Poetry Quotes
E.E. Cummings
twice I have lived forever in a smile
Pablo Neruda
I have named you queen.There are taller than you, taller.There are purer than you, purer.There are lovelier than you, lovelier.But you are the queen.When you go through the streetsNo one recognizes you.No one sees your crystal crown, no one looksAt the carpet of red goldThat you tread as you pass,The nonexistent carpet.And when you appearAll the rivers soundIn my body, bellsShake the sky,And a hymn fills the world.Only you and I,Only you and I, my love,Listen to it.
Author-Poet Aberjhani
Dare to love yourselfas if you were a rainbowwith gold at both ends.
robert m drake
A tamed woman will never leave her mark in the world.
Shel Silverstein
why can't you see i'm a kid', said the kid.Why try to make me like you?Why are you hurt when I don't cuddle?Why do you sigh when I splash through a puddle?Why do you scream when I do what I did?Im a kid.
Aberjhani
With my ninth mind I resurrect my firstand dance slow to the music of my soul made new.
Silenus Poetry
There are two kinds of feeling—one from our body, another from our soul.Love, it is the affection of soul, to soul.
H.P. Lovecraft
In search of Truth the hopeful zealot goes,But all the sadder tums, the more he knows!
Suzy Kassem
UNDIVIDEDI am for One world undivided. One world without fear and corruption. One world ruled by Truth and Justice. I am forOne peaceful world for all,Where hate has been overcome by love,And everyone is guided only By their conscience.
Dejan Stojanovic
One hand I extend into myself, the other toward others.
Charles Baudelaire
Always be a poet, even in prose.
Lord Byron
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,There is a rapture on the lonely shore,There is society, where none intrudes,By the deep sea, and music in its roar:I love not man the less, but Nature more
Seamus Heaney
If you have the words, there's always a chance that you'll find the way.
Anne Sexton
Watch out for intellect,because it knows so much it knows nothingand leaves you hanging upside down,mouthing knowledge as your heartfalls out of your mouth.
Vincent Willem van Gogh
...and then, I have nature and art and poetry, and if that is not enough, what is enough?
Charles Baudelaire
One should always be drunk. That's all that matters...But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk.
Robert Frost
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.
POETRY
Charles Bukowski
Poetry is what happens when nothing else can.
POETRY
William Shakespeare
I like this place and could willingly waste my time in it.
Kobayashi Issa
What a strange thing!to be alivebeneath cherry blossoms.
sylvia plath
LADY LAZARUSI have done it again.One year in every tenI manage it--A sort of walking miracle, my skinBright as a Nazi lampshade,My right footA paperweight,My face a featureless, fineJew linen.Peel off the napkinO my enemy.Do I terrify?--The nose, the eye pits, the full set of teeth?The sour breathWill vanish in a day.Soon, soon the fleshThe grave cave ate will beAt home on meAnd I a smiling woman.I am only thirty.And like the cat I have nine times to die.This is Number Three.What a trashTo annihilate each decade.What a million filaments.The peanut-crunching crowdShoves in to seeThem unwrap me hand and foot--The big strip tease.Gentlemen, ladiesThese are my handsMy knees.I may be skin and bone,Nevertheless, I am the same, identical woman.The first time it happened I was ten.It was an accident.The second time I meantTo last it out and not come back at all.I rocked shutAs a seashell.They had to call and callAnd pick the worms off me like sticky pearls.DyingIs an art, like everything else.I do it exceptionally well.I do it so it feels like hell.I do it so it feels real.I guess you could say I've a call.It's easy enough to do it in a cell.It's easy enough to do it and stay put.It's the theatricalComeback in broad dayTo the same place, the same face, the same bruteAmused shout:'A miracle!'That knocks me out.There is a chargeFor the eyeing of my scars, there is a chargeFor the hearing of my heart--It really goes.And there is a charge, a very large chargeFor a word or a touchOr a bit of bloodOr a piece of my hair or my clothes.So, so, Herr Doktor.So, Herr Enemy.I am your opus,I am your valuable,The pure gold babyThat melts to a shriek.I turn and burn.Do not think I underestimate your great concern.Ash, ash--You poke and stir.Flesh, bone, there is nothing there--A cake of soap, A wedding ring,A gold filling.Herr God, Herr LuciferBewareBeware.Out of the ashI rise with my red hairAnd I eat men like air.
Sanober Khan
i want to be in love with youthe same wayi am in love with the moonwith the lightshiningout of its soul.
Shel Silverstein
why can't you see i'm a kid', said the kid.Why try to make me like you?Why are you hurt when I don't cuddle?Why do you sigh when I splash through a puddle?Why do you scream when I do what I did?Im a kid.
e.e. cummings
i do not know what it is about you that closesand opens;only something in me understandsthe voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses
Jane Austen
I have been used to consider poetry as "the food of love" said Darcy."Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what isstrong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, Iam convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.
Rainer Maria Rilke
It is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: it is shyness before any sort of new, unforeseeable experience with which one does not think oneself able to cope. But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical will live the relation to another as something alive.
POETRY
Rainer Maria Rilke
Every angel is terrifying.
Pablo Neruda
Amor"So many days, oh so many daysseeing you so tangible and so close,how do I pay, with what do I pay?The bloodthirsty springhas awakened in the woods.The foxes start from their earths,the serpents drink the dew,and I go with you in the leavesbetween the pines and the silence,asking myself how and whenI will have to pay for my luck.Of everything I have seen,it's you I want to go on seeing:of everything I've touched,it's your flesh I want to go on touching.I love your orange laughter.I am moved by the sight of you sleeping.What am I to do, love, loved one?I don't know how others loveor how people loved in the past.I live, watching you, loving you.Being in love is my nature.You please me more each afternoon.Where is she? I keep on askingif your eyes disappear.How long she's taking! I think, and I'm hurt.I feel poor, foolish and sad,and you arrive and you are lightningglancing off the peach trees.That's why I love you and yet not why.There are so many reasons, and yet so few,for love has to be so,involving and general,particular and terrifying,joyful and grieving,flowering like the stars,and measureless as a kiss.That's why I love you and yet not why.There are so many reasons, and yet so few,for love has to be so,involving and general,particular and terrifying,joyful and grieving,flowering like the stars,and measureless as a kiss.
Khalil Gibran
No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of your knowledge.The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, gives not of his wisdom but rather of his faith and his lovingness.If he is indeed wise he does not bid you enter the house of his wisdom, but rather leads you to the threshold of your own mind.
robert m drake
She was broken, I think it’s because she loved too much and she was always blind to the fact that love too is sometimes broken.
Gloria Anzaldúa
Though we tremble before uncertain futuresmay we meet illness, death and adversity with strengthmay we dance in the face of our fears.
Oscar Wilde
She lives the poetry she cannot write.
John Keats
If poetry comes not as naturally as the leaves to a tree it had better not come at all.
POETRY
Dejan Stojanovic
I visited many places, Some of them quite Exotic and far away, But I always returned to myself.
James Jones
If I never meet you In this lifeLet me feel the lackA glance from your eyesThen my life Will be yours
POETRY
Atticus Poetry
That was her magic— she could still see the sunseteven on those darkest days.
Charles Bukowski
girlsplease give yourbodies and yourlivestothe young menwhodeserve thembesidesthere isno wayI would welcometheintolerabledullsenseless hellyou would bringmeandI wish youluckin bedandoutbut notinminethankyou.
Christopher Brennan
Were knowledge all, what were our needTo thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?
Charles Bukowski
we must bringour own lightto thedarkness.
Nikita Gill
I am the girl who spends hours huddled in a corner of a library, trying to find what you love the most about Marlowe, just so I can write you a poem worthy of Shakespeare. I've made books my lovers, hours my enemies and you the only story.
Sanober Khan
some winterswill never meltsome summerswill never freezeand some things will only... live in poems.
Renee Carlino
Poetry is just evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.
Nikki Giovanni
and sometimes I sitdown at my typewriterand I thinknot of someonecause there isn't anyoneto thinkabout and i wonderis it worth it
Atticus Poetry
Brushing a girl’s hair behind her earonce a daywill solve more problemsthan all thosetherapists and drugs.
Matt Haig
ILikeThe WayThat when youTiltPoemsOn their sideTheyLook likeMiniatureCities FromA long wayAway. SkyscrapersMade outOfWords.
E.A. Bucchianeri
Falling in love is very real, but I used to shake my head when people talked about soul mates, poor deluded individuals grasping at some supernatural ideal not intended for mortals but sounded pretty in a poetry book. Then, we met, and everything changed, the cynic has become the converted, the sceptic, an ardent zealot.
Sanober Khan
i writebecauseit is the only wayi can reach you.
Jazalyn
I am strange;I show different things;So pleaseDon’t think I don’t love youBecause the truthIs the opposite
Dejan Stojanovic
When the star dies, Its eye closes; tired of watching, It flies back to its first bright dream
robert m drake
She was broken from moment to moment, watching her world collide she felt lost inside herself. She fell apart for a passion that flamed beneath her. She waited and died a hundred times, it dripped from her pores. The moment she let go, she soared over the stillness like the star she was born to be.