the bluest cloud

you came and woke me early today
blue traces in your hair
said the wind had smelt just like the sun
said I could find you there
your sunbeam hands tipped them forward the
driftwood of your conscience
ruckled midnight words of the absurd
borderline of nonsense
you are and will be the greatest thing
i lend my night sky to
all my moonlit sighs of dawn’s first light
they all belong to you
you are enthralled by refulgent flames
planets away from me
constellations sleep behind your eyes
finches yours to carry
laughing the records of ’94
your voice above the keys
glass misted with the breath of a boy
a whisper from the breeze
through the heavy mist of 5AM
the clouds they said to me
the parts of me that fail to reach you
meander in the sea

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QUOTES OF THE DAY – SYLVIA PLATH EDITION

‘What did my hands do before they held you?’

– SYLVIA PLATH

‘And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt.’

– SYLVIA PLATH

‘Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything, it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing.’

– SYLVIA PLATH

‘Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I’ve taken for granted.’

– SYLVIA PLATH

‘I felt very still and empty, the way the eye of a tornado must feel, moving dully along in the middle of the surrounding hullabaloo.’

– SYLVIA PLATH

‘I want to taste and glory in each day, and never be afraid to experience pain; and never shut myself up in a numb core of nonfeeling, or stop questioning and criticizing life and take the easy way out. To learn and think: to think and live; to live and learn: this always, with new insight, new understanding, and new love.’

– SYLVIA PLATH

‘Some things are hard to write about. After something happens to you, you go to write it down, and either you over dramatize it, or underplay it, exaggerate the wrong parts or ignore the important ones. At any rate, you never write it quite the way you want to.’

– SYLVIA PLATH

‘How frail the human heart must be – a mirrored pool of thought.’

– SYLVIA PLATH

ON A STRANGER’S NIGHT

They float like lanterns between the trees
An armless clock in the midnight breeze
Enchanted, bewitched in their own white now
Blue traces of the past lost in the folds of love’s gown
Beaten lungs, aching with warning
I turn from the play that comes to town
It’s credits ever changing, the story line stagnant
An invited friend snatches them
Jerks them into a chaotic labyrinth of endless black
They become the underlying stars of the sky
Illuminated by the toxic screams of their hollow walls
Hate punching through tissue thin hearts
He blunders through the cobwebs to search
For the man he was that night
When their wine glasses were rimmed with love
When he cast away the stars for her hand
The ornaments of their contract shimmer like her silver eyes
Trapped in the cracks of his boot soles
The burning rain that seals their fate
Feels like a blessing
On a stranger’s night I saw
Two paper lanterns
Lying
Ruined on the floor

QUOTE OF THE DAY: JENNIFER NIVEN

‘I remember running down a road on my way to a nursery of flowers. I remember her smile and her laugh when I was my best self and she looked at me like I could do no wrong and was whole. I remember how she looked at me the same way even when I wasn’t. I remember her hand in mine and how that felt, as if something and someone belonged to me.’

JENNIFER NIVEN- ALL THE BRIGHT PLACES

I don’t normally do this for Quote of The Day posts, but I’d just like to recommend All The Bright Places to everyone reading this – it is a truly lovely book and Jennifer is a lovely person. ATBP will be coming to the big screen sometime in the next few years, with Jennifer writing the screenplay herself.

some of the images in this post belong to me, if you intend to use any of them please ask me to check, thanks!’

QUOTE OF THE DAY: ERNEST HEMINGWAY

‘All good books are alike in that they are truer than if they had really happened and after you are finished reading one you will feel that all that happened to you and afterwards it all belongs to you: the good and the bad, the ecstasy, the remorse and sorrow, the people and the places and how the weather was. If you can get so that you can give that to people, then you are a writer.’

– ERNEST HEMINGWAY

SHE

Behind her I stand

Snap snapping

Captured

By nature’s woven tunnel

The river of illuminated grey

Tethers her pulse to mine

Unblemished and balanced

Perfectly isolated

In her exquisite triangle

Of the brightest flash

My own crown dampened

By the husky shadow

Her’s jewelled by rivets of sun

She a lovely moment

Seized by one

Until the sword of time

Slices her in two

An ankle swings

Eases her out

From under the filter

And towards my feet

The sun

It blinds her

The dust

It sticks to her

Pretty as she passes me

Without a smile

But that is all

A smile may have saved her

Pricked, I return to savour

The frame where trees were beautiful

And so was she