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Literature Text
I don’t know how to hold a bouquet of fireworks
within my chest but you light the spark anyway
and I swear every colour blossoms under my skin
and my bones tremble with every firecracker but
you smell like bonfires and home and your arms
are warm around my waist, you promise me that
summer is a state of mind, that my eyes are like
lilacs that never fade, my wisteria tears will aid
roses to unfurl in my cheeks, you whisper that
good comes from sadness if you let it go, let it
pour out; I drench you in a deluge of snow-thaw
and you turn it into mid-summer morning haze
and hummingbirds chorusing at noon, vibrating
in my ribs. I grow under your touch, under your
careful green thumbs. I am a garden bed waiting
for a boy like you to come and make me bloom, to
melt the winter’s frost. and you have been waiting
for a new project, spend some time on me and I will
repay you with daisies that will never die, peonies
that will not wither, eternal lavender perfumes.
(I will give you a love that will last, a deep velvet
geranium-heart, lily-white lungs, a pair of open
jasmine-flower hands so stay a little longer, stay.)
within my chest but you light the spark anyway
and I swear every colour blossoms under my skin
and my bones tremble with every firecracker but
you smell like bonfires and home and your arms
are warm around my waist, you promise me that
summer is a state of mind, that my eyes are like
lilacs that never fade, my wisteria tears will aid
roses to unfurl in my cheeks, you whisper that
good comes from sadness if you let it go, let it
pour out; I drench you in a deluge of snow-thaw
and you turn it into mid-summer morning haze
and hummingbirds chorusing at noon, vibrating
in my ribs. I grow under your touch, under your
careful green thumbs. I am a garden bed waiting
for a boy like you to come and make me bloom, to
melt the winter’s frost. and you have been waiting
for a new project, spend some time on me and I will
repay you with daisies that will never die, peonies
that will not wither, eternal lavender perfumes.
(I will give you a love that will last, a deep velvet
geranium-heart, lily-white lungs, a pair of open
jasmine-flower hands so stay a little longer, stay.)
Literature
to everything there is a season
I.
as a flower or a man,
i shall burst,
and scatter.
as a corpse, i shall
peel away, and
return to the earth,
the air. i'll be in
your lungs yet.
II.
look, it’s not that i’m not
a little bit charmed
by the concentric circles
of existence, and the love,
the bitter, bright and
stinking
love.
it’s not that i don’t like
carrying this body that is a miracle,
a miracle in the sum of its parts.
kahlo got it, she knew what
she was talking about –
but i won’t put words
in a dead woman’s mouth.
and the hot sweat of it here,
the pain, the fuck and the sour wine
of it here,
it isn’t really chaining
Literature
Deciduous
All the glory of Summer
Has snapped
Like an aorta unplugged
And blood bleeds over
Everything as the sun
Drowns faster and faster
And the woods are Blood-tipped
Pikes.
Literature
fabled life
i.
she talks through her wrinkles,
'i have no desire for food', she says.
i take her plate to the kitchen
noticing how the beetroot shavings bled into the skin of the chicken and brown rice.
it was blood, skin, and bone,
and the rice was a million starlike cells floating between.
this reminds me of my anatomy textbook:
we've been learning what's beneath our skin,
we learned that all cells divide. some cells often don't stop dividing.
other cells divide and stop when they should...
but not my grandmother's.
starlike, they explode, they shatter, they consume
they divide.
ii.
i want to be mad at my grandmother's cells,
but what would that do?
i
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30/9/14
the weather has turned and yet his eyes hold eternal summer skies and he always makes me think of flowers in bloom even though they are withering around me.
Featured:
the weather has turned and yet his eyes hold eternal summer skies and he always makes me think of flowers in bloom even though they are withering around me.
Featured:
it's that time of week again, folksyep, it's tori's feature tuesday!
haunting, with an excellent ending line.
excellent imagery and rhythm here
again, pretty much flawless imagery made this one stand out for me.
form poetry, and well-executed at that. i love this.
powerful, painful, perfect.
wordplay! the way to my heart. (also, everyone go +watch this deviant. yes. good.)
one of the many poems written for chromeantennae's new body image project, Beauty In Raw Humanity.
intense, hard-hitting poetry.
awesome, awesome use of vocabulary.
breaking news: AyeAye12 is rad. wait. not breaking news at all
Feature #8 - The Library of NefertariHello, and welcome to the eighth feature of the series "The Library of Nefertari." Here, you will mainly discover works of literature that contain strong segments of imagery and emotion, as well as inspiring visual art. If you're looking for pieces that permit the utmost beauty and power, then you're in the right place.
So without further ado, I present to you these lovely works! Feel free to show the artists your support by giving 'em a, comment, or even a
.
, comment, or even a 
.
© 2014 - 2024 comatose-comet
Comments18
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This is excellent! Love it!