April 2010
66 posts
Linguistic Approaches to Love - M. R. Wallis
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Linguistic Approaches to Love
I could reminisce about the sibilance in your uncertain sounds the fricatives of your fucks, the vowels in your moans. Could dot-to-dot the consonants that construct your harsh-angry-hate and make of them a petal, bloomed. Could take the condemnations, the indignations dissolve them into sheer potential of hope. I could reword your sentences, edit your paragraphs recast you as a whole...
Milestone
As of today my blog has received 10,100 views - it passed the 10k mark this morning.
Just so you know, ~5,000 of those were in the last month.
I attended a Social Boom networking event last night where Rachel and Katy both commented that the number of hits the blog’s attaining is pretty phenomenal for such a recent project.
In the next few months I intend to revamp the design of the blog...
“I found myself staring at your lips, moving
and the teeth buried there.
Out of...”
– … it’s pretty damned obvious that yet again I can’t sleep because words are revolving behind my eyelids. I’m not complaining, but I do like to snooze once in a while.
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Hate Letter
I hate you, I hate you for being there, for showing me that you care, for bringing me tea, for holding me, for knowing me i.n.s.i.d.e. o.u.t. I hate you because you never doubt my dreams for holding me when I can’t sleep, for making me keep my feet on the ground when the world falls away. For every day that you stay and keep calling. ...
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It's Tumblr Tuesday ... →
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For Oscar, My Lover - Prose
People have requested my prose. This won the authortrek competition and has also been featured in the Little Episodes anthology, ‘Back in 5 Minutes’ alongside Sadie Frost and Clint Catalyst. Max
— (An empty silence.) — I don’t understand. — You wouldn’t. You never do. No one ever does. He didn’t. — Do you want to elaborate? — Do YOU want to know? — Do you...
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Jigsaw Heart
2005. Aged 16. Five years ago. In my heart, however small, weak, or feeble. However selfish, jealous or inhospitable that heart may be. In my heart there is a hole: small, fragile, humbled; a hole of person proportions. Not in its dimensions, or weight, or size but by its scope for all things in their entirety. In my heart there is a river, raging, strong, defiant that flows as if to...
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Anonymous asked: Do you plan to put your prose somewhere? On tumblr, perhaps? Or have you already published? I'm very interested in reading your prose! Oh, and you are fabulous, but I'm sure you already knew that.
thepepperinyourpot asked: When did you begin writing? I think you're stuff is utterly beautiful, you are truly fantastic.
“The girl chose her name not because of her hair, or her eyes, although some...”
– Simulacrum - M. R. Wallis
typapp asked: lame question: hey hows england?
Statement: just wanted to stop by and say
your probably my favorite writer
on the site and just keep it up, great ideas!
Statement: just wanted to stop by and say
your probably my favorite writer
on the site and just keep it up, great ideas!
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Our Duet
Together, in perfect measure sinewed trees flailing, skeletal
we were willows. Out of love, in love, lip stained saliva scars glowed in heat. Two, a duet we sang our song. Hands pressed the keys of your ribs, dragged down slight bite of nail we played an entire orchestra. Together, in perfect measure we made a heroic couplet.
kimbell-kid asked: You're kind of amazing, you realize that, right?
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23:21
You kiss me button pants leave hugged once my tongue still tastes of yours. Blue/red bus pulls up beside us fifteen idle passengers in a metal demon peeping out from behind their boredom.
It’s late.
We breathe out fog, together. Dragons.
Put my hand on your shoulder lean in, smiling exchange my heart through my mouth. Who could ever be ashamed of that? - M. R. Wallis
Anonymous asked: You write prose?
Anonymous asked: I've wrote to you before just saying how much I love your work. I was just wondering, as a writer, are you involved in any online subscriptions, such as writersmarket.com? I'm just wondering the best ways to get 'out' there.
Maybe I just need that fire that you seem to have!
Maybe I just need that fire that you seem to have!
muchtooyoungtofallinlove asked: i absolutely love your blog; your writing is beautiful. is there anything in particular that serves as your inspiration?
ps your writing makes me want to improve my own :)
ps your writing makes me want to improve my own :)
Anonymous asked: Hello.
Randomly stumbled upon your tumblr and im glad i did. I've never read anything so beautiful...your work is honest and familiar :) I have to know...what you are doing about your amazing abilities. Will i be reading a book of yours one day? I very much hope so.
Randomly stumbled upon your tumblr and im glad i did. I've never read anything so beautiful...your work is honest and familiar :) I have to know...what you are doing about your amazing abilities. Will i be reading a book of yours one day? I very much hope so.
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In the Boxory we Shall Dance
In cinemas I collect stubs, have a box of memories: I like to call it the boxory. Full of bits and pieces of you and I: tickets, pebbles, receipts; I even have an eggshell from when you first made me breakfast in bed. I stole it from the bin when you weren’t looking. I wish I could print out text messages write down conversations stored on a great ream in my box so...
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Versus - 100th Post
Skin versus skin we battle in rapture; I kill your troops with kisses waste my army with your tongue. Since Valentine’s Day I’ve uploaded one-hundred posts, had 7700 views and talked to wonderful lovely people. I’ve been asked a lot lately who I am - how old I am and such. I plan to write an ‘About Me’ section soon but for...
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Naked
You lie, sated head arched back stubble makes shadows pool on your neck eyes closed, lips ajar murmurs come up for air. Gold autumn light makes blocks on your stomach, small round of skin there you think it’s fat it’s not, it’s still glistening Ribbed by ribs, a tired out accordion. All squeezed. Goosebumps dot you in braille. Naked perfect you...
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Crisps
If I were like others you would find it easy to understand me, unravel me, I would lie there and you would have me. If I were simple I’d be butter spread over bread, in soups melted keep me in or out of the fridge, I’d be fine. Be jealous of margarine, maybe, but I’d be okay. If I were normal I’d be a good soundboard could talk at me for hours, I wouldn’t say a word, I’d be a living...
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Days Pass like Wind through Reeds
Most days we find time to be together go on bike rides up mountains wheels fixed, now make shapes from clouds. We go to the beach one day and write our names on a pebble fit tight in a bottle. You let me throw it in. If it wasn’t so cold we’d strip. Sometimes we go nowhere sit and talk on the phone about nothing I specifically remember the laughing. I...
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It's Simple
I am not summer not a nightingale, singing— I might be a chorus some of the time but I have my moments, like all where the bird dies inside the ribcage. I am not marble not a statue, adorned, adored— I am more like a weatherworn maidenhead howling at the wind. I have barnacles, rotten, in places, have parts of me...
dribblesofink-deactivated201305 asked: When I saw "For you" on quote-book's blog, I assumed the author "M. R. Wallis" was one of those poets who lived in the 19th century, sipping tea, watching operas and leaving behind a number of brilliant works whose significance would be lost on a great deal of AP English students in high school. I'm delighted to see that you are in fact alive and well! Your work is...
I got two free press tickets to see Laura Marling,... →
Edited slightly by the er, well, editor, to fit in with their style.
I can’t get to sleep. I close my eyes and new poems pop into the veils of the fogginess between sleep and wake, wake and sleep. I shift them away and characters from ill-forgotten books start pining at the window panes, black ice, clambering to get back to life again. I wish I was joking.
Autumn
Leaves fall we fall and fold together.
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Human Cartographer
[October - the ‘sex’ month.] We christen every room with impressions the curve of our backs, the stick of saliva dabbing our necks; Da Vinci’s got nothing on the way we paint with our hands the picture of love. (I didn’t just say that word.) We exchange and engage in senses that don’t even exist, not just touch and taste, smell, feel, sight, but deeper than that. I know the...
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For Seven Orbits I Wait and Seven Days I Wish
[It’s quite evident but this is for the seven days the lovers wait between their first kiss and their first date.]
For Seven Orbits I Wait and Seven Days I Wish
September came with a passion of wind and seven orbits of the moon. A week I waited and thought of you: The first I remember your lips on mine and how you kissed me then. Six days I wait and dream...
For Two
When you get sad, I get sad and when you cry I can only cry. When you laugh, I laugh too for I am every part of you. - M. R. Wallis
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For Me - M. R. Wallis
- this probably...
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For Me
- this probably isn’t in the collection, it’s written to the parallel universe version of myself - the person who didn’t write, who didn’t invest the time and devotion into the craft and instead lived an arguably ‘normal’ teenage life-
I might seem like I have a hold on life
that my clothes look nice, that I act alright back up straight looking great, that...
For Hope - M. R. Wallis
For Hope
[August, this is the fourth or fifth poem. I wrote this in 2008 and edited it today/reworked it.]
I want kisses that mean something hugs that tickle the inside skin I want dreams that come real the next day memories that last and never fade. I want songs written about me
be told that I can be, and be free. I want late-night secrets and warm, toffee-tongued kisses. I want to record the...
fearandsleep asked: That last entry - apart a part. Excellent touch :)
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For An Emptying Smile
[March/April time in the series, after the characters break up.] Under a fold of clouds weeping you tear apart a part of me
hands unfold to show my heart.
Five words, five syllables, the consonants the stuck out mocking tongue. You’re still beautiful when you destroy. Smile empties into tarmac. Collects in the gutter where it used to belong....
kameha-meha asked: when did you decide to start writing? like, was there a specific moment when you decided, or did it just happen? by the way, "for you" was utterly beautiful.
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Lune for Words
Words hidden
beyond pages. Bones
beneath snow.
- M. R. Wallis
- Jack Collom variety.
