MerelyMeg @kiki-325 - Tumblr Blog

dennybitte

stormy last light

by Denny Bitte

followcb

Tempt Me

Words lure. Tempt me.

Poetry is intimate. It is naked.

It is sacred. It is lyrical.

It’s inimitable.

It’s incomparable.

Poetry is profane. It is raw.

It is uncompromising. It is unapologetic.

It’s provocative.

It’s enigmatic.

Writing comes to me. Comes through me.

Calls me. Calls to me.

Beckons me. Inhabits me.

It attracts. Entices. Invites. It tempts me.

Copyright @followcb | January 29, 2020

myfairynuffstuff

John Fabian Carlson (1874 - 1945) - River in Winter. Oil on canvas.

emprower-deactivated20220718

friendly reminder that you are a valuable human being, not an object. you deserve to be treated with compassion and respect.

sereiar

teacup13-deactivated20200319

“I listen because every heartbeat deserves to be heard. I hold your hand because I know what it’s like to do it all alone. I give more because I know what it’s like to have it taken all away, and I love harder because if not all the way, then why bother at all?”

—

karazrel

insp

inka1712

#heart #landscape #moon #couple #love #ocean #nature #romance

kiki-325

If I could meditate here every morning… Le sigh.

kiki-325

Dreamscapes

#peacelovepositivity

christophernolan

I’ve found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love.

THE HOBBIT: AN UNEXPECTED JOURNEY (2012) , Dir. Peter Jackson

cillianmurphy

bilbo is all of us in this scene

archae-heart-deactivated2021012

take me gently; make me into somebody easy

zoya-nazyalenskys-archive

Waters of the Misty Mountains, listen to the great word, flow waters of Loudwater, against the Ringwraiths.

The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of The Ring (2001) dir. Peter Jackson

trymeidareyou

Know that in your time of need,

Know that in your time of good,

Know that in your time of now,

I am here for you.

-excerpt from my brain Part A

onroses

For in spite of overwhelming evidence to the contrary, the trait of hope still controls the future, and man, not a species, but a triumphant race, will approach perfection, and, finally, tearing himself free, will march up the stars and take his place where, because of his power and virtue, he belongs: on the right hand of the [xsqrt1]. From which majestic seat he will direct with pure intelligence the ordering of the universe. And perhaps when that occurs - when our species progresses toward extinction or marches into the forehead of God- there will be certain […] groups left behind. Perhaps they will have a [legend] concerning a great and godlike race that flew away in four-motored bombers to the accompaniment of exploding bombs, the voice of God calling them home.

Nights at anchor in the Gulf are quiet and strange. The water is smooth, almost solid, and the dew is so heavy that the decks are soaked. The little waves rasp on the shell beaches with a hissing sound, and all about in the darkness the fishes jump and splash.

John Steinbeck, The Log from the Sea of Cortez.