Give Me The Moon

Clarice Lispector, from The Complete Stories: “The Servant,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)

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She was made entirely of a sweetness bordering on tears.

Miguel Hernández, from Selected Poems; “Bloody Fate,”
(via violentwavesofemotion)

(via nicola-blank)

I come, blood on blood,
like the sea, wave on wave.
I have a soul the color of poppies.

Robin Lee (via venuschild)

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Repeat after me: I am the woman of my own dreams. I require no validation. My wish is my command. My life is my own. I build it. My voice is my own. I use it. I am relentless in my dedication to trusting myself. I am insatiable in my thirst for the extraordinary, and I do not settle for the mediocre.
I
Live
Without
Dead
Time.

Hélène Cixous  from “The Love of the Wolf” (via soracities)

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I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow.

Chloe Honum, from “Rest,” Then Winter

(via venuscomb)

(Source: lifeinpoetry, via nicola-blank)

Flowers freshly cut and wrapped in newspaper, / that’s how I want to rest, my dreams / like white petals absorbing ink.

memoryslandscape:

Why Are Your Poems So Dark?

Isn’t the moon dark too,
most of the time?

And doesn’t the white page
seem unfinished

without the dark stain
of alphabets?

When God demanded light,
he didn’t banish darkness.

Instead he invented
ebony and crows

and that small mole
on your left cheekbone.

Or did you mean to ask
“Why are you sad so often?”

Ask the moon.
Ask what it has witnessed.

Linda Pastan, from Poetry (August 2001)

(via nicola-blank)