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Showing posts from September, 2019

Quotation from the facade of the Brooklyn Public Library

"Here are enshrined the longing of great hearts and noble things that tower above the tide, the magic word that winged wonder starts, the garnered wisdom that has never died." Inscription on the facade of the Brooklyn Public Library


the long gray days have come as I walk under the dense clouds through these woods I once loved an atmosphere of loss weighs me down like a rock even the moss has lost it's color the silence sounds like screaming there's not even a rustling of leaves death shall live here soon

Love & honor

a giggle, young and innocent still will grow into a laugh and a single tear shall start a stream of grief the past, the years gone by forever now I know I've lived long enough we've grown we've gained we've lost love & honor to all our ghosts

Quotation from Ernest Hemmingway

“I love sleep. My life has the tendency to fall apart when I'm awake, you know?” ― Ernest Hemingway

love uncontrollable runaway butterflies and escaped kisses

Goddess of Flowers

wait for me between the roses the palest pink ones with dewdrops still on their petals oh, my sweet one like a bee I'll find you I'll home in on your scent drink the dew from your skin and take in your nectar you, Goddess of Flowers my excitement and my serenity wait for me


en ik dacht dat grote mensen niet meer bang waren voor spoken maar ik dacht het verkeerd voor hen geen witte lakens of enge wezens onder het bed ze zien spoken die niet meer verdwijnen door het aandoen van het licht want het zijn volwassen spoken ze hebben een gezicht

the little silly things like did she like sprinkles on ice cream or dream of dancing barefoot in the rain questions never asked left unanswered

so much clearer her mind needs to be words lost in a fog poetess wandering pathless her soul in search for the door to her heart

I wonder

these waking nights - walking slowly between dreams and death - I wonder; when my brittle bones stop breaking and my heart will be free from my body - will it still beat? am I only made this blood - this dying body? then bury me beneath a Maple and sometimes I'll still bleed

'O, als ik dood zal, dood zal zijn - J.H. Leopold

'O, als ik dood, dood zal zijn kom dan en fluister, fluister iets liefs, mijn bleke ogen zal ik opslaan en ik zal niet verwonderd zijn. En ik zal niet verwonderd zijn; in deze liefde zal de dood alleen een slapen, slapen gerust een wachten op u, een wachten zijn.' J.H. Leopold (1865 - 1925) - uit de bundel Versen van 1912 n.b. mocht er copyright berusten op dit gedicht en het verwijderd dient te worden dan kunt u een bericht achterlaten zodat ik de post kan verwijderen. Ik heb het online nagezocht en kon geen uitsluitsel vinden betreffende copright op dit specifieke gedicht.

My angel

how beautiful you were, almost ethereal shimmering as if never in focus you looked like a free falling angel down to earth - into my arms I held you close to my heart touched your invisible wings tasted your lips caressed your fair skin I loved to the moon & back I still do ✨


in the air - faded memories calling I feel them breathing against my skin my sin exposed painted upon a weathered canvas - us who we were the night before hear the larks singing my love here lies innocence      no more


if hell would freeze over I'd go ice-skating on the lake of lost souls I'd go ski-jumping over the pit of fire I'd make a snowman with a scarf and a hat I'd make hell a pleasant place to be ~ that

clattering of hooves a sound from a ghostly past abandoned carriage        

Aurora Borealis

in the dark of night eerie light adorns the sky magical display

Waking up

on cold ground she lay downy feathers fell from the sky covered in wishes she slept waking up an angel ready to fly

how morbid you speak of life justifying the wealthy towering over the poor no apprehension or aversion in pretending to be gods what concrete walls have you built within your heart what prison door to shut out the light

Painting perfection

anticipation of exhilaration madness flows through vibrant veins stilled on canvas - life in all its gory glory not all is light that shines bright come, my little bird drink the blood that is me savor me I am the perfect imperfection