#the hunger games poem

[riddles-n-games]

Wandering Soul, Forever Free

I know where all roads lead

And none of them lead to you.

I have to leave

Though my heart may weep;

You’re no good for me

So to the north I flee.

You’ve ruined me for others

But I’ll still get the last laugh, you’ll see

Because whenever you go to sleep

I will haunt you in your dreams.

And when the rebellion stands

Against your command

You’ll see me in the face of the front

Knowing that I was also one.

They’ll sing my songs 

Until your ears bleed.

And maybe you didn’t know

But I was just planting their seeds.

I’m sorry, I guess I could’ve warned you

But you should have seen the signs,

After all, you’re a remnant from the start of those times. 

Despite your name, you’re not white as snow.

Your soul? The blackest coal.

And your heart is certainly not made of gold.

A rose’s thorns too long that pierces hope’s buds

A pile of snow drenched in the reddest blood.

Maybe you were once, pure as the driven snow

But now you’re just the snake who poisoned the songbird

And the poison is your word

For you were never true

But I guess that’s a fault we both carry; I know I do.

We are alike, you and I

I knew you had secrets, you saw through my lies.

Yet we circled each other in this twisted dance

Waiting for one to break the trance.

We both had our ways of being vile

But did our love have to be just a trial?

Why did we have an end

After all the rules we had to bend?

You gave me a guitar so I could pluck its strings

While you pulled mine to make ends meet.

Yet, once I sang, you broke my chains 

And sent me back home on a train.

Then, you came to me by day

But by night you showed me your true ways.

I knew I had to make my choice. I told you there was a line and you chose to cross

But you wouldn’t come back 

And all I had left was my voice.

So I sang you one final song and it rang in the distance

Following you to the Capitol to never let you forget what you witnessed.

So even if snow falls and lands on top

I’ll be the bird that makes the first prints 

Because when you topple, you’ll go silently

But I’ll signal my triumph all throughout. 

We met at a hanging tree

At dawn, not midnight

You didn’t call out for me to flee

But I had to since your destruction you could not see

And yes, I do still remember those three men

They may have been your beginning

But I was always going to be your end.

There’s a reason you made me victor

We’re kindred spirits and we both have fangs in our mouths.

But one has talons and a beak,

The other, a long body and no feet.

I flew though you were never stranded

It’s just, you never knew how to be mended.

I wished for you to follow 

But your pride you couldn’t swallow

So I went from this place 

Because we would have never won that race

Even though you gave chase.

I made my peace 

You were never meant for me

But your betrayal, I could never release.

You had chances but never chose wisely

So why should I let you be 

When you created more civil unrest

And for 65 years, let children become murderers 

Just for one of them to be the best.

There’s a reason why first is the worst 

Especially when you sit with the weight of 23 on your chest.

You put a worth on others because you’ve never known yours

And gave the districts their lores 

To finally put you out of your rosy misery.

I warned you,

I’ll find my way through history

In much the same way I carry on as a mystery

For you know what I am,

I told you many times before,

A wandering soul, forever free

Like a mockingjay singing in the trees.

[homosherb]

[alicentshair]

My beloved, My own, Do not demand the love I gave you once. — Faiz Ahmed Faiz

[caesarflickermans]

doomed by the narrative /

[friendship-ditch]

Your muse

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: Your girlfriend Katniss loves to read your poems, so you write one just for her.

Warnings/Note: None! As fluffy as Katniss’s hair

Word Count: 1386

The house was quiet with the new morning, the only consistent noise being the gentle patter of rain on the windows and the soft scratch of a pencil. Somewhere in the kitchen the sink dripped.

You were sitting at the desk in the study, notepad on the surface and pencil in hand. You were scribbling light words across the paper and humming softly. When the words stopped coming to you, you would doodle for a few moments until they came back.

The front door cracked open and you heard the stomp of wet boots being abandoned by the doorway.

“I’m back!” Katniss called in a soft tone. You could hear her walk into the kitchen and set something on the table, most likely some bird. “Y/n?”

“In the study!” You called back. Normally you’d get up and rush over to her but the waterfall of words was pouring from your brain to the paper and you didn’t want to lose it.

Katniss chuckled from the kitchen. Soon she came into the room, her wet hair free from its braid and her shirt a little damp from the rain. She’d discarded her jacket and cleaned up a little though there was a smudge of dirt across her forehead.

“New work?” Katniss stood behind your chair, her hands on your shoulders. She peered at the paper which you promptly covered and pushed away.

“Nu-uh, it’s not good.” You tilted your head back, looking up at her. The two of you exchanged a gentle kiss.

With a soft sigh, Katniss leaned against your chair a little more, arms sliding around your neck in a gentle embrace. “Come on.” She whined. Her fingers raked through your hair in loving strokes and she rested her chin on top of your head. “You know I love your work.”

“You love the final draft. I never let you see the work-in-progress version because it’s shit.” You said. You planted your hand firmly overtop the paper. “Plus, this one’s special.”

“Special?”

“Yeah.”

“Well now I’m even more intrigued.” Katniss kissed the top of your head. “Come on, come lay in the living room.”

With a roll of your eyes and a smile, you grabbed your notepad and followed Katniss out toward the living room. You plopped down on the couch and got settled while Katniss changed her shirt. Thunder had started to rumble outside and the rain was coming down a little harder.

You picked the notepad up and flipped to a new page. Nothing you wrote down was exactly what you wanted or nearly as perfect as you had hoped. You couldn’t show it to Katniss like this, not yet.

Katniss came back in a dry t-shirt, though her hair was still damp. She nudged your hands from the pillow in your lap and laid her head there instead.

“How was hunting?” You smiled down at her, setting the paper aside and tucking the pencil behind your ear. You moved one hand to stroke her damp hair, pulling a few leaves out and craning through the dark locks to work out the knots from her early morning hunt.

Katniss relaxed under your touch, eyes fluttering shut for a moment.

“It was alright…” she mumbled softly, content under your touch. “The woods are slippery in heavy rains like this, I nearly fell into that stupid ravine again.” She chuckled, laying off your concern with a shake of her head. “One of my snares caught the pheasant.”

You smiled once more, moving your hand from the end of her hair up to her scalp, still stroking like you would a cat. Katniss let out a soft purr-like noise as if to play along with your thoughts and the two of you giggled.

“I was worried. I woke up and you were gone.” You scolded her in an affectionate tone. “Or… you left earlier than usual, at least.”

“I wanted to beat the rain, I wasn’t so lucky.” Katniss flipped so she was laying on her back and looking up at you with warm gray eyes. She reached a gentle hand up and brushed her fingers against your cheek. “You’re not mad, are you?”

“Oh, I’m pissed.” You shook your head with a teasing smile, setting your palm on the side of her face in return. You wiped the dirt smudge from her forehead. “No, I’m not mad. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

Katniss grinned a little. “I’m fine. But I’d be better if you’d show me that poem you’re working on.” She said.

“Come on, Katniss, it’s awful.” You shook your head once more, gently pressing your finger into the tip of her nose, then just gently trailing your thumb down the side of her nose and under her eye. “Art takes time.”

“Nothing you make is awful.” She insisted, shaking her head. “Just let me see, maybe I can help.”

You both laughed at that.

Although Katniss was amazing at speeches and using the right words to motivate others, she wasn’t the best at using her words for things other than that, especially not art.

“Not yet.” You replied. “Patience, Katniss.”

“Ugh, you’re so stubborn.” She complained and rolled over to lay on her stomach again, burying her face into the pillow in your lap.

You chuckled again and ruffled her hair. You placed the notepad on her back and started writing once more, a sudden wave of inspiration hitting you.

About an hour later, you finally finished. You tore the paper out of the notepad and reread it with a proud smile.

Katniss, who had fallen asleep, stirred awake at your sudden movement. She blinked sleepily at you, those gray eyes of hers full of curiosity.

“Did you finish?” She asked, voice still hoarse from sleep.

“Mhm..” You scanned the paper again as if you were a little hesitant. This poem was different from the other ones you’d written and you were a little nervous to share it with her.

Katniss sat up and when you were finally ready, gingerly plucked the paper from your hands.

You waited quietly as she read it.

This poem was about Katniss. You’d written about her a lot in your poetry but it was never very obvious or clear, usually just subtle hints. This time you didn’t bother to hide it in the subtext, it was clear as day. Katniss was always your muse and you figured it was time to let her know.

When she finished reading the poem, Katniss set it in her lap and read it once more, then set it aside so she wouldn’t wrinkle the delicate paper. Her hand wrapped around yours and her eyes sparkled with unshed tears.

“Y/n, I..” Her voice caught in her throat and she blushed at the little squeak that came out through her lips. Katniss had a hard time believing others even tolerated her, so to read what was essentially a profession of your love on paper was groundbreaking for her already fragile mind that you’d so carefully put back together.

Your cheeks flushed a light shade of crimson as well and you couldn’t help but smile. “Is.. it okay? Or is it too cheesy?”

“It’s perfect.” Katniss managed to say with a teary smile. She wiped her face and then just flung herself at you, arms catching around your torso and face burying into your chest. “It’s… it’s not true, but it’s perfect.”

You shook your head, laying down on the couch with her cradled in your arms. “It’s very true. Every bit of it.” You murmured, kissing her forehead and giving her a tight squeeze.

“You’re going to make me cry.” Katniss whimpered as if she wasn’t already crying. She tore her face from your shirt and looked up at you, face redder than before. “But… Thank you, y/n. I love you.”

“I love you too.” You murmured.

Once Katniss settled back down in the warmth of your embrace, she laid her head on your chest and smiled. Her fingers gently played with the fabric of your shirt as yours played with the now dry locks of her hair. The poem you’d written now lay beside your book of various others and your mind was already buzzing with all kinds of new ideas for poems for and about your best supporter.

[embeccy]

"Then be kind, Corio, and try not to look down on people who had to choose between death and disgrace."

- Suzanne Collins

[dark-academia-rambles]

On fucked up friendships

Requested by: @deckerstarareotp

"Ace of Spades" by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé // "Yellowjackets" on showtime // "Ace of Spades" by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé // "Romance 101" by Namsoo // "Crush" by Richard Siken // "Swimming pool" by The Front Bottoms // "Hunger games" by Suzanne Collins // Power Politics by Margaret Atwood

[odeonoud]

always — @odeonoud [inspired by the hunger games; katniss & peeta]

[tetheredfeathers]

Midnight?

Your hands clenched mine like a vise,  

as I fed you, oh, so many lies.  

A shell-shocked lunatic, your only reprieve.

As they pried apart our tethered veins,  

my conscience recalled countless trains.  

Mingled breaths, over-looming threats,  

your skin, my sanctuary,  

mistook you for an accessory.

The day the parachutes rained,  

And her blonde curls burst into flames.  

You finally came, a spray of yellow petals,  

for her, you proclaimed.

Still, I must ask.  

Why must your windows be drawn at night?  

Is it to keep the harshest gales from consuming your might?  

Or is it to keep my ghastly skin out of sight?

Why must you add sugar to your tea,  

when you would drink it plain by the oak tree?

Why must your laces flap with your feet,  

as your double knots ensnare my throat,  

in utter conceit.

Why must your eyes beseech me with Sirocco winds,  

when they used to flow like Orinoco’s wings.

I had the sun, and still, I reached for the stars.

A foolish girl, with foolish spars.

When you didn’t come running back,  

I knew I’d fumbled with your life.  

I’d let you go at midnight,  

for that’s when the angels attacked.

So I must know,

To never see my pearl again.  

I watch as fragments of your heart return,  

you must know I was never a good bargain.

I yearn for the boy who pressed his hands against my thighs,

I let the silence of those nights suppress my desires.

I yearn, I yearn,  

For a mere reprieve.  

A way to turn back time,  

to find the boy who was once mine.

-H.K

So this poem was inspired by the line in MJ:

“You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.”

The poem is in Katniss’ pov. It mainly talks about her regrets of letting Peeta go in CF.

I was trying to explore Katniss’ emotion post war when she returned to district 12, i realized that Peeta was probably never the same again. I know he and Katniss grow back together as best they can however, she can never really get back same exact boy before the hijacking.

So she finds little changes he does in his routine like taking sugar in his tea or sleeping with the windows closed. This is obviously not to be taken literally, Peeta doesn’t necessarily do all these things. It’s just to explain the little changes Peeta goes through metaphorically. The poem might be a little exaggerated at some points but I couldn’t help it ig.

I haven’t picked a title yet so if anyone has any ideas pls feel free to tell me. Also feedback and constructive criticism always appreciated.

[sunsetschloe]

“Nothing you can take from me was ever worth keeping.”

--Lucy Gray, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

[candlelightkissess]

The sea sings a song

To remind her where home is

But salty air stings

[fantasybuff96]

“My love, you have my heart for all eternity. And if I die in that arena, my last thought will be of your lips.”

[theglamour-theterror]

[haymitch centric, from alex's pov]

and still, the blaring stage light

on your

back,

couldn't hide that smirk you

wore.

belittled, your spark trampled

you're more than just a memoir.

so

look here,

eyes up, quell's victor

i offer you

your fire.

[soleil-et-etoile]

the ballad of could have's

she was born to rainbow silks & a mother's faded music notes he was born to desperate politics & two hands full of roses she tried to teach her peace to a boy with war in his blood & cold cruelty in his bones the sheen of poison on his lips the warmth of spotlight on her skin they are the ballad of all the things that could have been

[emotional-motion-sickness]

cant catch me now by olivia rodrigo sounds like a poem turned into a song

like imagine this :

There's blood on the side of the mountain There's writing all over the wall Shadows of us are still dancin' In every room and every hall There's snow fallin' over the city You thought that it would wash away The bitter taste of my fury And all of the messes you made You think that you got away

But I'm in the trees, I'm in the breeze My footsteps on the ground You'll see my face in every place But you can't catch me now

OR IT COULD BE

But I'm in the trees I'm in the breeze My footsteps on the ground You'll see my face in every place But you can't catch me now Through wading grass, the months will pass You'll feel it all around I'm here, I'm there, I'm everywhere But you can't catch me now No, you can't catch me now

[aseelayelia99]

We Are Fine

If anyone asks, tell them we are fine.

Let them go back to drinking their wine.

We both know they don’t have a spine.

If they see the riots on the news,

Let them not of savagery us accuse.

Tell them it’s not the game of the hungry, but the fight of the ones with nothing to lose.

The revolution won’t be televised,

So don’t you stay silent when our demands are bastardized,

And don’t be surprised when your children are despised.

My friend, I ask of you as I lose my breathe,

Do not abandon our cause after my death.

A poem inspired by a writing prompt posted by @extraordinari1y-ordinary-writer