Tumblr is a good place
To allow
One’s inner perfectionist
To come out.
If one no longer likes
A poem one has written
Or an image one posted,
One can delete it,
And,
Poof!
It’s gone.
One can’t always take back one’s actions in the same way.
If one offends people out in Society,
They might not ever forgive you.
Then,
If one makes a mistake that has financial implications,
One has to pay.
One can’t just delete all one’s errors
In real life.
Liyah Bella Jul 29
I still have your boxers on my floor
i keep them there
because it's the only thing i have left of you
We would like to venerate Love
Like a god
And trust ourselves
When we feel It,
But Love often degenerates
Into Manipulation
And the Need for Control.
So,
We end up trusting Love
Less than any other feeling.
In a Tumblr Blogger's poem, I noticed a lot of grammatical errors and awkward phrases, but I like her ideas. In dissecting one of the phrases, I came up with my own insights!
Liyah Bella Jul 21
In my shoe box are your love letters
i read them often
tears always comfort me
i miss you whispering you love me
but now i can only read them and hope you still mean it
Filled with inspiration,
We feed off each other’s brains...
Making ourselves feel things we couldn’t

Opening our minds...

Follow me on tumblr ;) > clearmemoriez
M Jun 15
‍   sometimes i catch myself writing like a 2013 tumblr girl. not that i'm against tumblr girls, or 2013, or the writing of girls, really; but you know the type i'm talking about.

‍   mentioning-a-body-part-every-few-paragraphs type. there-is-something-inside-of-you-(probably-a-flower-or-some-other­-plant) type. the type that reeks of cigarettes and seasides and longing. the type that could even just be one or two words

‍   ‍   ‍   written like
‍   ‍   ‍   ‍   ‍   ‍   ‍   ‍   ‍   ‍ this,
‍   ‍   ‍   you see?

‍   ... and people gobble it right up. (i can't blame them. i once did.)

‍   i'm not sure when i realized that there's more to poetry than typewriter aesthetics and talking about bones and rib cages and oceans. sometimes i catch myself comparing eyes to galaxies and i laugh because there are so many eyes, so many poets, so many stars.

‍   i wonder if there's poetry in the little things. the mundane. rainbow gasoline leaks on damp streets; brown brick cafés during golden hour. untied shoe laces. kissing in the back of an uber. (there has to be, right?)

‍   (there has to be poetry in the way my mother bakes her chicken pot pie. the thrum of music playing from another room. emojis. how chlorine sticks to you after swimming in pools. hands that don't fit together; hands that are too big to hold each other; hands that clasp on to each other anyway.)

‍   (there has to be poetry in those.)
Marina May 12
i don't know where to stop
where to start
what to do, or what i should say
i'd rather spill my heart out with pictures and paints

your lips. your eyes are stuck inside my head
i'll be okay if you say no to keeping your heart

i can see the eyes, you have are the size of the moon
when my love fades my soul will evaporate with your death..

i want you safe i want you loved.
i can feed you my love, that i'd hope
you will swallow with my affection and love letters i send;

i'm a poor soul
but not with you -

when you sat what felt like you were weeping,
i died 100 times more
i felt bad i felt suicidal.

just know i'd die for you
and i'm probably just a woman you'll see in dreams ~
8th of may was a hurricane when his lips spoke
There is always a reason
To start a war
When a nation
Lacks COHESION.
We don’t know our neighbors.
We fear being open and vulnerable
With most of the people we know.
There is hardly any
Sense of Community
Any more.
So,
Our President attempts to
Rally us around the flag
Against an enemy
Most of us know
Little or nothing about.
This poem was originally composed in response to abstractprompts on Tumblr.
Joe Hodgson Mar 25
I put on my tights
And skirt
-yes it makes my arse look good.
Dan in HR always looks
As if I haven't been there
A year and nine months.
Not that he looks
At how I've out performed him
Every month.
How I crunch numbers
More enthusiastically
Than Bill munches his lunch.
I've hit targets
More than I've done spa days,
And I have a glass of wine
Watch Kardashians to pass the time
And who's the bride best bits
On lonely nights.
My lipstick's more expensive than your wife's.
But I still tug my hairy dick over whores
And gossip about the size of yours
With your girlfriends and wives.
I was a Christmas present to you. Beautiful on the outside, but once unwrapped you didn't get what you wanted....

                              ~I'm Sorry
Next page