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[Love] itself shall slumber on
Straightzi
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice,To reign is worth ambition though in HellRegistered User regular
Here we may reign secure, and in my choice,To reign is worth ambition though in HellRegistered User regular
Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote:Music, when soft voices die,
Vibrates in the memory;
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.
Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heap'd for the belovèd's bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on.
I wanted to use a love poem for the new thread title, but the only poets I like are sad all the time, so this is what you get. April is National Poetry Month, according to the Academy of American Poets, so maybe share some of your favorite love poems as well.
Oh or like talk about your love lives or whatever. That's technically what this thread is here for.
Straightzi on
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What if I don't understand poetry?
Where do they get the tigers, thread? Where do they get them?
It's probably the same tiger and they just pass it around
Don't worry, there's nothing there to understand.
Thro’ the cypress forests sighing,
In the night-wind madly flying,
Hellish forms with streaming hair;
In the barren branches creaking,
By the stagnant swamp-pools speaking,
Past the shore-cliffs ever shrieking;
Damn’d daemons of despair.
Once, I think I half remember,
Ere the grey skies of November
Quench’d my youth’s aspiring ember,
Liv’d there such a thing as bliss;
Skies that now are dark were beaming,
Gold and azure, splendid seeming
Till I learn’d it all was dreaming—
Deadly drowsiness of Dis.
But the stream of Time, swift flowing,
Brings the torment of half-knowing—
Dimly rushing, blindly going
Past the never-trodden lea;
And the voyager, repining,
Sees the wicked death-fires shining,
Hears the wicked petrel’s whining
As he helpless drifts to sea.
Evil wings in ether beating;
Vultures at the spirit eating;
Things unseen forever fleeting
Black against the leering sky.
Ghastly shades of bygone gladness,
Clawing fiends of future sadness,
Mingle in a cloud of madness
Ever on the soul to lie.
Thus the living, lone and sobbing,
In the throes of anguish throbbing,
With the loathsome Furies robbing
Night and noon of peace and rest.
But beyond the groans and grating
Of abhorrent Life, is waiting
Sweet Oblivion, culminating
All the years of fruitless quest.
-"Despair" by H.P Lovecraft
goddamn every guy in that show is a fucking terrible monster
Nah, more just like, the generalized concept.
What do you know about the tiger?
Is not for me, I guess.
Monday night my FWB officially announced their intention to get back with their ex, which was expected, so I'm now lacking both physical and emotional intimacy in my life.
Which sucks! It's nice to have someone around. But I'm also going to see a psychologist next week and hopefully get the ball rolling on transitioning 'n stuff, so I feel that starting a new relationship now is a bad idea.
I stretch out on the shore
And think of you.
Had I told the sea
What I felt for you
It would have left its shores,
Its shells,
Its fish,
And followed me.
- Nizar Qabbani
(And one from the same poet with a much more delightfully feminist bent, "My Angry Cat")
for the twentieth time.
Is there another man in my life?
Yes. Yes. What did you think?
Even graveyards have visitors.
There are, my dear sir,
a lot of men out there,
and no garden is ever devoid of birds.
You're just an experience I had,
and here I am,
tired and bored from this experience,
out from under your spell.
I'm cured of all
my weakness and gullibility.
Niceties do, after all, always end.
You love me!
There you go again,
dredging up all that ancient history.
And since when did you ever show
the slightest interest in me
outside the contour of my hips?
Where does this sudden gush of love come from?
I was never anything more
than a forsaken chair
among your expensive furniture,
a garden you chose to raze
without shame or repentance.
Why are you staring at my breasts
as if you owned them?
And why do you weep as if you
stood before a lost kingdom?
Your glorious kingdom, dear sir,
has just crumbled.
There. I've settled my score
in an instant.
You tell me now
who's losing the game.
I opened myself to you
like the Garden of Eden,
gave you all the sweet fruit
and green grass you desired.
Today I offer you
neither heaven nor hell.
This is what you get
for acting the ungrateful.
You faithless. If you'd only treated me
like a human being - just once -
this other man wouldn't exist.
filthy
I want this as a tattoo
They just rent one when they climb Machu Picchu
group rates make it practical
haha haa ahahhahahha HAHAH
lookout of the yard
I usually don't like poetry but I like all of those
a+++
in love news I'm gonna crosspost a post about the a m a z i n g weekend fulla platonic friend love I had here in a mo ~~
I'd love it if you took a look at my art and my PATREON!
PLATONIC LOVE IS LOVE TOO AND IT'S GREAT FRIENDS ROCK
SO
I got back from Holliston visiting Pinecone, which was restful and nice, at like midnight on Thursday of last week - I then woke up at 8, packed for two days, went to work and worked 8 hours, and then got in a car with Roommate, Pugboy (Pinecone's lil bro), and this adorable nb person Gabriel who I run into at bus stops and chat with a lot and sometimes go to church with (they teach sunday school and are s o g a y I love them). Pugboy and Gabe and I don't necessarily like.. I mean, we've spent some time together, but not a LOT? So I was kind of nervous because I didn't know what the social dynamic of this two hour drive to Connecticut would be like, or what staying with Roommate's family for the night (so we could get up early and only have an hour drive to NYC) would be like, and I'm sooooooo easily nervous in those situationsssssss aaaa
BUT
early on I got Gabe talking about Bram Stoker being hella gay and also gothic lit (things they know a LOT about) and discovered that Pugboy is also really into gothic lit and we just super hit it off about books, and Roommate got to talk a bit about renaissance art (she's super knowledgeable about art history stuff) and then it just snowballed into this completely amazing frenzy of getting to know each other and asking questions and talking about art and books and aaaa it was SO fun
so, we kind of played the question game (everyone takes turns asking a question, everyone including the asker answers) and had a really great time
(questions:)
Out of those questions came discussions about what kind of media really speaks to us and what it means to feel really deeply connected to yourself and to see yourself reflected in media and just tons of great stories about everyones' lives and it was wooooonderful
SO
then we were at Roommate's folks' place and her mom had made us pulled pork and roast potatoes and it was delicious, and everyone but me had a few beers, and we played Uno with Roommate's younger sister and told stories about our siblings and ate tons of food and had an absolute blast
Then we were figuring out how we were going to sleep and Pugboy suggested we just grab the air mattresses that had been set up in different rooms in the house and just shove them together in the living room, so we did, and we all kind of snuggled up in our PJs and got the uno cards and our sketchbooks; Pugboy is a game design student, so, he does this thing where he takes any kind of game pieces (cards, dice, boards, pieces, whatever) and turns them into an RPG spontaneously. We wound up playing Uno: The Last Airbender with rules we kind of made up on the fly using the uno cards and it was genuinely really fun and fast-paced and intuitive and we got through basically a good 2-hour RP session before putting the cards away and just rolling around and talking about Dragon Age until 2am.
Saturday morning around 8:15 we got up and ate fruit and croissants that Roommate's mom had left for us and made each other tea and chatted while Roommate helped get her sister ready (lil sis is autistic and can have some trouble getting out of the house in the morning for various reasons and Roommate is very good at helping her out) and then drove into NYC around 9:30 for moCCA and talked about childhood and growth and food and that was awesome.
Then the day itself was mostly really hard (for me at least) since cons make me really uncomfortable and I don't like being in the city (though I do like looking at the city as I am leaving it) and Pugboy met up with a friend of his that everyone but me knew already and that's hard for me, but in the afternoon the professor who convinced us all to go turned up and I wound up getting to chat with his daughter and her best friend (who are editors for kids' and middle-grade books at a NYC publishing company) and then going to the afterparty at the society of illustrators and doing art and getting to know Pugboy's friend (they had walked 10 miles to see a bunch of tourist stuff and MOMA and met us there) and that was an awesome time too
Then we decided to take Pugboy's friend back with us since she was going to have to bus back otherwise and it was late and we had an extra seat in the car, and I was in control of the music and we discovered that we have basically the exact same taste in music and she loves a bunch of artists I love that people have usually never heard of and wants to move to Austin, and we asked her all the questions that we had asked each other the night before, and then we made up more, like:
and then we asked, What are two of the most intimate experiences (intimate meaning: truly honest and connected, with anything or anyone including yourself) you have ever had? and the answers people gave were beaaaaaauuuutiful
also I told the first-time-we-had-sex-Pinecone-tampon-blood-picture story (and the story of me after that breakup going to go see Puppies and crying all over him and finding out he doesn't own pajamas) and the whole car totally resonated with that stuff and we talked about what it MEANS to be intimate and about deep platonic love and about how dfab people are conditioned to view their bodies as truly existing only in relation to others and it was amaaaazing
actually three of us told Pinecone stories lmao
Pugboy's friend had a story about the summer she started dating her long-term boyfriend and how they drove to every mountain range in New England together and camped out at this campground called Lobster Bayou and had their first kiss under a meteor shower in a tent full of christmas lights (what the fuck, right??) and Gabe had a story about meeting a trans nonbinary monk who made a huge impact on their life and it was just
guys
when you ask people questions they are full of the most AMAZING shit
there were times when several of us were crying in the car because we were just so affected by stories folks had told and times when we were all singing songs from my playlist at the top of our lungs and we've decided we are all going to go camping before Gabe goes back to DC for the summer
also Pugboy and I got to talk a lot about plans for moving in together this summer and I'm pretty goddamn pumped y'allllll aaaaa I'm gonna live with my boy and frands and aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
I'd love it if you took a look at my art and my PATREON!
@KalTorak
Which show?
it's called "Love"
What's that got to do with it?
But then, I have been trying to not think so much about it.
I should talk to her eventually too, I think she understands that I need time. I hope she does at least.
Also I really wished I understood poetry because I think it'd be really up my alley but it seems impenetrable.
Which was nice of her so I'm calling that a win
I am legit getting "even graveyards have visitors" put on my skin
That was probably my favorite line/segment
Let it go
Imagine the sound of wind gently rustling leaves as I say that.
Curiosity
may have killed the cat; more likely
the cat was just unlucky, or else curious
to see what death was like, having no cause
to go on licking paws, or fathering
litter on litter of kittens, predictably.
Nevertheless, to be curious
is dangerous enough. To distrust
what is always said, what seems
to ask odd questions, interfere in dreams,
leave home, smell rats, have hunches
do not endear cats to those doggy circles
where well-smelt baskets, suitable wives, good lunches
are the order of things, and where prevails
much wagging of incurious heads and tails.
Face it. Curiosity
will not cause us to die--
only lack of it will.
Never to want to see
the other side of the hill
or that improbable country
where living is an idyll
(although a probable hell)
would kill us all.
Only the curious
have, if they live, a tale
worth telling at all.
Dogs say cats love too much, are irresponsible,
are changeable, marry too many wives,
desert their children, chill all dinner tables
with tales of their nine lives.
Well, they are lucky. Let them be
nine-lived and contradictory,
curious enough to change, prepared to pay
the cat price, which is to die
and die again and again,
each time with no less pain.
A cat minority of one
is all that can be counted on
to tell the truth. And what cats have to tell
on each return from hell
is this: that dying is what the living do,
that dying is what the loving do,
and that dead dogs are those who do not know
that dying is what, to live, each has to do.
to make this love thread related, I once had a rager of a crush on a dude based almost entirely on him having part of this poem tattooed on his body
She responded with "that's weird and I'm sad this is your life."
I... ok.
the plums
that were in
the icebox
and which
you were probably
saving
for breakfast
Forgive me
they were delicious
so sweet
and so cold
To Mrs Reynolds's Cat
Cat! who hast passed thy grand climacteric,
How many mice and rats hast in thy days
Destroyed? How many tit-bits stolen? Gaze
With those bright languid segments green, and prick
Those velvet ears - but prithee do not stick
Thy latent talons in me, and up-raise
Thy gentle mew, and tell me all thy frays
Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick.
Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists -
For all thy wheezy asthma, and for all
Thy tail's tip is nicked off, and though the fists
Of many a maid have given thee many a maul,
Still is that fur as soft as when the lists
In youth thou enteredst on glass-bottled wall.
-John Keats
Definitely one of my favorite Keats poems. Not that I know anything about poetry or anything.
Also hey love thread, there is a new girl at work and she is just so cool and pretty. Got a bit of crush going. But the other day she called me Dave, which stung a little. But she was close, I guess! (People at work call me Dan)
Also I've been single for...jesus 10+ years now? Definitely not making a thing out of it. This job kinda saved my life so I'm in no hurry to fuck it up.
is anna kendrick my spirit animal
Do you surmize it's wise?
Am I allowed to voice my immense displeasure at WCW in here? His poems enrage me in ways I cannot explain.