Claire Keane
2025 on Tumblr: Trends That Defined the Year
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sheepfilms
DEAR READER
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her

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roma★
almost home
KIROKAZE
Jules of Nature
Keni

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Stranger Things
TVSTRANGERTHINGS

★

Love Begins
cherry valley forever
Game of Thrones Daily

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@dirtybutclean
IT’S SPRINGTIME YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS. PASS THE INSTRUCTIONS ON NOT GIVING UP BY ADA LIMÓN
IT’S THE GREENING OF THE TREES THAT REALLY GETS TO ME!!!!!!!!!!!
My god, I’m homesick for life, the warm snout of it, you know?
— Diane Seuss, from “Little Refrain,” in Modern Poetry
this is what it means to be human
Everything, Mary Oliver
The Breathing, Denise Levertov
A Prayer by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
The Laughing Heart by Charles Bukowski
Like a Small Café, That’s Love by Mahmoud Darwish (translated by Mohammad Shaheen)
Having a Coke with You by Frank O’Hara
Eating Together by Li-Young Lee
The Orange by Wendy Cope
The Quiet Machine, Ada Limón
To Go Mad, Paruyr Sevak
Our Beautiful Life When It’s Filled with Shrieks by Christopher Citro
Hammond B3 Organ Cistern, Gabrielle Calvocoressi
Peace XVIII, Khalil Gibran
Your Unripe Love, Paruyr Sevak (from “Anthology of Armenian poetry")
Here and Now by Peter Balakian
Ich finde dich (I find you) by Rainer Maria Rilke
The Thing Is by Ellen Bass
One Art by Elizabeth Bishop
Miss you. Would like to take a walk with you. by Gabrielle Calvocoressi
I Want to Write Something So Simply by Mary Oliver
What's Not to Love by Brendan Constantine
Where does such tenderness come from? by Marina Tsvetaeva
You Are Tired (I Think) by E. E. Cummings
Living With the News by W.S.Merwin
What the Living Do by Marie Howe
If i had a nickel for every existential spiral, I’d built a house out of guilt coins.
Tumblr users will spontaneously gain superiority complexes about the most asinine shit in the world.
Op: do you guys seriously have to carry bags everywhere you go like what is even in there 🤣 all you should ever need is your phone!
1000 people desperate to fit in with this mysterious cool "doesn't carry anything of value" blogger: literally at most I might carry a chapstick or 1/3 of a tampon or 1/8 of an ibuprofen if I'm feeling myself. People who carry bags are weak and strange to me. Op are we goingggg to have sex
once these 15 million different stressful situations resolve themselves I’m gonna be so normal again. I can be normal and not exhausted
It’s weird to grow up in a family where you know you’re loved but you don’t feel loved. And then later in adulthood you understand how almost impossible it seems to cross that distance and let yourself experience closeness, how otherworldly love feels now and how love feels unbearable at times. You flinch when someone tries to wholeheartedly love you. And over and over you see so clearly how you cannot be loved unless it's from afar and love is mixed with that familiar sensation of distance and coldness.
cemetery of laeken, brussels.
the story of a marble worker evrard flignot who devastated by the death of his wife built a mausoleum for her. at first look inside, there is a mourner reaching out to an empty wall. but, once a year, on the day of the summer solstice, the sun draws a light that recalls this love for almost a century.
Happiness Will Come To You.
when tho
When You Least Expect It. Probably Late March
reblog for happiness to come for you in late march!
Franny Choi, from "What a Cyborg Wants"
When hozier said:
I’d rather take my whiskey neat
My coffee black and my bed at three
You’re too sweet for me
i killed a spider
i trapped him under a cup
and meant to slip some paper under,
take it outside and shake him off, free him.
but i forgot,
got distracted.
and when i saw the cup days later,
and realized what i had done.
i left it there for a month.
i didn't want to see his balled, warped little carcass, the consequence of my distraction, my laziness.
don't kill bugs
it makes me feel guilty
just because I'm bigger doesn't mean i should get the final
say on a tiny life.
and when i forced myself to lift the cup after a month
i expected to see him curled, dead on the counter;
but there was nothing there.
so i turned it over;
and saw a ghostly silver web woven in the lip of the cup.
and the spider, resting, dead, on top of it.
i sat and cried on the kitchen floor:
in his last moments,
he tried to make a home
of the darkness i gave him.
~ (not my poem obviously)
Franny Choi, from "What a Cyborg Wants"
Lord of The Rings: The Two Towers (screenplay by Fran Walsh & Philippa Boyens & Stephen Sinclair & Peter Jackson)