Romance

observando:

Romance, who loves to nod and sing
With drowsy head and folded wing
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been—most familiar bird—
Taught me my alphabet to say,
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child—with a most knowing eye.

Of late, eternal condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky;
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings,
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away—forbidden things—
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.

— Edgar Allan Poe

Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein

observando:

There is a place where the sidewalk ends
And before the street begins,
And there the grass grows soft and white,
And there the sun burns crimson bright,
And there the moon-bird rests from his flight
To cool in the peppermint wind.

Let us leave this place where the smoke blows black
And the dark street winds and bends.
Past the pits where the asphalt flowers grow
We shall walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And watch where the chalk-white arrows go
To the place where the sidewalk ends.

Yes we’ll walk with a walk that is measured and slow,
And we’ll go where the chalk-white arrows go,
For the children, they mark, and the children, they know
The place where the sidewalk ends.

– Shel Silverstein

creepsofthunder:

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.”   ― Sylvia Plath,  The Bell Jar

creepsofthunder:

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my eyes and all is born again.”
Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

zenmind-nomind:

Where does the circle begin?

Where does the circle begin?
Is it a line you guess with your pen?
Is the passage of time
just a spin of a dime
along crooked line
to a finishing sign?
If you go on and on
feeling lost, feeling numb,
will you find what you want
in this meaningless hunt?

Where does the circle begin?
Is it the distance you run from your sin?
Is your knowledge of past
what sustains you to last,
what you’ve seen,
what you’ve done,
under moon
under sun?
If you keep looking back
on your life in the black
will you see what you want
in this meaningless hunt?

Where does the circle begin?
Is it the distance you mark from a pin?
If you run round the edge
on the cusp of the ledge
searching bush, searching hedge
in the seas that you dredge
if you look for the one
under heaven and sun
will you find what you want
in this meaningless hunt?

Where does the circle begin?
Can you trace another thats been?
If you copy your father,
your mother,
your brother
will you find your true self
or will you still suffer?
Is there a template for you
to know what is true?
Can you find what you want
in this meaningless hunt?

Where does the circle begin?
I’ll tell you, I’ve seen it, I’ve been!
It is born in the sound of the voice of the ground
and the moon and the stars
and the sky that is ours
and the compulsion to ask!

And though I stand on the sand
With my heart in my hand
I can hear there’s a sound
In the darkness I found

For there is infinite possibility
In the depths of my limits, see
From a seed grows a tall tree
And the knowledge we’re born free!

And in the sound that I found
In the voice of the ground.
And the resonant art
Of my hand and my heart

Where does the circle begin?
Its easy, its drawn from within!

by Dan Osborne

zenmind-nomind:

Where does the circle begin?

Where does the circle begin?
Is it a line you guess with your pen?
Is the passage of time
just a spin of a dime
along crooked line
to a finishing sign?
If you go on and on
feeling lost, feeling numb,
will you find what you want
in this meaningless hunt?

Where does the circle begin?
Is it the distance you run from your sin?
Is your knowledge of past
what sustains you to last,
what you’ve seen,
what you’ve done,
under moon
under sun?
If you keep looking back
on your life in the black
will you see what you want
in this meaningless hunt?

Where does the circle begin?
Is it the distance you mark from a pin?
If you run round the edge
on the cusp of the ledge
searching bush, searching hedge
in the seas that you dredge
if you look for the one
under heaven and sun
will you find what you want
in this meaningless hunt?

Where does the circle begin?
Can you trace another thats been?
If you copy your father,
your mother,
your brother
will you find your true self
or will you still suffer?
Is there a template for you
to know what is true?
Can you find what you want
in this meaningless hunt?

Where does the circle begin?
I’ll tell you, I’ve seen it, I’ve been!
It is born in the sound of the voice of the ground
and the moon and the stars
and the sky that is ours
and the compulsion to ask!

And though I stand on the sand
With my heart in my hand
I can hear there’s a sound
In the darkness I found

For there is infinite possibility
In the depths of my limits, see
From a seed grows a tall tree
And the knowledge we’re born free!

And in the sound that I found
In the voice of the ground.
And the resonant art
Of my hand and my heart

Where does the circle begin?
Its easy, its drawn from within!

by Dan Osborne

"Ordinary men hate solitude.
But the Master makes use of it,
embracing his aloneness, realizing
he is one with the whole universe."

- Lao Tzu (via lazyyogi)

ourtangledbones:

alecshao:

T.S. Eliot - The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock (fragments)

ENG 140 memories

(via ourtangledbones-deactivated2012)

Tattoos

thevirtualhermit:

My mother hates these
Intentional scars finding no
Beauty in the lines and dots
I meticulously chose and not
Understanding I’d rather be judged for
The ink I inflict upon virgin skin
Than the color and texture
I was born with. 

genderbendingriotqueer:

Andrea Gibson, “maybe i need you”

You can never reblog Andrea Gibson too many times.

(via quentinandrew-deactivated201303)