unjaded words @unjadedwords - Tumblr Blog

here are some poetry prompts for you guys! 🕊 hope they inspire you <3

don’t forget to check out the guidelines in the middle photo above. do tag me on instagram as well (@unjadedwords + #unjadedprompts) so i can see your works! can’t wait to read your takes on these prompts <33

@hey-writers

970317980622

“Woaah look at the moon” Me literally every night no matter what phase the moon is.

to the girl he'll love next.

the-dreamer-poet

vi | viii | ii—

she wants– he want– she w– he– I want to crush the thorned vines ensnaring my imperfect flesh of a heart further down the abyss of despondent dreams

(want to cry in the horror of the morrow breaking into the hailing stonefires prophecied two millenia ago, earthen soil molding to a firebright quake of fallen stars and ashen men

(barely the beginning of a godly wrath on the sinful world; we are the world)

i want to scream rainfire to the deserts, spit poisoned flood to the forests of my future –i cannot be the person you wish me to be, cannot be the song you play in the softest summer, the world you write in the dreamwake.

i am nothing but the butterfly across the earth in the hurricane’s wind when you whistle. nothing but the whispers of a girl who seeks neither future nor present nor past. i am but the absence of time.

an idyllic nightmare

@unjadedwords

source (img)

biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist

Is it ok to mock teenagers for bad/mediocre writing & artwork?

biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist

Good. Then stop disparaging yourself for stuff you created in the past. You were and still are growing.

biggest-gaudiest-poltergeist

This also applies to embarrassing things you said and did. You're the only person who remembers them, and you only remember them bc your brain decided it wanted to use those memories as a warning so that you could grow & change

bluet-s

When is a monster not a monster?

When you give it a name in the shape of love; when you say it's name over and over and it comes back to you. When you say here is my hand that will not harm you — with your loving palm out, cupped and unlatched, let it eat — a waning beast on his knees lost and forlorn, but sloughing off layers of dark matter ready for gold. His pupils, two full moons, plead languidly with yours, to wipe the blood from his chin; to give him a second heart. If he takes the new heart the wolf shrinks back into the naked human. He is a broken light bulb inside a hallway of closed coffins; his skin grapples to keep the monster inside. I gingerly step into the trees; the forest is wet as a bloodied knife and my fingers welcome the hilt; and I take the knife out of the beast's back, and my voice says, I forgive you, I forgive you, listen to me, I won't leave you.

The two silhouettes are light-years away. Two candle wick shadows weaving together: midnight bleeding ink between our shoulder blades. Just two shadows thrown together on mottled bark, sashaying into a performed dance. It begins, the entanglement of human from beast, a tongue curling around each syllable and a mouthful of names. Hook your thumbs under the jawbone; you are not dancing with the devil, you are forgiving yourself. You are whispering, forgive me, forgive me.

I run through a downpour, I want to be clean — I am a sinner looking to be found, take your own hands and you will learn to love a monster.

weltenwellen

Jenny Slate, Little Weirds

warning: intense feelings may arise — this piece may be heavy to read, so read at your own risk. its lines can be interpreted in various ways, so feel free to do so as well.

i used to be lost, subconsciously searching for a home i hadn’t known yet. now, i’m in a different feeling of lostness — aware of my home but sadly back to merely yearning for it, a star now far out of my reach. (can you tell that i’m senti?)

perfectquote

“I don’t think people understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself.”

— Sara Quin

tanaquil

“In Greek, “nostalgia” literally means “the pain from an old wound”. It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. It goes backwards and forwards, it takes us to a place where we ache to go again.”

— Don Draper, “The Wheel” (via rupture-d)