#poetry

This morning could have been perfect. The cruel truth is they have never been. Give us loneliness or give us death. ↗

— Sean Gabler

#loneliness #love #poetry #sex #death

Be my lover between two wars waged in the mirror, she said. I don't want to return now to the fortress of my father's house. Take me to your vineyard. Let me meet your mother. Perfume me with basil water. Arrange me on silver dishes, comb me, imprison me in your name, let love kill me. ↗

— Mahmoud Darwish

#poetry #the-death-of-the-phoenix #death

We never said farewell, not even looked Our last upon each other, for no sign Was made when we the linked chain unhooked And broke the level line. And here we dwell together, side by side, Our places fixed for life upon the chart, Two islands that the roaring seas divide Are not more far apart. ↗

— Mary Elizabeth Coleridge

#poetry #death

When the lad for longing sighs, Mute and dull of cheer and pale, If at death's own door he lies, Maiden, you can heal his ail. Lovers' ills are all to buy: The wan look, the hollow tone, The hung head, the sunken eye, You can have them for your own. Buy them, buy them: eve and morn Lovers' ills are all to sell. Then you can lie down forlorn; But the lover will be well. ↗

— A.E. Housman

#death

O, were I loved as I desire to be! What is there in the great sphere of the earth, Or range of evil between death and birth, That I should fear, - if I were loved by thee! All the inner, all the outer world of pain, Clear love would pierce and cleave, if thou wert mine; As I have heard that somewhere in the main Fresh-water springs come up through bitter brine. ‘I were joy, not fear, clasped hand in hand with thee, To wait for death - mute - careless of all ills, Apart upon a mountain, though the surge Of some new deluge from a thousand hills Flung leagues of roaring foam into the gorge Below us, as far on as eye could see. ↗

— Alfred Tennyson

#poetry #death

She's always looking for poetry and passion and sensitivity, the whole Romantic kitchen. I live on a rather simpler diet.' 'Prose and pudding?' 'I don't expect attractive men necessarily to have attractive souls. ↗

— John Fowles

#poetry #romantic #diet

If I am more alive because love burns and chars me, as a fire, given wood or wind, feels new elation, it's that he who lays me low is my salvation, and invigorates the more, the more he scars me. ↗

— Michelangelo Buonarroti

#poetry #love

There is a deep truth in being at home enough with someone to kiss them while your lips are dry. And happiness may not be the greatest of things to hear, but it should be. ↗

— Mikl Paul

#poetry #prose-poetry #home

اعرف اننى عندما أقع في الحب سيكون الفصل شتاءاً وستسري في جسدي قشعريرة فلن أدرى أسببها البرد أم كوني معك؟ ↗

— شيرين عادل

#poetry #winter #love

You are the hybrids of golden worlds and ages splendidly conceived. ↗

— Aberjhani

#faith #haiku #haikus #humanity #hybrids