whatever tenderness comes from wildness nurtured

till the word don't fit anymore

[magdalenafemme]

the penitent magdalene by antonio ciseri / queen of peace by florence and the machine

[magdalenafemme]

none of you are okay are you

[magdalenafemme]

in case you missed me in chewing dirt, here's one of my poems that was featured!

[willieowinsbury]

hey! check out this issue of 'chewing dirt' and you might see a familiar name. twice.

[magdalenafemme]

hey everyone! i know you haven't heard from me in awhile, and that's not because i've given up writing, but actually because of the same reason a lot of original poetry blogs go defunct; publishing!

i'm so happy to announce that two of my never before seen poems (born and raised and homemaker) will be published in issue two of chewing dirt journal! keep an eye out for them when it comes out at the end of april.

[magdalenafemme]

they say "love story" like that's not a death sentence (re-edit) / by l.g

[firstfullmoon]

“And just this morning my love was briefly stuck in my throat as I remembered all the soil and sadness, remembered seeing you”

— Olena Kalytiak Davis, from “The Gauze of Flowers, A Love Poem,” And Her Soul Out of Nothing (University of Wisconsin Press, 1997)

[memoryslandscape-deactivated202]

“At the station the someway keeps muttering I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you”

— Landis Everson, from “Sentencing,” Everything Preserved: Poems 1955-2005 (Graywolf Press, 2006) 

[medusagirlfriend-blog]

Franny Choi, “Perihelion: A History of Touch"

[derangedrhythms]

We knotted ourselves together as though we should never become undone [...]

Hannah Kent, from ‘Burial Rites’

[lifeinpoetry]

The heart is a fist. / It pockets prayer or holds rage.

Joy Harjo, from “Break My Heart,” An American Sunrise (via lifeinpoetry)

[sweetestsecrets]

“God’s vintage loneliness has turned to vinegar—”

— Agha Shahid Ali, from “Tonight,“ Call Me Ishmael Tonight: A Book of Ghazals (via lifeinpoetry)

[halogen2]

I WRITE POETRY TO GET IT DOWN - michael gray bulla

[letterful]

— JOYCE SUTPHEN.

[lifeinpoetry]

A lonely binary

is a switchblade

              snapping the body open / shut :

am I learning to love

                       or aspiring

to whiteness?

— Aldrin Valdez, from ESL or You Weren’t Here

[kakashibestie]

Ocean Vuong, On Earth We’re Briefly Gorgeous

[andtenderness-deactivated202601]

“Where do you start? / Which part of you do you preserve / first? Imagine your shoes are filled / with tomorrow, but you’re trying to wade through / yesterday. Imagine yesterday / is made of sand / and tomorrow is made / of flood. / Imagine there is no sun, / just the promise of one. Every day / you get up thinking, “But this / is where they said it would / be, where the sun would herald / a right to live among the living / again. This is where I find / morning, renewal, tomorrow / that isn’t made of night.” / If everything is made / of night then how do we ever / get to call it a new day?”

— Tara Hardy, from My, My, My, My, My; “Fatigue” (via fantasyparade)

[filmforwomen]

“how many poems must you write to convince yourself / you have a family? everyone leaves & you end up the stranger.”

— Fatimah Asghar, from “Ghareeb,” If They Come for Us (via lifeinpoetry)