#poemnatural

[soft-pine]

Perhaps the World Ends Here

By Joy Harjo // Supernatural

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that

on what it means to be human.

At this table we gossip,

as they put their arms around our children.

They laugh with us

has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

We have given birth on this table,

At this table we sing with joy,

We pray of suffering and remorse.

These are just snippets of the entire poem that I made for @deangloriam, @danger-and-diatribes, and @pinkmarshmelo which you can read here!

Full poem below

The world begins at a kitchen table. No matter what, we must eat to live.

The gifts of earth are brought and prepared, set on the table. So it has been since creation, and it will go on.

We chase chickens or dogs away from it. Babies teethe at the corners. They scrape their knees under it.

It is here that children are given instructions on what it means to be human. We make men at it, we make women.

At this table we gossip, recall enemies and the ghosts of lovers.

Our dreams drink coffee with us as they put their arms around our children. They laugh with us at our poor falling-down selves and as we put ourselves back together once again at the table.

This table has been a house in the rain, an umbrella in the sun.

Wars have begun and ended at this table. It is a place to hide in the shadow of terror. A place to celebrate the terrible victory.

We have given birth on this table, and have prepared our parents for burial here.

At this table we sing with joy, with sorrow. We pray of suffering and remorse. We give thanks.

Perhaps the world will end at the kitchen table, while we are laughing and crying, eating of the last sweet bite.

[queerstudiesnatural]

Spn poetry month - Day 26: Dirt

@spnpoetryrenaissance​​

gardener dean is very important to me. and yes i think he has a lot of panic attacks when he’s no longer running on spite and adrenaline and finally lets his brain catch up to what he’s had to live through.

cw panic attack

Transcription under the cut

we got a garden, in spite of god

when i bought this house, i thought about how much you would love having a garden with flowers and bees and other annoying little living things it never once occurred to me that all that's yours would be mine that i would be getting a garden, too to grow tomatoes and fennel and strawberries to have a singular apple tree that bears small, barely eatable apples but that i still cherish like a part of me

we decided to try potatoes cut them up into segments and i dug a trench the stench of rotting flesh fills up the air in a bubble dirt and bones and meat surround me. past my bubble, the world falls away i am lying down now, next to the corpse, next to the worms that crawl up my nose and into my veins my lungs have decomposed and i will never breathe again. faintly, in the distance, a voice i am being pulled up now, out of my grave four years old in my mother's lap, unborn in an aquarium swimming, swimming, swimming inside myself shh, it's okay count backwards for me 50, 49, 48, 47, the worms crawl and crawl 46, 45, i think someone died, 44 43, focus on my breathing 42, 41, 40, 39, 38, 37, 36 my face is damp, has it been raining? or is it blood pouring out of my eyes? 35, 34, 33, 32, you're here but i can't see you i can smell you, though, and that's nice you smell better than the grave, 31, 30, 29 better than— 28, 27, 26 better than the corpse still lying somewhere behind me 25, 24, 23, you're right, there is no corpse 22, 21, 20, just dirt and potato segments that we cut up together, 19, and that are gonna grow strong for me to make croquettes and shepherd's pie. the worms are going away now. 18, 17, 16, 15, 14, i love you you're safe, i love you, 13, 12, 11, kiss me rise, fall, rise, fall, 10, 9, 8, no more burning, no more crawling 7, 6, 5, 4, it's just us and this house that you rebuilt for me for us, for our family, 3, 2, 1, i love you. stay with me.

i love my garden. i sit all day by my flower beds, my skin browning under the sun, and i have many more freckles (more places for you to kiss me). i don't dig the holes anymore, but i look at you turning over fresh soil your back glistening and packets of seeds at your feet and i can't help but think i've made it. maybe my chest gets tight sometimes, and maybe the smell of death still finds its way under my skin but i count backwards, and i listen for your voice, and i know that this is real. i know i can hold your hand, and cook us dinner i know i can drape myself around your back, even with my naked chest, even with sweat and dirt and coffee breath i know that we will have strawberries in the spring. i laugh at god, to know we are surrounded by alive things.

[postpunkdean]

PoemNatural S01E13: First Love

(tag list & transcript below)

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added removed):

@emeraldcas @supernatural-jaeger @jactingjoices @lengthofropes @chapeldean @knifelesbianjo @endvverse

Transcript:

First Love

First love is

Truthful,

Confident,

Joyous

But it rarely lasts.

-

Because first love is

Learning,

Stumbling,

Messy

But it is beautiful.

[turboheller]

stay

poemnatural, deancas, the confession, the empty takes cas, s15e18, angst, cas loves dean, dean doesn't say it back, until he does, dean POV.

.

Don't do this...

.

(Stay!

Don't give in...

Stay!

Don't give up...

Stay!

Don't go there...

Stay!

Don't leave me...

Stay!

Don't say it...

Stay!)

.

I love you! 

(But you're gone)

.

[queerstudiesnatural]

Spn poetry month - Day 23: Falling

@spnpoetryrenaissance​​

FINALLY. the annaruby poem i wrote way before we even came up with the idea for poetry month. and you know what. it’s not as good as i remember jfshfd. i guess it’s fun if you really dissect it (the stanzas building and then falling appart, the mutual destruction, etc) but i guess i liked writing it better than i like reading it. it’s a “you had to be there” situation lol.

Transcription under the cut

an angel and a demon walk into a bar

when i awoke, your face was the first face i saw, and i loved you

sharper, fuller than anything i'd seen before you went against everything i had expected, and i loved you

so i sat next to you, and i stood next to you, and the world was ending under my feet, and you dug until the earth crumbled into nothingness, and i loved you

you plotted, held my hand, and asked if i trusted you i smiled, got lost in your abyss, and i knew that you would kill me so i took your hand. of course i trust you. we stepped off the ledge together, and i fell again, because i loved you

(artists have been imagining us for centuries little fragments of our story written across canvas an angel and a demon walk into a bar the punchline this time is that neither of us survives i kill you and you kill me and we love and i love and i loved you)

my feathers turning black with each second i spent looking at you and with each breath we shared my wings had never looked so beautiful. and i in turn blew flecks of gold into your lungs and you said it was like being torn apart that it felt good because it felt like i loved you

the artists will keep at their work and we will live on through them, and through a destiny that will keep getting bent

and finally will snap

shot dead or eroded by the incessant flap of wings and smoke and heartbeats against rope

this will be then, but now, now, now now, with our colors blending now we are dying, and now i love you

[queerstudiesnatural]

Spn poetry month - Day 27: Bodies

@spnpoetryrenaissance​​

dean winchester is a body, and that body isn’t his. yeah, second poem in a row about trauma. what can i say, this is supernatural.

cw mentions of death, body-related trauma

Transcription under the cut

bodies

such a wonderful thing bodies are to hold and withhold such tenderness and sizzling fire hand on thigh, throat, hand limply hanging off the side of a box

i have held bodies for pleasure and for pain, and for lowering in the grave here and here and here and here the earth is holy and the body is dirt

touch me there and i sigh, touch me there and i scream unable to tell what i like, pleasure and pain mixing my body's never belonged to me

bodies, i've been told, exist for three things only: hurting other bodies—this one maybe the most sacred seducing other bodies—for what reason, daddy wouldn't say dying

but i think gentle swaying, i think cupping cheeks kissing bellies and hands around backs, thumbs caressing might make me wanna get to know bodies as something a little fragile and soft, and made to live

learn not to flinch when you come up behind me not to feel you on my chest and get ready to swing learn to kiss you without teeth

there is nothing sacred about hurt no more than you in me, no more than your lips around my name the earth is holy and the body is dirt in death we are all the same

[queerstudiesnatural]

Spn poetry month - Day 24 + 25 : Touch + Joy

@spnpoetryrenaissance​​

kind of inspired by my beachnatural truthing au and also i just want them to be happy idk

Transcription under the cut

i think it was a thursday

we sat at the beach and we ate pizza rolls you didn't go in the water, but you dug a hole in the sand, and buried your feet in it. i tried it, too, but didn't like it. i much preferred to have my feet on top of your feet, sand between us and sun and cool air on my skin.

i read you some chapters from a book, and you pointed out the passages you liked. i circled them in pencil which made a nice sound on the page. you fell asleep on your back, your hand still inside the packet of pizza rolls, and got a sunburn—your nose and cheeks were red all week.

this is the day i think about most, when we are lying on top of each other, legs around legs, skin against skin, when you're at your most vulnerable and trusting i remember you at the beach. your feet in the sand, safe enough to not have an escape plan, shooing away seagulls and laughing at their insistence.

when we are lying together like this, i do not picture you angry (though you often are); i do not picture you swinging a weapon or muttering incantations (though you often do); i picture you and me near the sea, no plans, suspended in time, no duty but to be happy.

[postpunkdean]

PoemNatural S01E20: Brothership

(tag list & transcript below)

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added/removed):

@emeraldcas @supernatural-jaeger @jactingjoices @lengthofropes @chapeldean @knifelesbianjo @endvverse @but-theres-wolves @jodymillsmilf @all-or-nothing-baby

Transcript:

Brothership

Beneath a leather jacket cold

The small boy has gotten old

And he will no longer do as he is told.

-

His obedience was always a lie

To keep the family from going awry

As he swallowed down his true reply.

-

But one command stays true

He will always his brother’s best pursue

Causing their father both pride and rue.