my own personal poetry palace

just a small town Texas boy enamored by poetry, writing and musings of the heart

[personalpoetrypalace]

growing up my grandparents had a concrete slab in their back yard.

It was half the size of a basketball court.

A remenant of the builder of the home who coached the game.

Today it’s gone.

Today I was lost.

I walked the sandy-dirt barefoot.

It helped bring me to life.

I image I was the only person who walked this ground barefoot in, at least, 75 years.

My mind went silent.

The highway near the house was finally silent.

The stars were brighter.

My thoughts were less angry.

My body was no longer tense today.

[thaenad]

Love After Love

The time will come

when, with elation

you will greet yourself arriving

at your own door, in your own mirror

and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.

You will love again the stranger who was your self.

Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart

to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored

for another, who knows you by heart.

Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,

peel your own image from the mirror.

Sit. Feast on your life.

poem by Derek Wallcott

[letsbelonelytogetherr]

— beau taplin

[personalpoetrypalace]

When the last tree is cut, the last fish is caught, and the last river is polluted; when to breathe the air is sickening, you will realize, too late, that wealth is not in bank accounts and that you can’t eat money.

[greenisms]

[personalpoetrypalace]

Death is a duty.

So, while you’re here live, be kind, be good, fulfill your role in nature, and then die.

Because death is also part of that role.

[personalpoetrypalace]

Matthew 19:24

In the NLT bible Jesus says in Matthew 19:24 "I'll say it again-it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of A needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God!" 

[personalpoetrypalace]

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[personalpoetrypalace]

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A post shared by Tanner Price | Photography, Hiking, Travel (@tanner.price_)

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A post shared by 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒔 (@momentary_existentialism)

[1nside-0utt]

“There are causes worth dying for, but none worth killing for.”

—

Albert Camus (via kushandwizdom)

oh, Albert, you manage to get it right everytime

(via acknei)

[personalpoetrypalace]

[s4mm4n]

God I miss the days when you could show up to a stranger’s farm and he’d say “What’s your name, boy?” and you’d take off your hat and hold it to your chest to better let him see your face and reply “Why I ain’t got none, sir, on account of my mammy passed on before she could give me one” and he’d tell you he’s real damn sorry to hear that and ask what he can do you for and you’d tell him that you can’t read nor even write neither but you’re mighty good with horses and can mend them fallen fence posts what you saw on your way in and won’t ask for nothing much more than a hot meal and a warm barn to sleep in and he’d keep his wife and daughters inside but send his boy who ain’t got married yet even though his mama tells him he needs a woman out with a lantern and some stew at night and the two of you’d get to talkin and he’d throw you his flask to take a swig from and watch you drinkin from it while he leant against the door frame and when he finally got called back on up to the house again he’d take a sip from it too real slow-like like it weren’t the whiskey what he were tryna savour

[personalpoetrypalace]

[personalpoetrypalace]

[personalpoetrypalace]

The man who lies to himself and listens to his own lie comes to such a pass that he cannot distinguish the truth within him, or around him, and so loses all respect for himself and for others. And having no respect he ceases to love, and in order to occupy and distract himself without love he gives way to passions and coarse pleasures, and sinks to bestiality in his vices, all from continual lying to other men and to himself. (Zosima’s advice to Fyodor Pavlovich)

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, The Brothers Karamazov

[personalpoetrypalace]