Heart Falls to Pieces

Poetry Thoughts Love Romance and the Impossible Ache

[smakkabagms]

below willow, winnowed field - the whole loud month means marsh

earth worm remember Thel

when I forget her

[theatrefetish]

Things girls look for in a boy: •Day Man •Fighter of the Night Man •Champion of the sun •Master of karate and friendship for everyone

[tidalheartposts-blog]

I ❤ Charlie and IASiP.

[beautiful-wildlife]

Algonquin Fox by Nicki Williams

[tidalheartposts-blog]

My cat Polly is just like this fox. Be still my heart. I want to see a fox in the wild some day.

[sarahmargs]

a leia comic about loss.

[tidalheartposts-blog]

Omg. I so need this right now. Hashtag the things you skip over in an action story

[coolthingoftheday]

This is what the tea that was dumped into the Boston Harbor would have looked like. In the 1700s, tea was compressed into planks; a plank this size could last a person roughly a year. They would be bought in sections, and small slivers would be shaved off into the kettle every time somebody wanted to make a cup of tea.

(Source)

[roachpatrol]

what the **** that’s so neat

[shaelit]

So what you’re telling me is that they were Frisbeeing tea off the ships.

[libertarian--princess-deactivat]

And THAT’S why it was such a big deal; they literally destroyed a couple decades worth of tea with each crate they tossed.

They dumped forty-six tons of the stuff into Boston Harbor; that’s worth $1.7 million USD adjusted for inflation.

People don’t protest like they used to smdh

[tidalheartposts-blog]

Interesting as hell. I've often wondered about the tea that was dumped into the harbor. And now I know. And knowing is half the battle.

[wrong-url-motherfucker]

Government, Monty Python Style

[xanthewalter]

Still brilliantly funny all these years later.

[seriously-what-is-my-life]

BEST INSULTS

[that-greek-gold-rush]

whenever i find monty python casually just on my dashboard i just blink a few times and then get super excited because i don’t see them as much as i’d like to on tumblr

[dduane]

Exquisite.

[bransrath]

@crownedpatriot

[whitmerule]

Idk, starting to sound like a pretty good system aorund now.

[sarahviehmann]

This is much needed at this time.

[bonneibennett]

[tidalheartposts-blog]

So true. Been feeling this way lately.

[wnq-writers]

Loving her made me a better writer.

juansendizon  (via wnq-writers)

[tidalheartposts-blog]

Simple Math

Hear the invocation rising to my quiet tongue, from my heart where I am bound by the threads of a golden cord.  Two eyes, four eyes,  eight fingers, sixteen. My prayer rises as though on smoke to a clouded night sky in the friendly dark of four o’clock in the morning:  do not let me be ash in this life, do not let me be in this life without you.  Lonely hours. But somewhere  someone is being loved; somewhere  sleeping, you are held by woven sheets; in this departure, in this space between  what is and what should be, equations fail, there is no bridge between then  and now, where it once fit perfectly: you in my arms where one and one  equaled one.  /Tidal Heart

[tidalheartposts-blog]

*dying* this. song. completes. me. 

[tidalheartposts-blog]

Behind the Solar Plexus

This is the dimension where emotion lives, a universe alone, wrapped in strands of vibrating strings, singing to me.  And though you might be four thousand light years away,  on a green planet, watching wave upon wave of gray ocean groping an empty beach, I’d still feel you pulling at me, knots of fingers under my skin, because distance is an idea coiled within me, a result of how I scarred you and you scarred me: I can think of it, and I can forgive it. I sit in my autumn-cold room and hear the humming  of our ghosts, pastel voices and images passing through this blue present.  My stillness is a breath I take in between sighs of resignation, it is how I find a rhythm to move me where yours once did, and when I am fifty-three, when you are fifty-three, I’ll still feel you pulling at me,  because time is a simple idea coiled within me, and you are vibrating strings, singing to me.  /Tidal Heart

[tidalheartposts-blog]

Astronaut

Above the shimmering tops of tress a net of night-blue curves with only the relief of stars. I am smoking and saying your name, I am drawing lines between the points of light-- your crown of hair,  arch of forehead, and the slope into eye.  And that slow moving satellite is me, cutting across your face of sky-- I am caught, suddenly dipping into the black of your pupil I disappear, and now I am charting a new course through arteries and tissue, sinew of your figure, finding a fresh path into the deep red of your heart again.  /Tidal Heart

[katrinnac]

Childhood Illusions

No one can tell what you mean to me, A firecracker, an excuse, a screw up/loose/-er, an explosion too soon Of all the wrong words, a warning bell A porcupine babushka doll Hiding my heart as best you can Compressing yourself, a hard core An amulet to protect me -And you never could, you never did-

Out of step with the game at hand But how to tell you I stood exposed A magician living in her head A slight of hand, a trapdoor inside Holding your heart, your kind, hopeful core no one else sees deep deep inside me How I wish now we could leave the stage And I could hand back the past to you Let you leave intact, not cut in two

@katrinnac

[theonceandfuturefool]

it’s autumn now, and the tips of my fingers are redder than leaves. I gave you my gloves, but it’s okay, your hand is warming mine faster. your eyes match the stormy sky but are softer; I drown in them. the steam from our hot coffee mixes with our clouds of breath, and your book pages are yellowed and old and crinkle when you turn them. you hide in my old green sweater’s bulk- it looks better on you than it did on me. when I kiss your cheek you blink, smile lazily, flip another page. you can stay for hours- I know you. so I will too, busy myself with poetry about your eyes and your hands and your book and my sweater and autumn.

All The Things We Could Do, If I Could Just Say ‘I Love You’ || m.l. (via motherseas)

-- Best Tumblr poem I’ve read all day! Made me feel cozy and warm. Made me want to be out in the autumn. /Tidal Heart

[tidalheartposts-blog]

The Balm With Which Your Hands Cover My Feet at the End of My Two Thousand Mile Journey

The white sun turns in a pale sky white white on my naked face and I alone alone in rolling dunes of sand, rolling sand, boiling sand pushing into my shoes, between my toes with each step; space and time have fled, I drown in the view of a numb horizon and  the brown crest of a wave that lies to me.  What is progress? Feet sink, the cruel, nude earth rises around my soles--forward  is an illusion.                               This is an inhuman  feat: I walk two thousand miles through a naked desert, only one hundred stops along the way at mysterious oases that rise in vapor like tigers from tall grass;  for one thousand miles I have no shoes, they’ve dissolved, the soles melted through; out loud I recite poetry in French, and after six hundred miles silence overcomes language; sand, white sun, burning body in heat, I only know the image of you. On the other side of the desert, I walk and walk and the only thing that stops me are your arms that catch me and hold onto me as I fall.  /Tidal Heart

[tidalheartposts-blog]

To begin with, yes. Feeling this way so often, who knows what the answer is. To not love? To never love...to love no matter the consequences...

[electricle]

9 of the 18 Badass Women You Probably Didn’t Hear About I 2014

[stevebuscemisnipples-deactivate]

aka the real list (without jennifer lawrence)

[tidalheartposts-blog]

Chills...