panacea

"and what if i write of you. is that more love than you can handle."

[taylornprice]

weekly flowers 

[art-creature]

some pages from a little sketchbook i finished a couple months ago. v drawn out bc i thought i lost it for almost an entire year ! / my instagram

[artdunk]

[stay-close]

To whom do I owe the biggest apology? No one's been crueller than I've been to me.

— Alanis Morissette, "Sorry to Myself", Under Rug Swept

[finita--la--commedia]

“What step shall I choose for our dance while all my body’s music is muted ? Why waste time on words ? And how do I rid my body of the silence ?”

— Hassan Najmi (born 1960), from “Dyads” in: “The Blueness of the Evening. Selected poems by Hassan Najmi“, translated from the Arabic by Mbarek Sryfi and Eric Sellin

[poemswords]

“You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.”

—

[iamthegirlbehindthereddoor]

“When the erotic and tender are mixed in a woman, they form a powerful bond - a fixation.”

— Anaïs Nin  (via seulray)

[qvotable]

“And so it seems that I must always write you letters that I can never send.”

— Sylvia Plath (via bnmxfld)

[xshayarsha]

“his dark woodland eyes.”

— Oscar Wilde, from A House of Pomegranates; The Young King.

[lettersfromadreamgirl]

“A thousand Dreams within me softly burn.”

— Arthur Rimbaud (via quotemadness)

[cumuluslife]

“You expected to be sad in the fall. Part of you died each year when the leaves fell from the trees and their branches were bare against the wind and the cold.”

—  Ernest Hemingway, A Movable Feast

[chuckakot]

“You always remember me in nature and inanimate objects. Maybe, it is just how you see me behind your eyes.”

— Chuck Akot

[salemwitchtrials-deactivated202]

“Under our ribs our hearts are bloody stars.”

— How We Became Human; Call It Fear, Joy Harjo

[saintjoan]

hi honey, i'm in the need of buying some new books, do you think you can reccomend me some of the most beautiful poetry books you know? thank you so much

to stir hearts and stun the mind – my favourite collections of ekphrastic poetry:

ocean vuong, night sky with exit wounds (2017)

louise gluck, averno (2006)

& the first four books of poems

sylvia plath, ariel (1968)

agha shadid ali, call me ishmael tonight (2013)

t.s. eliot, the waste land and other writings (1922)

anne carson/sappho, if not, winter (2003)

& nox & plainwater & men in the off hours […]

mark doty, fire to fire (2009)

marty mcconnell, wine for a shotgun (2012)

richard siken, crush (2005) 

jeanann verlee, said the maniac to the muse (2015)

margaret atwood, eating fire (2010)

catherynne m. valente, apocrypha (2005)

[xshayarsha]

“some nights you are the lighthouse / some nights the sea”

— Ocean Vuong, from Night Sky with Exit Wounds; My Father Writes From Prison.

[salemwitchtrials-deactivated202]

“We have never lived but still we suffer.”

— The Day I Wasn’t There, Hélène Cixous

[xshayarsha]

“You dreamed yourself away in the moon’s eye to a beryl jungle, and dreamed that bright moon-lilies nodded their petaled heads around your couch.”

— Sylvia Plath, from The Collected Poems; Yadwigha, on a Red Couch, Among Lilies.