lilysofthefield:

 ”Resilient… highly contagious. Once an idea has taken hold of the brain it’s almost impossible to eradicate. An idea that is fully formed - fully understood - that sticks; right in there somewhere…. The smallest seed of an idea can grow. It can grow to define or destroy you.” -Inception

Going to pieces

mysearchforwisdom:

I know you,
unlike the others,

I know your heart,
like the pictures
important people call art.

I find solitude,
within your point of view,
I fear this world,
without you,
without
whatever it is
you do,
I find myself,
desperately coming,
endearingly unglued.

On admiration

mysearchforwisdom:

Ok forget the humanity,
and understand humility,
I enjoy broken words,
spun to a silly,
manner of comma filled poetry,
I have a need,
an obsession,
with your words,
mixed with mine,
in a harmony,
without apology. 

lilysofthefield:

Standing at the ocean today,
I had a thousand thoughts.
Lines of poetry slipping
through my fingers
like sand.
I filled my pockets
with seashells
hoping somehow
I’d take a piece of this moment
home with me.
I wanted to belong
to where the ocean
and the sky touched,
where the world
seems to end,
where the waves wash
over the sand. 

Old draft two

mysearchforwisdom:

Visions manifest,
in the backs of intellects,
as the pen sweats,
wet black ink,
in lines about a wink,
and the eye that never blinks,
frozen still, for you I quill,
writings about heat,
and portrait of loving,
the one that your hugging,
a quiet image locked inside,
little lines about spending time,
thinking about you winking,
and effect of a heart singing,
well that was what I was.
Thinking,
when you were blinking.

Provision of Life

I will not

cease to see

until there is no air to breathe

and room to be

I’ve stolen meaning

With my eyes

At everything I look

And turned it back

Unfurled like lotus.

Stealing,

Searching,

Absorbing,

Images incessantly rolling over

Streaming through the stems of veins.

Promises bargained for

Continuity of warmth

Brought from sight,

Provision of life. 

Ode to Paper Bag

I watch as ghostly breath escapes your parting lips,

words of cursive,

running together. 

Laughter with a smile worn so well.

So this is how it felt

When the earth began to melt

Hunger hurts, and I want him so bad, oh it kills

‘Cause I know I’m a mess he don’t wanna clean up

I got to fold because these hands are just too shaky to hold

Hunger hurts, but starving works, when it costs too much to love

-Quote from Paper Bag by Fiona Apple

Loudest Silence

These are the quiet moments I relish alone

With a fixed stare and a racing mind

A steady breath and a beating heart 

These are the moments of my loudest silence,

my years in seconds. 

Spinning threads

of memories together

with robbed words and distorted hopes.

Weave a blanket

to shade my windows.

Prevent the darkness

of truth from

spilling through the pane of delicate glass,

setting my soul ablaze

igniting the fire of reality.

Spring Point Lighthouse

wrote this a while back but couldn’t post it because it was a Christmas gift for a friend who also happens to follow me on tumblr :)

A beacon incandescent in the sunless night

Diminishing doubt and releasing resolve

with strength of light

Rooted deeply in the coast

Rising high in form and spirit

from the depths of the ocean

Forever to remain as a

searching eye in the fog

Held dear to the heart of Maine

And those held captive

by unforgiving arms of fog

Enveloping in obscurity.

Forever and always

Standing steadfast

Untouched by the aging hand of time 

What is Poetry

clover91:

you’re born, you live,
you breathe, you die

yet there are some
who capture every oxygen
molecule that enters their blood
and they store it in a jar
so the world can gaze
at the science of life and death

they call this poetry 

Words Like Ashes

Take these words

That fall from my mouth

like ash softly drifting

to the ground

silently succumbing to gravity

Violently disrupted by the

Gentle breath of fleeting breezes

Sift through my sentences

And search for remnants of

Tarnished beauty

Now enveloped with the sullen

Grey of ash.

Such fragile beauty

Deteriorating from cover of shadows

You held words

Like ashes

In your hands

And shaped them

to resemble what you thought was meant.

This

reduced words and beauty to ashes

Reject 32

thetargetbird:

If love moves into coherence
as a form of confession,
slipping past beauty and any
theories we had for negotiating it
onto the roof to take home,
we’ve overstayed our welcome
and must force happiness
into hands into pockets.

-C.S. Henderson

lilysofthefield:

I wonder if you remember. 
It’s something I’ll never forget.
Maybe the memory of me
is starting to fade
for distance doesn’t change
and the ocean still is deep.
We’ve used handfuls of words
like sand, connecting invisible lines
from cloud to cloud.
I feel everything
deteriorating.