#7-weeks

[soracities]

not to b dramatic but these are legit the only compliments i will be accepting from now on thank u

[criticalcriminal]

The sun shines in, warms the ground kindly,  and melts the ice for another six months so the bulbs in the ground feel safe to bloom; they have been dormant for three years now while the seasons turn, the forest grows up.

Mother gives up on those sleeping tulips, questions then meticulously on their lack of progress; she knows only the relentless drone of modern life and that precious flower, taking too long to sprout, shall be stomped and battered in this agonizing world.

I could spend another year begging acceptance, fall on my knees like the child I’ve been but I want, instead, to lay down in the spring grass, watch the stars twinkle in the twilight sky as I believe fully in the power of destiny, waiting patiently for my due time.

#napowrimo19 day 1  Be Patient - Chey Brabo

[cordialtiger]

the architecture of loneliness

ionic pillars broken into parts hearts cracked-split open Greek girls curled inside singing-Romeo Romeo Romeo arches of ice constantly melt drip-dry onto changeable tile

my house sinks-quicksand or sinkhole-we all fall down windows made of wish-whisper cotton cotton cotton-dig me up-resurrect Lazarus-build again

[haleyincarnate]

What are some blogs you like that make art similar to yours or ones you like? I love all the things you make they are so inspiring 😍😭

Here’s some similar ones to the type of artwork and poetry I post: @asoftwrongness, @trauma-chains, @chaoticsweetiee. @abigailkart, @jamesandrewcrosby, @americansport, @lazilylesbian, @winegogh, @unspokengrief, @7-weeks, @alonesomes, @lovehearrts, @psychwarded, @etoilefragile, @ffspunk, @loviely, @demiiwhiffin, @mingdliu, @absurdityof, @ohbutwebestmakepeacewithit, and @sadsarah.

[freethepoets]

I tell him, I am tired, I am ready for absolution, but he says there is no such thing, and I believe him because he’s standing right there next to me, so when he says goodnight I let myself dream of him, of us together, on a beach I have yet to set foot on, knowing the only way out is in.

from “Another Diaspora Poem,” by Irene Vázquez

[starrymar]

Fold me nine hundred and ninety-nine paper cranes. I will lay my head on the shrine of our almost. I will let blackberries bloom at the tips of my fingers.

Hotel California, Margaret Schnabel, published in Jet Fuel Review 

[tremblingwarsong]

georgia swallowed the seeds to a flower, and he called it a blooming; look at the sheer beauty  of birth and safety in one, look at how her stomach grows / a home inside itself- look, things rarely are how they  seem / look- take a closer look.  [georgia screamed for years] a woman is a birthing of its own- he said, and we, blindsided, standing too far, took the word of man; a man, with crows for chords and inverted  lenses / we took his word and, she screamed and swallowed and  screamed; oh but the flowers bloomed.   ORCHID // NAPOWRIMO 1/30 [ PROMPTS BY @7-weeks - Orchids ]