this used to be a ghost story

now it's mostly poetry

[violentwavesofemotion-deactivat]

…you move wounded, you are hurt, you hurt, you want to get out, you want to tear yourself out…

Margaret Atwood, from Power Politics (via violentwavesofemotion)

[afallowfield-blog]

You are not going crazy. You are beginning to fold up in your own single way. You feel your edges move toward the center, your heart like a folded blanket unfolding and folding in with everything contained. You feel you do not need anyone to love you anymore because you already feel everything, you feel it, you fold it, and for a while now, it will quietly rest.

Naomi Shihab Nye, from “Walking Down Blanco Road at Midnight” in Words Under the Words (Eighth Mountain Press, 1995)

[mercyforthegreedy]

and don’t forget: time is meant to be wasted, love fails and death is useless.

charles bukowski (via mercyforthegreedy)

[sci-universe]

Galileo’s sketches from Sidereus Nuncius (1610), the first published scientific work based on observations made through a telescope

[thephilosopherinparadise]

It was already late enough, and a wild night, and the road full of fallen branches and stones. But little by little, as you left their voices behind, the stars began to burn through the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voice which you slowly recognized as your own, that kept you company as you strode deeper and deeper into the world, determined to do the only thing you could do– determined to save the only life you could save.

Mary Oliver, “The Journey”

[bookshavepores]

[still-sunlit]

Some wounds never vanish. Yet little by little I learned to love my life. Though sometimes I had to run hard – especially from melancholy – not to be held back.

“Hum, Hum” by Mary Oliver (via beeawolf)

[fairylightsandcozynights]

[wistfullycountry]

Hannah Queen

[bibliopod]

I walked upon a hill And the wind, made solemnly drunk with your presence, Reeled against me. I stooped to question a flower, And you floated between my fingers and the petals, Tying them together. I severed a leaf from its tree And a water-drop in the green flagon Cupped a hunted bit of your smile. All things about me were steeped in your remembrance And shivering as they tried to tell me of it.

"To One Dead," Maxwell Bodenheim (via bibliopod)

[ghostsstudypoetry]

[ghostsstudypoetry]

Childhood dotted with bodies. Let them go, let them be ghosts. No, I said, make them stay, make them stone.

"Origin of the Marble Forest" by Gregory Orr

[roastbeefo]

Visit Original Link

Beirut - Cherbourg

[wildlifeexperience]

Visit us to experience the wildlife: Wildlife Experience

[gal-pal-mckinnon]

[ghostsstudypoetry]

Over the hill

I will be waiting on for you I won't pretend That you don't mean nothing to me Come now, come now, Come back now, come back now The doubt will creep And crawl in on you The dark can leap And fall upon you Come back now, come back now Let it be, let it go, Let it fall, let it blow Let it come, let it go, Let it fall, we will know.

[play-listings]

Visit Original Link

Lost That Easy - Cold War Kids You study ancient intelligence It’s a lonely life by candlelight To make believe, you talk to the dead