Things you ought to know.
A letter to my younger self.
Dear 27 year old me, there's something you ought to know. After 28 you'll feel like life is cold as snow.
You'll lose your love, your passion, your kindess and sympathy. But please understand that all the anger you feel is only temporary. You'll come to understand that true love isn't lost at all, when you meet a truer constant love, in a hospital. The love you've known this far, is far and few between. And when you both have your first child, you’ll be the happiest you've been.
Dear 27 year old me, there's nothing for you to fear. Just take a deep breath and trust the process and all will become crystal clear.
About the Creator
Billie Whyte
Forever wingin' it.
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Give me a year.
Dear V, It's been a while. The last time we spoke, I needed a break. The constant challenges, the way you'd ignore the pouring of my heart on paper... I was struggling with my identity and I felt less and less like myself, things just weren't working out like I'd hoped. This wasn't where I thought I'd be at 30.
By Billie Whyteabout a year ago in Poets
A Flower Song
Apparently the Aztecs, Toltecs, Chichimecs and other Mexica were crazy about poetry. Despite the book-burning, slaughter, and epidemics that characterized the early stages of the Spanish conquest of the empires of Mexico, some hundreds of poems from the height of their tradition come down to us in Classical Nahuatl, preserved by Nahua and Spanish scholars of the 16th century. One of the most famous poets, Nezahualcoyotl, was a sage-king who opposed the cult of human sacrifice associated with Tezcatlipoca, God of the Smoking Mirror, and favored Quetzalcoatl, the Feathered Serpent. Flowers and feathers were the favorite offering of the Plumed Serpent. Moreover, flowers and feathers are a metaphor for poetry. Individual words, scattered petals, the down of tropical birds. The temples of blood sacrifice could be transformed into temples of flower and song. A sublimated offering to the Heart of Earth and the Heart of Sky encapsulated in the Classical Nahuatl kenning for poetry: in xōchitl in cuīcatl, meaning, "the flower and the song." The following poem is part of a longer work, and is in a state of flux, so take the waters as they flow:
By Rob Angeli4 days ago in Poets
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