Abdulla Pashew, from "Union" (trans. Hemn Bakr & Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse), pub. Words Without Borders [ID'd]
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Ada Limón, from "Crush", Sharks in the Rivers
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I barely have any followers (I appreciate ya'll though) but here goes anyway
If this post gets 10 notes I'll make an effort to drink 60 ounces of water per day
If this post gets 15 notes I'll start writing more consistently (at least 15 minutes a day)
If this post gets 30 notes I'll start writing poetry again
If this post gets 50 notes I'll start drawing and painting more
If this post gets 100 notes I'll start getting 8-9 hours of sleep a night and having a consistent sleep schedule
If this post gets 500 notes by June I'll start my fantasy inspired etsy store that I've wanted to start for years but never have
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You are, as the poets would say, a poem i know by heart.
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I’d sleep so much better with you right next to me
Unknown
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"Sweeter than living ...", Vahan Teryan (translated by metamorphesque)
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Sometimes people with low self esteem will try to punish you for caring about them.
Wayne Gerard Trotman
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People often forget the eroticism of connecting through mind & spirit. The way a body tingles when its soul has been stroked by another's. The comfort when someone not only understands you, but feels you.
Meredith Marple
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The Second Coming
by W.B. Yeats
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
Surely some revelation is at hand;
Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
The darkness drops again but now I know
That twenty centuries of stony sleep
Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?
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Mary Szybist, Incarnadine
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