#this much i do remember poem

[inthevintagekitchen]

Reading While Eating: Seven Favorite Books Discovered in 2023

Just in time, before we say goodbye to 2023, I didn’t want the year to leave without posting the annual recommended book list that has become a favorite here on the blog. This year’s selections center around nature, literary figures, artists, the art of collecting, and the curation of home in all the ways that make it personal and unique. As is the way every year, these books were randomly…

[improvapocalyps]

You have 90 minutes to complete. (original poem: r.a.)

In participation of the MCYT Recursive Exchange 2024 hosted by @mcytrecursive!

Inspired by know that all my love will be your breath (i will save you when your lights go out)

[text under cut]

1. Have you ever been in love? (Please circle your answer.) a. It's me and him b. Our hearts beat in sync c. Our lives intertwined

2. Do you understand what you’ve done? (Please circle your answer.) a. I couldn't do anything b. I lost my balance c. I doomed us both

3. It's been god knows how long since you felt phantom hands on your neck and there is no one in sight. If you were soul-bound to him and both of you died at the same time then why are you still waiting in the void? Please answer clearly, in full sentences. (Not a correct answer：I just wanted to see him one more time).

4. Define two (2)： Fate | The feeling of his forehead against yours Curse | The moment you realise he isn't linked to you anymore

5. True or False： i. It was your fault. ii. You wish you had met him under different circumstances. iii. You can’t regret a single moment that you had him. iv. You would do it all over again if you could. v. It ended long before either of you said anything.

thumbnails:

sketch cover thing for imgur link:

[mothmandibles]

🇵🇸 May We Be Free, Together. One genocided peoples to another. We stand with Palestine, now and forever. 🇦🇲

Care for Gaza (Direct Paypal)

E-Sims for Gaza (Showing Where/How to give them)

Palestine Children Relief Fund

Medical Aid for Palestinians

Daily Click For Palestine (Help by at least clicking this daily, it may not be much but it counts for something at least.)

BDS's website, remember to follow the boycott.

[pencap]

A SIMPLE STORY

This story is as simple as can be. You were here and then you were not.

And all that happened in between was a secret for only you and me and now that you are no there it is a secret just for me and me alone.

And someday when I too am not here it will be a secret for the winds and the stars and the dust that became of our bones and nobody else.

- by sylvie (j.p.)

[simmyfrobby]

and someone will probably love you for who you are ... But for now, you have friends, who are not going anywhere. Please stay here.

― Prayer for Werewolves, Stephanie Burt

Hockey Poetry Post 50/?

(Photo credit: Sean M. Haffey, Debora Robinson, link, link, Derek Cain, Debora Robinson, link, Sean M. Haffey, Debora Robinson, Melissa Tamez, Tim Nwachukwu, Len Redkoles, Rich Graessle, Melissa Tamez, Sean M. Haffey, Debora Robinson, Emilee Chinn, Randy Litzinger)

[fleshadept]

[eyrieofsynapses]

good evening, all. it is May the 25th. our lilacs are blooming, just as the ones at the Watch House did. and I am thinking about remembrance of the fallen, and GNU, and the love in commemoration.

y'know, I read Night Watch… oh, maybe a year ago and some months ago. and the lilac symbolism, the remembrance of the Watch, has always struck me with the depth of the emotion of it, the tangibility of it in the flowers. but I wasn't aware that today was the day until I saw commemorative posts, all that gorgeous artwork and more, on my dash.

I was also not aware, until now, that fans commemorated the day not only because of the book reference, but in support of Terry Pratchett and of those with Alzheimer's. which knocked me over a bit because of course, of course the group that would use GNU to honor him would do that. and… I've been thinking about GNU a lot, lately, and this caught me again.

I read Going Postal a bit ago, and reread it recently. both times, the parts about GNU made me tear up. this idea of the names, the memories, the lives of the clacks workers who dedicated themselves to ensuring that people heard each other's voices—all those names spoken again and again and again by that which they poured their souls into, winging along in the air as they could not, an eternal reminder that they were loved—how could that not touch a person's heart?

when I found out that fans online used it to memorialize him, I damn well cried. hell, I still tear up just thinking about it. do you know, there's a code for an HTTP header "X-Clacks-Overhead: GNU Terry Pratchett" written by Reddit users to put in webpages, where it goes unseen by the average user? and in 2015, when Netcraft took a survey, there were eighty-four thousand websites using it? it's eight years later—how many thousands upon thousands of websites have this now, do you think? how many little cables of light has his name flown along, now? how many times?

that alone is absurdly and unimaginably lovely in its own right, but… there's something else to it. there's something about remembering with the lilac sprigs every year, just as Vimes and those who were there remembered their dead. something about how, when we take up our lilac sprigs, we carry a little piece of the characters in our hearts, too. I kept trying to put my finger on why that makes me tear up the way it does. the conclusion I came to is this:

what greater way to honor a writer is there, but to honor them the way they did the characters they poured their heart and soul into? what better way to say we know you and you are not forgotten and your work and words and gifts to the world are held in our hearts forever than to remember them by their own words, their own vision? how else could we say you embodied all the good you believed in and wished to see in the world, but to memorialize them after the little pieces of their soul they wrapped in ink and put upon the page?

it is a knowing of the writer, to remember them in their way. it is not a worn-out faceless platitude, but a reminder that their work has been read and will continue to be, that the characters and world they loved enough to bring to life last just as their name does. such remembrance is warm and loving and delights in their memory even as it grieves.

and now Pratchett's name has been written in his tradition, over and over and over, across the vast plane of the Internet, where it will—with any luck—continue to fly for generations to come.

there is no way to truly express the beauty of that… but perhaps we can catch a glimpse of it in the lilacs, both ours and the Watch's.

[faaun]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

[dootznbootz]

Odypen definitely and equivalently adore each other BUT I weirdly can't see them as the type to actually say "I Love you".

They still definitely vocalize their love for each other but it's more so in "My Joy", and "Extraordinary Woman", "Strange Woman/Man", etc. And very cheesy lines (both say some cheesy shit in the Odyssey, and he definitely does in the Iliad as well. "Joy like a drowning sailor seeing land" bit???)

I could see "I adore you" but even then, that's probably during very specific moments but the actual "I love you"??? I just typed it just now for fic shit and... It weirdly just didn't feel right and I don't know why. 😅

Idk maybe it's kind of because I see them as over the top in ways, they love wordplay and riddles and I think they'd almost think "...That's not good enough >:( " about it??? I don't know???😂

[trainingdummyrabbit]

maybe we'll try again next time.

[magdaclaire]

starshine, a poem about my girlfriend @legalespeon

to cait: you're my favorite. to everyone else: hope you enjoy.

transcript under the cut or in the alt text image descriptions.

signed,

m a morton

i told her once that meeting her was like turning the lights on

and i don't know if there's any better way to describe it 

how else can i say that it feels like she reached into me and pulled every good thing about me back into the light

reminded me that there's more to this house than the shadows and the gloom

the creaking staircases and drafty windows

that she spilled color back into the world

or maybe she just reminded me to look for it

she opened the front door and the handle didn't even stick

didn't even catch on the swollen door frame

storm damaged in more ways than one

nobody's ever done it like her

people have shouldered through the door and they've climbed through windows

they've left the first time they were denied entry, 

mistaken the hesitance for occupancy,

it didn't even hesitate for her 

like the door was made for her to walk through.

meeting her was flicking on a gas stove

tick, tick, tick, catch,

the potential was always there,

stored energy waiting to be sparked into a flame,

i've cooked more in the months since i met her than i had in the previous two years.

every day, we do the connections together

that new york times game, something i would have never gotten into without her

i only like doing wordle with her

i get bored otherwise,

too caught up in my head to even stay focused on a game you only get six tries to get right

so why do i feel so perfectionist about it anyway

but that's not the point.

the point is that things are more fun when i can hear the sound of her laugh

i've always hated looking at menus but it's fun when she's telling me all the things she wants to try

when she's looking at restaurants in my hometown and curious about the brussel sprout salad

(which, of course, i order)

we looked through the attraction pages of three zoos together

we've contemplated dates in my hometown

the place she used to live

the place she's moved to now

the city where i stay when i'm with my brother

every place i am, i want her to be

i wanna see my comfortable places through her bright eyes

see how my girl sheds starlight, pixie dust from her fingertips

her delighted laughter, her open excitement,

i want to take her to every nook and cranny of childhood i have left in this world

let her know the creature consigned to this body

how it has come to heel beneath her gaze

how deeply and embarrassingly and ardently she's been needed for longer than i've known her.

she worries she doesn't help me as much as i help her

as if that worry in itself isn't more care than any partner has ever treated me with

like there isn't care in every look she regards me with

as if i haven't slept better since meeting her than i have in years.

and it can be said,

hey man you met her in the same time as getting on some new meds, maybe correlation isn't causation?

the new antidepressant is called auvelity and it started working before i ever knew her name

gave me energy again and the ability to cry and i started cooking again

day by day wasn't a slog for the first time in years and i hadn't felt that good since high school

(as fucking terrible as high school was).

the whole world still dim like milky twilight, damp with humidity

the frogs and the crickets so loud (or maybe the walls so thin) that you can hear them standing in the center of the house.

the lights didn't turn on without her.

she wraps joy around me like a borrowed coat, sits me down in the living room and tells me about the future,

and for the first time, i can picture one with me in it

for the longest time that idea was so vague to me

the abstraction from self it took to imagine survival past day by day by unforgiving day

with her, i can imagine turning 25

26, 31, 45 

if she's there, i want to be there too

and that's a lot to put on someone's shoulders

and i cannot be one more burden in her Atlas sky hands.

she'd tell me that i am not burdening her but stepping shoulder to shoulder with her, bearing the weight together

or she would tell me that i'm one of the reasons that all this tension is worth carrying

or she'd tell me that she's tired,

that she'd like to let go of the world and lay down with me,

and i would grab her hand and smile,

say fuck the world, come home with me

and in this imagining within an imagining

i picture how carefully she would set down the sky,

like placing a child back onto their feet

and how this is how she does everything,

with so much care it makes your chest ache

makes your eyes hurt

starlight girl supernova bright in my mind's eye,

my heartbeat catching on the lines of her smile.

sometimes, she and i sit looking at each other through cameras and phones and hundreds of miles

and i feel closer to her than any lover to ever touch my skin

there was an ocean between us and still that was true

four hours time difference we still found a way

i don't know what to do with a partner that actually thinks i'm worth the effort.

pushed out to sea by every moment i'm not with her,

pulled back in by the tide of her breathing,

my starlight girl moon in the sky,

and i the wrong kind of cosmonaut but enamored anyway,

there's not a way i can imagine this where i don't want to follow where she goes.

she's got one of those gaming computers with lights where lights truly do not have to be

it's colorful and whimsical and i'm sure that there's functional purpose

i want to build her the world with my own two hands but i imagine a computer like that might be easier

circuits and wires and logic and programming and ducks, from what i hear

i've never been for going about things the easy way anyway.

that's the scariest thing sometimes,

how easy things are with her

i'm used to loving folks like pulling teeth from my own mouth

service comes easy to me, gifts i can make,

but expressing love aloud has never been easier than when i'm pushing it past her lips

pouring love into her with lip and teeth and tongue

whisper her my love affair fire with smoke passed between our mouths

she breathes me in and i am taken in,

perfect and peaceful.

i'll never stop wondering why

she chose me but i'll choose her back every day if she'll let me

my sunshine, my north star

everything i need.

once, i told her that talking to her helps,

but I think I'll miss her til I have her in my hands, and every time she's not after that too

she says to me you say the most romantic shit sometimes,

asks me if she's supposed to  be normal about it,

as if making her feel that way isn't the goal of my every sentence;

letting her know how special she is through words alone is impossible

but sometimes I get close.

sometimes i think she can feel just how badly I need her,

split seconds of oh, you love me flash of recognition on her face

as if loving her wasn't what I was made for,

as if the sound of her laugh isn't music to me,

as if I don't hang off her every story time run-on sentence,

her unique ability to circumnavigate her point so much that it's like she's telling ten stories at once,

I love that about her.

I love the way she needs me to know every single detail and every single reason and how she knows him and how they know them,

how she invites me into the house of her soul just as easily as the door opened to her,

I love how much she trusts me.

I love trusting her just as much.

my good morning texts to her always start the same way

good morning, starshine! the sun says hello!

a bastardization misremembrance of something my mother quoted to me as a child that tastes like home on my tongue,

the home I provide to her will always live more on love than anything else,

and as well as I can, I won't let her be lonely in the home we share.

I was a lonely kid, in a way

in the textbook for the psychology class I took the semester before I met her

there was a small definition of what autism is, which began with

autism is a disorder characterized by extreme aloneness,

the goal here to be able to communicate exactly how much people like me live in our heads more than our homes,

open door and song birds singing,

and i don't think i've ever looked into a two way mirror and saw myself so profoundly as in that simple sentence,

that deep well of loneliness bubbling within me so suddenly.

i've never liked learning new things in public

it takes me time to adjust to information, to incorporate things

i can play a good game when it comes to the gambit of conversation

adapt as quickly as i can and keep quiet while things slide into place in my mind

i've never met someone more understanding of the oddities in me than she is

never been able to ask for the space she gives me naturally

slow but not far

an arms length intimacy that we close the distance of when we're both ready,

i wonder if she loves figuring me out as much as i love the vice versa,

standing in that push and pull of learning every single thing about her,

letting the ocean tide bite at my ankles just for the pleasure of standing in the sea spray,

i've always loved the water but never like this.

my love for her ocean vast and trench deep,

i have no idea how to end a poem about her

i'll spend the rest of my life with her

and i still don't think i'll ever be able to properly form the words,

tell her exactly how much she means,

how much i need her.

so instead, i'll prop the door open

write her poem after poem after poem of hello i love you,

good morning, i love you

how did you sleep, i love you

did you get something to eat, i love you

drink some more water, i love you

let me take care of you, i love you,

and i will take her hand and i will give her the keys, say

this house is yours now

i know you'll treat it well.

[rowanisawriter]

i cant believe hollywood fumbled troy so badly lmfao they will never spend the money on a project like that again so we only had that one chance at an epic iliad movie and fucked it with homophobia and “realism” with no gods come on. if I could go back in time and change one event it would be to line up the producers of that film and shoot them myself

[loveephia]

[lotrmusical]

My high school did a yearly poetry recitation contest (Poetry Out Loud), so Oh Boy do I know some poems. My favorites are Ozymandias and "the world is about to end and my grandparents are in love," by Kara Jackson. Also in 8th grade we had a Poe unit and had a class contest to make the best music video of the Raven, so I still know a good chunk of that.

i hadn't heard of the kara jackson one! just read through it and enjoyed it, particularly these lines > 'grandma returns to her love like a hymn, marks it with a color. // when the world ends will it suck the earth of all its love? /will i go taking somebody’s hand, / my skin becoming their skin?'

[inertia-writes]

dehradun days

you meet them for the first time,

knowing it's probably the last.

might as well make the most of this time,

since life comes at you fast.

you find the strangest of signals

in the no-network zones.

cross-tent communication with folks,

just rambling about the unknown.

there's the warmth of shared laughter,

that carries you through freezing nights,

and you look up at the flickering stars,

to finally see things in a different light.

and at 11,000 ft above sea level

you finally reach the peak,

just to realise the joy was in the journey,

and the friends you made that week.

you'll visit caves & splendid cafes,

and remember the city in mere parts,

but years later, you'll still tell everyone,

how dehradun captured your heart.

[moe-broey]

What if.. for the first time in actual years.... I changed my loadbearing Alfonse phone background to North South FUCK West.........

It will have to get a good grade in being easy on the eyes though, to stay. BIGGEST reason loadbearing Alfonse phone bg was a mainstay was bc the nighttime pallette on that one FEH comic panel was unexpectedly autism-friendly as a nice bonus LMFAO