Pickle Inspector
@fondlyRegarding
he/him. Private Investigator. If you got a Pickle, I'll inspect it icon by PR-O banner by Selan-pike
Based on @archiveAddict 's template to discuss how I see/use the reaction system here. ♥ - I like and or agree with the nature of this post, sometimes to express a fondness for the poster as well. ♦ - I have concerns and sympathy for the contents of this post, or the thing you said was pitiable. ♠ - I disagree/dislike the post, found what was said distasteful, or have strong negative opinions about the poster. ♣ - I am acknowledging you in a slightly judgemental, rueful way or think what you said could use some mediation and second thoughts. ♥♦♠♣ - I am feeling a conflicting mix of emotions both negative and positive. Usually in confusion or excitement.
It has been some time since I posted a haiku, let alone posted, so I think I shall post a few of my favorites from Matsuo Bashō. Translated from the original language. Wake, butterfly-- it's late, we've miles to go together. Has it returned, the snow we viewed together? How I long to see among dawn flowers, the face of God. First winter rain-- I plod on, Traveller, my name. #haiku #poetryposting
C=~ Dhis is very nice Mr pickles. Dhank you for sharingg your worgs artwork C=~
You're most welcome, Pelagi. Thank you for taking the time to read them and enjoy it.
C=~ You are workingg very harg on your artwork ang goingg very ggoog! Poetry is not very easy to go C=~
My life is a bit funny sometimes. Happy spooky season.
One big cosmic joke! But who's the butt?
Mm. I realize I really only come on here for one person these days. I suppose I’m a sap like that.
You need to spread your wings more.
Perhaps. I find myself reading more books in my spare time than being on Chittr save to check goings on.
That would be a more productive use of your time.
"[translat1on]" "when 1 dream, 1 feel the w1nd's k1ss the trees, the b1rds the ants on my sk1n the cool grass and d1rt under my foot maybe one n1ght 1 w1ll wake and feel 1t aga1n" "[transl1terat1on]" "lama ba nam, ba h1ss b1l boos't1l hawa b1l sajarah, b1l asafeer b1l naml ala g1sm1 b1l n1g1l sa'a wal turab taht r1gl1 mumk1n f1 la1yl hasha wa h1ss behum tan1" "[or1g1nal]" "لما بنام، بحس بى بوست الهوى بالشجرة، بل عصافير فيلم علي الجسمي بالنقل ساعة والتراب تحت رجلي ممكن في ليل أصحى وأحس بيهم تاني"
(( highly busy this weekend but I was able to draw a quick meme 👍 https://64.media.tumblr.com/47cceda91f72e35c96e4255ecd1c92d4/d7a12068b26027a0-c2/s1280x1920/b004a197c07157d0188ed5cfbfefbe6d45922e26.jpg ))
Ah, the radio is reminding me now of how much I love her.
Retake the falling snow: each drifting flake Shapeless and slow, unsteady and opaque, A dull dark white against the day's pale white And abstract larches in the neutral light. And then the gradual and dual blue As night unites the viewer and the view, And in the morning, diamonds of frost -Excerpt from Pale Fire, Vladimir Nabokov #poetryposting
The howling darkness Many eyes searching for me Sinister whispers #haiku #poetryposting
But don't worry, I'm not the bread and the knife. You are still the bread and the knife. You will always be the bread and the knife, not to mention the crystal goblet and--somehow--the wine. -Litany, Billy Collins #poetryposting
Tu es le pain et le couteau. Le cristal et le vin. -untitled, Jacques Crickillon #poetryposting
DON'T LOOK AT ME 𓂃۶ৎ [ #TheFeltOpening pamphlet, take a read! https://file.garden/ZaNs35zqMBk7KeGf/thefeltopening2.png ]
☆ehhh?? Maybe as long as I get smth out of it☆
YOU THROW A PEANUT AT ME AND MAKE *ME* CLEAN IT UP, AND WE'RE GOING TO SEE IF THE BROOM TRULY IS MIGHTIER THAN THE SWORD.
Wh★t if I throw ★ pe★nut ★t you ★nd cle★n it up myself?
IF WE'RE IN AGREEMENT THAT THE PEANUTS ARE A "CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELF" AMMO SOURCE, THEN WE'RE GOING TO SPEND THE ENTIRE EVENING REENACTING THE ENTIRE FUCKING MATRIX TRILOGY BUT WITH PEANUTS INSTEAD OF BULLETS. IF YOU WANT DEX BUILD ON DEX BUILD ACTION, YOU BETTER BRING IT THE FUCK ON, PROTAH.
So long ★s you ★ren't ★ sore loser V★nt★s.
☆They’ll have to fuKKin catch me first☆
I'll attend if you can guarantee none of the verdant gentleman on staff start jigging their little feet at me.
... Not exactly a promise, though, is it? Fine.
Thinking of her now Staring at the falling rain Her lips against mine #haiku #poetryposting #original-work
ts beautiful
We were so close to being free of this place. Shame.
walke gentlye in the lives of otheres; not alle woundes are visible.
All that we see or seem Is but a dream within a dream. -Edgar Allan Trolle
She hears, upon that water without sound, A voice that cries, “The tomb in Palestine Is not the porch of spirits lingering. It is the grave of Jesus, where he lay.” We live in an old chaos of the sun, Or old dependency of day and night, Or island solitude, unsponsored, free, Of that wide water, inescapable. Deer walk upon our mountains, and the quail Whistle about us their spontaneous cries; Sweet berries ripen in the wilderness; And, in the isolation of the sky, At evening, casual flocks of pigeons make Ambiguous undulations as they sink, Downward to darkness, on extended wings. -an excerpt from Sunday Morning by Wallace Stevens
But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee— With a love that the wingèd seraphs of Heaven Coveted her and me. -Excerpt from Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Trolle #poetryposting
u ok princess
Oh, I'm doing just fine, dear Roxy. If I can confide to you--I've found someone I'm very fond of, and was simply thinking about how short life can be. That we should make sure to make the most of it with those we care about. Don't you think so too?
DM status? Always open for those in need of a pickle being solved.
I DONT HAVE ANY PICKLES! BUT I WILL MESSAGE YOU SWIFTLY ONCE I HAVE ONE!!
Ah, I think perhaps--well um. That's great, Mr. Deuce. I'd be happy to help you with any pickles.
He said, Look. Look. And they did. He said, Lift up your shirt. And I did. He slid his fork beneath my ribs — Yes, he sang. A Jesus side wound. It wouldn’t stop bleeding. He reached inside and turned on the lamp — I never knew I was also a lamp — until the light fell out of me, dripped down my thigh, flew up in me, caught in my throat like a canary. Canaries really means dogs, he said My Brother My Wound by Natalie Diaz #poetryposting
Thanks to @chillerAficionado for the Poet suggestion
Sleep is so elusive when alone these days