None of us will become perfect in a day or a month or a year. We will not...– Gordon B. Hinckley (via decrepito)
When you love someone, you love the person as they are, and not as you’d like...– Leo Tolstoy (via warenik)
Deciding whether or not to trust a person is like deciding whether or not to...– Lemony Snicket (via black-wolves)
Richard Brautigan, "The Second Kingdom"
sharingpoetry: In the first kingdom of the stars, everything is always half-beautiful. Your fingernails are angels sleeping after a long night of making love. The sound of your eyes: snow coming down the stairs of the wind. Your hair is the color of God picking flowers. In the second kingdom of the stars there is only you. (Submitted by davidsatin)
We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How...– Ray Bradbury (via col-legno)
At some point in life the world’s beauty becomes enough. You don’t need to...– Toni Morrison (via nuaira)
Sharing Poetry: Wallace Stevens, "The Idea of... →
sharingpoetry: She sang beyond the genius of the sea. The water never formed to mind or voice, Like a body wholly body, fluttering Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry, That was not ours although we understood, Inhuman, of the veritable ocean. The sea was not a…
Catherine Jagoe North of April the house smells of bought daffodils grown somewhere south of here somewhere kinder I crack the bedroom window for the first time in five months and forget to close it at night freezing we drink the sweet wine of the day’s air down the street a...
ANNE HAINES The Fall of the Fearful Biped Things got complicated when we started to walk upright (you know, the constant threat of falling). —Kate Greenstreet, “Where’s the Body?” What separates us from the animals is that we have farther to fall and, having fallen, fear it. Fate and all of her accomplices. Burden of this brain case. We can’t just migrate in a herd, thundering...
Anne Haines The Animal in My Attic There is an animal in my attic, scrabbling against the rafters, making the cats inside my living room look up at the ceiling, startled. It is a heavy winter animal, circling, warm beneath the dubious shelter of my aging roof. When I flew through Dallas last week I looked into faces, hundreds at the airport, every one with a story and some- place to go. Lost...
Patrick Donnelly Not Pure No matter now she was a burden to know, to go to her or stay away, futile, that she scared kids, handed them to strangers in restaurants, threw a glass of red wine in the boy’s face, took a hatchet to the door of a room where he hid (the room where the father slept, before he fled). No matter no one believed this version, she hiding her bedlam till...
KATE DURBIN Unlearning to Read I don’t remember learning how. Only not knowing, then knowing. Before: lines chickens made in the dirt inside the coop; circles and triangles I drew in the garden mud with my fingers. The only meaning attributed these symbols, that of a child’s whimsy. After: the day my mother drove us to Seattle to buy fresh trout at Pike Place Market. Looking out the car window...
Things I Didn’t Know I Loved by Nazim Hikmet translated by Mutlu Konuk and Randy Blasing it's 1962 March 28th I'm sitting by the window on the Prague-Berlin train night is falling I never knew I liked night descending like a tired bird on a smoky wet plain I don't like comparing nightfall to a tired bird I didn't know I loved the earth can someone who hasn't worked the earth love it I've...
e. e. e. cummings, "anyone lived in a pretty how... →
sharingpoetry: anyone lived in a pretty how town (with up so floating many bells down) spring summer autumn winter he sang his didn’t he danced his did Women and men(both little and small) cared for anyone not at all they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same sun moon stars rain children guessed(but only a…
Barbara Ras, "You Can't Have It All" →
sharingpoetry: But you can have the fig tree and its fat leaves like clown hands gloved with green. You can have the touch of a single eleven-year-old finger on your cheek, waking you at one a.m. to say the hamster is back. You can have the purr of the cat and the soulful look of the black dog, the look that…
Robert Frost, "Acquainted with the Night" →
sharingpoetry: I have been one acquainted with the night. I have walked out in rain—and back in rain. I have outwalked the furthest city light. I have looked down the saddest city lane. I have passed by the watchman on his beat And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain. I have stood still and stopped the sound…
We are born to love as we are born to die, and between the heartbeats of those...– Tim Farrington, The Monk Downstairs (via bookoasis)
Oh, God, make small The old star-eaten blanket of the sky, That I may fold it...– T. E. Hulme, from “The Embankment” (via bookoasis)
Are you conscious of the restful influence which the stars exert? To me they are...– Arthur Conan Doyle, The Stark Munro Letters (via bookoasis)