“
Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
Carl Sandburg (via poisonoushoneysuckles)
(Reblogged from ghouldilocks)
(via fuckyeahpencils) View high resolution

(via fuckyeahpencils)

(Reblogged from fuckyeahpencils)
“
Poetry remembers that it was an oral art before it was a written art.
Jorge Luis Borges (via insearchofthemoon)
(Reblogged from insearchofthemoon)
kneadthedough: Fridge Door Poetry View high resolution

kneadthedough:

Fridge Door Poetry

(Reblogged from kneadthedough)

Three-minute poetry? It’s all the rage

geeksdigme:

.

Three-minute poetry? It’s all the rage

Every week in small theatres and pubs across Britain, poetry is being dragged back into popular culture by a new generation.

The rules of “poetry slamming” are simple. Anyone is invited to perform for up to three minutes, and his or her efforts are scored out of ten by judges selected at random from the audience. There are heats, and whoever finishes with the highest score is the winner.

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/article6957668.ece

Ha! Cool!

Thank You for Following!!

patrickngan, albanydia, and ginnamarie

Live, Love, and Learn.

patrickngan:

Live life to the fullest.
Love family and friends.
Learn from experience.

Live anyway you want.
Love everything you do.
Learn from pain and mistakes.

Live life with no regret.
Love surprises and risks
Learn something new daily

Go out of your way,
To learn something new,
About life and yourself.

Take risks,
Live dangerously,
Life is short.

There’s no time for regrets,
Life is not about what if’s.

If you’re not happy,
Get happy.

Happiness
Is out there,
Hiding.

You just have to work hard
To find it.

alcoholdiary: Shel Silverstein, A legend.

alcoholdiary:

Shel Silverstein, A legend.

(Reblogged from alcoholdiary)
View high resolution
“

Time is a word
That not many can define,
It can take a meaning
And then break it in a minute.

It passes as a breeze—
We feel it,
We can see it change
Our world—
But the power we will never have
Is to stop it.

In our minds
Impossible becomes possible—
In my mind
A man can fly,
A pig can talk.

Creating a hole
With my mind,
I want to go back—
To remember
Those sweet school days
Were life was a little
More black and white.
Now it seems we wasted—
Threw away does days
With blue fights,
And red tears.

I remember, my dear,
When I sat
At that table,
Everyone around,
My mind flying
In another world.
Wonderful emotions—
Poetry—
Dripping from my pen.

You asked:
“What are you doing?”
With a goofy smile
And a single question
You showed sweet emotions—
I took up a little space in your heart—
Even if poetry
Was in the recycle bin
Of your mind.

Those Sweet School Days by M