Rose Petal Philosophies

Poems, Types Of People and Whimsical Wonderings

[kythed]

types of girls

jupiter: denim overalls, untied shoelaces, and the scent of freshly mowed grass on a sunday afternoon. her voice is sweet and tangy like lemonade and she’ll kiss you on the forehead in both greeting and goodbye. fall in love with jupiter, and your hand will never go unheld again.

neptune: delicate golden jewelry, blueberry jam, and the first drop of rain before a storm. she will draw you in with the promise of answers to her enigma but will continue to keep you on your toes until your feet cramp. fall in love with neptune, and you will question your existence with the most delicious kind of doubt.

mars: electric guitars, california poppies, and a theater thick with silence, waiting for the show to begin. she can love with both the fury of a forest fire or the reassurance of a hearth, but you won’t know which until you wake up beside her. fall in love with mars, and you will know neither peace nor boredom until the day she leaves you without once looking back.

venus: cherubs, lotus blossoms, and coffee with too much cream. with a gaze softer than a mother’s, she’ll seek out your imperfections and perfect them with one word— “mine.” fall in love with venus, and you will fall in love with the world.

saturn: champagne, a crumpled playbill, and the first three hours of new year’s day, when the air still reeks of possibility. she will take you to a michelin bistro just to order spaghetti marinara and blow spitballs into the waiter’s hair. fall in love with saturn, and you will begin to laugh as easy as you breathe.

uranus: stained glass, wild irises, and a cold gust of air sweeping down from the peaks of a mountain range. each of her kisses taste like spearmint and steel, and it’s inexplicably addictive. fall in love with uranus, and silence will no longer be lonely.

mercury: fresh linen sheets, potted succulents, and pancake batter just poured on the griddle. when you cry, she will wipe your tears with the sleeve of her sweater and quietly hum a song you don’t know while you choke down your sobs. fall in love with mercury, and you will sleep soundly.

pluto: amethyst geodes, copper keys, and the hushed laughter of lovers in a library. her eyes will find yours across a crowded room and sing melodies only your soul can hear. fall in love with pluto, and you will finally have a secret worth keeping.

i know this is not my usual content, but i had to write it.

[rosepetalphilosophy]

elusive main character songs;

larme a gauche by verdredi sur mer

mon amour, mon ami by marie larforet 

bonnie and clyde by tricky 

glory box by portishead

mr gorgeous (and miss curvaceous) by smoke city

carmensita by devendra barnhart 

[yearningonandon-deactivated2021]

types of people; nice places

art museums: staring at paintings for hours, heels on marble, the perfect wing of eyeliner, a million canvas tote bags, mesh shirts with paintings on them, bustier tops, quoting things all the time, always getting excited, holding hands, feet sore from walking all day, deep conversations, silly faces in mirrors, 

ceramics studios: home-made jewelry, paint-stained clothes, soft hands, singing quietly to yourself, watching animal videos, floral lotion, up-cycled clothes, lots of blush, silly nicknames for each other, hugging and getting covered in slip, super competitive, bright colors, soft fabrics, patterns! 

aquariums: knows all the fish, swishy clothes, colored eyeshadow/eyeliner, stuffed animals, always has a water bottle, will tell you everything about all the creatures, H2O Just Add Water is their guilty pleasure, loves swimming, doesn’t like fiction books, good at keeping secrets, inside jokes for days, 

old castles: the smell of rain, blazers and trench coats, classical music, knows all about old torture, really likes birds, star-gazing, can be kinda pretentious, but always interesting to talk to, buys lots of pastries, trespassing is their hobby, good at finding lost things, vintage jewelry, good at math, 

botanical gardens: picking flowers, drinking tea and making fancy lemonades, pressed flower earrings, lots pastels and florals and earth tones, wears lipstick all the time, drinking out of proper tea cups, follows the rules, good with kids, long skirts, mom energy, candy in pockets, adventures, 

[artofangelo]

study after alphonse mucha in pen❣️

[die-rosastrasse]

Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres

French, 1780-1867

Portrait of Baronne de Rothschild 

Madame Moitessier

The Princesse de Broglie

[die-rosastrasse]

Women’s hands in classical paintings.

Alexander Roslin &  Edouard Louis Dubufe

[dolcesostenuto]

The Ritz Paris by Thierry Despont

[fordarkmornings]

Thomas Wilmer Dewing  -  Summer,  1890  (details) 

American, 1851-1938

Oil on canvas

[rosepetalphilosophy]

Types Of People- St Vincent: MASSEDUCTION

masseduction: marlboro cigarettes, obscure music, bright pink lipstick, thigh high boots, cynical laughter, feeling of underlying arousal, being remorseless, nihilism, making dirty jokes about politicians, watching documentaries at 3am, opinionated, discusses the worlds many vices. 

sugarboy: pink lemonade, reading hamlet instead of magazines, people watching, shameless flirting, ponytails, secretly wanting power, bubblegum, thinks love is tragic, giggles, “oh darling”, comparing your flaws to other peoples, dancing to electronica at 2am.

los ageless: discontent, mother issues, palm trees, satin shorts, laments, summer sun, feeling depressed when reading beauty magazines, driving up the coast, sleeping in to 10am, arguing in front of your mirror, floating in the pool, feeling remorse, comparing the media to assassination. 

saviour: leather boots, corsets, believing lust is love, cross necklaces, using religious references, bruises, deep red lipstick, thigh high boots, guilt trips, long kisses, irritation, pacing in your room, checking your makeup in a shop window, having someone rest their head in your lap, sighing, “girl your not Jesus”.

new york: black coffee, high heels, Kate spade handbag, unanswered phone calls, running in the rain, old newspapers, drinking Long Island iced tea in a bar, watching the sky scrapers, going through old photographs, being understood, bittersweet love, memories down 5th ave.

fear the future: muting the news, wanting comfort, converse shoes, navy blazer, wanting answers, attending protests, feeling overwhelmed with the world, staying awake at night worrying, hugging someone and not wanting to leave that moment, sighs, fidgeting, cold showers.

young lover: paris in spring, being made to face reality, pink dress, being in the bathtub fully clothed, tired eyes, daddy issues, listening to sirens at night, texting someone to see if they are ok, trying to fix someone, longing for a happy ending, cheek kisses, streaming tears, bird song, begging.

slow disco: silk ball gowns, rosary beads, champagne, classical music, feeling out of place, not wanting to let someone go, slow dances, holding hands, head on shoulder, gentle sadness, embracing the past, dancing down hallways alone, remembering good times at 10pm, wanting life to speed up.

smoking section: cigarette burns, messy hair, dark circles under eyes, reading sylvia plath, letting things happen for better or worse, pondering the end, wanting to be close to someone but being scared, dark eyeshadow, watching cars below your apartment window, constantly thinking.

[0fm0nstersandmichael]

The Lyrics I Want to Paint from Each Hozier Song

Take Me to Church -  The only heaven I’ll be sent to is when I’m alone with you. Angel of Small Death -  She’s the angel of small death and the codeine scene. Jackie and Wilson -  We tried the world, good God, it wasn’t for us. Someone New - Love with every stranger, the stranger the better. To Be Alone -  To feel your weight in arms I’d never use, it’s the God that heroin prays to. From Eden -  Innocence died screaming, honey, ask me I should know. In a Week -  So long, we’d become the flowers, two corpses we were, two corpses I saw. Sedated -  We are deaf, we are numb, free and young and we can feel none of it. Work Song - pretty much the chorus. Like Real People Do - We should just kiss like real people do. It Will Come Back -  Don’t let it in with with no intention to keep it, Jesus Christ. Foreigner’s God -  I’ve no language left to say it, but all I do is quake to her. Breaking if I try convey it, the broken love I make to her. Cherry Wine - the whole damn song.

This is how an artist and writer congratulates a fantastic album. 

[laurapetrie]

types of girls, heroines of classic literature edition, part ii

catherine earnshaw: queen of temper tantrums, gets excited when the sky is gold, dramatic crier, foggy evening walks, loves the stars, best winged eyeliner game on the moors, rainy nights with an old book, long hair pushed back with a velvet ribbon

kitty shcherbatsky: ballet slippers with pink satin ribbons, sugared rose petals, waltzing to the nutcracker, gingerbread and hot cocoa (with extra marshmallows!), ice skating dates with her boyfriend, twirling the night away in a pink ball gown

emma woodhouse: high tea with little cakes, has final authority over all her friends’ tinder matches, smells of miss dior, rose pink silk pajamas, a little spoiled, always has a box of sweets on hand

josephine march: eats the best candy from the box and leaves the rejects for her siblings, ink stains on her hands, scribbled notes in the margins of old books, first to open her stocking on christmas morning, over-sized sweaters

anne shirley: loves decorating cupcakes, still believes in magic, always in a flower crown, makes handmade lacy valentines for her classmates, wishes on shooting stars, stress-bakes sugar cookies

yvonne de galais: has the sleeping beauty waltz on replay, exclusively wears miu miu, believes in love at first sight, always in a dream, collects powder puffs, bulk orders rose macarons from laduree

lily bart: leaves her text messages on read, wears a floaty peignoir and pink marabou slippers to bed, new york city at dusk, pampering herself, diamond headbands, poor boys

francie nolan: old bookstores, cinnamon buns with lots of sugar, dates at the library, owns a lot of colorful stationery, slightly undone ribbons in her braids, hot coffee with vanilla, cashmere cardigans and worn-out ballet flats

eustacia vye: mysterious and quiet, loves wandering in the mist, drinks a lot of sweet wine, dreams of paris, prefers dark chocolate over milk chocolate, classic ballet scores on crackly vinyl, velvet-bound books of romantic poetry

[gentlecuddle]

[peter1rose]

[escapekit]

Stormy Days – Germany (Baltic Sea) Germany-based photographer Jan Erik Waider shares stormy photos taken by the Baltic Sea coast in Germany.

[ysabelita]

[betweenthemustypages]

academia aesthetics by university major

Literature

Losing yourself in whimsy, drifting somewhere parallel to reality. Passionate, frenzied writing in the heart of the night. Drinking the moonlight. Love letters lost between moments. Birdsong. Quiet looks, filled with meaning. Opinions you don’t speak out loud. Chopin’s Nocturnes.

Classics

A glint in the eye, like they know something you don’t. Books in different languages, scattered across every surface. Red wine, and blood, and secrets. Spirits stirred by the glorious weight of eras past, tongue heavy with the words of dead men. Marble busts of Greek philosophers. Reality dulling against the music of myth.

Philosophy

Milky tea and introspective mornings. Sun filtering gently into a quiet room. Reading in nature, sinking into the sound of the wind, birds or water. Margins filled with annotations. Long, grand hallways and the echo of footsteps. Conversations that last for hours, but feel like minutes. 

Sciences

Notebooks filled with scattered calculations, terms, and theories, partnered with small pieces of flora and miscellaneous clippings. ‘Eureka’ moments. Wild eyes and chewed lips. Lying awake all night, your head buzzing with ideas. Piles of meticulous notes. Hunching over desks in dim lamplight. The feeling of puzzle pieces fitting together. The smallness of humanity, and the vastness of existance.

Fine Art/Art History

Huge, baroque ballrooms with renaissance paintings on the ceilings. Staring up at them until the real world dissolves and the images spin around you. Early spring. Foxes in the snow. Classical music. Vintage teacups, and slow blinks. Laughter covered by fingers. Dancing where no-one can see you. 

Political Science

Fast strides and black coffee. Enthusiastic debates with peers, and discussions with your professor. Pages and pages of notes, scrawled so hastily they’re almost illegible. Running through the night, laughing with friends and going places you shouldn’t. A cunning smile from across a room.

History

Grand old buildings, shadowed with age and brimming with secrets. Old, rusty daggers. Tentative hands and determined eyes. Fingers stained with nicotine and ink. Old books and letters, shrouded in dust, that no-one’s read in a hundred years. Touching the pages, and understanding what it was to be alive in another time, seeing what they saw and feeling what they felt.

(dm to request a major for part two)

[therepublicofletters]

Ah! must we suffer eternally, or else eternally flee the beautiful?

Le Spleen de Paris, Charles Baudelaire, trans. Edward K. Kaplan (via therepublicofletters)