poetry

Even in the dark I think of you—
That these shadows have made me long for your touch.
Might that I wrap myself in the soft, white blanket of your skin,
your whispers tumbling warmly into my ear.
And yet as I consider the tenderness within your voice
It is only the sound of my heart—trembling
To be next to you.

—Charles Coakley Simson, “Intimacy” (via fables-of-the-reconstruction)

(via gnostix1)

myinkstainedheart:

If you are spring, come to me,
sweeten the mouth, lay pink florets
over my round bosom. Come to me,
loosen the braid resting on the nape
if you are autumn. If you are winter,
come also, it is high time to be bold,
my trembling hands will unveil my flaw.
Any time, any season, return to me.
Come nonetheless, come nonetheless.

I wanted to be wanted and he was very beautiful, kissed with his eyes closed, and only felt good while moving. You could drown in those eyes, I said, so it’s summer, so it’s suicide, so we’re helpless in sleep and struggling at the bottom of the pool.

—Richard Siken, Crush  (via krook)

(Source: vacants, via youweresowildflowerchild)

artemisdreaming:

Purple smoke rises from the mountain top
The peak looks like an incense burner in the sunlight
Far away I see the valley stretching before me
The whole waterfall hangs there
The torrent dropping three thousand feet
Straight down to the valley floor
I think it must be the milky way
Spilling to the earth from the heavens.

~Li Bai, Viewing the Lu Mountain Falls
Image:   Man looking at a waterfall, Li Tang , (Chinese, 1050s-1130), Qing dynasty, Smithsonian Museum                 

artemisdreaming:

Purple smoke rises from the mountain top

The peak looks like an incense burner in the sunlight

Far away I see the valley stretching before me

The whole waterfall hangs there

The torrent dropping three thousand feet

Straight down to the valley floor

I think it must be the milky way

Spilling to the earth from the heavens.


~Li Bai, Viewing the Lu Mountain Falls

Image:   Man looking at a waterfall, Li Tang , (Chinese, 1050s-1130), Qing dynasty, Smithsonian Museum                 

…I have died out of the human world and come to feel a strange, cold, aqueous, terraqueous, aerial, ethereal sympathy and existence. I sow the sun and moon for seeds.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

(via franflow)

(Source: fables-of-the-reconstruction, via 4thsoul)

backroadshaiku:

morning bird songs

from long ago

…a lingering moon