#poem writing

[midsummer-nights-juliet]

I grabbed her waist

She took a gasp.

My fingers outlined her curves

She peeked from the corner of her eyes

And escaping my gaze

She fixed her head unto mine.

Her hair brushed my ear

As our bodies intertwined.

When finally our eyes met

She seemed to have realised

She had wanted this all along

With a different face she had fantasised

And i crashed onto her lips

Her breath, across my eyes

I held her face her neck her waist

I held it like it was all mine

Her eyes closed,

Mine had opened

Then breaking apart without goodbye

I had awoken.....

Midsummer Night's Juliet

[tealighttalks]

« je t’aime »

photo cred: m.blakeart on instagram

« je t’aime » sirius whispered down at the baby in the cradle who’s hair spiked up in all directions. « tu es très beau » and harry kicked his feet while sirius danced him around the house. « fière de toi » he gasped when harry finally walked. sirius whispered his love in french to harry. his harry. his beautiful, strong, silly godson.

the first time sirius saw the sunlight in years and all he could think of was his godson. je t’aime. je t’aime. je t’aime. and when he his arms wrapped around harry at last he whispered his mantra into harry’s ear « je t’aime »

and harry smiled.

[sunsetschloe]

Oh, but to be aware  of your warped vision of beauty,  and to still love the flightless butterflies  and cloudless skies Isn’t that beauty in itself?

--sunsetschloe

[reaching-verity]

The Young Man

Baseless arguements; How motorcars don't work on engines. Priceless explanations, On how Jesus is secretly Satan.

He talks of things he doesn't know. He thinks he has grown up. He spits 4 cusses in a row, Yet he thinks he's respectable.

Talks of ancient literature, 2 words he cannot spell. Jokes of 'pride' and womanhood, 2 words he is born to repel.

He is so brave; he is the victim. He is right, he's always right. He tries hard but cannot understand, This world of a woman's plight.

-from my pen Reaching Verity

[steamboat-baby]

oh to be loved in the way that hozier sings about loving a woman

i want to be your manic rhapsody

[terabyteunion]

What is this poem about? AKA: I Take You Down A Small Slightly Winding Un-Beta-Read Path Into Something Strange

[papercutplanes-cute]

"I'll be your princess if you'll wear the crown."

- 1:45 PM thoughts

[rickyboirocking]

Inktober day 1: “Open Wound” by Uttering

[etherdeath]

I'm so exhausted.

This body crumbles as I breath,

my lungs burn as I watch you go.

So full of energy,

I wish I still had

But even in my young years

Nothing will come even as close

To as feeling my own soul rot

In a body that will never

work properly.

[manderson1970060]

where water flows is where I’m most alive, to feel consciousness running through us, traversing eternal seasons in a glorious arc of time

[tealighttalks]

they have always circled each other like starving animals yearning for another meal. waiting for the other to flinch, to falter before they pounce. harry and tom are two sides of the same coin, saturated with poison.

the thing about hate is that its just as sickening and saccharine as love and no man can hold himself back forever. so they circle until their chance to tear each other apart.

they wait to ruin themselves.

[sunsetschloe]

free

they danced in the rain, laughing 

as the tears of heaven drifted 

amongst the joy

--chloe

[reaching-verity]

उनकी आँखों में इक चमक,

उनके लफ्जों में इक नमी है।

उनकी आवाज़ की वो खनक,

धीरे-धीरे खलने लगी है।

उनकी बातों से मन बहलने को,

जी बेतहाशा चाहता है

मगर इस ज़माने की बातों से

हमें फुरसत कहां मिली है...।

- मेरी अपनी कलम से

[poeticmika]

Echoes of Absence

My eyes bear the weight of sunken bags beneath them, each crease a testament to the sleepless nights spent thinking of you. How life has changed, how I have changed, and how I will forever miss you. My mood has plummeted, so deeply down. I try to wear a happy face, and for a fleeting 60 seconds, I succeed. Then, I catch sight of a tree you would have admired, hear a song we would have shared, or smell a dish you loved, and I am transported back to the moment I learned of your departure. Cradled on the floor, engulfed in sorrow for you. 

This month, every day in it, I've counted down to your birthdate. I knew you didn't like anyone making a fuss over it, but I loved making a fuss over you every year. I'd annoy you for weeks on end about it, I'd send you gifts you hated receiving, but I think secretly you loved. Now it's here again, and I can't message you, I can't call you, I can't send you a sneaky pork roll, or collection of photos of trees I thought you'd like, the ones I've been collecting for the past few months.

Happy Birthday, Love. I miss you.

[steamboat-baby]

the one that does the breaking

my heart carries no walls only a small warning sign carved into the dust by the last one left to die there are no guns drawn or weapons aimed i welcome you with open arms i don't hold weapons around my heart i let you in and leave you there stranded.

[catra-writes]

pretty

slow, quiet words dripping with a feeling, a tone cascading from every letter uttered out of their lips

a visceral reaction towards the melodic sound of their voice slipping passed the veil of glass separating them like a wall between two completely different worlds

their relationship was comparable to that of the vast ocean and expansive stars. the calm yet strong pull and sway of the moving of the tides and the soft, comforting, guiding yet eerie light of the midnight moon.

on their own they were strong and independent. they were mesmerizing individuals, but together they created a scene that was beyond pleasing to the eye, a visual that blossomed new urges and desires unseen, unthought of before. together they stirred the most tasteful disasters in the minds of those who despised them and awoken the most blissful in those who admired them.

together they were simply, in but a single word, pretty.