#favouritepoet

[ainturmami]

Loving You ✨ Loving you is like being ten years old again, scaling a tree with my eyes bright and skyward, only wanting to get higher and higher, without a thought of how I would get back down... - @langleav 🌹 #favouritepoet #poetry #itsamood #rainyweather #tgif #rose #beauty https://www.instagram.com/p/BozuZJNBbO-/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1d1uts4pm0h5z

[jonathanheppner]

words that unmask me, awaken me, move me...they echo within with resonance...and call me to the place of tears. these are some: {God speaks to each of us as he makes us, then walks with us silently out of the night. These are the words we dimly hear: You, sent out beyond your recall, go to the limits of your longing. Embody me. Flare up like a flame and make big shadows I can move in. Let everything happen to you: beauty and terror. Just keep going. No feeling is final. Don't let yourself lose me. Nearby is the country they call life. You will know it by its seriousness. Give me your hand. ~ Ranier Maria Rilke} #favouritepoet

[the-count-of-monte-london]

View this post on Instagram

Listening to Felix Dennis' poems, which were recited by himself. Another signature finish using wit and awe. #poem #felixdennis #favouritepoet #underrated #modernpoem

[themajesticpandicorn-blog]

The best often die by their own hand just to get away and those left behind can never quite understand, why anyone would ever want to get away from them.

Charles Bukowski

[thee-soliloquist]

Hour  by Carol Ann Duffy

Love’s time’s beggar, but even a single hour,

bright as a dropped coin, makes love rich.

We find an hour together, spend it not on flowers

or wine, but the whole of the summer sky and a grass ditch.

For thousands of seconds we kiss; your hair

like treasure on the ground; the Midas light

turning your limbs to gold. Time slows, for here

we are millionaires, backhanding the night

so nothing dark will end our shining hour,

no jewel hold a candle to the cuckoo spit

hung from the blade of grass at your ear,

no chandelier or spotlight see you better lit

than here. Now. Times hates love, wants love poor,

but love spins gold, gold, gold from straw.

[justgoanddoit-blog-blog]

Born screaming small into this world- Living I am. Occupational therapy twixt birth and death- What was I before? What will I be next? What am I now? Cruel answer carried in the jesting mind of a careless God I will not bend and grovel When I die. If He says my sins are myriad I will ask why He made me so imperfect And he will say 'My chisels were blunt' I will say 'Then why did you make so many of me'.

Spike Milligan