Claire Keane
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
🪼
blake kathryn
JVL
hello vonnie
Mike Driver
AnasAbdin
noise dept.
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Sade Olutola
Keni
One Nice Bug Per Day
Show & Tell
Monterey Bay Aquarium
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
Lint Roller? I Barely Know Her
Andulka
DEAR READER
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@shored--fragments
Listen! you hear the grating roar Of pebbles which the waves draw back, and fling, At their return, up the high strand, Begin, and cease, and then again begin, With tremulous cadence slow, and bring The eternal note of sadness in.
Matthew Arnold, Dover Beach (via nightjasmine)
This is a dream of ancestral light.
Mark J. Mitchell, A Dreamed Seascape, published in The Missing Slate (via themissingslate)
Whoever thought love is free verse was wrong. Free verse itself was never free. I am teaching myself to love with patience, to love in moderation, in a manner that love can sustain itself.
Minakshi Thakur, from Lovers Like You and I (via nightjasmine)
Isn’t love about losing oneself, annihilating oneself?
Minakshi Thakur, from Lovers Like You and I (via nightjasmine)
A last bleed of gold in the west, like a Shan Shui painting, then darkness.
John Burnside, Travelling South, Scotland, August 2012 (via shored--fragments)
Can you see, over the garden– the full moon rises. I won’t see the next full moon. In spring, when the moon rose, it meant time was endless.
Louise Glück, The Silver Lily (via shored--fragments)
I want back that night you pulled me into your lap, insisted I stay there. I want the elegant hinge of your wrist, the way you were always both body and bird. The way you were never and always listening.
Tarfia Faizullah, What I Want Is Simple (via shored--fragments)
The strident dance music followed me for some way before being dissipated by the enveloping silence of the mountains. A pair of foxes were dancing a jig in the bright moonlight. A nightjar called, tonk-tonk. A street dog sang to the moon.
Ruskin Bond, Maharani (via poesi-s)
In my window seat at Maplewood I allowed the words to come through the window, laden with the scents of summer. An old honeysuckle, planted by someone fifty or sixty years ago, climbed the outside wall and poured its heady fragrance into the room.
Ruskin Bond, Maharani (via poesi-s)
Pablo sat down on the grass and said, “I’m tired. What are you looking for, amigo?” “Nothing,” I said. “Just contemplating the void.” “The void?” “The emptiness. The futility of it all. The yearning, the struggle, the desire, the loving, the hating. And it all ends here, or on the funeral pyre. Dust or ashes.”“Finit. Kaput.” “You heard that in a movie.”
Ruskin Bond, Maharani (via poesi-s)
The brief twilight of northern India passed like a shadow over the hills, and dusk gave way to darkness. I had stepped outside to watch the sunset. Now a lamp came on in the sitting room, followed by the veranda light. An atmosphere of peace and harmony descended on the hillside.
Ruskin Bond, Maharani (via poesi-s)
As I said, move nothing, not even your hands Let the jug and the wine stay equally silent While we hear our dark breath becoming darker together
Mirza Ghalib. Tr. David Ray. (via poesi-s)
Our footsteps are blood and longing. Every time they rose they plucked us, hurling their love, hurling us, a rose to the winds.
Adonis, Beginning of Love (via poesi-s)
Remember: the double-edged Zephyr the dark-slaughtering pomegranate the blazing fleetfoot kisses And his words vanished like a fragrance
Odysseus Elytis, Genesis IV (via poesi-s)
Drinking the Corinthian sun Reading the marble ruins Striding over vineyard seas Aiming with my harpoon At votive fish that elude me I found those leaves that the psalm of the sun memorizes The living land that desire rejoices To open
Odysseus Elytis, Drinking the Corinthian Sun (via poesi-s)
Remember: the double-edged Zephyr the dark-slaughtering pomegranate the blazing fleetfoot kisses And his words vanished like a fragrance
Odysseus Elytis, Genesis IV (via poesi-s)
On the via dei Sette Ponti above Arezzo I tasted the light. What wasn’t to love?
Richard Jackson, The Word For That
