In that foreign america, they must consider the dandelion a weed and not a bouquet of potential.

Hieu Nguyen

Hafizah Geter, With My Hands Around the Throats of My Mother’s Marigolds

Hafizah Geter, With My Hands Around the Throats of My Mother’s Marigolds

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Source: pinwheeljournal.com

…sometimes I feel like the entire morning
Just happens to me
If I am able to think a poem I congratulate myself
People can be so rotten is what I think next

Wendy Xu, from Sexy Tree 

Source: thepinchjournal.com

Getting rid of nothing
is biblical work.

Lauren Shaprio, from They Promised Me a Thousand Years of Peace

Source: phantomlimbpress.com

THIS IS HOW I GET TO LOVE YOU

by Caroline Cabrera

And when we crossed the state together 
you could feel its insistence. And when we 
crossed the state I knew you were my husband 
from familiarity. Two hearts can know the length 
of something more than one alone. Two people 
can live in one house, and day to day it can feel 
like a large or small house. If a year passes 
should I feel more or less alone, more or less 
a function of the family I am? If a car passes 
on the highway that looks like ours, can we believe 
in an alternate universe where we are coming from 
or going to other places? Do we then have to imagine 
all the places we could be where we don’t pass 
ourselves, and what if I am alone in the car? 
And what if I am happy or sad in the car? 
And what if we pass the car again and inside 
we see two teenagers we never looked like? 
When we get home the house looks bright 
enough to welcome us, the clementines still ripe 
in the bowl. The brightness fakes a cleanliness. 
We could return to the couch. We could build 
a whole cat from all the fur under the furniture 
where the vacuum cannot reach.

Source: phantomlimbpress.com

I do not forget the north
of your naked, nor the froth
of your ambition. I wear that
compass like tattoo.
To grow is what I like
about you: how it looks.
How you draw the icon
from its tooled&pearled holster.
Hot as a star.

Arielle Greenberg, from Sugar-Star

Source: phantomlimbpress.com

A bell’s tongue
is called a clapper, which satisfies

visually but not aurally. I want something
hard but rounded. I want to lie down

somewhere warm for a light but fulfilling nap.
I want to roam around the swamp

when I please, if that’s what my friends are doing,
if the morning requires an easy adventure.

Whenever I am even a little sick,
I feel as though I may never be healthy again.

The sensations of our bodies are hard
to remember when absent, the way, too,

a face starts to dissolve the more you try
to conjure it.

Caroline Cabrera, from Anxiety

Source: phantomlimbpress.com

Probably 90 percent of what any artist does is practice. We practice
and we fail and we fail. You set your pen to the page every day, and of course, you’re hoping that something grand will happen. But the chances are slim, and you know that going in, but you go in anyway. That’s faith. You keep hitting the page, hoping that something’s going to fit, something’s going to happen, something’s going to bloom up out of it. And the more you practice, the more that possibility of success is present. The more you do anything, the greater the possibility that something might actually come of it. So you constantly live with failure, and yet, you know that that failure is teaching you something.

Dorianne Laux, interviewed by Tana Young for Willow Springs (via nps2013)

(via meganfalley)

Source: bostonpoetryslam

Originally from Boston Poetry Slam

When we see a good poetry reading, we are witnessing a writer becoming open enough to get in touch with what they’ve written, the same openness they’ve implicitly asked of the audience. It takes a risk to stand in front of people as if you have something of value to share. Let that come through and be as uncool and awkward as you need to be to get it done. The writing deserves it.

Jamaal May on Giving a Not Terrible Reading, for Poets & Writers (via nps2013)

(via nicalea)

Source: bostonpoetryslam

Originally from Boston Poetry Slam

poemsbydes:

Tumblr.

Here’s a brand new video of a poem that I am very excited about. It was filmed a few weeks ago on a rooftop in New Orleans by Travis Henri and the BalconyTV team. This poem was written for New Orleans. It was written for Lexi and Sasha and Sophia and my mother and Kaycee and Julia and Sam and so many other people that held my heart.

It was also written for you, human. 

2012 was one of the most challenging years of my life.
I made it. I’m here. Reading poems on rooftops.

(If you like the poem, I’d love for you to share it and ‘like' it on youtube. It would mean a whole lot to my little ol' heart.)

xoxo,
des.

"I Break like a Fever", Desireé Dallagiacomo

Originally from Desireé Dallagiacomo

The craft of poetry is not easy. It is better than easy. It is joyously difficult.

John Ciardi (via ge0ffmunsterman)

Originally from Noctiluca Culex

See, sometimes, we let you believe we are blind so that we won’t have to explain to you how many things we have seen.

Katelyn Lucas (via lovelylittlelegacy)

(via poemsonpoems)

Source: lovelylittlelegacy

Originally from Etc.

womenorgnow:

She has no more fucks left to give. Strong language, so use those headphones at work/school. TW: child abuse

Shameaca Moore - “Give a F#ck”

Originally from Women Organized Now

nicalea:

denise jolly

(via denisejollyspoken)

Source: jerrebfine

Originally from JERRE B. FINE

poemsbydes:

denisejollyspoken:

30 days of redefining beauty #30 #idareu2 #bebeautiful #radicalselflove #thebodyisnotanapology

Denise being her kickass radical self on the BART for her self-love/beauty campaign. The Body is Not An Apology.

poemsbydes:

denisejollyspoken:

30 days of redefining beauty #30 #idareu2 #bebeautiful #radicalselflove #thebodyisnotanapology

Denise being her kickass radical self on the BART for her self-love/beauty campaign.

The Body is Not An Apology.

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Source: denisejollyspoken

Originally from DeniseJollySpoken