source: sincerelyart:

Small Independent Deer Does Its Errands

Love After Love – Derek Walcott

 

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other’s welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

This story ❤

kneethee:

Scroll is welcoming the new year with a poem every hour curated by @thealiporepost Post. I made a little drawing for Malayalam’s Ghazal by Jeet Thayil. 🌴 

Happy New Year :)

Remember seeing this illustration on said post but did not know who the artist was. Her work is beautiful❤

— बाबुषा कोहली

From the movie ‘Arrival’

 

 

(Source: incidentalcomics)

क्लीशे कविता – १

रजनीगंधा बर्फ और

नीरव शीत विहान,

शब्दातीत कुछ नहीं

रेशा-रेशा ज़िन्दगी

सपने में किमख़्वाब

शब्दातीत कुछ नहीं

या हो तुम के हो नहीं

जीवन मांगे ज्ञान,

शब्दातीत कुछ नहीं

सलेटी दिन फिर शाम की चाय

और झिलमिलाती एक किताब,

शब्दातीत कुछ नहीं

मेघ तुम्हारे शब्द और

मन मेरा मजबूर किसान,

शब्दातीत कुछ नहीं

…

Nothing is beyond words. One just has to find the right ones, and in enough number.

Surely a book where Ghalib and Shelley meet, albeit briefly, can be nothing but a rare treasure?

Birthmarks as Rorschach tests.

Dominique Christina ― ‘The Period Poem’

“…that women, made of moonlight magic and macabre, will make you know the blood.”

“I love language things, better known as words. I like solving their little problems. I like trying to guide them toward where they seem to long to go. It’s very romantic. It’s hard for me to fall in love with someone if they aren’t curious about what can be done with words.”

—Ariana Lenarksy

Source: bostonpoetryslam

“Something in me vibrates to a dusky, dreamy smell of dying moons and shadows.”

— Zelda Fitzgerald

“We walked at night towards a cafe blooming with Japanese lanterns and I followed your white shoes gleaming like radium in the damp darkness. Rising off the water, lights flickered an invitation far enough away to be interpreted as we liked; to shimmer glamourously behind the silhouette of retrospective good times when we still believed in summer hotels and the philosophies of popular songs.”

— Zelda Fitzgerald

 

Villanelle For The Apocalypse

 

You conscious chemical, dual helix

You demon self, you mortal shell

Say amen, amen to the apocalypse.

 

Rest in the shade of the final eclipse

For you now tolls the endtime knell

Oh conscious chemical, dual helix.

 

The One that your ardent soul worships

Has never existed, so might as well

Say amen, amen to the apocalypse.

 

Chased the evil through the matrix

Found the monster but oh sweet hell,

The monster was you, you sentient helix.

 

Flimsy your wings melt over the abyss

Too high he flew and Icarus fell

Say amen, amen to the apocalypse.

 

In apoptosis liberate each cell

Perhaps a Phoenix this does foretell

But first the fire, conscious helix

Say amen, amen to the apocalypse.

Susan Howe, That This

Travel south until your skin gets warmer

Travel south until your skin turns brown

Put a language in your head and get on a train

And then come back to the one you love

The little joys of solo travel