Make Tea Not War

I have already fallen in love with far too many postage stamps
When you appeared on my doorstep wearing nothing but a postcard promise
No, appear, is the wrong word..
is there a word for sucker punching someone in the heart?

Is there a word for when you’re sitting at a bottom of a rollercoaster
And you realise that the climb is coming
and you know what the climb means
and you can already feel the flip in your stomach from the fall before you even moved

Is there a word for that?
There should be

You can only fit so many words in a postcard
Only so many in a phone call
Only so many into space
Before you forget that words are sometimes used for things other than filling emptiness

It’s hard to build a body out of words
I have tried
We have both.. tried

Instead of ..holding your head to my chest
I tell you about the boy who lives downstairs from me
Who stays up all night long practising his drumset
And neighbours have complained.. they have busy days tomorrow
But he keeps on thumping through the night
convinced, I think, that practise makes perfect

Instead of holding my hand
You tell me about the sandwich you ate for lunch today
How the pickles sit so perfectly with the lettuce
Practise does not make perfect
Practise makes permanent

Repeat the same mistakes over and over
You don’t get any closer to Carnegie Hall.. even I know that
Repeat the same mistakes over and over
You don’t get any closer
You never get any closer

Is there a word for the moment you win tug of war
When the weight gives
And all that extra rope comes hurtling towards you
How even though you’ve won
You still wind up with muddy knees and burns on your hands

Is there a word for that
I wish there was

I want to say it
when we’re finally together on your couch
And neither one of us with anything left to say
Still now, I send letters into space
Hoping that some mail man somewhere will track you down
And recognise you from the description in my poems
And he will place a stack of them in your hands and tells you,
“There is a girl who still writes you”
She doesn’t know.. how not to.

- Sarah Kay

(via worldonfire)

mollystrickland:

floating stones

(Source: elf-warrior, via worldonfire)

topographe:

the truth about october

(september)

(via endofmarch)

(via weddingtopia)

elvedon:

We buried stories, the stars as a witness. There are more crinkles on the moon than our palms soaked in water for too long. Tonight is unsteady and staggering, we do not belong to our names.

Autumn is here.

(via endofmarch)

dear-photograph:

Dear Photograph,

Thank you for everything we had.

@jonathanstampf

(Source: dirtyprettything, via worldonfire)

printed-ink:

from Horseradish: Bitter Truths You Can’t Avoid, by Lemony Snicket

(via endofmarch)

leoandthemoon:

thedelightsgarden:

wedding cake

This is the dress!

(via worldonfire)

(via endofmarch)

» Poetry 365: The Sweetest Sin, Liv.S

The rain it falls without a care
catching you and I quite unaware.
Ever so softly and delicately light,
twinkling on our skin it’s pure delight.
From the sun it is a pleasant relief
but we run to some shelter, leaves under bare feet.

Beneath a canopy of branches, hiding from the weather
…

“ Then followed that beautiful season… Summer… filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; and the landscape lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

“ Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind.

— Henry Miller (1891-1980)

In Lollypop Land.

In lollypop land there is a peppermint sea
beneath the shade of a chewing gum tree.
The grass that grows there is a spearmint green
and the blue of the sky is a heaven supreme.
You walk in the sand that is sugary white;
There are candy-tipped stars that shine down through the night.

In lollypop land there’s a fairy so sweet
just a calico queen, all shiny and neat.
A gingerbread house and a rock candy lane
with a red and white fence made of peppermint cane.
An orange-flavoured moon, by a cotton fluff cloud
And gay little elves who are happy and proud.

In lollypop land there is a marshmallow snow
and the scent of perfume in the breezes that blow.
It’s a little girl’s dream and a little boy’s delight
a Santa Claus land from morning to night.
A beautiful smile and a kind helping hand
and everyday is Christmas in lollypop land.
-Garnett Ann Shultz