#poetry

I am lost in my world, invisible - unknown. Moon please lend me your light that someone will me see me. ↗

— Susie Clevenger

#darkness #invisible #lonely #lost #poetry

This world that was our home for a brief spell never brought us anything but pain and grief; its a shame that not one of our problems was ever solved. We depart with a thousand regrets in our hearts. ↗

— Omar Khayyám

#grief #home #life #pain #poetry

The bustle in a house The morning after death Is solemnest of industries Enacted upon earth,-- The sweeping up the heart, And putting love away We shall not want to use again Until eternity ↗

— Emily Dickinson

#poetry #death

He feeds upon her face by day and night, And she with true kind eyes looks back on him, Fair as the moon and joyful as the light: Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim; Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright; Not as she is, but as she fills his dream. ↗

— Christina Rossetti

#gabriel-rossetti #lizzie-siddal #poetry #pre-raphaelite #dreams

You said one day you would come back for us The ones that believed in you The ones that asked you into their hearts The ones that served you ↗

— April Nichole

#poetry #religious #faith

All my life I have been faithful to love. ↗

— Jaroslav Seifert

#poetry #faith

Don't fall asleep yet. Contrary to popular belief, that's not where dreams get accomplished. ↗

— George Watsky

#dream #dreams #drunk #george-watsky #god

Far away, our dreams have nothing to do with what we do. The wind carries the night, and passes on, aimless. ↗

— Mahmoud Darwish

#dreams

We, all who live, have A life that is lived And another life that is thought, And the only life we have It's the one that is divided In right or wrong. ↗

— Fernando Pessoa

#duality #life #poetry #thoughts #dreams

How long your closet held a whiff of you, Long after hangers hung austere and bare. I would walk in and suddenly the true Sharp sweet sweat scent controlled the air And life was in that small still living breath. Where are you? since so much of you is here, Your unique odour quite ignoring death. My hands reach out to touch, to hold what's dear And vital in my longing empty arms. But other clothes fill up the space, your space, And scent on scent send out strange false alarms. Not of your odour there is not a trace. But something unexpected still breaks through The goneness to the presentness of you. ↗

— Madeleine L'Engle

#death