☆ CELESTIAL .

poetry starters

     ❝ but i- ❞

     SHE DOESN’T BOTHER trying to finish the thought at first, instead opting to look down and let out a small sigh. she continues to speak -- quieter this time -- not wanting anyone who could be passing by to hear the conversation that she wanted to be just between the two of them.

M E D I E V A L . tired eyes. coffee stains on the table. listening to the bustle of the city. unmade beds. loose ponytails. sunlight seeping through the curtains. chapped lips. walking barefoot across the floorboards. dusty dictionaries. black and white reruns. huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning. fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

R E N A I S S A N C E. freckles. the sun rising. watching the sea. taking shots of the city. historical museums. bright eyes. looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks. drawing in the middle of lessons. tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks. messy braids. going to bed with your knee-socks on.

B A R O Q U E. dark hair. a little sophisticated. always observing the world around you. intricate designs. high ceilings. extravagant musical pieces. dim lights. colourless photographs. fancy furniture. pale skin. hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks. bitten nails. candlelight dinners. dark shades of lipstick.

C L A S S I C A L. chandeliers. the clinking of a teacup mug. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair. watching the view from the terrace. hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens. old films. ancient marble sculptures. expensive perfume. breakfasts in bed. reading about mythology.

R O M A N T I C. compassion. short writings on scraps of paper. blushed cheeks. a bouquet of roses. reading collections of poetry late at night. loose hair. carpeted floors. attending operas. faint music playing in the background. staying under the covers until midday. the night sky. streetlights. picking flowers. dancing around in silk dresses. scented candles.

bold whatever applies to / attracts your muse.

tagged by: @shcklesofsin tagging: i really don’t know who has/hasn’t done this yet so?? anybody?? if you see you do

BROTHERS KARAMAZOV : orthodox monasteries, deep woods, starry nights, the sound of paper being torn, dimly lit rooms, withered roses, an unfinished letter, piles of books, the sound of shattering glass, ticking of clocks in a silent house,  heavy wooden furniture, the air before a storm, the smell of earth,  a crowd of people dressed in black,  distant murmurs, emptied streets,  the fear of walking alone in dusk.

CRIME AND PUNISHMENT : coldness of the skin against a blade, slender pale fingers and slightly shaking hands, a red stain blooming on white fabric, lonely steps in a corridor, the slow dripping of water, looking out of the window into the thickening darkness, a single dying candle on the table, listening to one’s breath and counting heartbeats, too many stairs,  the desire to be invisible, a subtle memory of kind word.

THE IDIOT : classical statues,  wealth covered with dust,  a dark house tainted with inherited madness, an unsettling feeling, long walks in a park,  useless chatter,  a silken ribbon forgotten on a bench,  a melancholic face, an unexpected spring rain,  the joy of reading one’s favorite book, the clarity of mind after fully perceiving the world around, looking at cloudless sky.  

ANNA KARENINA : fields of crops,  flowers brought from an early morning walk, the wind caressing a girl’s hair,  a bowl of fruit,  the smell of ripe pears,  the clatter of a spoon against porcelain when stirring tea,   children’s laughter coming from the garden,  soft sunlight and white curtains,  the sensation of velvet against skin,  pearls from a ripped necklace spilling on marble floor, a sudden silence in a room full of people.

WAR AND PEACE : a glass of wine,  the brightness of  a crystal chandelier,  white lace,  a raging snow storm, the sound of a door being gently closed, the moment of holding one’s breath before walking in a ball room,  indulging in looking at a beautiful earring against light,  closing one’s eyes for a moment while dancing,   the sweet smell of strawberries,  a pair of gloves left on an armchair, light scent of powder.

THE MASTER AND MARGARITA : the chaos of a lively city, ambient jazz in expensive restaurants,  jumping on a moving train,  the sight of Moscow from the roof of a house,  yellow flowers in a vase,  leaning out of the window,  shelves stacked with books,  a small tin box with old photographs, strange shapes in the night sky, laughing in the middle of the night on a balcony, colorful posters for a surreptitious magician’s show floating in the wind.

EUGENE ONEGIN : a lonely mansion,  reading a book in the parlor, faint piano melody lingering in falling silence,  long evenings,  passing seasons,  discussing french novels of the moment, unspoken thoughts, leaning against the door frame,  quickly averted glance, eating a peach absent-minded,  bright mornings,  footprints in snow,  a loud gun-shot terrifying a flock of birds nearby.

FATHERS AND SONS : birch groves, morning mist,  moss-covered stones near a moor, scientific books,  white roses, cheap champagne,  shabby pocket-watch, light-hearted irony, a maladroit cello sonata,  freshly mowed grass, leaving thoughts come and go, a slow yawn,  picturesque plates and bowls filled with traditional dishes,  drinking tea on the porch.

DOCTOR ZHIVAGO : a strange feeling of loss,  writing poems in a diary,  traveling by train, the hesitation before touching someone’s hand, the gaze of one lost in thoughts, the warmth of cinnamon,  a scarf brightly embellished with flowers,  a glass of water,  a threadbare jacket, the tempting void, the evanescent serenity of yesterday.

protector/protectee starters

     EYES, PREVIOUSLY SQUINTED SHUT, NOW OPEN to look up at her guildmate’s face. the last thing she remembered was falling -- she couldn’t remember why or even what she had fallen from, but she at least knew how she must have been feeling based on the SORENESS of her throat and the way her eyes seemed to BURN. she takes a moment to catch her breath before hesitantly twisting her way out of his grasp and planting her feet back on the sturdy ground.