بَـــوحُ رُوحـــيِ

أنا كما أبدو لا خبايا تحيط بي ولا أشياء خفية تغلف حقيقتي..

[roimp]

[words-and-coffee]

I say book. I mean poem. I mean the way the landscape suddenly reveals itself in layers, a vertical light shining it’s connective beam from one moment to the next An entry into-an awareness of- a dimension always present. Not always seen. I think if I can keep myself alive to it, it will keep me from going under.

Heather Christle, The Crying Book

[weltenwellen]

Mary Oliver, from “Hum Hum”, A Thousand Mornings

[anditslove]

Andrea Gibson, Birthday

[soracities]

Ellen Bass, "The Thing Is"

[mournfulroses]

Sara Teasdale, from The Collected Poems of Sara Teasdale; "Song,"

[havingapoemwithyou]

wet evening in April by Patrick Kavanagh

[aseaofquotes]

John Irving, A Prayer for Owen Meany

[petaltexturedskies]

Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

[petaltexturedskies]

Vita Sackville-West, from Complete Works of Vita Sackville-West

[dailykafka]

- November 2, 1911

- The diaries of Franz Kafka, 1910-1913

[ID: November 2. This morning, for the first time in a long time, the joy again of imagining a knife twisted in my heart. End ID]

[shisasan]

𝙽𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟸, 𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟷 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟺-𝟷𝟿𝟸𝟹

[ID: November 2. Vague hope, vague confidence. END ID]

[shisasan]

𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟺, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟷 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶 -𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹

[ID. October 4. I feel restless and vicious. Yesterday, before falling asleep, I had a flickering, cool little flame up in the left side of my head. The tension over my left eye has already settled down and made itself at home. When I think about it, it seems to me that I couldn’t hold out in the office even if they told me that in one month I’d be free. And most of the time in the office I do what I am  supposed to, am quite calm when I can be sure that my boss is satisfied, and do not feel that my condition is dreadful. By the way, last night I purposely made myself dull, went for a walk, read Dickens, then felt a little better and had lost the strength for sorrow. I still regarded the sorrow as justified but it seemed to have withdrawn somewhat, I looked at it from a distance and therefore hoped for better sleep. It was a little deeper too, but not enough, and often interrupted. I told myself, as consolation, that I had indeed once more repressed the great agitation in me but that I did not wish to succumb at once, as I had always done in the past after such occasions; rather, I wished to remain entirely conscious to the final flutterings of that agitation, which I had never done before. Perhaps in this way I would find hidden steadfastness in myself. END ID]

[shisasan]

𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟿𝟹𝟹 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝙰𝚗𝚊𝚒̈𝚜 𝙽𝚒𝚗 𝟷𝟿𝟶𝟹-𝟷𝟿𝟽𝟽

[edwardian-masquerade]

[shisasan]

𝙾𝚌𝚝𝚘𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟺, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟷 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝙳𝚒𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝙾𝚏 𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚗𝚣 𝙺𝚊𝚏𝚔𝚊, 𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟶 -𝟷𝟿𝟷𝟹

[ID. October 4. I feel restless and vicious. END ID]

[petaltexturedskies]

The trees are in their autumn beauty, the woodland paths are dry, under the October twilight the water mirrors a still sky;

W.B. Yeats, from The Wild Swans at Coole in "The Collected Poems Of W.B. Yeats"

[lucidloving]

Hayao Miyazaki // Rainer Maria Rilke, "Letters to a Young Poet" // @mounaks

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

{Words by L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Avonlea/ Jacqueline Woodson, If You Come Softly}