#Great poem btw

[mugglesauce]

.

[fallentheatre]

each other's world, torn apart

minecraft end poem as a conversation between two broken brothers.

(@hoverboards-and-dragons heyyyyy)

[samglyph]

You want a better story. Who wouldn’t?

[ID: A dark, monochrome digital sketch of Arthur Lester as he is bleeding out. Arthur is half-lying on the ground with his shirt off while John's shadowy humanoid figure holds him. Arthur's left hand is clenched with John's over a grievous stomach wound while John buries his entire face in Arthur's shoulder. Arthur is saying, "We've had worse," with a shaky smile, while John repeats "No no no no no no NO NO NO NO" with increasing emphasis. End ID] (ID from @genderfluid-druid)

[velaraffricate]

kaiaŋ! this is the script for my new conlang din ɛgwa :D it's written top to bottom, left to right. everything is connected, so you could technically write an entire book in one long line if you had a really long strip of paper. theres a round and an angular version.

(<gw> is /gʷ/, <y> is /j/, <r> is /ɹ/, <VV> is /Vː/)

and here's a little text written in the script! at the points where one line ends and where another begins is a little dot to show continuity.

Translation under the cut! thanks for reading :)

What did this player dream? This player dreamed of sunlight and trees. Of fire and water. It dreamed it created. And it dreamed it destroyed. It dreamed it hunted, and was hunted. It dreamed of shelter. Does it know that we love it? That the universe is kind? Sometimes, through the noise of its thoughts, it hears the universe, yes.

wɛs obayarɨ raamsa sul? wɛs obayarɨ raamsa ug bɨgwɨniilwɔ yɛ ɔrewo. ug dɨrwɔ yɛ luuswɔ. din raamsa, ide din modena. yɛ din raamsa, ide din gwɨgna. din raamsa, ide din ebigna, yɛ ide din ebigsa. din raamsa ug ɨlsɨlaiwɔ. din ɔdiman ai, ide gom mɔnan din? ide wiisru naugwɔ? ins lɛbɛno, oden rugwu ug yawɔsɨwo ug dɨl, dim legwun wiisru, mai.

[krash-8]

i swear if the art teacher doesn't fucking turn off radiohead

[atlantis-just-drowned]

a mockingbird original

Decay comes for us all

Even for the doll

United in the soil

Our one true foil

The worms must eat

They can't cheat

They will join us

Without a fuss

We all share this end

Even you friend

There is peace in decay

So I will see you at the bay

I will see you at the bay,

My precious friend

For my own end

I can't delay

Always I must

Walk through the dust,

Admire life and love and joy

And join you, dearest

In your final place of rest

[rainingincale]

Alice Walker, from "The Future Captured in a Heartless Fist", Taking the Arrow Out of the Heart

*in addition to this post quoting James Baldwin*

[splendidemendax]

look i try to be chill and normal abt the fact that people have different tastes in poetry bc god knows there are enough generally well-regarded poets whose works i'd rather light on fire than read, but i just saw this review of one of my all time fav poetry collections that claimed it was so bad it was Proof Positive that people with phds can't write poetry and also that academia is bullshit and i am feeling Bitey.

(also, and this is not the point, but part of the critique was that the collection was about a "boring moron contrast[ing] his life with Shakespeare" and like. i am so sure that this is not about the poet's Actual Real Life for many reasons, among them the fact that this collection heavily features a talking fucking horse. did you think that this man met an actual talking fucking horse at a house party. is that what you think happened. Blake From The US i just wanna talk.)

[yourlocalmissingtexture]

Edgy longing/lovelorn poem from three years ago (Nov. 10, 2020) ayeeee

The Fool

What nerve you have!

To long after he

That drinks the joy of a thousand poppies

While you offer but your heart,

A joy in which he must open not his veins,

But his mind to understand.

[dandelionsinthepavement]

I'm sorry mother.

I'm too loud again. I'm talking too much. I got so dramatic- I apologise.

I'm too quiet. I was worried I'd say something you dislike, again. I'll stop overthinking, Yes. Of course. I'm sorry.

I couldn't find my shirt- Yes. I'm sorry for taking too long. I'm sorry. For being selfish- Yes, I know.

No, no I won't. Don't worry. You said you wouldn't like it. I'd never go against you. I swear, mum.

Sorry you didn't notice. It's not your fault. I'm sorry, I love you, I promise mom.

I'm sorry you didn't notice in time. Sorry you didn't care all that much.

I'm sorry I'll never be good enough. Or get the chance to.

I'll miss you. I apologise for making you miss me.

[anxsity]

Mary Oliver, "Snow Geese"

[diamondnokouzai]

i do not believe nostradamus predicted hitler.

[vamptoll]

Fair lovely Maid, or if that Title be

Too weak, too Feminine for Nobler thee,

Permit a Name that more Approaches Truth:

And let me call thee, Lovely Charming Youth.

-Excerpt from "To the fair Clarinda, who made love to me, imagin'd more than woman" by Mrs. B. (aphra behn)

[vulpinesaint]

every day i want to make a little instagram poetry account but there is so much i would have to do with that. for instance rebrand everything. dfjghs

[vergess]

Literally someone else's anon asking the most casual conceivable question: Everyone should have a favorite poet!!

My social anxiety for no reason whatsoever: OH GOD OH NO WE WERE SUPPOSED TO CARE THAT MUCH OH NO WE CAN'T EVEN REMEMBER THE WORDS TO OUR FAVOURITE POEM AND IT'S A FUCKING HAIKU WE'RE GOING TO DIE

[songofwizardry]

from Filling Spice Jars as Your Wife, by Kai Coggin

“We have all our doors and windows open and I am pouring spices into glass jars, coriander cinnamon cumin ground sage and it’s hard to describe this moment in the confines of a page, tiny hills of vibrant color and intoxicating fragrance and you hear the cadence of my heart from the kitchen.”