Poems Quotes - Page 4

I have you fast in my fortress,And will not let you depart,But put you down into the dungeon,In the round-tower of my heart,And there will I keep you forever,Yes, forever and a day,Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,And moulder in the dust away!

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Said the Sun to the Moon-'When you are but a lonely white crone,And I, a dead King in my golden armour somewhere in a dark wood,Remember only this of our hopeless loveThat never till Time is doneWill the fire of the heart and the fire of the mind be one

Edith Sitwell

From childhood's hour I have not been As others were; I was differentI was not raised; as others wereMy passions from a common sense of ideas. From the same source I have taken Thus, this is art that connects mankind My pains; I could not awaken Resurrected, because in art there's creativity My heart too complacent at the same rate; And all I loved indeed, I loved alone.I am alone.

Henry Johnson Jr

I touched curiosity,I kissed sin, I felt regret,And I was forgiven.But life won't let me forget.

J.A. ANUM

We are all a little broken, looking for something whole to hang on to. But sometimes, what seems whole is even more broken than we are.

J.A. ANUM

I find no peace, and all my war is done,I fear and hope; I burn and freeze like ice;I fly above the wind yet can I not arise;And naught I have and all the world I seize on.That looseth nor locketh holdeth me in prison,And holdeth me not, yet can I scape nowise;Nor letteth me live nor die at my devise,And yet of death it giveth none occasion.Without eyen I see, and without tongue I plain;I desire to perish, and yet I ask health;I love another, and thus I hate myself;I feed me in sorrow, and laugh in all my pain.Likewise displeaseth me both death and lifeAnd my delight is causer of this strife.

Thomas Wyatt

Technology is grey. More technology, less colors. We're building a world with colors only in poems.

Magdalena Ciocan

t is silly to think they all achieved it "just like that". nothing in life is so easy, that is a fact.Behind the scenes were tears and pain,they stumbled and fell but got up again. They heard a voice, firm and true"Muster yourself you'll make it through"Steadied by a hand they arose to dancein the turmoil and storm with perseverance At the end, it came upon them; a light so brightsuccess was theirs: it was their right!

Manuela George-Izunwa

I believe in family values and following your dreams.

JoAnne Myers

Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.

Kahlil Gibran

Blankly expressing oneself can be stronger than words.

Paul Morabito

Ah! What have you done to yourself my love, asked he.Don't dare to ask! For its your absence that resulted in such despair, said she.Is there any way, I can end this pain and anguish, asked he.Yes, my dear! Seal my lips with no delay, said she with quivering voice.So as you please, my love, followed he.

Ramana Pemmaraju

Sometimes poets expect me to think far deeper than I'm willing to dig.

Richelle E. Goodrich

There is no poetry without want. Desperate want.

Richelle E. Goodrich

I cast my eyes out to the seaAnd gaze at all eternity.until forever turns to night.My eyes then lift to catch starlight.

Richelle E. Goodrich

If I were to sit on the ocean floor and look toward the sky,I might see a whale or electric eel or octopus pass by.And if I decided to jump straight up and reach with open arms,I might feel the pleasure of ocean flight propel me ’mid their swarms.But if I were seated upon the shore and looking toward the stars,I might see a comet or falling star near Mercury or Mars.Then if I decided to jump straight up and reach with open hands,I might feel despair when my feet refused to leave the shoreline sand.And so I return to the ocean depths where swimming creatures fly,For there I can soar with the whales and fish that daily touch the sky.

Richelle E. Goodrich

My second crush,don’t know, who you are,by thinking of you,my day pass.The things, the things, the things changed,forgot the first, second begins.The second crush,my second crush,don’t know who you are,but, by thinking of you,my day pass.Who you are, i don’t know,but seeing you shed tears.My feelings drop, water stops,in my eyes.The things, the things, the things changed.I fall in love, are you goddess or what.As i came near you,my heart beat rise.Want to stop my legs,but they attracts.Like your tears attract the sand,when they are falling on land.My heart, my heart, my heart beat rise,you came, you came, you are closer to my eyes.I see tears fallen on the ground,my love rotating around you round and round.Now, you are the first,you are the last,that i told you my sweet heart.When i see you first time,it was my last time,to fall in love, my dear valentine.The second crush,my second crush,don’t know who you are,but, by thinking of you,my day pass.The things, the things, the things changed.Now, crush end,time spend,love start,now, you are my life part.:-)

Abhishek Kumar Singh

Writing is a bitch. It's an itch that I love to scratch.

Ana Claudia Antunes

While doing an enquiry on renowned horror author, “Edgar Allen Poe” I was astonished to notice how more successful his biographical books sold compared to his own books.

Chris Mentillo

Poems should be like pins which prick the skin of boredom and leave a glow equal in its pride to the gate of the sadist who stuck the pin and walked away

Norman Mailer

The words we construct, the poems we write and the songs we sing, become the love story of a stranger we have never seen.

M.F. Moonzajer

The sea waves stirred before methey dashed against the rocksLike a mermaid rising from its depthscurled white sea foam were her locks...

Giselle V. Steele

poems are small moments of enlightenment

Natalie Goldberg

If the poets offered us nothing more than another make-believe world, they would be mere sellers of drugs or, at best, sweetmeats.

Robert Lynd

Sublime wonders lie in store,I am shown a regal residence;a mighty kingdom, an empirewith more grandeur than before ...

E.A. Bucchianeri

A poem in the heart is worthmore than a million dollarsin the bank account.

Sanober Khan

To truly understand poetry one must understand themselves from within one’s self.

Richard M. Knittle Jr.

Poems are soft kitten furs. smoothing out the rough edges of my world.

Sanober Khan

it is to be savored like a seabreeze-whispereddream...in the mysteriousblue minutesbefore dawnlike a secretinfatuation.... like slowlanguorous sipsof green tea... like a lingeringglimpsea self-wrappedparadiselike his name upon my lips.

Sanober Khan

I live there...Far above the song-filled clouds,where the dewdrops touch my skin so bareI live there.

Sanober Khan

let me diefrom having being drunk onindigo skies, my liver...overflowing with stars.

Sanober Khan

the ocean mist engulfs me, like a lifetime’s friendship honored.

Sanober Khan

the sapphire depthof my own love...startlesand warmsand wounds my soul.

Sanober Khan

some poems frothand foam and rise...out of my morning cup ofmist-sweetened coffee.

Sanober Khan

Like a speeding trainI am passing by...I don’t knowwhere I’m headingwith whom or whyall I know is thatI will never, everpass from here againall I know is I’m skidding forwardon this track of life.

Sanober Khan

I am a tale, I am a book, written in different languages and styles I can’t be read, can’t be understood,neither by me nor the greatest of minds I am too big, I am too small, to be processed or seen by the naked eyeI am too dim, I am too bright, to appear in the shadows or the sunshine.

Sanober Khan

The poet drafts his work as a writer but edits it as a sculptor, with his pen as a chisel and his mind a hammer.

Agona Apell

May the nights always be aglowwith the bliss of the daywith unharmed hands and feetand kissed cheeks.

Sanober Khan

At times poems can be like riddles, too difficult to decipher or comprehend. But how else does one come to understand what can only be felt but not said?

Raneem Kayyali

I exaggerateThere is a lie in my truthLook! My soul is blue

A.A. Patawaran

Poems arrive. They hide in feelings and images, in weeds and delivery vans, daring us to notice and give them form with our words. They take us to an invisible world where light and dark, inside and outside meet.

Susan Goldsmith Wooldridge

These poems are cupsthat I pour my love into.Here, Drink!

Kamand Kojouri

Don’t you dare say these times are hollowJust because there are storms raging by.Just lay low on your pillow,Close your eyes and say goodbyeTo the world that you lived in today.Let your dreams carry you away;You lived a nightmare all through the day,It is time to dream, so don’t delay.You searched for a reason to live,Yes darling, you searched everywhere.You had to push, you had to strive,It is time now to get some air.You searched in all that is outside,It is time now to look inside,Cause that is where you’ll findA reason worth keeping in your mind.These dreams are not an escape, darling,You need time to see past the lies that blind you.It is time for you to start runningTo those things that are true.So, don’t you dare say these nights are hollow,Just because there are storms raging by.Just lay low on your pillowAnd lose yourself in this lullaby.

Melita Tessy

So, the world happens twice--once what we see it as;second it legends itselfdeep, the way it is.

William Stafford

Dante Alighieri wrote his first book in the prosimetrum genre – La Vita Nuova – in 14th century Florence. Since I’m compiling this collection – my first indie publication – in Florence, just blocks from Dante’s house, and since his book involves a lost love, and ‘A New Life,’ I thought it fitting to emulate this style in my own casual, intuitive fashion. My hope is that the juxtaposition of poems, journal entries, essays and prose will create a story; a memoir in anarchistic vignettes.

Jalina Mhyana

Rain's pouring and it's too cold. All people bored and I even accord What to do but spell a tale told: So once upon a time a land in the shore...

Ana Claudia Antunes

The length of novels, poems and stories, is measured by the number of missing words; a thousand pages become one, one becomes a thousand.

Dejan Stojanovic

be good to yourselfyou're the only youyou'll ever get

R H Sin

She (my mother) could still recite them (the poems) in full when she was lying helpless and nearly blind, in her bed, an old lady. Reciting, her voice took on resonance and firmness, it rang with the old fervor, with ferocity even. She was teaching me one more, almost her last, lesson: emotions do not grow old. I knew that I would feel as she did, and I do.

Eudora Welty

A Very Short Song Once, when I was young and true, Someone left me sad- Broke my brittle heart in two; And that is very bad. Love is for unlucky folk, Love is but a curse. Once there was a heart I broke; And that, I think, is worse.

Dorothy Parker

...and I laugh and I spin and dance and frolic in ecstasy and I... I hurt no more, while you...you petrified little man, are left to wonder if it's you I speak of.

Kellie Elmore

savorwith methe lushnessof a lingering sleep...and last night’sdream.

Sanober Khan

Silence explains a lot of things.It tells us why people are who they not supposed to be.It's the fear of being afraid.It's because of their own safety.Sometimes it becomes an unexplainable feeling.It shows the insecureties, acceptation, love and vulnerabilityinside everyone of us.

Tessa Vanluchene

i am permanentlytannedin the summer of poetry.

Sanober Khan

she's gotoceanstucked awayin her hairpoems swimunder her skin.

Sanober Khan

Yes You Are!Like the Blossoming rose,Like the Rays of hope.Like a deer in the forest,Like an athlete full of zest.Like a lamp in temple,Like the life feeling ample.Like the feel of the dawn,Like the grace of the swan.Like the melody of sitar,Like the rage of guitar.Like a group of angels in the sky,Like the pot that makes you high.Like the peacock's dance,Like she is the romance.Like the silent talk,Like the wine from Medoc.Like the colors of life,Like the music from the fife.Like the calmness of the cold windLike the beauty of the hind.

Ameya Agrawal

when I finally begin to driftinto sleepyour memory is the...firstand the moonlightthe last, to kiss my face.

Sanober Khan

for those memories are nowjust like these little kittensI hold in my handsthose can be kissedand treasuredbut not held too tightly.

Sanober Khan

Hemingway is overrated,Twain is even more lost at sea,And all truths point to the mouth of a woman,Where both her whispers and her screams,Are born.Pour another glass, Beer, wine, whiskey,I don't care,So long as its wisdom is sharp,And it tells lies instead of promises.

Dave Matthes

MAN is a slave only to his own mental lethargy.

Mina Loy

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Poems Quotes - Page 4

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