[rowanrpoetry]

Hey everyone, I’m rebranding a bit so this account will no longer have any of my poetry or original content. Please pop on over to my new account @rowanpoet or follow my tag #rowanpoetry.

I will be reposting all my previously posted poems as well as new content so bare with some of the repeat stuff.

Thank you for the support and the love you’ve shown, I’m hoping this new direction will help my words reach and resonate with more people.

Love you all!🌻

[originalferal]

Moon has punished itself for every wish it wasn't able to fulfill; lovers have burdened it with their secrets for far too long. It's filled with goodbyes and remorse; it's covered in self inflicted wounds of restless despair.

[elysianmuses]

“Let be not a tragedy worse than that of mine own nature/For woe shall thy heart beat only for thine affection/Oh cursed beauty thou art the artist of my pain/Love lives not in thy body but in mine soul for shall I devote my every breath to thee”

[elysianmuses]

“take me oh muse to the madness within and let us sink into the thought that perhaps one day I shall find you in the oblivion”

[viperslang]

The language of pain, stretching back to antiquity, conflated the emotional and the physical. The overlap of grief, anguish, despair and sorrow with physical pain lies at the heart of vernacular expressions of suffering in Ancient Greek, Latin, Arabic, Urdu, Hindi and Chinese, as well as in English and other European languages. For thousands of years, the statement ‘I am in pain’ was an emotional as well as a physical claim. While this semantic overlap seems consistent, the precise conceptualisation has varied enormously, from ὀδύvη (odúnē, Ancient Greek) to dolor (Latin), to wajaʿ (Arabic), to dard (Farsi, Hindi and Urdu), to tòng (Chinese). Moreover, there is a rich history of the iconography of the ineffable: representations of pain that, while it could not be uttered, was nonetheless expressed. By documenting the historically situated processes of experiencing and expressing types of pain, it is possible to show both an enormous variety while insisting upon a long history of the braiding of the emotional and the physical. This has the effect, in turn, of implicitly de-naturalising and situating present-day experiences of pain and of disrupting two centuries of modern medical expertise.

Rob Boddice, The Politics of Pain

[vorbarrsultana]

everything i read in 2023 → the witching hour by anne rice

Only our capacity for goodness is as fine as this silken breeze coming from the south, as fine as the scent of the rain just beginning to fall, with a faint roar as it strikes the shimmering leaves, so gentle, gentle as the vision of the rain itself strung like silver through the fabric of the embracing darkness.

Come home, Rowan. I’m waiting.

[flowercrown-bard]

I wrote a poem for a fic but I don't know how/where to include it so I'll just post it here

(heavily inspired by my favourite poem "Narcissus and Echo" by Fred Chappell)

Doubt and its Echo Hope

Tell me, what did bring us here? Hear

I cannot see with solemn eye My

Rhyme or reason. Once apart Heart

From you I cannot stop my rising Sing

Doubt. Were you ever mine before? For

I fear I merely dreamed the hue You

Of love in you when I was lonely. Only

A fool's song is my legacy. See

My rhymes became my enemy Me

For singing truth was a betrayal of Love

Secret hope. I would understand And

If you were to leave me on this day. Stay

What never was still came to an end. And

Oh love and doubt live not in contrast Trust

One is hope's birth, the other its coffin. In

Yet doubting, I still love you thus. Us

[witchesnet]

ANNE RICE’S MAYFAIR WITCHES  ◽ 1.03 ◽ ’ Second Line ’ ↳ “ If you open your mind, you can be transformed.”

[ex0skeletal-undead]

Nix Mors by Adam Burke aka Nightjar

This artist on Instagram

[drunkwalkhomecore-deactivated20]

[thoughtkick]

[esmerraine]

[awkward-sultana]

(Almost) Every Costume Per Episode + Kate Sharma’s pink ball gown with white embellishments in 2x04 (requested by anonymous)

[qvotable]

“More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to be close to someone. More than anything, all I have ever wanted is to feel as if I wasn’t alone.”

— James Frey; A Million Little Pieces

[anancientheart]

ok hear me out - what if all of life is magic and we just forget? what if your heartbreak is a gift just as much as your love? imagine that you’re more than a human being and we’re here for just a little while, and everything feels like so much because we can’t contain it in our little human bodies, so we have two choices in living: numb out or dive deep. and if you dive deep, you end up creating in some way or another. all of humanity has coped with being human by creating music and art and movies, by witnessing the gift of nature, by falling in love (and then making art about it). maybe it is better if it’s too much. what if we can crack ourselves open even more? or just make a little promise to ourselves to give in to this experience each morning? see what it has to offer you.

[classictell-deactivated20231007]

Alphonsine de Challié

[debelice]

Magic Beach

[a-gentleman-of-note]

Idk if faeries and unicorns are real, but if they are, they live here.