Latest Posts by surmayah - Page 4

ON THAT ONE PARTICULAR BRAND OF URBAN LONELINESS

Nigel Van Wieck, Aron Wiesenfeld, Mitski, Holly Warburton, Maïté Grandjouan

need a love that turns Qais into Majnu and Laila into La ilaaha illalaah

i am not my mother and i am not my father but a third worse thing

“From the River to the Sea.” A Poem by Samer Abu Hawwash, translated by Huda Fakhreddine

every street, every house, every room, every window, every balcony, every wall, every stone, every sorrow, every word, every letter, every whisper, every touch, every glance, every kiss, every tree, every spear of grass, every tear, every scream, every air, every hope, every supplication, every secret, every well, every prayer, every song, every ballad, every book, every paper, every color, every ray, every cloud, every rain, every drop of rain, every drip of sweat, every lisp, every stutter, every yamma, mother, every yaba, father, every shadow, every light, every little hand that drew in a little notebook a tree or house or heart or a family of a father, a mother, siblings, and pets, every longing, every possibility, every letter between two lovers that arrived or didn’t arrive, every gasp of love dispersed in the distant clouds, every moment of despair at every turn, every suitcase on top of

every closet, every library, every shelf, every minaret, every rug, every bell toll in every church, every rosary, every holy praise, every arrival, every goodbye, every Good Morning, every Thank God, every ‘ala rasi, my pleasure, every hill ‘an sama’i, leave me alone, every rock, every wave, every grain of sand, every hair-do, every mirror, every glance in every mirror, every cat, every meow, every happy donkey, every sad donkey’s gaze, every pot, every vapor rising from every pot, every scent, every bowl, every school queue, every school shoes, every ring of the bell, every blackboard, every piece of chalk, every school costume, every mabruk ma ijakum, congratulations on the baby, every y ‘awid bi-salamtak, condolences, every ‘ayn al- ḥasud tibla bil-‘ama, may the envious be blinded, every photograph, every person in every photograph, every niyyalak, how lucky, every ishta’nalak, we’ve missed you, every grain of wheat in every bird’s gullet, every lock of hair, every hair knot, every hand, every foot, every football, every finger, every nail, every bicycle, every rider on every bicycle, every turn of air fanning from every bicycle, every bad joke, every mean joke, every laugh, every smile, every curse, every yearning, every fight, every sitti, grandma, every

sidi, grandpa, every meadow, every flower, every tree, every grove, every olive, every orange, every plastic rose covered with dust on an abandoned counter, every portrait of a martyr hanging on a wall since forever, every gravestone, every sura, every verse, every hymn, every ḥajj mabrur wa sa ‘yy mashkur, may your ḥajj and effort be rewarded, every yalla tnam yalla tnam, every lullaby, every red teddy bear on every Valentine’s, every clothesline, every hot skirt, every joyful dress, every torn trousers, every days-spun sweater, every button, every nail, every song, every ballad, every mirror, every peg, every bench, every shelf, every dream, every illusion, every hope, every disappointment, every hand holding another hand, every hand alone, every scattered thought, every beautiful thought, every terrifying thought, every whisper, every touch, every street, every house, every room, every balcony, every eye, every tear, every word, every letter, every name, every voice, every name, every house, every name, every face, every name, every cloud, every name, every rose, every name, every spear of grass, every name, every wave, every grain of sand, every street, every kiss, every image, every eye, every tear, every yamma, every yaba, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, every name, all…

babygirl i can be the one note on all your original posts

Silsila (1981), India

I think everything I've done in life has been in an effort to be loved more

in every lifetime i'd boop you guys btw if you even care

The boop is gone... pain... misery... darkness

duuude you have GOT to get online everybody is just fucking hitting each other

SOBBING ABOUT ORV AGAIN

here's the next part of my orv collection tagging @chocolatemalt because my darling your tags give me life. no, btw. it's still not over yet, i've got so many remaining

link to part 1, part 2 and a webweave i made out of story snippets that is yoo joonghyuk centric. also, part 4. (this one is part 3)

BOOP ISN'T PERMANENT???!?!?????😭😭😭😭

ur in her dms i’m in her boop notifications

tumblr's boop feature got me feeling butterflies and seeing hearts

love & friendship - collected writings from side wounds and other poems

Wounds of the Earth

— by xis.lanyx

Sono Osato, Japanese-American ballet dancer (1919-2018)

What are your favorite Arabic poems, if you have any?

These are some of my favorites:

An Ocean Without Shore, Ibn ‘Arabi

Fragment from Al-Buhturi’s Wolf

From the Luzumiyat of al-Ma’arri

From the Diwan of al-Ma’arri

Reality, Rabia al-Basri

Love, Rabia al-Basri

The Enchanter of Dust: Psalm, Adonis

The Wound, Adonis

I Pray Behind My Shadow, Bahija Massri Adelbi

The Spirit Bows to the Will of Love, Munir Mezyed

The Manner of Sand, Mahmood al-Braikan

Exculpation, Khalil Mutran

Revolt Against the Sun, Nazik al-Mala’ika

Myths, Nazik al-Mala’ika

Who am I?, Nazik al-Mala’ika

A Stranger at the Gulf, Badr Shakir al-Sayyab

An Alphabetical Formation, Faraj Bayraqdar

A couple of fragments from Sanieh Salh

Sorrows of the Black City, Muhammad al-Fayturi

Shadows, Wadih Sa’adah

The Strange Grief, al-Shabbi

A Storm in the Dark, al-Shabbi

A Body, Al-Saddiq al-Raddi

Annihilation, Muhammad Afifi Matar

Fragments from ‘Quartet of Joy’, Muhammad Affifi Matar

Mural, Mahmoud Darwish

We Will Choose Sophocles, Mahmoud Darwish 

Clouds, Ounsi el-Hajj

Smoke Bloom, Nadia Anjuman

Boat to Lesbos, Nourri al-Jarrah

Your body is my map, Nizar Qabbani

i don’t make the rules, my brain does and unfortunately that bitch is chemically imbalanced

movie so good i might as well start crying

i love you fairy tales i love you folklore i love you myths i love you stories as old as humanity itself i love you oral traditions i love you characters carried through time on my ancestors’ tongues i love you story i’ve seen a million ways and want to see a million more i love you archetypes i love—

The Glass Essay, Anne Carson

[ Text ID: Spring opens like a blade ]

On Yearning

notes from underground is js dostoevsky yapping and i love that!!

Beluru, Karnataka

(pics by me pls don't steal)

___hanfolk

a girl of fear, a woman of anger— look how we've grown