#goodpoems

[katelovessewing]

Good Poems, Garrison Keillor, Vintage OOP Paperback Book, Shakespeare, Yeats, Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes - Etsy

[katelovessewing]

Good Poems, Garrison Keillor, Vintage OOP Paperback Book, Shakespeare, Yeats, Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes - Etsy

[katelovessewing]

Good Poems, Garrison Keillor, Vintage OOP Paperback Book, Shakespeare, Yeats, Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes - Etsy

[katelovessewing]

Good Poems, Garrison Keillor, Vintage OOP Paperback Book, Shakespeare, Yeats, Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes - Etsy

[katelovessewing]

Good Poems, Garrison Keillor, Vintage OOP Paperback Book, Shakespeare, Yeats, Emily Dickinson, Langston Hughes - Etsy

[bttjoseph]

Raveled Nativity: 2 of 4

Raveled Nativity: 2 of 4: Spirit heads, in control of a given life Hang besides a famous doited scarecrow And its beaming rays, burnt its natives ... #poetrycommunity #poetry

On an Isle, I was born An elephant totem, I was restrained to Intelligent, strong and loyal, I had to be Spirit heads, in control of a given life Hang besides a famous doited scarecrow And its beaming rays, burnt its natives

On an Isle, I was born I could leave anytime, I felt or wished like Brief and simple it sounds; it was hard to do I believed in all I heard, and encountered Resulting in a…

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[fishlikestuff]

Nothing like some scented candles and some books

[vivre-voyage]

THE THINGS I AM UNABLE TO ACHIEVE.

I have been seeing you everywhere, in and out of library with a coffee and phone in hand, never alone, in and out of white walled classes, sitting in the vibrant cafe as I go in, then slowly walk backwards towards the automatic glass doors, into the heat, out of the cold.

Slowly walking back as I have been doing this entire past week, you have become a mark of all the things I am unable to get, unable to achieve, I forget my words, I look down, so you don't really know about how my biological system is going crazy, my heart blinks rapidly and my eyes, my eyes have a heart attack.

They have been talking about what do you write, how well you write, goddammit do you even write?,in classes, and I don't know how to differentiate between being honest and writing, and I want to say i have been writing all my life, but lately in all honesty i have just been spilling, 

I have been overflowing with they way you say my darling, and sing with that thick warm voice like espresso with two shots of milk ,that makes me want you wrapped around me in winters, the way you keep fixing your specs, the way your curly raven hair fall over your forehead, messy, but not everywhere, with the way you always have that I couldn't less face yet,

                              I know you do or I have made myself believe you do.

Like the lie, I have been telling myself that I write when all i do is spill, like the lie that I wanted to believe that maybe we have a chance,  when holy fuck you couldn't care less,  like the way I am faking my way calling myself a writer when all i really am is a ship with holes and it keeps filling water in buckets to pour into the world and all we are what could be’s , the sharpest jab in the list of all the things I cannot get.