#poetru

[katerobynmoments]

— Siegfried Sassoon

“I live alone with masterpieces of music, prose and poetry. What more could a man desire?”

[worlddoctors]

As Cupcakke once said, "When he hit it from the back, lemme arch my back, and when I arch my back that mean attack this pussy"

And that's why James arched so hard his elbow popped out his goddamn shirt

[rickpoet]

Hey Torah and anti-DEI people...take this poem and put it where you need it to go. Read along at https://jewishpoetry.net/every-a-poem-for-parsha-acharei-mot-kedoshim-aliyah-7/

[fluttering-slips]

To a Daughter Leaving Home

When I taught you at eight to ride a bicycle, loping along beside you as you wobbled away on two round wheels, my own mouth rounding in surprise when you pulled ahead down the curved path of the park, I kept waiting for the thud of your crash as I sprinted to catch up, while you grew smaller, more breakable with distance, pumping, pumping for your life, screaming with laughter, the hair flapping behind you like a handkerchief waving goodbye.

Linda Pastan

[darichonne]

insta: @darichonne

[rasmasandra]

Bottled Summer

With every summer that passes, I long to find a way, to bottle up summer, like a soft and mellow wine, so that when the winter comes – I can savor it again. In the dark of the long night, as the north winds howl, I’d take a bottle of summer, uncork it and let the scent of it, the warmth of it – fill my room. Could we bottle summer? and if we did, we’d be trapping the magic, that…

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[darichonne]

insta: @darichonne

[reno-matagot]

𝔎𝔬𝔰𝔪𝔬𝔰 𝔉𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔷

Une cosmogonie de bleuets pour un univers-jardin, l'ombre d'un pétale évanoui d'étoiles.

Des centaures goûtent aux fruits de l'été, il est trop tôt pour te lire: j'attends sous le porche mauve du matin.

Charme de ton souffle mordoré de verts, de scintillements purs, j'aspire au feu, brûle un peu mon corps, dans la carapace opaque où j'ai chaud, me déplie..

Saisons pleurées sous les glaïeuls, les enfants pâles de l'hiver ont caressé tes cils. Cygnes ébahis, parés de splendeurs, visages blancs constellant le vent.

Le Carnet des Poèmes Gratuits • 4.2.23