#original poets on tumblr

[helpallthenamesaretakenblog]

Enjoy this random poem I wrote in school!

They'll stand between night and day,

And wish for a home where their heart'll stay

And I shall say:

We were born travellers, born to roam;

No town or city my whole heart'll hold.

No land my feet will belong,

As long as they move along,

Past the fires in many a warm hearth:

In this one land that we call Earth.

[inbtwner]

if someone told me they loved me every 5 minutes, i think i’d live forever

[jessicaherrerawrites]

- Jessica Herrera

[todayontumblr]

Monday April 17.

National Haiku Poetry Day.

Sometimes less really is more. And other times a lot less is a lot more. Which is why today, this Monday April 17, we are joining in the celebrations for National Haiku Poetry Day, as devised and implemented by The Haiku Foundation back in 2012. Because things don't get a lot more more for a lot less less than the old art of Haiku, in which a frog leaping in a pond, the profundity of a drop of few, the light of a candle, a blooming poppy, a howling wind, or the taste of rain can be distilled and expressed with such compelling and elusive intrigue—and such economy of words. These are works which require very little time at all in the act of reading, but sit and linger and echo for a long time thereafter. They resonate, in the truest sense of the word. Tumblr being Tumblr, the writing community here is home to more than a few talented Haiku poets, as you can see for yourself over at #haiku poetry. 

And Tumblr being Tumblr, of course, this community is home to one particular talent notable in the art of Haiku: @the-haiku-bot, a bot which, in their own words: "Beep boop! I look for accidental haiku posts. Sometimes I mess up." This is a bot that can prise moments of poetry from even the most innocuous post, and, we would contend, makes the perfect way to celebrate #haiku poetry and today's national commemoration. Trans sex? 17 syllables? Your aunt? Long rants? The Turing test? There is nothing—nothing—this mysterious little bot cannot accomplish. 

[divinationdrawings]

"Fair wreathed Kytherea"

-Hesiod's Theogony, Gany translation

Aphrodite of the golden crown

The lustrous hand mirror

Seafoam from the cosmos rains down

The mist grows clearer

Kytherea blew in

From warm Cyprus winds

Enchanting the Seamen and Seafarers

I hope you enjoyed today's tale of legend and lore, come back next week and there will be even more

[itcamefrombeneaththeblog]

Dreams of a Soul Mate

As a boy I dreamed about this girl,

As a man she asked me why I still hadn't found her

Endless summers in my mind, mere seconds of time

I can picture your face now

They say we can't do that in dreams

I've looked for you my whole life, and only traces of her

I find in others

It's driven me a bit sad, because you're my soulmate

You told me so

So, where are you?

You told me you loved me,

Is love so fleeting even in dreams?

Sentimental metaphors

Flowery speech to impress upon depth

Meaningless bullshit.

I'm sad goddammit. And I don't feel like sugarcoating that in pretty

Language that softens the impact of my desperate need.

Alone. Loneliness causes a grand chasm pit to

Form in my stomach,

In my heart

In my soul.

I am so lost, for your face remains the same, grown only in

Beauty and desire radiantly beckoning like a lighthouse.

But never do I see the jagged rocks around you.

A warning.

I found her. She told me where to go.

The abandoned factory outside of I-60,

A rust mausoleum of prosperity.

Fitting.

Stupid.

Foolish.

My heart is all those things.

For you.

There she is.

Can't you see her?

Standing in the doorframe.

Black mold lines her pathway.

Decay becomes renewed, its smell pungent like death.

"I've waited so long." The shadow croaks, a voice like

Ice cracking

A voice catching in the throat

A storm.

My feet move, unburdened by thought.

Desire overwhelms.

There she is.

Can't you see her?

Please don't forget to leave your thoughts and comments and engage with me!

[lonelyfrenchpoet]

I was just a kid

I was just a kid.

I wasn't supposed to see that.

I wasn't supposed to do that.

I wasn't supposed to feel that.

I wasn't supposed to hear that.

I was just a kid.

By Val (22.03.22)

[oublieette]

I want to run into the woods and never return. To escape from the chains of my humanity and simply become one with nature.

[queen-of-empathy]

[primroselilac]

I realized that I am always in love, but never loved.

[slowfalter]

I tried to write a love letter to my body

For therapeutic purposes

But I wasn’t ready

I cannot see the beauty

In all the things you do for me

I would be lying if I said

Your thighs don’t kind of scare me

But I don’t have hate for you

More just unfair expectations

I wish I could feel differently

Dear body,

I’m afraid I still don’t love you

But truly, I am sorry.

[dame-nostalgique]

Until Morning; Learning to get over pain 🕊️

[lovelornnn]

[todayontumblr]

Thursday, July 13.

tumblr poetry smackdown.

Art is not a competition.

Only this is not true. Art absolutely is a competition; it's a brutal, bloodbath of a contest. But best of all? You've won. Yes. You. Nope, not she, they, or he, not the other schmucks reading this. You. You're reading this for a reason, and one reason alone. It's because you, my friend, are the champion. You would keep on fighting until the end, but this simply isn't necessary. The end is already here, and it is here because you won. You have officially won art. You're simply the best. Better, in fact, than all the rest. Everyone else can just pack up and go home because you have completed the game, beaten every single boss level.

How does it feel? Once you get to the top, you realize there is nothing there, or so the old saying goes. Well, not true for you, friend, because you've reached the top and it is excellent. You have climbed to the summit of art, and now you cast your victorious gaze and survey all that lies before you, over at the many you have defeated along the way. Their heads will hang mighty fine on your dining room wall (they won't be dead and decapitated of course, that would just be weird. No, they will just kneel and insert their heads through head-shaped holes in the wall whenever you're dining.)

At risk of laboring to the point, you won art, and the crown and cape of victory suit you mighty fine. However, the race for second place is heating up, and @poetrysmackdown is here to provide the competition. 

[aslisjournal]

Asli Hersi, “In death I will know”

[zainabelmeziani]