Poem Quotes - Page 14

TO A GIRAFFE If it is unpermissible, in fact fatal to be personal and undesirable to be literal—detrimental as well if the eye is not innocent-does it mean that one can live only on top leaves that are small reachable only by a beast that is tall?— of which the giraffe is the best example— the unconversational animal. When plagued by the psychological, a creature can be unbearable that could have been irresistible; or to be exact, exceptional since less conversational than some emotionally-tied-in-knots animal. After all consolations of the metaphysical can be profound. In Homer, existence is flawed; transcendence, conditional; “the journey from sin to redemption, perpetual.

Is it possible to write a poem or are these words just screams of outlaws exiled to the desert?

Dejan Stojanovic

A rural Venus, Selah rises from thegold foliage of the Sixhiboux River, sweepspetals of water from her skin. At once,clouds begin to sob for such beauty.Clothing drops like leaves."No one makes poetry,my Mme.Butterfly, my Carmen, in Whylah,”I whisper. She smiles: “We’ll shape it withour souls.”Desire illuminates the dark manuscriptof our skin with beetles and butterflies.After the lightning and rain has ceased,after the lightning and rain of lovemakinghas ceased, Selah will dive again into thesunflower-open river.

George Elliott Clarke

Thee, my serenity, one can not bear, Seeing thee befuddled, bereaved,Dimmed like the midnight, secluded, darkened,Thee, my serenity,A window to my eyes, A window to laughter, and peace of mind,Thee, my serenity, one can not bear,Seeing thee wail, whine, cry,Like a gloomy, mourning brume,Thee, my serenity,Soared through fervor and delight,To the crown of heavens, the Almighty Myth,One can not bear, Seeing thee prostrate, razed, demure,Upon the dimmed streets, crawling, for a sight of the lune,Thee, my birdy in love, What befall to thy song, The very chant of my life, Cut short, stopped, along with all I gasp,Thee, my serenity, one can not bear,Seeing thee, caged in thy own night, Encumbered, through thy own heart,Lean on my shoulders now,My beautiful, wonderful Lily,That thee shall not fear, the sorrow of,Of being lonely, apart, not having a peer,As I promise, to my most dear,The girl to my heart, always near,Come what may, don’t age a year,That I will be, forever here,

Hamidreza Bagheri

Line in nature is not found;Unit and universe are round;In vain produced, all rays return;Evil will bless, and ice will burn.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Of everythingI have ever endured,YOUareMy Favourite Tragedy.

Meraaqi

Everything is still everything.The Poem Remains.

R.M. Engelhardt (TALON)

The artistic creation of the poet, painter, photographer, and writer is a reflection of the artist’s inner world. The agenda of consciousness that spurs all forms of art is not to represent the outward appearance of things, but to portray its inward significance to the creator. A great poem, painting, photograph, and written composition fully express what the creator feels, in the deepest sense, about the distinctively depicted image that captured their imagination.

Kilroy J. Oldster

Whatever is produced in haste goes hastily to waste.

Saadi

We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

Emily Dickinson

Nothingness...there in this placewhere nothingness takesbut for the glimmera steadfast shimmerall would be consumed...

Muse

The things you struggle with today are the things you choose to struggle with.Because you believe that what you want to accomplish, is worth struggling for.

I hear talk of that slippery slope, and my heart catches for a beat. But there is the musky truth I'm standing in that I can't deny, and it tastes of so much holy. That old way, the narrow line, I see now that was a slippery, saccharine surface where my soul could gain no purchase. For the first time, my feet feel sure beneath me, and that sense is twining its way up from my ankles, racing toward my knees, my thighs, my secret places, my heart. It's in my blood now, and I can't deny it. I can't deny it. I open my eyes, because I could see even through my clutched-closed lids that the darkness is light, that the blindness has given way to searing vision. I can't deny it.

I once began to ask around what constitutes a good poem. It felt petty, in a sense. A boy would need no help in deciding which girls he thinks are pretty.

Even in the broken state, my mind find waysto connect with you.

Anjum Choudhary

MotherHushed and sacred silencefills the dawning skyI ponder in this momentof our journey which is nigh...

Muse

Stars are out and there is seaenough beneath the glistening earthto bear me toward the futurewhich is not so dark. I see.

Up on the Brooklyn Bridge a man is standing in agony, waiting to jump, or waiting to write a poem, or waiting for the blood to leave his vessels because if he advances another foot the pain of his love will kill him.

Transcendence is before you should you choose to take a swim.Into your deep blue you dive and all that is within.Referred to as my subconscious so you may understand me clear.But there’s nothing very simple about the message I’m sending here.The colour of your blood, the liquid through your veins, is really just a pathway to the place that feels your pains.The heart is an ocean but within it there’s a sun, submerged beneath the ocean, and all that is but one.

A feeling struck me one fine day that people call ‘love’,Before that my life was empty, all I had was loneliness and sorrow…I loved the way it felt being with him, for I felt up above,Now everything was complete and nothing remained hollow…That person who cupid made me fall for, was a God descended from heavens,I loved him with all I had, a true heart and a pure soul…I thought I achieved the meaning of life, never did I felt so glad,But when he left me amidst a chaos, I had no one with me to console…I cried, it hurt, I wept and screamed, everyone called me ‘mad’,And still I wonder if in my life, that actually was his role…But a string still binds me to my past of untold vow,Some unsaid promises that linger between us even now,Although I don’t know where he went after that fateful day…I still try to convince myself every day, I know how,Each moment has been tough, each day a new challenge…Each hour passed as if it was my heart that always allowed,One more day to live without him, one more day to cherish…One more day to spend without the love of my life somehow,But he doesn’t know that one day, the girl herself would perish…Who loved him and lived each day of her life in his wait,For the man who never returned, for the man who wasn’t in her fate…

Life shows us all colours, some bright and some shades of grey,Some accept with a smile, while some frown in every wayThoughts and memories never end but life does one day.Whole age passes by in wait of that old time to return,But those old days once gone, will never come back again,Rather we can just cherish them in the memories that burn,In the back of our mind and make us remember,How we used to be so crazy,In those old days…

Loving you is no more a beautiful memory, but now just a pain,I cry and weep every time I walk down the memory lane,Your love always completed me in every sense as a whole,But now it’s just emptiness and sorrow in my heart that drains,Of all the people in the world, you choose me to be hurt,Of all the hearts in the world, you choose mine to break…Why did you leave me I ask myself every morning and dawn?Why my love was incomplete tell me why you were gone?A silence surrounds my heart and fills it again with despair,Oh this pain is just too much, and the damage beyond repair,Please come back baby, just come back and bring that old smile,Or just come to see me every once in a while,So my heart no more bleeds, and no more my soul aches,So I can be peaceful after my death, in my ashes and burnt flakes…

Find mebeneath your tongue,but not with other lipsnor by another tongueFind melet your yearning run wild as thirst seeks wateras silence seeks the soundFind meand I will be on my way...

Efrat Cybulkiewicz

As writers we live life twice, like a cow that eats its food once and then regurgitates it to chew and digest it again. We have a second chance at biting into our experience and examining it. ...This is our life and it's not going to last forever. There isn't time to talk about someday writing that short story or poem or novel. Slow down now, touch what is around you, and out of care and compassion for each moment and detail, put pen to paper and begin to write.

Natalie Goldberg

Green and living jewels drip into my eyes" from the poem "All Green and Living Things" in the book "Terra Affirmative

THE SILENT PEOPLESome people are so rude,Living their lives with no concern for others,Or possibly just intent on pissing other people off-Annoying everyone around them.The silent people-Want to kill them-And drive forks into their skulls-Create weapons of extreme torture-And scream from the top of their lungs-"SHUT UP."But words are not spoken-And attention is not given.Though annoyance is apparent,The annoying keep on living.

A poem a day keeps the doctor away.

If I die today, will you remember me tomorrow?The love I'm leaving behind, will you care to borrow? From a snake-shed-skin or from the sky unknownIn all living and the dead I'll dwell to groan

Almighty Freedom! give my venturous songThe force, the charm that to thy voice belong;Tis thine to shape my course, to light my way,To nerve my country with the patriot lay,To teach all men where all their interest lies,How rulers may be just and nations wise:Strong in thy strength I bend no suppliant knee,Invoke no miracle, no Muse but thee.

Pour Into My Spirit...spread your arms around meconsole me and keep me close -wield your mighty swordto vanquish all my foes...

Muse

Give me another Chance Then, You will Get Less than I Gain...

Whoever challenges freaks should noticethat in the method he does not mature into a beast.

You exalt me Bati,This is the message to the society,Brightest day demands struggling, suffering and sacrifice,heroic labor would suffice.

the price of creationis nevertoo high.the price of livingwith other peoplealwaysis.

Charles Bukowski

the world is better withoutthem.only the plants and the animals aretrue comrades.I drink to them and withthem.

Charles Bukowski

she wasn't veryinterestingbut few peopleare.

Charles Bukowski

it is so dark now with the sadness ofpeoplethey were tricked, they were taught to expect theultimate when nothing ispromisednow young girls weep alone in small roomsold men angrily swing their canes atvisions asladies comb their hair asants search for survivalhistory surrounds usand our livesslink awayinshame.

Charles Bukowski

we are burning like a chicken wing left on the grill of an outdoor barbecuewe are unwanted and burning we are burning and unwanted we arean unwantedburningas we sizzle and fryto the bonethe coals of Dante's 'Inferno' spit and sputter beneathus andabove the sky is an open hand andthe words of wise men are uselessit's not a nice world, a nice world it's not ...

Charles Bukowski

it does seemthe more we drinkthe better the wordsgo.

Charles Bukowski

I feel no grief for being called somethingwhichI am not;in fact, it's enthralling, somehow, like a goodback rub

Charles Bukowski

...unquestioning automatonsblindly marching to the beat -an eerie crunching soundhoards of shuffling feet...(from silent moments)

Muse

To be wild as the waves;enshrinedby the vastness—our cosmic immemorial.Unsettled as the forest.An indomitable flickeramidst worldviews,of jaded crownsand romantic ash.

Thus it is, we sow motions of hatred out of our own impoverished understanding of love. Yet we do so in the name of love. The perplexing precipice of the illusory infirmity.

And now we who are writing women and strange monstersStill search our hearts to find the difficult answers,Still hope that we may learn to lay our handsMore gently and more subtly on the burning sands.

If you can't tell from my rap lyrics already, yes I am a feminist. And when I'm saying "hoe" or "bitch" I am actually referring to men. ...That sounded bad, in someway. But at the end of the day, I'm sick of rappers using "bitches" and "hoes" as terms towards women. Feminists are NOT a hate group. Feminists are not all female. Nor has it got an anti-male agenda. It's about equality! I've had a weird, special bond with women since I was a kid. And it's just a shame really that I'm gay.

scott mcgoldrick

I stand in my own power now, the questions of permission that I used to choke on for my every meal now dead in a fallen heap, and when they tell me that I will fall, I nod. I will fall, I reply, and my words are a whispermy words are a howlI will fall , I say, and the tumbling will be all my own. The skinned palms and oozing knees are holy wounds, stigmata of my She. I will catch my own spilled blood, and not a drop will be wasted.

Don't be concerned with other women's beauty. Only admire God's amazing work and wish them well., this earth was made to bite us in half and grind us to bone, but we were made to be kind.

Forcing the muse to let thoughts flow; equals to pushing a child, into labor.

Aniruddha Sastikar

Lo! A call for a bloody trial-Retribution should it hail!Whose? you ask,For he that deems it a worthy task!

Just when you see a kid selling a mascot,If you don't buy it because he winks, Not only that will be considered a "boycott",Xenophobically, it will also be a jinx!

Ana Claudia Antunes

We made the choice, right there in our local coffee shop, that we were going to do things differently. We were going to put the story first, no matter where that led us. We’d open ourselves up to all genres, all forms. We’d publish works that stayed with us in an intangible way, long after that last page is turned.

Let’s appreciate and welcome the arrival of a new prophet The one who can be Reasonable and rational Realistic and democratThe one who respects the rights of women and childrenAnd does not make everyone slave of his nationLet’s do not whip some virgin pregnant womenThey may have Christ in their belly Let’s arrange a new miracle That can be little rationale and less awkward Maybe an application (software) or a gadget That can make us smile Or let’s build a green park that children could play and be happy And let’s bring a little educated prophetNot like the old one Illiterate! Marrying 10 to 12 women and waging warMaybe someone who does not blind the world by his Eye to eye policy and manifestation A little kind and a little rational

...as we are endowed. ...with rhetorics. ...none will deny. ...of innocence. ...towards scribbling. ...of love lines. ...and of lust. ...to what seems like male. ...to what seems like female. ...in those days. ...I mean nothing. ...but in high school.....even me. ...I can't deny.

Michael Bassey Johnson

Tender Ember...Barred and brandedto be forever unlovedI was a tender emberseeking solace from above...

Muse

I wish to resist the temptation to kiss...By super magic animals (Song: The Temptation)A visual poem about unfulfilled love...

Super magic animals

- Daddy won’t buy me a new pony, so I’m gonna burn my old one so he will have to buy me a new one. - Will a horse do? I'm a horse. I'm a horse. Yes, of course. Yes, of course. (That's a little children's poem.).-Jarod Kintz and Stefan D

Stefan D

We grow old judging othersAnd ourselvesUntil life humbles usAnd makes scared children of usLonging to hold another’s handTo hear their kind words And witness their kind deeds done on our behalf.But like children,We sabotage everythingFor nothing satisfies usUntil life crumbles usAnd we are no more.

Your personality should be described in poem not in paragraph.

Give me a moment I am preparing to drawback to screamLouder than a train overhead below a railroad bridge

John E. Wordslinger

Sometimes what’s dead must be burned away to make room for new life. Sometimes you just have to step back and let the brittle bits ignite - but once those flames begin to dance their caustic dance, don’t you dare look the other way. Don’t close your eyes. Watch closely and let that image seer itself forever on your mind. Remember what it looked like in the midst of the soot, the smoke, and the haze. Remember, so you don’t repeat the same conditions that required such a blaze.

Cristen Rodgers

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