“So I wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache.” — Pablo Neruda (via radanta)

(via r0semonkey)

kamero-gomez:

Tom Hiddleston reading Shakespeare Sonnet 130

My mistress’ eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips’ red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damask’d, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress, when she walks, treads on the ground:
   And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
   As any she belied with false compare.

(via r0semonkey)

speakcelebrity:

“Futility” by Wilfred Owen

Read by Kenneth Branagh

(via r0semonkey)

“Poetry happens like an accident, a mugging, a love affair, a crime; it happens every day, when alone, a man’s heart begins to think about life.” — Jaime Sabines (via m0nsieur)

(via bigbobsbeepers)

speakcelebrity:

“This Is Just To Say” by William Carlos Williams

Read by Matthew Macfadyen

hours:

“Why do we read a poem? Because it opens an old wound. Or because it closes a wound. Or because it does both at once.”

— Kevin Hart, John Kinsella interviews Kevin Hart, John Kinsella

(via r0semonkey)

APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.

“

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

” — Since Feeling Is First | E. E. CUMMINGS (via titians)

(via notaswe)

(Source: rolle-on, via satankatic)

(Source: wisps)

chaiivee:

i find you canyon beautiful
sunflower bright and
mirror familiar;
mona lisa priceless
peter pan youthful
harry potter magical
while all-the-world human;
you are paper airplane joy
simple and satisfying
open door welcoming
with a mat at my feet
and a voice saying ‘come in’;
you, in all languages,
make me speechless
yet inspire these words
in me.

(Source: wisps)

nakedwonders:

what if a dawn of a doom of a dream  bites this universe in two,  
peels forever out of his grave and sprinkles nowhere with me and you?
-e. e. cummings

(via clarencemight)

floralle:

Sylvia Plath, Mad Girl’s Love Song

(via r0semonkey)