Poems Quotes

My soul is crushed under the weight of tears I can’t spill.

Emotional pain was the price I paid on the path to becoming a woman. So excuse me if I’m not clueless like a little girl.

J.A. ANUM

It lies here deep in the heart, the small chest of painSharp words like daggers placed it hereTo fill with hurtIn filling it grew heavy and drug me downFor to not feel is not to liveUntil I rest at last in dirtThe worst of you got the best of me…

Neil Leckman

You should gofrom place to placerecovering the poemsthat have been written for youto which you can affix your signature.Don't discuss these matterswith anyone.Retrieve. Retrieve.When the basket is fullsomeone will appearto whom you can present it.

Leonard Cohen

No map to help us find the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. Rolling down the other side of life our compass is the sureness of ourselves. Time may make us rugged, ragged round the edges, but know and understand that love is still the safest place to land.

Rod McKuen

When I Read the Book"When I read the book, the biography famous, And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man's life? And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life? (As if any man really knew aught of my life,Why even I myself I often think know little or nothing of my real life, Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections I seek for my own use to trace out here.)

Walt Whitman

I will forever walk alone in a world overflowing with those that will never understand my meaning of “Learning to See” I’m always teaching myself to see beauty in all aspects of reality, yearning to learn the beauty in others, from their vision of everyday life to their deepest secrets of their dreams. As the sun rises I must smile, smile for those with the beautiful mind and soul. I’m so passionate for the visions I see, and the dreams I wish the world could be.

Michael Jones

a politician is an arse uponwhich everyone has sat except a man

E.E. Cummings

The machines are too dull when weare lion-poems that move & breathe.

Michael McClure

Daddy-by Nancy B. BrewerWhen I used to say, speak up you are as good as they, You would just smile and say, let them have their way. When in my foolish youth, I so often disobeyed,He would just smile and say, let her have her way. When summer passed and winter overcame. He was not afraid, never once did he say. When in the moonlight his final hour came, He just smiled and said Lord I'll go your way.

Nancy B. Brewer

Success"If you want a thing bad enoughTo go out and fight for it,Work day and night for it,Give up your time and your peace and your sleep for itIf only desire of itMakes you quite mad enoughNever to tire of it,Makes you hold all other things tawdry and cheap for itIf life seems all empty and useless without itAnd all that you scheme and you dream is about it,If gladly you'll sweat for it,Fret for it,Plan for it,Lose all your terror of God or man for it,If you'll simply go after that thing that you want.With all your capacity,Strength and sagacity,Faith, hope and confidence, stern pertinacity,If neither cold poverty, famished and gaunt,Nor sickness nor painOf body or brainCan turn you away from the thing that you want,If dogged and grim you besiege and beset it,You'll get it!

Berton Braley

You write poetry?" Klaus asked.He had read a lot about poets but had never met one."Just a little bit," Isadora said modestly. "I write poems down in this notebook. It's an interest of mine.""Sappho!" Sunny shrieked, which meant something like, "I'd be very pleased to hear a poem of yours!

Lemony Snicket

They're only trees. Only trees. Whose afraid of lonely trees?

Ruth Frances Long

The Ph.D is one of the chosen who know that some things can never be fathomed, no matter how hard you try. What good are explanations? There is no possibility of explaining how such a work [Mozart's Requiem, in the instance] could ever have come into being. (The same holds true for certain poems, which should not be analyzed either.)

Elfriede Jelinek

think think think until you blink

ganeshsaidheeraj

Words mean nothingActions are everythingExpect nothingAppreciate everything

patrick cruz

Sad that there is books that are based on bad events that has happened. But there is books that has been based on really good events. I like to read the ones that are based on both.

Dawn Huntsman

Poems are the chorus of our lives. the poet sets the words to the music of our souls. Each poem has its own rhythm that drums like a heartbeat.

John Ritter

Yesterday I fell completely off the face of the earthContemplating life, light and love in the darkness of the voidStrangely it was in the dark that I found meaning for the light

Neil Leckman

Two seeds destined to grow in concert, planted together in the field of love.’” She took in a lungful of air and continued. “‘The sky cast wet buckets of dreams and desires, the roots took shape, and the leaves tangled as one.

Christina Lee

THE WILD ROSE” – BY WENDELL BERRYSometimes, hidden from me in daily custom and in ritualI live by you unaware, as if by the beating of my heart.Suddenly you flare again in my sightA wild rose at the edge of the thicket where yesterday there was onlyshadeAnd I am blessed and choose again,That which I chose before.

Wendell Berry

Before people complain of the obscurity of modern poetry, they should first examine their consciences and ask themselves with how many people and on how many occasions they have genuinely and profoundly shared some experience with another.

W.H. Auden

You leave behind your fine poems.You leave behind your beautiful flowers. And the earth that was only leant to you. You ascend into the Light, O Quechomitl, you leave behind the flowers and the singing and the earth. Safe journey, O friend.

Aliette de Bodard

When one does not die for the other, then we are already dead_

Tasos Livaditis

The poems are all wrong. It's a bang, a really big bang. Not a whimper. And sometimes gold can stay.

Kami Garcia

[poems are] crystals deposited after the effervescent contact of the spirit with reality.(cristaux deposes apres l'effervescent contact de l'esprit avec la realite)

Pierre Reverdy

Horse[Man you will find herea new representation of the universeat its most poetic and most modernMan man man man man manGive yourself up to this art where the sublimedoes not exclude charmand brilliancy does not blur the nuanceit is now or never the momentto be sensitive to poetry for it dominatesall dreadfullyGuillaume Apollinaire]

Guillaume Apollinaire

...some of the best love poems have been written by monks and nuns...

John Geddes

The rat isthe mous-tacheinthetrache.the wrong-doerinthesoer.

J. Patrick Lewis

Asthmatic spewer of filth gasps, but clean air does not sufficeTo fuel fires fueled by thoughts got rottenLest we all be forgotten thingsThat sit like dust upon the mantel of her mind

Neil Leckman

2.07 WALK OF LIFELife but like a cycle that you be riding,You will fall if you ever stop peddling,Life not of good cards you be holding,But those held and how you be playing.[68]t- 4

Munindra Misra

But I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and I choose both

Sarah Kay

William tell, William tell,Take your arrow, grip it well,There’s the apple– – aim for the middle– –Oh well … you just missed by a little.

Shel Silverstein

When They Die We Change Our Minds About Them When they die we change our minds about them. While they live we see the plenty hard they’re trying,to be a star, or nice, or wise, and so we do not quite believe them. When they die, suddenly they are what they claimed. Turns out, that’s what one of those looks like. The cold war over manner of manly or mission is over. Same person, same facts and acts, just now a quiet brain stem. We no longer begrudge his or her stupid luck.When they die we change our minds about them. I will try to believe while you yet breathe.

Jennifer Michael Hecht

The gray sea and the long black land; And the yellow half-moon large and low: And the startled little waves that leap In fiery ringlets from their sleep, As I gain the cove with pushing prow,And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.

Robert Browning

The Old StoicRiches I hold in light esteem, And Love I laugh to scorn; And lust of fame was but a dream, That vanished with the morn:And if I pray, the only prayer That moves my lips for me Is, "Leave the heart that now I bear, And give me liberty!"Yes, as my swift days near their goal:’Tis all that I implore; In life and death a chainless soul, With courage to endure.

Emily Brontë

You will not know all about the firesimply because you asked.When she speaks of the forestthis is what she is teaching you,you who thought you were her master.

Katie Ford

Beyond the YearsI the years the answer lies,Beyond where brood the grieving skies And Night drops tears.Where Faith rod-chastened smiles to rise And doff its fears,And carping Sorrow pines and dies— Beyond the years.IIBeyond the years the prayer for restShall beat no more within the breast; The darkness clears,And Morn perched on the mountain's crest Her form uprears—The day that is to come is best, Beyond the years.IIIBeyond the years the soul shall findThat endless peace for which it pined, For light appears,And to the eyes that still were blind With blood and tears,Their sight shall come all unconfined Beyond the years.

Paul Laurence Dunbar

BurialCathy Linh CheThere is the rain, the odor of fresh earth, and you, grandmother, in a box. I bury the distance, 22 years of not meeting you and your ruined hands.I bury your hair, parted to the side and pinned back, your áo dài of crushed velvet, the implements you used to farm,the stroke which claimed your right side, the land you gave up when you remarried, your grief over my grandfather's passing,the war that evaporated your father's leg, the war that crushed your bowls, your childhood home razedby the rutted wheels of an American tank— I bury it all.You learned that nothing stays in this life, not your daughter, not your uncle, not even the dignity of leaving this worldwith your pants on. The bed sores on your hips were clean and sunken in. What did I know, child who heard you speak only once,and when we met for the first time, tears watered the side of your face. I held your hand and said,bà ngoai, bà ngoaiTen years later, I returned. It rained on your gravesite. In the picture above your tomb,you looked just like my mother. We lit the joss sticks and planted them. We kept the encroaching grass at bay.

Cathy Linh Che

True poetry is embarrassing.

Julien Torma

An envy of that one consummate partSwept me, who mock. Whether I laugh or weep, Some inner silences are at my heart.

Léonie Adams

The Power of the Dogby Rudyard KiplingThere is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; And when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always arrange for more? Brothers and Sisters, I bid you beware Of giving your heart to a dog to tear. Buy a pup and your money will buy Love unflinching that cannot lie-- Perfect passion and worship fed By a kick in the ribs or a pat on the head. Nevertheless it is hardly fair To risk your heart for a dog to tear. When the fourteen years which Nature permits Are closing in asthma, or tumour, or fits, And the vet's unspoken prescription runs To lethal chambers or loaded guns, Then you will find--it's your own affair-- But ... you've given your heart to a dog to tear. When the body that lived at your single will, With its whimper of welcome, is stilled (how still!). When the spirit that answered your every mood Is gone--wherever it goes--for good, You will discover how much you care, And will give your heart to a dog to tear. We've sorrow enough in the natural way, When it comes to burying Christian clay. Our loves are not given, but only lent, At compound interest of cent per cent. Though it is not always the case, I believe, That the longer we've kept 'em, the more do we grieve: For, when debts are payable, right or wrong, A short-time loan is as bad as a long-- So why in--Heaven (before we are there) Should we give our hearts to a dog to tear?

Rudyard Kipling

Why not fall in love with an artist? Otherwise there are no letters, pictures, paintings and songs for you when you wake up.

Darnell Lamont Walker

Poems are lenses, mirrors, and X-ray machines.

David Mitchell

If I were John LennonAnd my feelings for you grew,I'd have left The BeatlesTo spend all my time with you

Lisa Swerling

In Flanders fields the poppies blowBetween the crosses, row on rowThat mark our place; and in the skyThe larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns belowWe are the DeadShort days agoWe lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow/Loved, and were loved, and now we lieIn Flanders FieldsTake up our quarrel with the foeTo you from failing hands we throw The torchbe yours to hold it highIf ye break faith with us who dieWe shall not sleep/though poppies growIn Flanders Fields

John McCrae

Poetry was not meant to be a workhorse; it was not designed to paint pretty moral pictures of life; it was not brought into being to confuse us with cryptograms, or high platitudes, or pompous pretensions. The poet was meant to be a seer; he was designed to run toward the intensities and magnificences of life, to bathe his hands in reality. But where the mystic ran toward Reality in silence and lost himself in it, the poet as soon as he had experienced it, ran back toward humanity crying the good news and putting it into shimmering webs of words.

Francis Beauchesne Thornton

when the glory night envelop the moon that would light up the exhilaration of heart..the sun was reluctant to reveal smile to warm the earth..when the fire burn until the wood becomes charcoal yield and melted into disappointment..the earth will always embrace the rest of the wood by the fire burning in her arms..then it's me and you in equation narrative prose deep and glorious..

rinto yusnianto

I hide myself behind, a cloud of smoke; the smoke screen varies, dependent on the variable. The variable consists of: stress, anguish, boredom, madness, anger, depression, apathy, negativity, sex, violence & a little chunk of chaos.

Emily H. Sturgill

The burning off and the gathering together are one.

Billy Marshall-Stoneking

My religion consists of a dwelling admiration of illimitable spirit, with no hate in place, a whole heart to Love and care about the human race. There is lust within each of us, it's sometimes self center, that we call our heart. We were born with it. It is never completely grace, but the state to Love others and appreciates the human race in a unique way is left to "question". I am convinced that it is a fundamental energy of the human spirit that can create diversity, and can also stop the caste system, racism, segregation and sexism

Henry Johnson Jr

A sacred soul Thus, within the cosmic creation proceed Life is precious as gold Death will come In a better place, where there’s no earthly lifeEternity exist...God..... Judgement falls upon usNothing to minus and nothing to plus Only the truthIn a better place where there’s no cuss They say tranquility exist hereNo fussNo sorrowA better place with great yarrow It will come in the morrowIn present times Life is but a Dream

Henry Johnson Jr

Once, we were a mighty nation Our people came from strong foundation Until cursed with darker days A dragon red came from skies blue Came and stole the things we once knew Making us humble, unknown But we were told one day of old That we’d give our throne of ancient gold To a prince and dragon slayer’s son For us to regain the ancient throne He will fight and bleed for our mountain home This dragon prince of Bowen’s line He will kill the drake that broke us He will remove the Witch who cursed us And become our King some glad day So now we wait ever patiently We wait for the one promised to make us free We wait for this prince to come

Kathryn Fogleman

Where the mind is without pain Where knowledge is gain; With you, life is not vain Where hate is a burdenFaith in humanity is not entwine The traces of you is meI am you and you are me Where dreams are not metWhere the sun set and yet;we still strive towards perfection;Where the clear stream of democracyhas not lost its way into a struggling nation frozen snow of dead end;The traces of you is found with in young soul that rise up with faith and knowing that positive activism is the way to create a just society.

Henry Johnson Jr

Reckless of my mortality,Strengthen me to behold a face,To know the spirit of a beloved oneYet to endure, yet to dare!

Edgar Lee Masters

Time slips by; our sorrows do not turn into poems,And what is invisible stays that way.

Mark Strand

Home will always be where comfort is, even if that comfort is pain

Jackson Saint-Louis

Following dark winter's strife, a warm air rises, teemed with life. Birth, rebirth, as the waiting die. Old love, new love sprouts wings to fly.

Phar West Nagle

I started writing poetry and philosophy when I was 17 years old and my mind so was wild. Now I'm 56 and I often want to write like a child.

Stanley Victor Paskavich

Most of the poems I write take 5 minutes, but the words can give a lifetime of relief. Many people that have read my book say it helped them with their grief.

Stanley Victor Paskavich

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