“The Moon Is Honey On The Mouths Of Madmen”

“The moon is honey on the mouths of madmen”

— Guillaume Apollinaire, from Claire de Lune; Alcools: Poems (tr. by Donald Revell), 1913

More Posts from Moonlitmirror and Others

3 years ago
Aleksey Tolstoy, From “It Chanced”; A Book Of Russian Verse (ed. By Cecil Bowra)

Aleksey Tolstoy, from “It chanced”; A Book of Russian Verse (ed. by Cecil Bowra)


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2 years ago

untitled

and one fine morning, i float away; drifting into that azure emptiness


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2 years ago

I am more a fool for thinking, wiser for feeling, as if my head had ever the chance of hiding this from me 


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3 years ago
Elizabeth Bishop, The Complete Poems 1927-1979; From 'The Moose'

Elizabeth Bishop, The Complete Poems 1927-1979; from 'The Moose'

2 years ago

when I say “everyone’s on their own timeline”, I mean it.

there’s no right age to learn something by. there’s no right age to be settled down, to move out of home, or to start your own family. there’s no right age to start working, if you work at all. there’s no right age to graduate.

life isn’t a series of boxes you need to tick. do things at your own pace. slow down if you need to. it’s okay.


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2 years ago

I was a gifted child. Until I wasn't. I was the golden girl. Until I couldn't burn anymore.

My parents expected me to build wings of gold and fly further than anyone could ever try. I don't blame them, having a child to raise is like sculpting a clay pot, you can shape it the way you like, paint it the colour you fancy. To raise a child is to play God. To raise a child is to be God.

But to be a child is to fall, to make mistakes, to fail. The thing about being too bright at an early age means you burn out by the time you're 16 and suddenly the world around you becomes more gray and terribly, terribly lonely. The fire is never warm enough, nothing is ever enough. And one day you find yourself begging to a godless sky, begging for a new spark.

I was a gifted child once. I was the golden girl. And one day, I burned out.

-Ritika Jyala, excerpt from The world is a sphere of ice and our hands are made of fire


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3 years ago

Tuesday, 28th September 2021

My reality is shaped in colours; a painting blurred in depths of hues, brushed by a wandering silence.


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2 years ago
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On Existence and the Human Experience.

Joseph Campbell, “Joseph Campbell and the Power of Myth”, Ep. 4, “Sacrifice and Bliss” / Louise Glück, “Snowdrops” / Ellen Bass, “The Thing Is” / @obeliskandmetronome​ / Fyodor Dostoyevsky, “The Brothers Karamazov” / Maggie Stiefvater, “Blue Lily, Lily Blue” / Eve L. Ewing, “Testify”

3 years ago
—Ocean Vuong.

—Ocean Vuong.

—Ocean Vuong.

—May Sarton.

1 year ago

Dark Shakespeare Sequels

Thirteenth Night: Malvolio’s Revenge

Much Ado 2: Kill Claudio

The Merchant of Menace

As You Don’t Like It 

The Scary Wives of Windsor: The Fall of Falstaff

The Tempest 2: Hurricane Miranda 

Richard III 2: Back from Bosworth (feat. zombie Richard)

A Midsummer Nightmare: Attack on Titania  

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moonlitmirror - Could ever hear by tale or history
Could ever hear by tale or history

Historian, writer, and poet | proofreader and tarot card lover | Virgo and INTJ | dyspraxic and hypermobile | You'll find my poetry and other creative outlets stored here. Read my Substack newsletter Hidden Within These Walls. Copyright © 2016 Ruth Karan.

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