Just posting some beauty on my blog because I’m uninspired and the world feels ugly today…
One of my students got a tattoo of one of Mucha’s lovely paintings.
He didn’t even know who that was until I told him.
He told the tattoo artist that he wanted to get something… And that’s what the guy chose for him. It was simple as that.
(I wish I was like that sometimes)
Diving into the calming blue, where no
Light can ever reach — my hands
Search for what my eyes
Will never see again.
Where I no longer have to breathe;
Let my body sail away
My eyes used to follow the blue lines in your
Tiny skinny wrists —
Straight to your heart
Just took a shower
And wrapped my hair in a towel.
Walking back to my bed,
Always to the bedroom on the left.
The lights are always off
And there’s no people home.
No plans for tomorrow
And no real moment to live tonight —
Just cinnamon tea
And the same songs, over and over;
A thousand times
Floating through the star colored sea.
Landing on the Moon,
While moving spheres come and go,
Swirling around as shiny falling lilies.
Children are out to play —
The Earth is far away,
There’s no reason to fear
I had to repost this. Not sure why I had a problem with the original post.
I may add a collage to this poem if I finally find out who made it. I found it last week. It’s beautiful.
Your heart stained my fingertips blue,
And your smile, like a beaming star,
Made everyone else’s
Dim as streetlights
I will never reach the core
Of anyone else’s loneliness,
But my own
In the wild of the thundering night,
Words refuse to whisper
The letters of your name
Little by little, the sounds
Of who you are
The softness of my mouth
Cardboard box dreams;
Cut out masks
For us to wear
In the wild of the night
Slow morning comes under a blanket of
Heavy rain clouds. Coffee
And soy milk on the table,
But no raindrops outside
Back to my room;
To dream pop
And Clonazepam sleepiness.
Children scream outside
Running and running
Without a worry in the world
After all the things that are now gone
And the ones that remain,
I tell myself not to forget
The warmth of your hands —
Beauty is born
In so many different ways