katie // 22 // blonde // english major
These are things I like. ♡
Pretty things, compelling things, things to make you laugh and cry, things that are generally good for the soul, and things to make you think.
I do not claim to own these photos/writings/quotes unless otherwise stated.
cats ♥ sleep ♥ fashion ♥ mermaids ♥ pink ♥ vintage/retro ♥ romance ♥ disney
Personal Posts || Poetry || Inspiration || Harry Potter Blog || Colored Hair Blog || The Sea
Marriage is not
a house or even a tent
it is before that, and colder:
The edge of the forest, the edge
of the desert
the unpainted stairs
at the back where we squat
outside, eating popcorn
where painfully and with wonder
at having survived even
we are learning to make fire"
somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near
your slightest look easily will unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose
or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands
Suddenly this defeat.
The blues gone gray
And the browns gone gray
A terrible amber.
In the cold streets
Your warm body.
In whatever room
Your warm body.
Among all the people
The people who are always
I have been easy with trees
Too familiar with mountains.
Joy has been a habit.
Espanse of stars above, tangled around
Her darkness; fibers of infinity
Interlocked to be eternally bound
And condemned by perfect divinity.
Her fingers grasp at endless waves of light,
Delicately weaving constellations
Within the brackish leagues beyond our sight;
A silvery veil concealing nations.
The icy black pull of that timeless hum,
Prayerful promises dissipate like foam.
The sting on cracked lips when bodies grow numb
And hands clasp that luminous ancient dome.
Beryl brilliance—her unexplored shrine
Of weedy planets secluded by time.
I kind of find it funny that of all the poetry I’ve written on that miserable blog, this is the one that gets featured. Can’t people tell the difference between sarcastic purple prose and serious poetry? I don’t know, this is just a stupid little rant that means nothing to any of my followers who only reblog pretty pictures from me, but I just wanted my voice to be heard.
This poem is crap.