art and my tears and me

hello ciara here! this blog is art wrapping around my heart, and occasionally squeezing a little too hard. all my blogs and all my writing

[feral-ballad]

Kate Baer, from And Yet: Poems; “Idea”

[Text ID: “I will enjoy this life. I will open it like a peach in season, suck the juice from every finger, run my tongue over my chin. I will not worry about clichés or uninvited guests peering in my windows. I will love and be loved. Save and be saved a thousand times. I will let the want into my body, bless the heat under my skin. My life, I will not waste it. I will enjoy this life.”]

[metamorphesque]

musings on memory

Jane Hirshfield, Marie Howe, Yakov Kapkov ("Achilles with the body of Patroclus"), Vincent van Gogh, Jean Joseph Taillason ("Achilles Displaying the Body of Hector at the Feet of Patroclus"), Sonia Sanchez, Madeline Miller, Nikolai Ge ("Achilles and the body of Patroclus"), Ocean Vuong, Gavin Hamilton ("Achilles Lamenting the Death of Patroclus"), Haruki Murakami

[apoemaday]

An Epilogue

by John Masefield

I have seen flowers come in stony places And kind things done by men with ugly faces, And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races, So I trust, too.

[derangedrhythms]

Charles Simic, Selected Poems 1963-2003; from ‘My Shoes’

TEXT ID: And the strange church I am building With you as the altar.

[apoemaday]

Crepuscule

by E.E. Cummings

i will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air Alive with closed eyes to dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery with chasteness of sea-girls Will i complete the mystery of my flesh I will rise After a thousand years lipping flowers And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

[mournfulroses]

Gustave Flaubert, from a letter to Louise Colet featured in The Selected Letters of Gustave Flaubert

[ciarasheart]

[text id: I love you with all the mad tenderness of spring. end id]

[lifeinpoetry]

Living, finally, instead of always only trying to be cured or get well.

— Kyra Wilder, from Gloss

[moonandnightss]

— Mary Oliver, Entering the Kingdom

[can-i-make-image-descriptions]

[Image ID: Text reading: The dream of my life

Is to lie down by a slow river

And stare at the light in the trees—

To learn something by being nothing /End ID]

[redlipstickresurrected]

Guo Zikai aka 虢子楷 aka Sheepeden (Chinese, based China) - 白蛇孕子, Paintings: Watercolor, Pencil, Ink

[pascalcampion]

Before the world closed in

[theoptia]

Ramón López Velarde, from Song of the Heart: Selected Poems; “May It Be for the Best”

Text ID: The last day of March: emotion, birds, sun...

[theoptia]

Friedrich Nietzsche, from Thus Spoke Zarathustra

[quotespile]

“When the heart speaks, the mind finds it indecent to object.”

— Milan Kundera, The Unbearable Lightness of Being

[apoemaday]

The Small Country

by Ellen Bass

Unique, I think, is the Scottish tartle, that hesitation when introducing someone whose name you’ve forgotten

And what could capture cafuné, the Brazilian Portuguese way to say running your fingers, tenderly, through someone’s hair?

Is there a term in any tongue for choosing to be happy?

And where is speech for the block of ice we pack in the sawdust of our hearts?

What appellation approaches the smell of apricots thickening the air when you boil jam in early summer?

What words reach the way I touched you last night — as though I had never known a woman — an explorer, wholly curious to discover each particular fold and hollow, without guide, not even the mirror of my own body.

Last night you told me you liked my eyebrows. You said you never really noticed them before. What is the word that fuses this freshness with the pity of having missed it.

And how even touch itself cannot mean the same to both of us, even in this small country of our bed, even in this language with only two native speakers.

[nixscriptum]

[ciarasheart]

[text id: To be alive in spring is to be split open— seeds don’t apologise for becoming forests. end id]

[loveridden1999]

anyways remember when toni morrison said "sometimes you don't survive whole, you just survive in part. but the grandeur of life is that attempt. it's not about that solution. it is about being as fearless as one can, and behaving as beautifully as one can, under completely impossible circumstances."

[loveridden1999]

everyone say thank you toni morrison

[ciarasheart]

[text id: “It's a nice big fat philosophical question, about: how do you get through? Sometimes you don't survive whole, you just survive in part. But the grandeur of life is that attempt. It's not about that solution. It is about being as fearless as one can, and behaving as beautifully as one can, under completely impossible circumstances. It's that, that makes it elegant. Good is just more interesting, more complex, more demanding. Evil is silly, it may be horrible, but at the same time it's not a compelling idea. It's predictable. It needs a tuxedo, it needs a headline, it needs blood, it needs fingernails. It needs all that costume in order to get anybody's attention. But the opposite, which is survival, blossoming, endurance, those things are just more compelling intellectually if not spiritually, and they certainly are spiritually. This is a more fascinating job. We are already born, we are going to die. So you have to do something interesting that you respect in between.” end id]

[havingapoemwithyou]

Everything All at Once by Oliver Baez Bendorf