L. V., I Found This Poem On The Headstone Of A 9-year-old Boy

"Autumn" by Henri Fantin-Latour (French, 1836-1904)

What
is there
to be feared
of the dead when
every day the living
devours the living?
Meanwhile, the dead
does nothing but rest;
mouths shut, arms
crossed. And who
else is easier to
blame than
the quiet
ones?

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem on the headstone of a 9-year-old boy

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More Posts from Literaryvein and Others

literaryvein

11 months ago

hi, how are you? :)

i just finished reading your writing project. part 1 and 2 are beautifully written. i loved the poem you wrote me. it was perfect! these were my favorites: hibiscus, chai, rooibos, hyacinth, and alyssum.

thank you for sharing your writings, and i hope to read more of your work!

My heart feels lighter. Thank you <3

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literaryvein

10 months ago

Detail of "Lilith" (1887) by John Collier

no one ever really asked
what became of the garden

- L. V.

after adam and eve
were banished

- L. V.

i never really wondered
what became of the serpent until i met you

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem tucked between pages of a bible you never returned to the local library

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literaryvein

5 months ago

Detail of "Панорама города с улицы Субачяус. Вильнюс" ("Vilnius City Panorama from Subachius street")
Vasily Sadovnikov, 1848

if this is my last december

L. V., I Found This Poem Stuck In Traffic

Detail of "Панорама города с улицы Субачяус. Вильнюс" ("Vilnius City Panorama from Subachius street")
Vasily Sadovnikov, 1848

i'd be fine with it

Detail of "Панорама города с улицы Субачяус. Вильнюс" ("Vilnius City Panorama from Subachius street")
Vasily Sadovnikov, 1848

another year spent in my head

here's half a goodbye
the other half—a goodnight

i'm fine with it
if this were to be my last december
good
night
good
bye

L. V., i found this poem stuck in traffic

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literaryvein

3 years ago

L. V., I Found This Poem When We Were No Longer Lonely

L. V., i found this poem when we were no longer lonely

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literaryvein

6 months ago

they laughed at the artist
because his pomegranates
looked like onions
they laugh at you
because your sadness
looks like lousy poetry
because your suicide
looks like pomegranates
in a mouldy bathtub

- L. V.

L. V., tell me how to stop writing in the dark

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literaryvein

1 year ago

Thanks for sending me your writing project!! Will give you my feedback soon!

I hope you like it. Looking forward to hearing your thoughts!

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literaryvein

9 months ago

Hey! So I’ve made a rather new discord server for writers, authors, poets and other types of literature lovers for specifically the romance genre! I was wondering if you’d like to check it out or if you knew anyone who’d like it! I don’t want to self promo in your asks but I’m also too shy to DM you. So just let me know in your answer and I’ll DM you if that’s alright 😅🫶🏻 Love your posts!

Hi, thank you! <3 I don't have a discord, unfortunately (maybe this is what will finally get me to make one). This sounds great, though. DM me, please. I could mention it on my other blog as well—more writers follow that blog.

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literaryvein

9 months ago

September was a sparrow, but only in her poems.

- L. V.

Hibiscus and Sparrow (Detail)
by: Katsushika Hokusai, 1830

She stands on the edge of a many-story building and

- L. V.

takes a dive; eyes closed. When she opens them, she’s flying.

- L. V.

I guess it’s like trying to kill yourself by holding your breath—you just can’t.

- L. V.

September forgave herself, but only in her poems.

- L. V.

L. V., i found this poem in a pile of dead, golden leaves

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literaryvein

8 months ago

Detail of "Skull with Burning Cigarette"
Vincent van Gogh, 1885

She started her day before the sun even came up.

She told stories to children, and actually liked it.

October wasn’t herself today, and she actually quite liked it.

L. V., i found this poem as i spiralled back into old habits

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literaryvein

6 months ago

The Flammarion engraving is a wood engraving by an unknown artist that first appeared in Camille Flammarion's L'Atmosphère: Météorologie populaire (1888).

The image depicts a man crawling under the edge of the sky, depicted as if it were a solid hemisphere, to look at the mysterious Empyrean beyond. The caption underneath the engraving (not shown here) translates to "A medieval missionary tells that he has found the point where heaven and Earth meet..."

You have mirrors instead of eyes. If you had it your way, the Earth would be flat.

We’ll walk forever without ever meeting a second time.

We’ll walk away from each other until we fall right off the edge.

L. V., i found this poem back when we refused to believe that the stars were lying to us

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