"The soul that sees beauty may sometimes walk alone."
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
(A post may lead to NSFW imagery. Click at your own risk.)
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from The Perfect Mother
.
The perfect mother lets the cat
sleep on her head. The
children laugh.
Where is she?
She is not carefully ironing the starched
ruffles of a Sunday dress.
What does she say?
She does not speak.
Her head is under the cat and
like the cat, she sleeps.
-
.
The Night of Sorrow
A lovely woman rolls up
The delicate bamboo blind.
She sits deep within,
Twitching her moth eyebrows.
who may it be
That grieves her heart?
On her face one sees
only the wet traces of tears.
Li Bai(Source: photo...hangur.soup, via kingcreative)
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Je t’aime. by Massimo Margagnoni on Flickr.
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Lovers find secret places
inside this violent world
where they make transactions
with beauty.
Reason says, Nonsense.
I have walked and measured the walls here.
There are no places like that.Love says, There are.
Rumi (via gohomekiki)(Source: fuckyeahrumi, via dendroica)
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At times you sink, you fall
into your hole of silence,
into your abyss of proud anger,
and you can scarcely
return, still bearing remnants
of what you found
in the depths of your existence.
My love, what do you find
in your closed well?
Seaweed, swamps, rocks?
What do you see with blind eyes,
bitter and wounded?
Darling, you will not find
in the well into which you fall
what I keep for you on the heights:
a bouquet of dewy jasmines,
a kiss deeper than your abyss.
Do not fear me, do not fall
into your rancor again.
Shake off my word that came to wound you
and let it fly through the open window.
It will return to wound me
without your guiding it
since it was laden with a harsh instant
and that instant will be disarmed in my breast.
Smile at me radiant
if my mouth wounds you.
I am not a gentle shepherd
like the ones in fairy tales,
but a good woodsman who shares with you
earth, wind, and mountain thorns.
Love me, you, smile at me,
help me to be good.
Do not wound yourself in me, for it will be useless,
do not wound me because you wound yourself. -
My cup of coffee
Contains a lace curtain
I swallow slowly
So as not to pull
The curtain from the rod
My beautiful cup empties
Too quickly
The lace is suddenly gone
From this greedy girls cup
~The Sensual Starfish
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Stunt Poetry from Rishi Kaneria on Vimeo.
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Funny
What’s it like to be a human
the bird asked
I myself don’t know
it’s being held prisoner by your skin
while reaching infinity
being a captive of your scrap of time
while touching eternity
being hopelessly uncertain
and helplessly hopeful
being a needle of frost
and a handful of heat
breathing in the air
and choking wordlessly
it’s being on fire
with a nest made of ashes
eating bread
while filling up on hunger
it’s dying without love
it’s loving through death
That’s funny said the bird
and flew effortlessly up into the air
~ Anna Kamienska ~(Source: stucklikeatattoo)
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Sonnet XVII by Pablo Neruda
“so I love you because I know no other way”
(Source: raffaellacarra, via thingssheloves)
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