do not stand at my grave and weep
i am not there; i do not sleep.
i am a thousand winds that blow,
i am the diamond glints on snow,
i am the sun on ripened grain,
i am gentle autumn rain.
when you awaken in
the mornings hush
i am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circling flight
i am the soft starshine at night.
do not stand at my grave and cry;
i am not there, i did not die.
55 notes
·
View notes
Forgive me: I am gloomy and boring.
Anna Akhmatova, The Complete Poems of Anna Akhmatova: Uncollected Poems and Fragments 1904-1917; from ‘Latest Letter’, tr. Judith Hemschemeyer
696 notes
·
View notes
Hello Tumblr. My name is Beverly and I am quite new to this. Hope to receive a warm welcome into this new community. I am a university student in a hustle-bustle city hoping to keep my spirit and desires alive. I indulge in a lot of things and would very much like to grow them with you!
My aesthetic appeal: Cottagecore,grunge,boss girl, old money, mystic.
I love to try out new food and recipes that I won't attempt in a long time. I love to watch videos of people cook and drool over my phone because I'm hungry most of the time.
I love cute animals☺️ Dogs,cats,squirrels,parrots, bears, snakes and lots more so keep the pictures coming.
I used to be a book lover and writer. The urge to create and dive right into the magic of books is still there but I haven't dealt with my procrastination. However, I write poetry and can't wait to share with y'all.
A huge over-thinker, hopeless romantic, artsy woman, dreamy dreamer, obsessed with skin-care, can't wait to get out of school tee-hee☺️, plant lover, nail lover, love yoga and a healthy health plan, love clean men and women, erotica, amateur Spanish speaker, fascinated with crocheting, effective hair products are the real deal, nature's representative, and yep...... Thank you for having me.
45 notes
·
View notes
The Rain
It shields us
From the rest of the world.
The pitter patter
Sounds like a drum
Drowning out
Everything else.
I can only taste
The sweet petrichor
Of your lips
As they touch mine.
I’m wet,
But not cold.
14 notes
·
View notes
He stares out at the clique he used to run, eyes unfocused. He only blinks when a laugh lightens the room, hitting him like the good stuff, the freshly rolled blunts he can't have anymore. It doesn't seem possible, that this girl is here, with the people he used to call his friends. She could have been his lover, in a different life. On a different midnight, if he hadn't run. Now they're nothing. And he isn't sure how to feel about it, so he laughs because that's better than admitting he feels this pain. It's better than losing her twice.
2 notes
·
View notes
also when i say 'recent' for that poem i mean like. a few months......i sadly havent written any poetry since school ended basically. actually not since exams started so not since may 😔
2 notes
·
View notes
Surely, they must know.
Surely, they must have known.
Riot and Fortiche.
They must have known.
When they designed him, wrote him, painted him, animated him. When they named him, a name so unique and ending in what can only be a loud declaration of pleasure.
They must have known.
The man they created.
And the lust he would inspire.
Surely, they must have known.
When they gave us Silco.
20 notes
·
View notes