Your Words

Healing Rain

And I yearned to gather each tear's soft remain,

as if pouring them back;

was to spawn a healing rain, to ease the pain;

in eyes that saw through all the things I've done,

forever closed, when two souls began to feel like one.

by Weltenasche.

Doesn't it piss you off that a random woman can just post a picture of her tits/ass without any effort and get ten times as many likes and attention for it as you will ever get for one of your poems? Then why post poems at all? But this blog is dead anyway - no interaction - no posting - nothing 🤣

No, it doesn't, and honestly, I've never really thought about that before. I don't measure my blog and its value by trivial things like attention or likes.

But from a logical standpoint, it only makes sense, as poetry is more of a niche interest, while something like sexual desire, which is amplified/triggered by the visual impressions you mentioned, certainly appeals to a broader audience.

And I post my poems because I enjoy reading the associations they evoke in people who read them, the ways in which they are interpreted, the memories, impressions, and feelings that people associate with them.

Not everything in the world we call ours should be solely tied to attention, although certainly too much already is.

What would be something you would want to say to your younger self if you could?

I think I would share a quote from Robert Jordan with him: "The oak fought the wind and was broken, the willow bent when it must and survived."

As with nearly everything in our world, this quote, offers myriad interpretations. Yet, I interpret it in a way that might have pointed my younger self in the right direction.

The oak embodies strength, steadfastness, and resilience - its very identity. It feels invincible, unyielding, a necessity; should it encounter something matching its strength, it would break. However, as anyone who is living knows, nothing matches life's strength, which strikes relentlessly and unapologetically. An oak, taught only to be strong and never to bend under life's winds, is destined to break. In contrast, the willow symbolizes flexibility, adaptability, and endurance - capable of bending with life's challenges without ever breaking.

The perceived strength of the oak thus becomes its greatest weakness, while the perceived weakness of the willow reveals its true strength.

Yet, I fear these words would fall on deaf ears, for the mindset of "having to be strong" is and always was deeply ingrained within me. Despite years of reflection, I have been unable to purge these thought patterns. It is a deeply rooted behavior, a toxin coursing through my blood, likely forever poisoning my veins.

I want you to write the alphabet on my ass with your beautiful handwriting.. I'm sorry but that's my first thought that comes to my head in combination with the rest of your blog..

Klingt voll cool :) Stehst du dann auch auf so nerdy zeug wie cosplays, comic con oder sowas in der art?

Ich kann die Begrifflichkeit nur begrenzt einordnen, aber ich denke nicht, nein. Ich war noch nie auf einer Convention oder ähnlichem und für Cosplays kann ich mich auch nicht wirklich begeistern.

Es gibt ein paar Spiele/Bücherreihen, welche ich recht interessant finde. Dazu zählen zum Beispiel die Monster Hunter und die Metro Reihe, wobei ich bei letztgenannten sowohl die Spiele als auch Bücher sehr unterhaltsam fand.

To the other anon he don't answer it because he don't get no bitches. To say it with his words >'It's actually quite simple, really.'<

You have discovered my greatest secret, my Achilles heel, my kryptonite, and in doing so, you have even fashioned my own words into a dagger to deliver the death blow to my heart.

I wish I could be as sharp and witty as you one day.

Was du für mich bist

Die wundersame Melodie,

die in den Winden lebt.

Der flüsternde Regen, 

der auf meiner Haut vergeht.

Die wärmende Sonne, 

die morgendlich in meinem Gesicht erwacht

und jeder zauberhafte Stern

in dunkelster Nacht.

by Weltenasche.

Kleine Künstlerin

Meine Jugend war lange Zeit von unbunten Farben durchzogen; wirkte wie eine Farbfeldmalerei, in welcher homogene, schwarz und graulich gefüllte Felder dominierten.

Doch all das änderte sich mit dem Eintritt einer kleinen Künstlerin in mein Leben.

Sie verstand es mit dem ihr geschenkten Talent umzugehen wie keine andere und so verwandelte sie das starre, dunkle Farbenspiel, was ich bis dahin meine Jugend nannte, mit mehreren liebevollen, geschickten Pinselschwüngen in ein farbenfrohes Meisterwerk. 

by Weltenasche.

frankly, you make it hard not to ask you to write my name in such beautiful handwriting!

Thank you for your compliment.