Poets Of Tumblr - Blog Posts

One of my daily poems, a task assigned by my creative writing professor

To girlblog or not to girlblog, that is the question

penis🤭

A young student's selfie

Early summer, just before our last summer holidays, we got into a discussion with a teacher at recess.

He had a topic for us. Evidence. An opinion.

One more year and we'd be done with school. We felt so mature.

His discussion? Why, young girls and body images of course.

Oh, we were so in. He started on the young girls in his class, how they dressed. How they walked. How social media was trapping them. We nodded along, thinking we were talking about the same thing.

We thought we were talking about Instagram's clutch on our young sisters. The twelve year olds with eating disorders. The sleekly styled hair of middle schoolers with baby fat and round eyes.

He pulled out a photo.

A girl. We'd seen her. It was a good pic, her at eye level with a statue in a museum they'd gone to. A class trip. She'd asked this teacher to make the picture of her, all golden curls and brown lashes.

Look at what I had to photograph, he said. Showing us the lace bra peeking through her shirt, the pose she stroke like she was twenty-five.

We said all the right things. How horrifying it was. That society shouldn't do this to girls. Satisfied, he left, pocketing his phone.

That was two months ago.

Someone realised it yesterday. That class trip to the museum was four months ago.

He had kept the picture of her on his camera roll.

Lace bra and baby round eyes.

Ginger bread bathtub

A friend once asked me for a sign

That the universe loved us.

I told her I had taken a bath today.

The water was green and the perfect temperature

The sky was darkening and the light was on

The room smelled like the ginger bread I had brought from the kitchen

Mixed with the eucalyptus of my bath oil.

A song played

It reminded me of a home we moved out of when I was eight.

It reminded me of my nanny teaching me how to paint my nails when my parents left the house

I would sit on a bar stool

My toes would barely brush the ground.

Oh, the universe loves us

The bath water was the perfect temperature today.

Occam’s Razor:

Suggests that the simplest explanation,

Is the most plausible one.

Which means, to put it simply, I love you.

But how do I contain the multitude of all that I feel

Within so little?

How do I tell you,

I see the stars in you;

All my poems from here on until eternity

Will be about you;

“I love you” doesn’t do justice to the fact that

I swear I was a Universe unlike any other,

But I found you and we were always whole;

But somehow, with you next to me, we feel complete.

In my next life time, I swear I will find Occam; tell him

That there are some entities which need to be multiplied;

Not out of necessity,

But out of love.

by Anika

Images taken via Pinterest

so maybe there will be no coming of age.

maybe there will be no moment, signifying glory;

hell, maybe there will be no glory.

maybe we'll simply be two people who were here and then weren't.

the gods will not line up moments for us to scavenger hunt our purpose;

maybe we will not have a purpose.

or a god for that matter.

in one moment you're driving home and you're singing loud with your best friend;

in another you get mistaken for a man with your helmet on, the bulky death bike and then you get out of a ticket when the policeman sees your face and you come home in giggles.

in another moment you've decided to live through another day.

so maybe we will not be anything that aches when it is gone.

maybe we'll be mundane and chaotic indecision floating in an abyss of our own selves

and maybe you never get to meet that famous 2010 singer you liked as a teenager,

and you never get to learn the fourth language,

or go to that remote country

or kiss the love.

maybe there is no love here.

maybe we will go quietly, with naive hope that is false but you hold on to anyways

because if you do not have this hope to hold on to, there is nothing else.

to hope is to have the courage to pray, against all odds,

to pray that there is someone out there lining up things for you,

lining up lives and people for you to become.

to have hope is to be terrified of all the realities.

we'll go quietly, unnoticed;

and yes this does not match what we wanted to be,

but there are happy endings in all those poems and stories to make up for all the ones you never get to have in your reality.

A.G.

Wars end when wars do

Wars end when death settles

The graveyard was ready to receive me

I had so much to do still

I do not think I want to be here anymore

Here, I have found

Here is relative

Here in this life I feel small

To not want to be here is to acknowledge

There are things holding you back

There are things you do not want knowing your name

The battle cry was futile

No one wants to wait 

To experience the glory of all that bloodied violence

I am here

Living past things I was sure would kill me

Here

I am here.

I have so much life left to live still

- A.G.

(you can also read the poem from bottom to the top)

Ghost Children

There are moments

Bad and hard to comprehend, mismatched;

I do not know how to 

String together an entire good life

Or a person

Out of so many broken things.

What I mean is 

The Cat gets pissed

And he yells

He’ll smash the Dog’s skull

And there is so much rage in his body.

I do not know

How to tell the men 

This fury is not something to be proud of,

To carry or pass on.

There are children who have shrunk themselves 

And swallowed their own being

To fit into houses filled with so much rage:

Children who are too loud or too dumb,

Children who will never be enough,

There is no time;

Children who would rather 

Sleep on the streets

Than be here.

Children who cut out parts of themselves,

Make themselves smaller, be appropriate,

To belong here.

Children who rebel,

Grow tired of waiting, grow weary;

Grow up

And then cry for their mothers,

Gulp their own tears.

Children sitting on floors

Of good houses

And full families

And have never been more alone,

More annoyed at themselves

For not seeing all the good,

For noticing the wreckage,

For not smiling through their own slaughter.

Children who move out 

And do things they weren’t sure 

They wanted in the first place.

The Cat screams and scratches everyone

Trying to help him,

The Hamster yells of how her life was ruined;

The Parrot bites me, claws at the Cat and 

Keeps breaking things, so many things,

Screams of his entrapment.

I am small:

A rat in a big world,

    I have never been alone.

•°F I R E F L I E S °•

But how will you grow without failing ?

You cant keep wishing upon the stars to guide you through the light

Ive seen you,

Seen how you hide sunshine in your pockets and grow flowers in the dark.

Why wont you do it now,

I'll guide you home,

From beginning of the dawn.

To the setting of the sun,

Ill set you free.

The Artist

What are we here for

If not

To become the spectators 

Of the cosmic artwork

Unfolding before our eyes

The cosmic artwork

Of a blue sky

With rose strokes across

As the sun's about to die

Over the far horizon

Only to be born again

The next present

With a new light

The cosmic artwork

Of the birds singing, 

On birth of light 

Each sunrise, of the clouds

Swaying and changing hues

The cosmic artwork

Of each little life itself

The chaos seemingly random

Binding us all with one life

Of the artist itself.

The cosmic artwork

That created nature,

The mother herself

For she's the artist of 

the cosmic art,

Her eyes glittered in awe

Of her own self.

.

.

To all amazing people here on Tumblr...

Don't you know how precious it is ? when you take your time, go through someone's blog carefully, actually 'read' their works and care about liking them , even commenting. You won't even know ,how much it means to the person.

The person might be tired, might be thinking of giving up , giving in , you might be going through something similar, but that one gesture can do them more good than you can imagine and can light you up too!

Tell me I am wrong!

The world is full of darkness ,but here, your one gesture can bring light. Be that light.

Don't forget to appreciate good things as the world has a little of them left.

Spread love, be happy , keep smiling !!

✨💜☮️🌱♾️

he tortures me with his gaze, i am so stupid to fall for him.

-august/fictionflaws

how magical my life used to be

so beautiful and enchanted

then something happened, i grew up

and its like all of that magic faded

sunshine, rainbows, stars & moon

were so divinely mesmerising to me

then something happened, i grew up

now there's all darkness that i see

i had so many friends on those days

dolls, toys and things to play with

then something happened, i grew up

happiness is just as myth

no worries, sadness and fear of life

everything was peaceful and perfect

then something happened, i grew up

after that, pleasant forever slept

-august.

Why do I keep myself hidden in layers of self-control

Afraid of the dark whilst summer lines my curtains

Choking back these haunting fears, and numb

Is the only feeling that's certain

What joy can be felt today? Frozen yet

In feigned sensibility, I ask myself...

What joy can be felt today? Frozen yet

In feigned sensibility, I ask myself...

I write for the words overfilling my mind

I seek a truth only a breadth away from mine

We live the realities that we create

I'd prefer to sit awhile

waiting for the storm to come

the heavens rush and clamour and sing

but the rain is kept hidden

beneath the canopy of this weeping willow tree

Friday, 23rd July 2021

The moon was swallowed in a throbbing light

As the thunder began its climbing flight

And in the dawn of a swelling tide

She saw inside the world dressed in spite