Ever looking for gift ideas, but worry they might have already read the book? This is a most treasured birthday gift I received from my bestie this year. I highly recommend it as a gift, as I truly love dipping in and out of it. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. And definitely not a likely read for someone to already have on their shelf. I enjoy reading the notes, insights, and reflections. You don’t have to be a poetry lover to enjoy this one. It makes for great coffee table reading, if that makes sense. What is it you ask? Well read on to find out. *
In order to compose this beauty, the editors asked 100 remarkable women the same question, “What poem has moved you to tears?”. The poems chosen range from the eighth century to today, from Rumi and Shakespeare to Sylvia Plath, W. H. Auden to Carol Ann Duffy, and John Lennon. Their themes range from love and loss, through mortality and mystery, war and peace, to the beauty and variety of nature. Choices were made by the likes of Yoko Ono and Judi Dench. This unique collection delivers private insights into the minds of women whose writing, acting and thinking are admired around the world. A perfect gift idea. Let me know how it’s received, if you decide to purchase for a loved one. *
I preach self love. I believe in loving yourself because there was a time in which that feeling of self loathe took place. It’s an uphill battle. But I’m glad I can speak to people and make them fall in love with themselves and still acknowledge the pain we deal with. On this journey of self love, I saw that people wanted perfection and a facade, I will not provide that. The journey to self love is an up and down journey for some and a straight one for others. It’s not perfect by any means but it is worth it. 💋
Q: What are some things you do to show yourself self love? Tag a friend and I will show love on all your pages.
Like the ocean meets the sky,
I know I will always love you.
At night, when they kiss, the world embraces in their light,
knows exactly what happiness feels like,
finds calm in its warmth and its hues.
That is how it felt like to love you,
like the company I had was just right,
like the warmth we shared was a sunset worth of memories.
On the stormy nights, when the sun refused to set,
the ocean raged and rumbled, crashed and cried,
but every morning she was greeted with a kiss,
and it’s not to say they weren’t perfect.
I have spent years trying to understand the constant love of the horizon,
have always wondered what it is they have that I can’t find,
always look for the answers by screaming at the sea.
“It’ll come,” she whispers, “It’ll find you.”
I get nothing but the constant kissing of the tide at my feet,
pushing me to get out there,
yearning me to find someone else’s hand to hold,
but all I can think about is how the shipwreck of our love never washed up on shore,
how somewhere deep in the darkness, we are gone beyond repair,
and I can’t find someone to watch the sun set if I’m too worried about what I lost out at sea.
They say sailors go out to sea and never come back the same,
and I feel like I know the truth to their stories,
a broken soul, survivor of the shipwrecked ship,
but I wanted to go down the wreckage; I feel like a coward for swimming up for air.
If the light on the horizon is the promise of a love I cannot see,
then I will continue to watch her faithfully,
will continue to listen to her promise of hopes and forevers,
and will try to forget the wreckage that was our love,
will try to put past what I know lurks beneath the light.
It’s funny to say the term lost and found like it’s a good thing,
but they never even belonged together
not without one or the other, finding someone else,
not without one remaining lost, and the other being found. —coloringtheworldwithwords
Baraba u šorcu i majici traži prijem na dvoru,
Nemam ni ručno krojeno odelo, ni svečanu odoru,
Ja sam svoju sreću u pocepanom džepu nosio,
Došao sam ovde da bih nju zaprosio.. Nemam ni prsten od dijamanata, ni od rubina,
U džepu mi flaša najobičnijeg stonog vina,
U ruci buket napravljen od ukradenog livadskog cveća,
U srcu samo njen lik kao slika za pojam sreća.
Nisam ja princ, ni neko čuveno veličanstvo,
Koje će spasiti svet, a možda i čovečanstvo,
U duši nosim samo onu gorku istinu,
Ako pristane, ona bi sa mnom u sirotinju.
Ne tražim miraz , ni zlatnike ni dukate,
Niti ručno vezene ćilime ni zlatne posvete,
Samo njenu ruku, zagrljaj, lepog raspoloženja,
I dva najobičnija slova da ne budem neženja.
Nemojte okretati glavu, niti vrteti nehajno,
Ne bih ja ovde bio da me oči njene ne tražiše značajno,
Zašto širite zenice, kao da mi ne verujete,
Zar toliko površno poznajete svoje dete?
Ja ne tražim kada dolazim da čujem fanfare,
Iz daljine dovoljno je zvuk Cigine trube stare,
Očekivali ste princa, dočekali čoveka, sirotinju,
Zaljubljenog čoveka koji od vrednih stvari ima samo nju. .
Stihovi : Ilija Stanković
i just don’t understand how you can’t love the happiest of them all. how can you not smile when she smiles? how are you not diseased by her contagious laugh? she radiates with light inside and out, gushing with joy. every part of her pulses with love — her heart doesn’t pump blood. it pumps love. how can you not be cheerful when you see her kind eyes? - the ones who love most, feel it least🌻
1 “his fingers didn’t belong there. no means no. i’ve never been so broken” “leave me alone i’m napping” 2 “i cant do it anymore” “do what?” “live” “oh rip” 3 “i write poetry too. here’s my acc” “cool. idc” 4 “i love it. it’s my passion” “but so anyways, boys..” 5 “i think that garment workers deserve better. we shouldn’t be supporting such corrupt businesses” “go tell someone who cares”
it’s scary realizing you’ve never had a real friend before. you’ve never known one person who genuinely cares for you. you can’t name one person who purely loves you — because there’s no one. how can i trust and love someone again? when everyone has broken some part of me? if they’re the only ones i let in, then what will become of me when they’re gone?