rainlyn
rita! just reblogging poetry
21 posts
Latest Posts by rainlyn
oh to be immortal and be able to consume every piece of knowledge and literature ever
dating simulator where it starts normal but it slowly becomes clear that all of the romanceable characters are attempting to cover up an extremely specific murder they committed a year ago before you arrived
Sometimes
by Mary Oliver
I.
Something came up out of the dark. It wasn’t anything I had ever seen before. It wasn’t an animal or a flower, unless it was both.
Something came up out of the water, a head the size of a cat but muddy and without ears. I don’t know what God is. I don’t know what death is.
But I believe they have between them some fervent and necessary arrangement.
II.
Sometimes melancholy leaves me breathless…
III.
Water from the heavens! Electricity from the source! Both of them mad to create something!
The lighting brighter than any flower. The thunder without a drowsy bone in its body.
IV.
Instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it.
V. Two or three times in my life I discovered love. Each time it seemed to solve everything. Each time it solved a great many things but not everything. Yet left me as grateful as if it had indeed, and thoroughly, solved everything.
VI.
God, rest in my heart and fortify me, take away my hunger for answers, let the hours play upon my body
like the hands of my beloved. Let the cathead appear again — the smallest of your mysteries, some wild cousin of my own blood probably — some cousin of my own wild blood probably, in the black dinner-bowl of the pond.
VII.
Death waits for me, I know it, around one corner or another. This doesn’t amuse me. Neither does it frighten me.
After the rain, I went back into the field of sunflowers. It was cool, and I was anything but drowsy. I walked slowly, and listened
to the crazy roots, in the drenched earth, laughing and growing.
sneaking onto the reservoir again by Robert Wood Lynn
Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell
by Marty McConnell
leaving is not enough; you must stay gone. train your heart like a dog. change the locks even on the house he’s never visited. you lucky, lucky girl. you have an apartment just your size. a bathtub full of tea. a heart the size of Arizona, but not nearly so arid. don’t wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are papier mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them. you had to have him. and you did. and now you pull down the bridge between your houses. you make him call before he visits. you take a lover for granted, you take a lover who looks at you like maybe you are magic. make the first bottle you consume in this place a relic. place it on whatever altar you fashion with a knife and five cranberries. don’t lose too much weight. stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. and you are not stupid. you loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. heart like a four-poster bed. heart like a canvas. heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.
Virginia Woolf, from To the Lighthouse
Memory
by Margaret Atwood
Memory is not in the head only. It’s midnight, you existed once, you exist again, my entire skin sensitive as an eye, imprint of you glowing against me, burnt-out match in a dark room.
"Friends dont look at friends that way" COWARD. I look at my friends with awe in my eyes, my chest is filled with love, im glowing because i get to be near my friends. I look at my friends and i would give them my everything. SO SKILL ISSUE, look at your friends with all the love that you have
I’M GOING BACK TO MINNESOTA WHERE SADNESS MAKES SENSE
by Danez Smith
O California, don’t you know the sun is only a god if you learn to starve for him? I’m bored with the ocean I stood at the lip of it, dressed in down, praying for snow I know, I’m strange, too much light makes me nervous at least in this land where the trees always bear green. I know something that doesn’t die can’t be beautiful. Have you ever stood on a frozen lake, California? The sun above you, the snow & stalled sea — a field of mirror all demanding to be the sun too, everything around you is light & it’s gorgeous & if you stay too long it will kill you & it’s so sad, you know? You’re the only warm thing for miles & the only thing that can’t shine.
hey just so you know the harder i swim the faster i sink if you even care
I don’t want to be the owner of your fantasy, I just want to be a part of your family
Lord Henry is the 19th century Andrew Tate.