Poem Quotes - Page 24

Maple. MaypoleCatch and carry.Ash and Ember.Elderberry.Woolen. Woman.Moon at night.Willow. Window.Candlelight.Fallow farrow.Ash and oak.Bide and borrow.Chimney smoke.Barrel. Barley.Stone and stave.Wind and water.Misbehave.

Patrick Rothfuss

What happens to a dream deferred?

Langston Hughes

I do not write to you, but of you,/because the paper that we write on/is our perishable skin.

Melissa Lee-Houghton

I will meet you on the nape of your neck one day, on the surface of intention, word becoming act.We will breathe into each other the high mountain tales, where the snows come from, where the waters begin.”-In the yellow time of pollen

Luke Davies

Give a poet a pen

A. Jarrell Hayes

Life is a poem most people never read.

Laurence Overmire

Be there a picnic for the devil,an orgy for the satyr,and a wedding for the bride.

Roman Payne

the flames are silent,Peace is violent,Tears are frozen’cause massacre was chosen.~~ 26/11– Mumbai terror attack memories

Ankita Singhal

A JEWELRY STORE NAMED INDIAIf you hold this Dazzling emeraldUp to the sky,It will shine a billion Beautiful miraclesPainted from the tearsOf the Most High.Plucked from the lush gardensOf a yellowish-green paradise,Look inside this hypnotic gemAnd a kaleidoscope of Titillating, Soul-raising Sights and colorsWill tease and seduceYour eyes and mind.Tell me, sir.Have you ever heardA peacock sing?Hold your earTo this mystical stoneAnd you will hearSacred hymns flowingTo the vibrationsOf the perfumedWind.

Suzy Kassem

Open the fridge and putMy heart on a plate.I'm just as you leftme, and I taste even betterleftover.

Cecily von Ziegesar

My Personalityunfolding before youlike a Swiss Army knife.

Katerina Stoykova-Klemer

When Hitler marched across the RhineTo take the land of France,La dame de fer decided,‘Let’s make the tyrant dance.’Let him take the land and city,The hills and every flower,One thing he will never have,The elegant Eiffel Tower.The French cut the cables,The elevators stood still,‘If he wants to reach the top,Let him walk it, if he will.’The invaders hung a swastikaThe largest ever seen.But a fresh breeze blewAnd away it flew,Never more to be seen.They hung up a second mark,Smaller than the first,But a patriot climbedWith a thought in mind:‘Never your duty shirk.’Up the iron ladyHe stealthily made his way,Hanging the bright tricolour,He heroically saved the day.Then, for some strange reason,A mystery to this day,Hitler never climbed the tower,On the ground he had to stay.At last he ordered she be razedDown to a twisted pile.A futile attack, for still she standsBeaming her metallic smile.

E.A. Bucchianeri

The Garden En robe de parade. - SamainLike a skein of loose silk blown against a wallShe walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,And she is dying piece-mealof a sort of emotional anaemia.And round about there is a rabbleOf the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.They shall inherit the earth.In her is the end of breeding.Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.She would like some one to speak to her,And is almost afraid that I will commit that indiscretion.

Ezra Pound

I had forgotten. Disgust shadows desire.Another life is never safely envied.

Robert Wells

I heard of a manwho says words so beautifullythat if he only speaks their namewomen give themselves to him.If I am dumb beside your bodywhile silence blossoms like tumors on our lipsit is because I hear a man climb stairsand clear his throat outside our door.

Leonard Cohen

Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.

Mark Strand

I am not a finished poem, and I am not the song you’ve turned me into. I am a detached human being, making my way in a world that is constantly trying to push me aside, and you who send me letters and emails and beautiful gifts wouldn’t even recognise me if you saw me walking down the street where I live tomorrowfor I am not a poem. I am tired and worn out and the eyes you would see would not be painted or inspiredbut empty and weary from drinking too much at all timesand I am not the life of your party who sings and has glorious words to speakfor I don’t speak muchat alland my voice is raspy and unsteady from unhealthy living and not much sleep and I only use it when I sing and I always sing too muchor not at alland never when people are around because they expect poems and symphonies and I am nota poembut an elegyat my bestbut unedited and uncut and not a lot of people want to work with me because there’s only so much you can do with an audio take, with the plug-ins and EQs and I was born distorted, disordered, and I’m pretty fine with that,but others are not.

Charlotte Eriksson

What makes us leave what we love best?What is it inside us that keeps erasing itselfWhen we need it most,That sends us into uncertainty for its own sakeAnd holds us flush there until we begin to love itAnd have to begin again?What is it within our own lives we decline to liveWhenever we find it, making our days unendurable,And nights almost visionless?I still don't know yet, but I do it.

Charles Wright

Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. How much blood, how many tears in exchange for these axes, these muzzles, these unicorns, these torches, these towers, these martlets, these seedlings of stars and these fields of blue!

Jean Cocteau

The true poem rests between the words.

Vanna Bonta

Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!

Edwin Arnold

ConnubialBecause with alarming accuracy she’d been identifying patterns I was unaware of—this tic, that tendency, like the way I've mastered the language of intimacy in order to conceal how I felt— I knew I was in danger of being terribly understood.

Stephen Dunn

All shadows of clouds the sun cannot hide like the moon cannot stop oceanic tide;but a hidden star can still be smiling at night's black spell on darkness, beguiling

Munia Khan

sometimes when everything seems atits worstwhen all conspiresand gnawsand the hours, days, weeksyearsseem wasted – stretched there upon my bedin the darklooking upward at the ceilingi get what many will consider anobnoxious thought:it’s still nice to beBukowski.

Charles Bukowski

Everything is all right,When you’re here,When you’re right next to me,When my hand is in yours,Don’t leave me,Don’t leave me empty handed.

Elizabeth Brooks

Twas the night before Thanksgiving. All the food's in the oven. And I'm in the bedroom performin' self lovin'.

Craig Ferguson

I once broke up with a boy because he wrote me an awful poem.

Karen Joy Fowler

Cheap little rhymesA cheap little tuneAre sometimes as dangerousAs a sliver of the moon.

Langston Hughes

It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.

Virginia Woolf

MISERABLERelease the toxic and infectious-Spreaders of misery,Souls destroying souls-And poisonous liars.Awaken from the hallucinations-And take back your heart.Reclaim your self-esteem-And leave the toxic be.

Giorge Leedy

TO what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

You are an Universe of Universes and your soul a source of songs.

Rubén Darío

The aching in my chest isn't because I miss you,it's realizing that you have become someone I no longer know,your fears, your 4 am thoughts, your achievements,are things I no longer have an equivalent to.Who we were and who we are are four different people, and the me from now doesn't relate to the me from then, let alone to the you from now.-Tanzy Sayadi and Jarod Kintz

Tanzy Sayadi

I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.

Pablo Neruda

Anger's like a battery that leaks acid right out of meAnd it starts from the heart 'til it reaches my outer me

Criss Jami

Jack Prelutsky

I don’t think that I’ve been in love as suchAlthough I liked a few folk pretty wellLove must be vaster than my smiles or touchfor brave men died and empires rose and fellFor love, girls follow boys to foreign landsand men have followed women into hellIn plays and poems someone understandsthere’s something makes us more than blood and boneand more than biological demands For me love’s like the wind, unseen, unknownI see the trees are bending where it’s beenI know that it leaves wreckage where it’s blownI really don’t know what "I love you" meansI think it means "don’t leave me here alone

Neil Gaiman

If you are a monster, stand up.If you are a monster, a trickster, a fiend,If you’ve built a steam-powered wishing machineIf you have a secret, a dark past, a scheme,If you kidnap maidens or dabble in dreamsCome stand by me.If you have been broken, stand up.If you have been broken, abandoned, aloneIf you have been starving, a creature of boneIf you live in a tower, a dungeon, a throneIf you weep for wanting, to be held, to be known,Come stand by me.If you are a savage, stand up.If you are a witch, a dark queen, a black knight,If you are a mummer, a pixie, a sprite,If you are a pirate, a tomcat, a wright,If you swear by the moon and you fight the hard fight,Come stand by me. If you are a devil, stand up.If you are a villain, a madman, a beast,If you are a strowler, a prowler, a priest,If you are a dragon come sit at our feast,For we all have stripes, and we all have horns, We all have scales, tails, manes, claws and thornsAnd here in the dark is where new worlds are born.Come stand by me.

Catherynne M. Valente

So here is my story, may it bringSome smiles and a tear or so,It happened once upon a time,Far away, and long ago,Outside the night wind keens and wails,Come listen to me, the Teller of Tales!

Brian Jacques

eat, baby.eat.chew.please.I know it hurts. I know it doesn’t feel good.please.I know your hunger is different than mine.I know it doesn’t taste the same as mine.imagine you could grow up all over againand pinpoint the millisecond that you startedcounting calories like casualties of war,mourning each one like it had a family.would you?sometimes I wonder that.sometimes I wonder if you would go backand watch yourself reappear and disappear right in front of your own eyes.and I love you so much.I am going to hold your little hand through the night.just please eat. just a little.you wrote a poem once,about a city of walking skeletons.the teacher called home because youtold her you wished it could be like thathere.let me tell you something about bones, baby.they are not warm or soft.the wind whistles through them like they areholes in a tree.and they break, too. they break right in half.they bruise and splinter like wood.are you hungry?I know. I know how much you hate that question.I will find another way to ask it, someday.please.the voices.I know they are all yelling at you to stretch yourself thinner.l hear them counting, always counting.I wish I had been there when the world made yousnap yourself in half.I would have told you that your body is not a war-zone,that, sometimes,it is okay to leave your plate empty.

Caitlyn Siehl

I've triedto become someone else for a while,only to discover that he, too, was me.

Stephen Dunn

when I am feelinglowall i have to do iswatch my catsand mycouragereturns

Charles Bukowski

to live in this worldyou must be ableto do three thingsto love what is mortal;to hold itagainst your bones knowingyour own life depends on it;and, when the time comes to let it go,to let it go

Mary Oliver

You might as well ask an artist to explain his art, or ask a poet to explain his poem. It defeats the purpose. The meaning is only clear thorough the search.

Rick Riordan

The Prophecy:"The Chosen one possesses a giftThat Lucempest needs in order to make a shift.To provide pure sacred lifeAs a concession for his land's strife.If the human soloth seizes wrathThis will be the altercation restraining Lucempest fromlaunching on his wicked path.If the Chosen One learns the way,He will prevent his land from having a great debt to pay.When Ira (wrath) vanishes from Lucempest's landHealing will ensue as a component of the great plan.If Lucempest prevails in acquiring his blood as a giftIt will be the beginning of a vast rift.He will offer the Chosen One's blood to the treeWhich will allow him control, and no land to be free.If The Chosen One prevailsThe tree will offer wisdom, and Lucempest will fail.There are sextet other saligias to remove.Avarita (greed), Acedia (sloth), Superbia (pride), Luxuria (lust), Invidia (envy), and Gula (gluttony) in order to improve.These septet saligias must be replaced with septet giftsSapientia (wisdom), Intellectus (understanding), Consilio (council), Fortitudo (fortitude), Scientia (knowledge), Pietas (piety), and Timor Domini (wonder and awe), in order to create vital shifts.

CJ Quinn

padamu senja aku tak bisa tuk tak jatuh cinta, meski padamu pun engkau menenggelamkannya

Rian Prasetia

My heart's been broken in a thousand pieces I've lived and died a thousand times And in each of those lifetimes With all of those pieces I chose you…A million times.

Jenim Dibie

I don't write about you because you don't deserve to be immortalised in my words.I'll leave you to float around in my mind until forgetfulness comes to take you away.

J.A. ANUM

You deserve the love your soul craves for.Don't settle.

J.A. ANUM

pada akhirnya yang pergi akan kembali,entah pada pelukan, atau pada masing-masing kenangan

Rian Prasetia

Feelings and emotionran through my veinslike a hurricane.And that's when everythingbegan to look like poetry.—You look like poetry

Altruistic

Gentle whispers from above Awakened me more Than ever did This loud world

Holly Ducarte

Poetry is breathing words that gives a reader pause.

Ankita Singhal

I'm restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

Anaïs Nin

I paid, got up, walkedto the door, openedit.I heard the mansay, "that guy'snuts."out on the street Iwalked northfeelingcuriouslyhonored.

Charles Bukowski

Just know I amNot there to catch youBut I am there for you

Caleb Warta

And here face down beneath the sunAnd here upon earth's noonward heightTo feel the always coming onThe always rising of the night

Archibald MacLeish

O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching Earth;Lie close around her; leave no room for mirthWith its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.She hath no questions, she hath no replies.

Jeffrey Eugenides

I see a brightportionunder the overhead lightthat shades intodarknessand then into darkerdarknessand I can't see beyond that.

Charles Bukowski

as long as there arehuman beings aboutthere is never going to beany peacefor any individualupon this earth (oranywhere elsethey mightescape to).all you can dois maybe grabten lucky minuteshereor maybe an hourthere.somethingis working toward youright now, andI mean youand nobody butyou.

Charles Bukowski

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Poem Quotes - Page 24

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