poetry for geeks

slytherin aesthetic

late nights at the cinema
James dean
dead flowers is a vase
the smell of sharpies
the smell of honey
collecting pins
green tea
black and white films
organised clutter
string instruments
old poetry/especially walt whitman
the 1975
Amy winehouse
arctic monkeys
black coffee
shelves full of books
cracking bones
kanken bags
tiny hidden tattoos
the sound of rain
studio ghibli
giving great advice
references to their favourite books and films
too many pillows
john green books
house plants
paint stained desk
keeping the things they love most wholeheartedly to themselves
record players (not that shitty urban outfitters crap)
so many vinyls
not assuming anyone’s pronouns
being nice

Vox Machina as Lines of Poetry

“How many times have my men,  
sworn to stay after dark
And stem that horror with a sweep of their swords.
And then, in the morning, this mead-hall glittering
With new light would be drenched with blood, the benches
Stained red, the floors, all wet from that fiend’s
Savage assault-and my soldiers would be fewer
Still death taking more and more.”

“You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.”
-Wild Geese, Mary Oliver

“They say you are made of clouds, they say you
are made of feathers, they say you are everywhere
or nowhere—we know you are both.”
-If This is Your Final Destination, Nick Flynn

“the last tribute of a daughter, I thought of something
I remembered
I heard once, that the body is, or is
said to be, almost all
water and as I turned southward, that ours is
a city of it,
one in which
every single day the elements begin
a journey towards each other that will never,
given our weather,
-And Soul, Eavan Boland

“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!“
-The New Colossus, Emma Lazarus

“Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile – the winds –
To a heart in port –
Done with the compass –
Done with the chart!

Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the sea!
Might I moor – Tonight –
In thee!”
-Wild Nights (249), Emily Dickinson

“No, no, not that,—it’s bad to think of war,
When thoughts you’ve gagged all day come back to scare you;
And it’s been proved that soldiers don’t go mad
Unless they lose control of ugly thoughts
That drive them out to jabber among the trees.”
-Repression of War Experience, Siegfried Sassoon

“My petty greed has often been met
by petty donors
Twice or so I was saved
by the God on my shelf
After safe escape I gave a smirk.”
-My Petty Greed, Choudhuri Sukumar

“Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds, –and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of –Wheeled and soared and swung
High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there
I’ve chased the shouting wind along, and flung
My eager craft through footless halls of air…
Up, up the long, delirious, burning blue
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark or even eagle flew –”
-High Flight, John Magee

“No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.”
-The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, T.S Eliot

“[Animals] do not sweat and whine about their condition, 
They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins, 
They do not make me sick discussing their duty to God, 
Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania of owning things, 
Not one kneels to another, nor to his kind that lived thousands of years ago, 
Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth.”
-Song of Myself, Walt Whitman

Vox Machina
“The anguish of the earth absolves our eyes
Till beauty shines in all that we can see.
War is our scourge; yet war has made us wise,
And, fighting for our freedom, we are free.

Horror of wounds and anger at the foe,
And loss of things desired; all these must pass.
We are the happy legion, for we know
Time’s but a golden wind that shakes the grass.

There was an hour when we were loth to part
From life we longed to share no less than others.
Now, having claimed this heritage of heart,
What need we more, my comrades and my brothers?”
-Absolution, Siegfried Sassoon


“i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)”
-[i carry your heart with me(i carry it in], E.E. Cummings

“She took my head between her fingers,
squeezing till the birds began to stir.
And then from out my eyes and ears
a flock came forth — I couldn’t think or hear
or breathe or see within that feather-world
so silently I thanked her.”
-After the Disaster, Abigail Deutsch

“My darling turns to poetry at night.
What began as flirtation, an aside
Between abstract expression and first light

Now finds form as a silent, startled flight
Of commas on her face — a breath, a word …    
My darling turns to poetry at night.”
-Darling Turns to Poetry at Night, Anthony Lawrence

“Your absence has gone through me
Like thread through a needle.
Everything I do is stitched with its color.”
-Seperation, M.S. Merwin

“I have to tell you,
there are times when
the sun strikes me
like a gong,
and I remember everything,
even your ears.”
-I Have To Tell You, Dorothea Grossman

Ο εθισμός είναι επικίνδυνος γιατί ασκεί μεγάλη επιρροή πάνω σου.Για παράδειγμα αν κάποιος που έχει κόψει το τσιγάρο για μήνες και περάσει ελάχιστα δεύτερολεπτα σε έναν κλειστό χώρο με ένα καπνιστή θα ξανά κύλησεις γιατί εάν συναντήσεις ξανά τον εθισμό σου και θυμηθείς πόσο γλυκός ήταν,είναι μονόδρομος το πράγμα
Logan maintaining his image

Thomas: I recently had an audition -

Logan: Ah, yes, for one of those stage productions for professional make-belief.

Logan, you are a poetry geek (x). You know what trisyllabic rhymes are. Not only do you know several Shakespeare sonnets by heart, you also understand their themes perfectly (x). You still trying to fool people that you despise fiction is adorable.

the bus

Doleful faces at the bus stop. I was one of them. The clouds were vehemently spitting thick rain, smiting the cobblestones of the streets, and trickling down our wan faces. Drowsy, I closed my eyes and let the cadenced sound of the rain lull me to sleep. Alas, the bus of perdition came. I never dared to get out. 

© Margaux Emmanuel 

Έχω και ‘γω ένα σωρό απωθημένους ουρανούς, αλλά δεν σκοτώνω άστρα.
Because that’s the thing about a transformation: there’s no stopping it. Once the tadpole has legs it jumps out of the pond. Once the caterpillar has wings, it flies away. And once you’ve metamorphosed, you can’t go back. Even if you want to.
—  Holly Smale, Model Misfit