The Writing Garden

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[wordrummager]

“Summer at a burled table”

He gently read her poems aloud while mosquitoes made figure eights and the river slowed to hear.

The smell of lighter fluid made the path feel like a time machine with salty air, curses, and Italian ice.

She listened to what wasn’t said through his gestures and rustling leaves like love words in smoldering charcoal.

[gracebriarwoodwrites]

Oblivion

you imagined it picturesque and smooth as cinema

kisses in the rain

but it ended up a beautiful mess, pure oblivion

[bumbleblossoms]

Be bold; don’t leave room for a soul who doesn’t appreciate your light. Protect yourself; you are here to grow, not to shrivel at the expense of others. Invest in your time; it is yours and yours alone to give your mind and body love that no one else can substitute. But at the end of the day, be kind. Do a little good without destroying yourself.

Miriam K, things I’ve learned in loving myself (via bumbleblossoms)

[inversefunction]

blocking

sometimes the good things sweep across the sky as meteorites, just tilt your heads to the heavens and appreciate your passing place in this play!

it just so happens i find the scent of cut grass positively nauseating - to think of earth cut in any sense or semblance is absolutely revolting -

put my sorrow in a bottle where it can age, taste better, be more appreciated because it is quite unwelcome now

rb.xyz

[bluemonkwrites]

the return of less weird dreams

coffee tastes good again and you revel in way it makes you feel smarter more grown up now as you park what must be a new car and go inside then your dead grandfather enters unfrail unangry and you know something is off he gives orders but they are unorders: enjoy tonight, don’t worry so much, laugh. and they come less from his mouth than his smile and here is how you know it is time to wake up: you know he always loved more and even you

[aniketadeptinmacabre-deactivate]

I’ve realised that people come in to our lives with a reason but leave without one.

Aniket More (via aniketadeptinmacabre)

[followthewritinggarden]

“Sometimes I feel I'm always walking too fast, so lonely And everything is coming down on me, down on me, I go crazy Oh so crazy, living on my own.

Sometimes I feel nobody gives me no warning Find my head is always up in the clouds in a dreamworld It's not easy, living on my own, my own, my own.”

Write a poem, ten word story, micropoem/haiku/senryu, or short fiction on what these lyrics inspire.  

Send me a link to your post inspired by this prompt in my submit or message box, if I like it, I’ll reblog it.

Don’t forget to mention in your post what writing prompt it’s for.

[the-silent-troubadour]

a yellow swallowtail afloat on some warm summers breeze its flight without orchestration moving in some dance unknown to itself some blade of grass painted emerald green bejeweled in a sparkling mornings dew such simple beauty one captures within within a movement of time jS

(via the-silent-troubadour)

[sunflowerletters]

I laughed, really laughed, the way I used to before I was all hung up over him. And he smiled and told me how good it was to see me smile again, how he hadn’t heard my laugh in so long, how he hadn’t seen the glimmer of my teeth behind the rosy flesh of my lips. So I laughed again, really laughed

Excerpt from a book I’ll never write (via sunflowerletters)

[dvoyd]

Lead me not into temptation. I am more than capable of going there myself.

I know the way to Hell by heart. | m.a.w (via dvoyd)

[paratmin]

Oh! So you are from a different country So you speak a different language So you look a little different So you eat something different So you dress differently Yet It’s the same organ pumping the blood It’s the same gas oxygen that keeps us alive It’s the same liquid water that fills most of our body It’s the same emotions that we possess It’s the same sun that brings the day It’s the same moon that brings the night It’s the same way we came into this world It’s the same way we would leave the world breathing our last So We are more similar than different We need more love for each other than hate  We need more respect for each other than humiliation  We need more ways to connect each other than to separate We need more understanding about each other than ignorance We need more of humanity towards each other than heinous cruelty.

We are same even though we are different.

(via

paratmin

)

[just-4-thought]

The Beginning

I don’t like love stories. Even when they end happily They always seem to end at the beginning.

Chemistry isn’t longevity And no one really knows the recipe for love (everyone thinks they do).

Once upon a time I was in love And I still love The people I have loved. But how many can cram into those corners?

Sometimes, with you I feel echoes As if there are still empty spaces  - it’s enough to give me pause - •••••••••• give me pause ••••••••••

And wonder: if everything in these plotlines were different Then maybe This would be different.

That’s why I don’t like love stories They always seem to end At the beginning.

[aubriestar]

even the ocean

my solace, my refuge can not touch my pain even at high tide I am writhing with sanded eyelids the coarseness abrading a weakened spirit a broken shell cracked underfoot carried beyond a frothing surf into the deepest trenches spun lies fill edematous lungs yet sorrow lives breathing anguish bubbles to the surface floundering, foundering

“even the ocean is not deep enough to drown my sorrow”

~Aubrie~2017

[followthewritinggarden]

For the writing prompt (Even The Ocean)

[autumnsunshine10]

I stand here and survey All that is being lost– Casually waved off, Tidally tossed: Sea-swept sailboat Carrying my somedays That become nevers, Drifting farther away. All the words I set aside For the right time to be spoken, Sealed in an opaque bottle, Never to be opened. The love I left unshown, Weighted by an anchor; My reserve of unshed tears Shipped out on a tanker. Why did I save so much for That elusive catch-all ‘tomorrow’? Even the ocean is not deep Enough to drown my sorrow.

Prompt: http://followthewritinggarden.tumblr.com/post/162411058145/writing-prompt-even-the-ocean (via autumnsunshine10)

[inrumford]

i forgot to open my eyes when this morning I awoke

the world had donned a thin disguise and nature once more spoke

yet I had nothing more to say my feet were stuck in time as you began to fade away my alarm began to chime

always a dream always a dream

I do not see you reach for me

[fantodsdhrit]

entire

when i read japanese literature, she tries to distract me—tells me, “there’s fungi over your rosary,” then cooks, delicacies, mushrooms and peas; she is synthpop, a bit dreamy in unexpected ways, puts her head on my lap, diming, fragile, roseate; she summons moon-water spirits, her back is unconquerable, mountain snow, i run my fingers over; i insert her in gaps, in meanings, in between raindrops, in lonesome stanzas; her bangles clink—when she absorbs me in her entirety.

[rosewoodholly]

Time heals all wounds, but what if time was working against you? A formidable fiend that pours salt in the wounds and plays tricks on your mind. Bottle after bottle I try and wash away the pain, drown it out like something that can easily be diluted. But it can’t, it burns brighter and bolder; seeping through the cracks in my skin, until the very foundation on which I stand is crumbling around me. Even the ocean isn’t deep enough to drown my sorrows.

poetry prompt from @followthewritinggarden // h.w // (via rosewoodholly)

For the writing prompt (Even The Ocean)