#poetry – @teacupkitties on Tumblr

teacupkitties reblogged

aseaofquotes

Carol Ann Duffy, “Words, Wide Night”

#poetry

teacupkitties reblogged

trojanwars

aseaofquotes

John Keats, Endymion

#BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL WORDS #poetry

teacupkitties reblogged

That all these dyings may be life in death.“ I was living in San Francisco My heart was in Manhattan It made no sense, no reference point Hearing the sad horns at night, fragile evocations of female stuff The 3 tones (the last most resonant) were like warnings, haiku-muezzins at dawn The call came in the afternoon “Frank, is that really you?” I’d awake chilled at dawn in the wooden house like an old ship Stay bundled through the day sitting on the stoop to catch the sun I lived near the park whose deep green over my shoulder made life cooler Was my spirit faltering, grown duller? I want to be free of poetry’s ornaments, its duty, free of constant irritation, me in it, what was grander reason for being? Do it, why? (Why, Frank?) To make the energies dance etc. My coat a cape of horrors I’d walk through town or impending earthquake. Was that it? Ominous days. Street shiny with hallucinatory light on sad dogs, too many religious people, or a woman startled me by her look of indecision near the empty stadium I walked back spooked by my own darkness Then Frank called to say “What? Not done complaining yet? Can’t you smell the eucalyptus, have you never neared the Pacific? ‘While frank and free/call for musick while your veins swell’” he sang, quoting a metaphysician "Don’t you know the secret, how to wake up and see you don’t exist, but that does, don’t you see phenomena is so much more important than this? I always love that.” “Always?” I cried, wanting to believe him “Yes.” “But say more! How can you if it’s sad & dead?” “But that’s just it! If! It isn’t. It doesn’t want to be Do you want to be?” He was warming to his song “Of course I don’t have to put up with as much as you do these days. These years. But I do miss the color, the architecture, the talk. You know, it was the life! And dying is such an insult. After all I was in love with breath and I loved embracing those others, the lovers, with my body.” He sighed & laughed He wasn’t quite as I’d remembered him Not less generous, but more abstract Did he even have a voice now, I wondered or did I think it up in the middle of this long day, phone in hand now dialing Manhattan

“A Phonecall from Frank O’Hara,” Anne Waldman (via commovente)

#poetry

teacupkitties reblogged

shinji--moon-deactivated2017123

queerbookclub

Celebrating Queer Poets of Color

Inspired by Nepantla, a journal dedicated to queer poets of color (which recently put out a call for submissions for their second issue), here are ten poetry collections by QPOC, including some exciting new titles as well as some beloved older publications to add to your to-be-read list. I chose ten books that never got featured on my monthly publishing roundup, but this is just a tiny piece of the whole huge world of poetry by QPOC out there. Enjoy:

#poetry #ref

teacupkitties reblogged

beholdingslut

seabois

I am accused. I dream of massacres. I am a garden of black and red agonies. I drink them, Hating myself, hating and fearing. And now the world conceives Its end and runs toward it, arms held out in love.

Sylvia Plath, Three Women: A Poem for Three Voices (via seabois)

Source: seabois

#poetry