water writers

Avatar- Haiku Mistake

In the episode 16, Season 2- “ Tales of Ba Sing Se”

The lady who lead the poem group, shouldn’t have corrected Sokka because she actually made a mistake herself in her Haiku…

“In Fall, the clean plum drops…” - ah-em Hello…

6 syllables only… SIX SYLLABLES…. ONLY!!! ITS SUPPOSED TO BE SEVEN… SO SOKKA TOTALLY POWNED HERRR… Okay done lol.

Originally posted by twotheleft

It was low tide, more or less. Algy flew over to the jetty where the humans did things with boats, perched cautiously on the cold, slippery surface, and turned his back to the freezing wind. It was rather a slimy spot, so Algy didn’t think that he would care to stop there long, but he liked to watch the shimmering light on the shallow water and wet sand…

She moves in waves, like the ocean during the rising tide: volatile, moving all that try to touch her. Her convictions as strong as the storms that arise in the murky waters, clear of her intentions but blurred in the revealing of herself. Enigmatic yet transparent; a paradox all within itself. There are times that those who see her glimpse into her true being, as the sun shines on her waters, allowing those who venture forward to see all of what she holds and what she shall hold in life. Though she denies all parts of herself she cannot see or understand, she fears her own being, scared of her own incomprehensibility. Her laughter is as boisterous as the seagulls that pass by the shore, searching for the remnants of what she has thrown out of her being; her sadness as cold and devoid as the rain falling upon the abundance of water already existing, no escape from the sorrow for days. Those who have learned to love her have accepted all of who she was, is, and will ever be.
—  s.f.; crisp leaves and empty trees; 31.10.2015

they named her after water, not because

of the poem she wrote or the song she liked,

but because of her laugh, and the way it

touched a boy where the hole in his chest was,

and her simple, roaring beauty

that was striking in a wild way.

and because of her hair,

that she rarely brushed and kept clean,

that was midnight black and swept over her shoulders

like rain sweeps over a city of lights.

and her unwavering personality,

that was serenity in everything when she needed it to be,

but came down in powerful waves

when she felt too much of anything.

and the way she loved,

like hurricanes and morning dew and a glittering lake,

and how you could feel it crash over you

and how it always washed you back to her shores

time after time again.

[Image of a golden, bubbling stream. The outline forms the shape of a mountain range]

I’ve seen your ripples
When you’re flowing
When you’re rising
Like the mountainside
-Pour into me II

they’ve been swallowing bullets and drinking poison for three years
the water coming from your sink shouldn’t resemble beer
over one thousand days spent fearing they’ll drop dead
over eight thousand children exposed to lead
so, pardon my french, but this is some fuckery
when did clean water become a luxury? 
add insult to injury and make them pay for this shit
“the water is safe, just don’t drink it”
how are they expected to survive?
you’re making them pay for illness and hives
making them pay for their neighbors falling ill
making them consider writing out their will
twelve gone already; may not seem like much
but twelve is far too many and enough is enough
maybe in two years things will be okay, maybe being okay won’t sound so insane
or maybe in two years i’ll be saying all of this again
we can’t keep quiet, there’s gotta be something we can do
so when will you care? when it’s happening to you?
—  it’s #WorldWaterDay and Flint, MI still does not have clean water
(cc, 2017)
Have you also learned that secret from the river; that there is no such thing as time?“ That the river is everywhere at the same time, at the source and at the mouth, at the waterfall, at the ferry, at the current, in the ocean and in the mountains, everywhere and that the present only exists for it, not the shadow of the past nor the shadow of the future.
—  Herman Hesse
Siddhartha

anonymous asked:

I don't know that hand-holding between a probably-asexual meta-human a woman who is at a place in her life where romance is ludicrous would necessarily be a romantic/sexual act. Is that what you meant by implied romance stuff being set up?

they’ve literally set up romantic relationships with 

FAR 

LESS

Anonymous said:

Did you get the vibe that Castiel got his wings back from this episode of, “Touched By A Nephilim?” They didn’t show it, but he looked fucking tuned up on-the-whole, so I am excite (also getting your wings is kinda like a metaphor for being redeemed, and that’s kinda his thing right now. Just sayin’).

i actually didn’t get that vibe! i get the feel cas is being brainwashed again. but because they did give us a glimpse of what the baby saw, i do wonder. BUT YEAH as far as wings go, i feel like he woulda just flown them somewhere if that was the case! it’d be a lot less difficult to track than a truck y’feel

I’ve never been one for calm water. Give me the storm. Give me the challenge of sailing. Don’t make it easy. After all, a rough sea is a challenge. It teaches you how to love the ship and to respect the storm. Give me a hurricane, leave me breathless. I’m ready for the challenge.
—  If you sail with me, it won’t be easy, but it’ll be worth it-
© Michael Greywood Poetry-2015
2

Survive Like the Water By Lydia Havens (Pre-order)

“These poems tell the story of a survivor; a sometimes reluctant, but mostly victorious, survivor. It isn’t often that you find an author who is so unapologetic, so fiercely determined to overcome, but you find that with Lydia Havens. Their voice is a force to be reckoned with, and one that truly stands out among the rest. Reading this collection of poetry was being undone and then remade in one continuous loop.This book is a triumph, is walking out of the water, blessed and broken and clean.”

-Caitlyn Siehl, author of What We Buried & Crybaby

Ars Poetica lll

Poetry- a goddess who manipulates reality through her speech,                     she is graceful with her abilities-                                                                          to idealistically tranquilize madness. 

She is a pool full of mirrors-                                                                                 this water based illusion of a secret world.                                                      She’s a harp with silver strings.   

I hear she is learning to make her art into something new-gliding among the earth unspoken yet heard,                                                                                  We have all seen her come in various forms.                                                   She is becoming my muse.                                                                                     I believe that I have found contentment in words.