August 2, 2011

(via 1000waves)

August 2, 2011

(via anoceanactivist)

June 25, 2011

(Source: sleepinginthesnow, via coffeeurlgirl)

March 21, 2011
utopiandreamz:

Rumi Poetry
Jelaluddin Rumi, the  13th century mystic poet, was truly one of the most passionate and  profound poets in history.  Now, today his presence still remains  strong, due in part to how his words seem to drip of the divine, and  startle a profound remembrance that links all back to the Soul-Essence.   Born in what is present day Afghanistan in 1207, he produced his  master work the Masnawi which  consists of over 60,000 poems before he died in 1273.  The best way to  fully say in words his impact, is that he has the ability to describe  the Indescribable, Ineffable— God.

utopiandreamz:

Rumi Poetry

Jelaluddin Rumi, the 13th century mystic poet, was truly one of the most passionate and profound poets in history.  Now, today his presence still remains strong, due in part to how his words seem to drip of the divine, and startle a profound remembrance that links all back to the Soul-Essence.  Born in what is present day Afghanistan in 1207, he produced his master work the Masnawi which consists of over 60,000 poems before he died in 1273.  The best way to fully say in words his impact, is that he has the ability to describe the Indescribable, Ineffable— God.

(via absurdreasoning)

March 9, 2011
"I will remember the kisses
our lips raw with love
and how you gave me
everything you had
and how I
offered you what was left of
me,
and I will remember your small room
the feel of you
the light in the window
your records
your books
our morning coffee
our noons our nights
our bodies spilled together
sleeping
the tiny flowing currents
immediate and forever
your leg my leg
your arm my arm
your smile and the warmth
of you
who made me laugh
again."

— from Raw With Love by Charles Bukowski (via hopelesslymg)

(Source: glowgirl, via liquidinfinity)

February 27, 2011
"The crown of literature is poetry. It is its end and aim. It is the sublimest activity of the human mind. It is the achievement of beauty and delicacy. The writer of prose can only step aside when the poet passes."

— W. Somerset Maugham (via bookoasis)

(via teachingliteracy)

February 23, 2011
commanderspock:longlivethequeen | andhow



I had wasted my boyhood, true: but it was for you. You had poets enough on the shelf, I gave you myself. — Oscar Wilde, Roses and Rue, III

commanderspock:longlivethequeenandhow

I had wasted my boyhood, true:
but it was for you.
You had poets enough on the shelf,
I gave you myself.
— Oscar Wilde, Roses and Rue, III

February 11, 2011
On the Nature of Love

You ask my love. What shall my love then be?
A hope, an aspiration, a desire?
The soul’s eternal charter writ in fire
Upon the earth, the heavens, and the sea?
You ask my love. The carnal mystery
Of a soft hand, of finger-tips that press,
Of eyes that kindle and of lips that kiss,
Of sweet things known to thee and only thee?
You ask my love. What love can be more sweet
Than hope or pleasure? Yet we love in vain.
The soul is more than joy, the life than meat.
The sweetest love of all were love in pain,
And that I will not give. So let it be.
-Nay, give me any love, so it be love of thee.

- Wilfrid Scawen Blunt 

February 10, 2011
My Mind to me a Kingdom is

My mind to me a kingdom is;
Such perfect joy therein I find
That it excels all other bliss
Which God or nature hath assign’d.
Though much I want that most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.

No princely port, nor wealthy store,
No force to win a victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
No shape to win a loving eye;
To none of these I yield as thrall,—
For why? my mind despise them all.

I see that plenty surfeit oft,
And hasty climbers soonest fall;
I see that such as are aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all.
These get with toil and keep with fear;
Such cares my mind can never bear.

I press to bear no haughty sway,
I wish no more than may suffice,
I do no more than well I may,
Look, what I want my mind supplies.
Lo ! thus I triumph like a king,
My mind content with anything.

I laugh not at another’s loss,
Nor grudge not at another’s gain;
No worldly waves my mind can toss;
I brook that is another’s bane.
I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend,
I loathe not life, nor dread mine end.

My wealth is health and perfect ease,
And conscience clear my chief defence;
I never seek by bribes to please,
Nor by desert to give offence.
Thus do I live, thus will I die,—
Would all did so as well as I! 

- Sir Edward Dyer

February 10, 2011

Vibrates in the memory - 
Odours, when sweet violets sicken,
Live within the sense they quicken.

Rose leaves, when the rose is dead,
Are heaped for the beloved’s bed;
And so thy thoughts, when thou art gone,
Love itself shall slumber on. 

- Percy Bysshe Shelley