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linneanirell: October by Linnéa N. P. Oct, 20. I had to re-upload this because I noticed a couple of

linneanirell:

October by Linnéa N. P.

Oct, 20.

I had to re-upload this because I noticed a couple of writing errors… Second times the charm? Third? Eh. This will do… Happy October everyone.


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linneanirell: A short september poem that came to me as I was looking at the dark trees swaying outs

linneanirell:

A short september poem that came to me as I was looking at the dark trees swaying outside my window.

l. n. p.

 Instagram


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linneanirell: Solanum dulcamara. This vine has many names: Bittersweet, Bittersweet nightshade, Blue

linneanirell:

Solanum dulcamara.

This vine has many names: Bittersweet, Bittersweet nightshade, Blue bindweed, Poisonberry, Scarlet berry, Snakeberry and Violet bloom are just a few of its names. 

Its latin name, Solanum dulcamara, originates from the latin words dulcis, which means sweet, and amaris, which means bitter.

Hello everyone, 

I hope you are all doing as well as you possibly can in spite of to the current state of the world.

I created a separate account for my personal photography, poetry, etc. … If you would like to follow me over there as well its free to do so. It would make me very glad if you did. 

I wish you all a good start on the up and coming week. 

Be kind to one another. 

- g


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Written in November, 19. - l.n.p

Written in November, 19. 

- l.n.p


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G. sylvaticum.From my instagram.07.20

G. sylvaticum.

From my instagram.

07.20


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S. vulgaris.From my instagram.07.20

S. vulgaris.

From my instagram.

07.20


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A. sylvestris.From my instagram.07.20

A. sylvestris.

From my instagram.

07.20


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linneanirell:Please linger at the corners of my life. I beg you, leave traces. Sweeping through the

linneanirell:

Please linger at the corners of my life. I beg you, leave traces. Sweeping through the rooms, I wish to find a strand of you. I want to trace you; on my skin, underneath the tapestry, feel your mark, where I end, I begin.

There is no one else in this house, yet your presence exists in every crevice.

Take your time with it, I could give you all of it, every part of it. The rotten wooden floors, the blossoming Arbutus, climbing through the broken window, the white linen sheets, the afternoon sun, the clovenlip under my tongue 

I left forget-me-nots in your shoe, did you notice?

I ripped them up in my garden, roots and all

every time you leave, linger, I beg you. In the empty air, underneath my sheets, by the doorstep, between my fingers. I wish to breath in

- November twenty-six, Linger by Linnéa Nirell.


I wrote this one yesterday. Haven’t written much lately. It feels good to do it again.


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linneanirell:There are still some things that bloom during these gloomy November days.From the third

linneanirell:

There are still some things that bloom during these gloomy November days.

From the third of November. A polaroid uploaded to my Instagram. 

You can follow me here if you like to see more.


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linneanirell:I’m recycling this poem which I wrote last year, seeing that it still feels relevant, a

linneanirell:

I’m recycling this poem which I wrote last year, seeing that it still feels relevant, at least to me.

“March finally arrived. January and February went by without me noticing them; barely feeling alive, I merely past through them. Somehow march feels like the real commencement of this year. 

Finally I can feel the sun caress me. Yesterday, as I was bathing in its beams, I was gifted a kiss upon my eyelids until they shifted red. I felt the heat; I felt the warmth rush through my very being.

March is finally here, and sooner or later, I had to start living.”


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linneanirell:litteras e sole by Linnéa Nirell, tenth of February.February brought a letter from the

linneanirell:

litteras e sole by Linnéa Nirell, tenth of February.

February brought a letter from the sun; it had my name engraved on it. Golden letters, glimmering, trying their best to mimic their sender. The skin on my fingers burned as soon as they brushed against the light and the letter floated towards the ground. I tried, desperately, to catch it, but failed. Once it touched the ground it ignited and I watched as it crumbled into dust. Right before it disappeared completely, I saw something written within: Im ‘non semper visibilis, Ego autem semper praesens. Ego vigilabo super vos, sicut astra.


My homage to the February sun. Sadly, I’m not well versed on latin. Alas, I used it anyways… So, I blame any misspelled words or faulty sentences on my badly educated self. 


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linneanirell:“I call you mine; only when all backs are turned  and all the doors are shut, when mort

linneanirell:

“I call you mine; only when all backs are turned  and all the doors are shut, when mortals lay their eyes to rest and ancient gods shake the earth as they walk upon it, when the stars rejoins us, when the air slipping in and out of your lungs is all you can hear, when doubt finally settles within your mind and solitude seeks refuge in the depths of your soul, that is when I’ll call on you. That is when you will hear me whisper your name as if an echo from the past. That is when I shall call you mine; mine, mine to keep, kept on my tongue, kept in the cage of my heart and kept beyond my reach.” 

- december fifth, For Casper by Linnéa Nirell.

A poem I wrote for the book I’m currently working on…

2020.12.06


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Divinità femminile.

Divinità femminile.


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