story and the concept of what I was about to see, I could not have anticipated how deeply I would resonate with Elphaba.

It was my first time seeing a movie alone, without the company of family or friends. I think this solitude played a role in allowing my tears to fall so freely, without fear of judgment.

While I understand the broader metaphors of Wicked—racism, discrimination, and the erasure of history as a global issue—my connection with Elphaba was deeply personal. The fact that, in this version, Elphaba is played by a Black woman emphasizes these themes of racism and otherness. But as I watched her sing about fantasies of being “de-greenified” and saw her attempts to play it cool as though she didn’t care about being different, I saw my own reflection.

Elphaba’s experiences felt achingly familiar. She has a speech prepared for the inevitable moment when she meets someone new—a way to explain her very existence because she knows people will ask, will stare, will judge. This hit me as a burn survivor. Every scene I watched felt like reliving pieces of my own childhood.

I remembered entering a new school where everyone stared and the questions came, blunt and raw. I remembered being liked by teachers for caring about schoolwork but struggling to make age-appropriate friendships. I remembered the popular girl who pretended to be my friend, only to make fun of me or “help” in ways that fed her savior complex.

Even Elphaba’s heartbreak was familiar: liking someone only to see them claimed by the prettier, more socially accepted girl. I wasn’t that girl, ever. And then there was the isolation from my own family—not because they didn’t love me, but because they could never fully understand. How could they?

Elphaba was green. I was marked with burn scars. We weren’t that different.

When I was a child, I too would fantasize about a powerful entity that could take my scars away. I, too, would act like I didn’t care, as if trying to trick the universe into making it happen faster. I, too, shied away from opportunities, feeling unworthy. And, like Elphaba, I slowly built my confidence from the ground up, helped along by the arrival of true friends—though they didn’t stay forever, and their loss hurt deeply.

By the time Elphaba sang “The Wizard and I,” I was already crying. I had never expected a film to reflect my inner world so profoundly. Sitting alone in the cinema, I felt grateful—not just for the movie itself, but for the space it gave me to process my emotions.

But it was during “Defying Gravity”, her battle cry, filled with sorrow and defiance, that felt like my own, when I truly broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Watching Elphaba declare her independence, her refusal to conform or apologize for who she was, struck me in a way I didn’t think possible. In that moment, I felt completely seen and represented—not just by the story, but by the rawness of her journey. It wasn’t a perfect parallel to my own life, but the emotions—the pain, the power, the triumph—felt universal.

For the first time, I saw a character whose struggles and victories reflected my own in such an unflinching way. This was the perfect film for my first solo theater experience. It reminded me that I can cry without shame. That I can find strength in my scars. That I, too, am powerful enough to defy gravity, rise above my scars, and soar into the western skies.