I'm guessing it's because poetry isn't dead.
Like many readers, I discovered the poetry of Lang Leav through Tumblr, where she posts her own work. She's not just a Tumblr poet, but rather an artist who has been honing her craft for years, but it's amazing how much of her audience -- for poetry, one of the oldest art forms -- comes from so recent a development as Tumblr.
Poetry absolutely abounds online. Is it all good? Of course not. But much of it is intended as poetry has always often been intended: a snapshot, through words, of the thoughts and feelings of a certain soul.
it is a terrible thing
to love the unreachable;
i found this out
on a friday night
where in a whole room of people
the world starts and ends
on your lips and
i knew i was staring at
the dusting of your freckles
but couldn’t resist
it is a terrible thing to love
your friends
i am burning alive
for it.
(via)
at the tender age of 23
i received the Nobel Prize
for daydreaming
and everyone applauded
a standing ovation
and then i woke up
standing in the kitchen in my underwear
in front of an open refrigerator
with one hand on the door
and the other loosely in my side
as if i was just looking for some midnight snack
i looked down
at my body
in the pale refrigerator light
didn’t remember how I got here
must have been sleepwalking again
didn’t even know
for how long i was standing there
but my body felt
intensely cold
(via)
Hell no, poetry ain't dead.
No comments:
Post a Comment