There Is Another Speculation Too, But I Wanted To Know Your Answer—answer Only If You Wish To.

there is another speculation too, but i wanted to know your answer—answer only if you wish to.

Now I'm too curious to know what this other speculation is before answering your other ask...

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tell me dear anon tell me yours too really curious about your blog now too really curious about so many things now

More Posts from Literaryvein and Others

literaryvein

1 year ago

Poetic Surgery

I lay you down under the sun
where god can see you.

Someone hands me a scalpel
and I make the first incision—
right at the soft spot between
the third verse and the fourth.

You bleed. You open up like a flower
at the hands of a Summer child.
I have poetry in place of bandages
so I plaster the silence with free

verse because apart from being myself,
I’ve also grown tired of being locked up.
Years from now, they’ll finally find
a cure for our kind of sadness.

Until then, we’ll drink our pepper
mint tea and write lousy poetry.

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem as the peppermint tea circled down the drain

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writeblr writers on tumblr writing nature☁️ poetry creative writing literature poets on tumblr tea original writing spilled ink spilled thoughts poets corner literaryvein poetic surgery

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literaryvein

1 year ago

Detail of "The Garden of Adonis - Amoretta and Time" by John Dickson Batten (English, 1860-1932)

The 7 Wonders

I wonder how many more poems
are standing in the way
between now and the day I die.

I wonder if the sickness is our bodies fighting back.
Often we hear about people fighting for their lives,
but we are here too—the ones fighting for their deaths.

Room C-30. I wonder how many people have died here.
How many wept.
How many threw up on this bed.
And if this mattress is the same mattress or
if they threw that one out.

I wonder if it would be considered betrayal, to my younger self,
if at any point in the near future, I don’t kill myself.
I think this means I’ve outlived myself.
Maybe one day I’ll write something about that.

I wonder which words haven’t been put together
before I put them together and were they better off apart?

I wonder what it’s like to be there.
To be the one telling everyone that you’re gone.
To hold your hand until it grew too cold to the touch.

I wonder if I’ll ever forget you
or if I’ll die before I do.

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem at the beginning of a rainbow

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writeblr writers on tumblr writing poetry creative writing literature poets on tumblr my writing original writing lit spilled ink spilled thoughts poets corner excerpt literaryvein john dickson batten

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literaryvein

5 months ago

sad to see ur deleting ur edits

I'm sure you have ur reasons and I respect that

I just rlly love them

Not deleting! Just slowly moving & reorganising them on a sideblog. Planning to keep original writings only on this blog again.

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thanks so much dear anon this space got derailed the past year but yeah

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literaryvein

11 months ago

Girl with Starry Dress and Bouquet (Detail)
by Charles Blackman

July wasn’t a poet
but the rain was here, the daffodils told her.

She picked up a pen
and wrote on the walls and on her body

L. V., i found this poem tucked safely between 2:53 and 2:54 in the morning

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art writeblr writers on tumblr painting poetry poets on tumblr my writing original writing july spilled ink spilled thoughts poets corner expressionism literaryvein charles blackman

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literaryvein

6 months ago

Details of "Portrait of Edna Barger of Connecticut" by Jules Joseph Lefebvre (French, 1836–1911)

A Sonnet for You

If I could, I would compose sonnets for you.

You told me you love poetry, now I’m a poet.
I’ll write you a world of odes and ballads;
I’ll leave a bouquet of haiku on your doorstep.

If I could, I would compose sonnets for you.

Tell me all your fears. I want to know about
everything that’s ever caused you pain. I want
to write them all down on a piece of paper.

Then I’ll fold it once, twice, thrice until it can
no longer be folded. I want to make your fears
small enough that I can hold them in my hand.

I’ll take them far away from you, so that you
won’t ever have to be afraid anymore. I swear
nothing will hurt you again—myself included.

If I could, I would compose sonnets for you.

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem on the wall when the paint started to peel off

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art writeblr writers on tumblr writing poetry creative writing literature poets on tumblr original writing lit spilled ink spilled thoughts oil on canvas poets corner sonnet literaryvein jules lefebvre

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literaryvein

10 months ago

You have the most beautifully unique posts. The essence of the word "haunting."

Oh <3

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writeblr writers on tumblr thank you poets on tumblr anonymous spilled ink

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literaryvein

11 months ago

Detail of "Oude vrouw bij een kaars" ("Old woman with a candle") by Gerrit Dou, 1661

You
are alive.
No longer in
the same way that
people are alive but you
are alive to me in the same
way fire is alive. How it mesmerizes
with its light. Its warmth. How it
mesmerizes with its dance
with the gentlest
breeze.

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem at the tip of your lit cigarette

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art writeblr writers on tumblr poetry fire creative writing literature poets on tumblr my writing original writing spilled ink spilled thoughts grief word vomit poets corner gerrit dou literaryvein

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literaryvein

3 years ago

L. V., i found this poem sleeping alone in the dark

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art writers on tumblr writing painting poetry poem literature original poets on tumblr my writing lit spilled ink spilled thoughts monet eternity literaryvein

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literaryvein

9 months ago

Details of "Dans le bleu" by Amélie Beaury-Saurel (French, 1849-1924)

SELFHOOD

Perhaps I should have been born
as a much simpler creature.
I am bad at being human.
I am bad at chasing after dreams.
I am bad at staying awake.
I am bad at writing—the very thing
that I claim to bring me solace.
Perhaps I should have been
born as a firefly or a moth.

Or one of those fish with the silver
belly. Perhaps a warm, fuzzy creature
that spends its days grazing in a
meadow that one day will be visited
by a local artist and immortalized
on his canvas. Perhaps we should
have been born as much simpler
creatures. Perhaps we’d have a
better chance of happiness then.

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem stuck between the lines of your last text message

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art writeblr writers on tumblr nature☁️ poetry life creative writing literature poets on tumblr my writing original writing happiness lit spilled ink spilled thoughts word vomit poets corner literaryvein amelie beaury saurel

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literaryvein

11 months ago

Hi! I've been reading your writing for years too. There are so many life experiences I had that you were able to put into words in such a poetic way especially the sad ones lol.. I remember I sent you a request in your old blog and you wrote me something. I still keep a handwritten copy of it and I have it saved on my phone. I'd like to be able to buy you a coffee as well :)

This is so sweet. Thank you for sharing this with me! If you don't mind, would you tell me which piece it was?

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writeblr writers on tumblr anonymous

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