c h a o s @sightoftears - Tumblr Blog

pusluktalaratlasi

claude monet and van gogh, details.

therevolutionarysworld

What if we Choose Different colours.... ?

An aborted anecdotes of mine.

See, has turned into a tale.

You touched me,

Oh! What a delicate move of yours.

See, how do I look right on,

From what I used to be.

See, my shy fantasies are

Stretching themselves out afar.

Moments of mine,

Those we're standing still,

Are plunging themselves into

New abysses of reminiscence.

Life has just had a new smile on.

Why, why had you been so gracious?

It's time for

Our desires to be diverged.

Why, why then my eyes are in tears?

Hey dear! So gracious.

-Prakhar Karmakar

seravph

i think anne magills paintings and Edward hoppers are like .. exact opposites. hoppers has the distinct clarity to it, a sharpness in the lines and the angles that contributes to an overwhelming sense of loneliness in almost every one of his paintings. even in his paintings that dont portray isolation there is a feeling of separation

loneliness vs. aloneness

magill, on the other hand, has this haziness to her paintings that emanates a warmth even when the subjects in her paintings are alone.

both paintings feel so comforting, and even in the second one where the girl is alone she is still in the presence of the visceral world around her - there’s a familiarity in magills painting that she captures nicely.

i guess i just think it’s interesting because hopper and magill are two of my favorite artists and they paint similar scenes with very different tones -

I’ve always thought that hoppers paintings are a snapshot of urban loneliness - the distinctness of it, the use of cool colors, the stark contrast between the people and their settings - whereas magills paintings seem almost like memories - their use of haziness and blurriness is exactly how someone wild remember something, indistinct, full of feeling and lacking detail

therevolutionarysworld

A Tale Of A Princess And Her Broken Heart Plant.

Here are some borrowed words,

Since I have an empty stock.

I saw her, alone in the twilight.

Her golden locks, rocking in the

Wind cradle,

Lips parted, giving way to a

Sugar breath,

She stared at the horizon.

Birds flew twittering by,

Leaving the leaves trembling.

Sun plunged where sight refused to go.

She dropped her eyelids,

Flooding the crystal lakes beneath,

Two pearlsome teardrops

Fell on me; I blushed a bit.

I tried to retain those

Those precious containers of anecdotes.

Twinkling at me, they started

Moving down.

I beheld two rolling bioscopes

Of diamond skies,

Since they mirrored all they faced

Through their roundy surface.

I shouted desperately

"Hey, don't rush my delicate friends,

You will be scattered to thousands!

Tell me the tale why did she cry.

Where did she fail, how did she try."

One of them played me false,

Scattered to droplets,down on my stems.

Another ceased my brink anigh

With stars inscribed countless.

It questioned me crossed what I sought.

Why I hindered its demise

Though I thrive, why I strive

To see its mistress' eyes?

I replied,

She is not only yours

But also mine, mine beloved too.

She planted my soul;

Regarded my growth.

So, I did her adore.

So, I cared, what if I stared?

So, I fostered her delight.

When in the night, my princess cried,

Her broken heart so teared.

I being, her broken heart darling,

I garnish her garden yard.

Garnish her mind, garnish her soul;

Garnish her euphoric years.

All on a sudden, the evening star

Dazzled my eyes through the tear drop

Which followed its friend

Dispersed to fragments

Down on my stems, a salty scar.

It kept untold that anecdote old

Which made my mistress cry.

I abode her Broken heart dear

Following her footsteps to far from near.

-Prakhar Karmakar

sidereusimber

noburden

@poetryatmost / raymond carter / eileen myles / a month of changes by emility / olivia larson @poetbitesback / the months by linda pastan / tuck everlasting by natalie babbitt / dear august / morning sun by edward hopper / e.j.l. /

goodreadss

Italian Girl with Flowers, 1886 Joaquin Sorolla y Bastida

ouroborosmotifs

patrochilles + being consumed by each other

ashstfu

are u friendly?

i mean i want to be friends with everybody but in all honesty that requires too much effort and i’m not about that life

#moodboard #aesthetic #yearning

just-shower-thoughts

It boggles my mind how it is socially unexceptable to go to the movies alone. Literally the one thing where you can’t talk to anyone the whole time.

cheruib

there’s something so.. utterly beautiful and magical and tender about paintings of peeled oranges like. they make me feel so warm and so full of love and just !!!! LOOK !