#poe

They’re close. Voices loud and fierce, Slapping faces with words. A scream … A cry … They’re getting closer. Did I lock the door? It’s too late to check. They’re coming. I barely move, barely breathe. Perhaps they’ll go away. But they’re getting closer. The door slams against the wall. My eyes squeeze shut. This curtain is not a shield. They’re here. They’ve come for me. I freeze. Metal rings clank together. My barrier is cast aside. Wearily, I look. Reddened eyes glower at one another … But not at me. I wonder. A moment of silence … Water streams down my face. Steam rolls around my flesh. I glare at the intruders And slide the curtain between us. I wait. He shrieks, “She took my glow stick!” She howls, “No, I didn’t!” I scowl. “Go tell your father about it.” They leave. I inhale the lavender mist. Slather bubbles over my skin. Five more minutes … And, next time, I shall lock the door. ↗

— Barbara Brooke

#family #humor #meditation #poem #poetry

The poet laureate of England talked about murdering Jews on the West Bank. ↗

— Steven T. Katz

#bank #england #jews #laureate #poet

I'm old enough, by a long shot, to remember going to the library and spending days researching. If I was looking for a line from a poem or something else I needed, that would be the trip I would have to take. ↗

— Charlie Kaufman

#else #enough #going #i #library

Stylized acting and direction is to realistic acting and direction as poetry is to prose. ↗

— Elia Kazan

#direction #poetry #prose #realistic #stylized

Poetry should surprise by a fine excess and not by singularity, it should strike the reader as a wording of his own highest thoughts, and appear almost a remembrance. ↗

— John Keats

#appear #excess #fine #highest #his

The poetry of the earth is never dead. ↗

— John Keats

#dead #earth #never #poetry

With a great poet the sense of Beauty overcomes every other consideration, or rather obliterates all consideration. ↗

— John Keats

#consideration #every #great #other #overcomes

Poetry should be great and unobtrusive, a thing which enters into one's soul, and does not startle it or amaze it with itself, but with its subject. ↗

— John Keats

#does #enters #great #into #itself

However, he wrote some verses on her, and very pretty they were.” “And so ended his affection,” said Elizabeth impatiently. “There has been many a one, I fancy, overcome in the same way. I wonder who first discovered the efficacy of poetry in driving away love!” “I have been used to consider poetry as the food of love,” said Darcy. “Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away. ↗

— Jane Austen

#love #poetry #food

أخرج لا لشيء أعود محملة بدفاتر جميعها زرقاء كل واحد منها يشبهني ↗

— لطيفة الحاج

#poetry #dreams