This is my first time submitting, and I’ve been pretty nervous before now to do so. However, I feel like big things are heading my way in terms of love and sexuality, and my best friend even encouraged me to submit. I really enjoyed the submission Sunday in which you were to provide a poem or lyrics to go along with your photo, and I was finally able to find enough private time to snap this photo. The band-aids on my shin are from a particularly wild outside encounter I had with my part-time lover. Though we aren’t in an actual committed relationship, the strange friendship we have is one of a kind, and so special to me.
If freckles were lovely, and day was night,
And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,
Life would be delight,—
But things couldn’t go right
For in such a sad plight
I wouldn’t be I.
If earth was heaven and now was hence,
And past was present, and false was true,
There might be some sense
But I’d be in suspense
For on such a pretense
You wouldn’t be you.
If fear was plucky, and globes were square,
And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee
Things would seem fair,—
Yet they’d all despair,
For if here was there
We wouldn’t be we.
-If by E.E. Cummings
Hello, Ninja and Trouble.
I had something entirely different prepared for today’s submission, but as it happens that we are changeable beings, and we are submitted to constant modification; I changed my plans. I’ve been going through some emotional issues lately (lately means years, of course) and I’ve been having some time for myself to think of what to do. Mostly, I’ve wasted that time numbing myself and overthinking but, as oft happens to me, I found a glimpse of light while reading:
Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying;
And this same flower that smiles to-day,
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher he’s a-getting,
The sooner will his race be run,
And nearer he’s to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the worse and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry;
For, having lost but once your prime
You may forever tarry.
(To the Virgins, to make much of Time by Robert Herrick)
Let’s not comment on the irony of the poem’s title.
Now, marrying is definitely not in my plans haha, but I shall stop being coy and use my time, and gather my roses; while I may.
"She brings our hands to her throat, hers over mine. She puts my trembling hand against her windpipe and tightens hers over it. Her pulse is in my palm, and for the first time, I understand invasions, killing, war, understand why ownership is everything, possession. She squeezes my hand harder, forces a tighter grip against her breath. She never takes her eyes off me as she whispers "I still believe, in spite of everything, that people are truly good at heart.’ "
the nation-state of her body, daphne gottlieb
Ninja and Trouble- This is the first time my partner has participated in my fascination for self photography.While we tend to explore each others more darker desires, we had never gone down this road together. We had a very sweet time taking a very dark photo with a lovey cat trying to constantly get into the shot. I hope you guys and the other NN’s enjoy.
Love is not all: It is not meat nor drink
Nor slumber nor a roof against the rain,
Nor yet a floating spar to men that sink
and rise and sink and rise and sink again.
Love cannot fill the thickened lung with breath
Nor clean the blood, nor set the fractured bone;
Yet many a man is making friends with death
even as I speak, for lack of love alone.
It well may be that in a difficult hour,
pinned down by need and moaning for release
or nagged by want past resolution’s power,
I might be driven to sell your love for peace,
Or trade the memory of this night for food.
It may well be. I do not think I would.
- Edna St. Vincent Millay, Sonnet XXX
This is one of my favorite poems because it points out that love isn’t everything; it doesn’t work miracles and it doesn’t save lives. However, people love love, and some are desperate for it. Lately I’ve been feeling pretty lacking in love and like I’ve been trying to crawl for any morsel I can get. But I know it’ll come some day, and that day is just not today.
Whatever he’s looking for, he is that himself.
How can the lover be anything but the beloved?
Every second he’s bowing into a mirror
The things we react to in others are those things which speak to us as a human, either negatively or positively. Therefore, when we are searching for a companion, we are searching for someone who reflects our own sense of personhood.
For just over a year I have been single and it has been a joy beyond joys. For the first time in my adult life I have absolute agency. I make a great partner, though, so why waste all that love-connection energy? I decided to be MY partner, and my, how I have enjoyed it. Now I can treat myself exactly how I need to be treated, so my needs are always fulfilled. Now I can look at my body with all the unconditional love and consideration that I previously bestowed on my other lovers. Now, stepping out of the shower, I am always blessed and surprised to look up and catch a glimpse of a beautiful, powerful woman gazing back at me with adoration.
“What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,
I have forgotten, and what arms have lain
Under my head till morning; but the rain
Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh
Upon the glass and listen for reply,
And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain
For unremembered lads that not again
Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.
Thus in winter stands the lonely tree,
Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,
Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:
I cannot say what loves have come and gone,
I only know that summer sang in me
A little while, that in me sings no more.”
-Edna St. Vincent Millay
One of my favorite poems as a teenager, which directly applies to now. I’ve loved/lost recently, and I do hope my loneliness got across in this photo.
Ruthless lovers cut the ties that bind
December embers, November land mines
Smoldering eyes that burn my skin like cigarettes
Stiletto kisses that trace down my neck
I have waited and wandered and aspired to this
Living room vapors scented oil spring sets
My mind is in the gutter and I haven’t even had my coffee yet
I want to fuck you til you’re black and blue
I want to fuck you and I have never even smiled at you
Caution caution people playing with fire
Ashes scatter, scattered used to be girls and boys
But now they are dirt, mud, dust like me
I am ash, spreading rising falling like your breathe
But there was no sign of you, as I wandered around
I looked for you under stones and down the throats of the drowned
I looked for you in roses growing in the side of the road
I asked for this longing, I said under my breathe
To taste the flesh of your lip
Aching like a violin string, taunt, gripped
black like magic my mood was then
You took a cab, Annie, and left me again
My first submission. My poem.
"Without meaning to,
he’s disarmed me,
with kisses that soothe
and alarm me.
In arms that terrify
and calm me”
- Lang Leav
I think this poem hits home for me at the moment. I have fallen in love with a wonderful man and it frightens me, because it is the most exhilarating yet terrifying feeling I’ve ever felt. So I feel quite vulnerable. But I’ve noticed how radiant I’ve been, especially with my body. This feeling gives me this glow I didn’t think I had in me. I have quite enjoyed sharing my feelings on your blog so thank you for letting this be a safe haven for all of the fellow Ninja’s.
Dear Ninja and Trouble,
I’m a little bit nervous…I hold you in such high regard! Please find my first ever self-timer pic & submission to your lovely world. Presently, my world is crashing down around me but this pic reminded me that "I will wade out till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers" - E. E. Cummings.
Thanks for your time and consideration x
"O change thy thought, that I may change my mind.
Shall hate be fairer lodged than gentle love?
Be as thy presence is, gracious and kind,
Or to thyself at least kind-hearted prove”
- an excerpt from Sonnet 10 by Shakespeare
in plain english (when in context of the sonnet) it basically says
"please change the way you think of yourself, so that I can change my mind about you and love you even more. why is it that you hate yourself so much when someone loves you this much? out of love for me, please be as gracious and kind as your appearance, even at least to yourself."
I’ve always been very insecure. every night, until now, I get really down about my appearance and just compare myself to everyone. and it’s always been a problem for me and my partner. he’d get so frustrated and sad that I never saw what he saw, which was someone so beautiful. he would feel like he wasn’t enough for me because I never believed him. it was mostly because of my mood disorders, but it’s slowly changing. and I have more confidence now thanks to him.
when I take pictures and end up liking how they turn out, it always makes me feel a little bit better which is why I wanted to share this.
This is without a doubt my favorite quote: “Success is not the result of spontaneous combustion; you must set yourself on fire.” - author unknown.
These words have inspired me in so many ways, one of which has been modeling - which I would’ve never dreamed of doing myself until recently. They’ve given me the kick in the ass I needed so very much at times when when would’ve otherwise given up.
Have a great weekend,
self-portrait w/girls burning print - Copyright © Græ Andresen
'so i wait for you like a lonely house
till you will see me again and live in me.
Till then my windows ache.’
Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
I’ve always had an intense fantasy about being taken the moment he walks through the door. I’m not entirely sure who ‘he’ will be. But i’ll be ready when he comes.
“A Letter from a Muse to Her Poet: Dear sir, I was called away and couldn’t bring you, but now I feel haunted. I know that sometimes you felt I was a part of you and that losing me would leave a hole in your heart, but that’s not true. I liked to pretend I was the core of your talent, but it wasn’t me. Everything you do, the ideas you weave, the lines you write, the words you choose, it was always only you. Please forgive me. I’m sorry that I didn’t say goodbye.” - Laura Whitcomb
I hope this doesn’t need too much of an explanation, I don’t seem to give them very well.