Poet Quotes - Page 5

I plan to be a sinner tonight. Could've been something else, but looked way too good in my red dress to be anything Christian.

Alysia Harris

Don't ask me any questions. I've seen how things that seek their way find their void instead.

Federico García Lorca

I walk with a dual longing for life and for death.

Melissa Lee-Houghton

Tonight, I won't dream, because nobodyhas held me and no hands have strayed and eventhough I'm drunk with love, my arms are empty.

Melissa Lee-Houghton

I chase the wind and get lost in the clouds. I'm sweep into darkness in my search for the light.

Sherman Kennon

A poet is somebody who has written a poem.

Wallace Stegner

My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.

Robert Burns

i bring my kiasu friend to the airportleavings are never easy, not for longand though we both saw blur along the waymemories flooded present tensions.in the curry of his life no lemak remainedso now the predictable exit signalledthe end of his roundings, his bombings–he can bluff like hell, ma, he got style–and left me thinking about home, my kampong.

Kirpal Singh

OnceThere was a quiet island,With a name.You must believe me When I say that sunlight, Impure but beautiful, Broke upon the bay, silveredThe unrepentant, burning moon.

Edwin Thumboo

Beneath it allI kept faith with Ithaca, travelled,Travelled and travelled,Suffering much, enjoying a little;Met strange people singingNew myths; made myths myself.But this lion of the seaSalt-maned, scaly, wondrous of tail,Touched with power, insistentOn this brief promontory...Puzzles.

Edwin Thumboo

Poetry can be more eloquent than the most eloquent sermons, and it becomes a weapon more formidable than the sharpest of swords; whenever such a poem--which finds its correct tune and conveys the excitement of the heart--rings out, all the miserable, heaped drifts of words fly for shelter and bury themselves in ashamed silence. Whenever such a sword of poetry is drawn from its scabbard, all the false princes of words, who have set their thrones on a void, are thwarted and retreat into seclusion.

M. Fethullah Gülen

A perfect poem owes its perfection to sounding the voice of the heart and the melodies of the conscience, as well as its ability to reflect the considerations, beliefs, opinions, and horizons of thought of the poet, but not due to its formal or mental aspects.

M. Fethullah Gülen

Every time a poet is about to write, every time the open their mouth to say something, they express their inner world and tell of their own feelings, thoughts, beliefs, and opinions, unless they are deliberately pursuing fantasies which contrast with their beliefs, opinions, thoughts, and the point of view.

M. Fethullah Gülen

Poetry is another name for a person’s telling of the self, existence and what is beyond, and one’s own perceptions.

M. Fethullah Gülen

Amy King is a true bard.

Tomaž Šalamun

Imperfection is my ticket, perfection is my pursuit

Paul Travis

YOUR WORDS ARE MADE OF THE AIR I BREATHE.

Amy King

True poetry is composed of metaphors and symbols which are born in the heart, rise like clouds, and assume a celestial form; verses formed otherwise are not poetry, but only artificial words, each of which contradicts the feelings inside. The utterances and words that have not been formed in a person’s soul as the voice of conscience are all hollow, no matter how embellished they are or how dazzling they seem to be.

M. Fethullah Gülen

One has to commit a painting,' said Degas,'the way one commits a crime.

Elizabeth Bishop

How—I didn't know anyword for it—how "unlikely". . .How had I come to be here,like them, and overheara cry of pain that could havegot loud and worse but hadn't?

Elizabeth Bishop

If a muscleman like Hukum can write a poem, everyone can.

Pawan Mishra

And it was at that age ... Poetry arrived in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where it came from, from winter or a river. I don't know how or when, no they were not voices, they were not words, nor silence, but from a street I was summoned, from the branches of night, abruptly from the others, among violent fires or returning alone, there I was without a face and it touched me.

Pablo Neruda

Too pretty, dreamlike mimicry!O falling fire and piercing cryand panic, and a weak mailed fistclenched ignorant against the sky!

Elizabeth Bishop

I tossed a stone into the Sea To see what it would do for me And the ripples went out And became ocean waves To return to the Sea inside of me

Mark A.Y. Nunez

Life writes the poetry, but it will always call for witnesses and scribes alike to tattoo its echoes upon the ghosts of trees.

Ged Thompson ~Poet

I was born one thousand times and all the while it was you I met again to only meet again under the thousand stars that divide us and connect us.

Christina Strigas

Even when the lights go out, even when someone says to me: "It's over---," even when from the stage a gray gust of emptiness drifts toward me,even when not one silent ancestor sits beside me anymore---not a woman, not even the boy with the brown squint-eye:I'll sit here anyway. One can always watch.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Medicinal Spirit, Inside MirrorTherapy becomes a harmony, and that harmony is built on levels,No one knows how to upscale another, for it has to come from the inside grails,Striking inflicts at the mirror and hatred to the being of creator,Causes hate in mirror too and abused flesh to the author,Changes come from its prudence and rationalism liberation,Not its pardon,A mirror is but a substance of a conscious,But identity says "let me fly" when journeying from the subconscious to the conscious.

John Shelton Jones

That young man with the long, auburn hair and the impudent face - that young man was not really a poet; but surely he was a poem.

G.K. Chesterton

Write as an audience member. Write what you want to see, feel and hear.

Carol Hovsepian

Are you just a car salesman or are you a poet too?” “I've never been accused of poetry before.

Robert Charles Wilson

Surely there is a knowing behind it all. There is a teacher, an expresser, a creator, an artist perhaps, a poet certainly that has designed and presented all of the clues that we need to navigate life with some degree of grace, and perhaps with a greater degree of happiness than we now have.

Jeffrey R. Anderson

To write a poem you must have a streak of arrogance-- not in real life I hope. In real life try to be nice. It will save you a hell of a lot of trouble and give you more time to write.

Richard Hugo

...writers, like priests, should have compassion...and a sensitivity to pain...

John Geddes

Give contemporary POET more SPACE & a long-last MAGIC will surround you all again.

Kristian Goldmund Aumann

He was a poet -oh all men are when they're in love.

Eric Gamalinda

Did anyone think this canon of druggie men were out of control? Only in the most admirable of ways! Out of control like a shaman or a space explorer, like a magician sawing himself in half. Out of control like a poet.

Michelle Tea

Some minds corrode and grow inactive under the loss of personal liberty; others grow morbid and irritable; but it is the nature of the poet to become tender and imaginitive in the loneliness of confinement. He banquets upon the honey of his own thoughts, and, like the captive bird, pours forth his soul in melody.

Washington Irving

You kissed me that morning as if you’d never done it before and never would again and now I write another letter that I will never dare to send, collecting memories of loss like chains tight around my chest,and if you see a fire from the shore tonightit’s my chains going up in flames.

Charlotte Eriksson

I’m passing the bar Where you first got in my car I’m not ashamed to admit That it’s you I won’t forget I saved your cigarettes andBad habits I regret But the hours flew by like cloudsWhenever I had you around Parachute loverTake me awayFrom the plane that went crashing And the earth that’s in flamesSaving you is saving me High above the redwood treesBut down below I see shadows And parachute debris We're drifting like children Along for the rideEach time we find love Another parachute arrivesOur madness will burn As bright as the sunAnd I’ll keep finding lovers But you were the one

Crystal Woods

A Writer in Love.I was just a word weaverWhat did I know of love?Only thatSome days when the words weren’t enough,I knewI was in love.

Saiber

ROSEMARY Beauty and Beauty’s son and rosemary— Venus and Love, her son, to speak plainly— born of the sea supposedly, at Christmas each, in company, braids a garland of festivity. Not always rosemary— since the flight to Egypt, blooming differently. With lancelike leaf, green but silver underneath, its flowers—white originally— turned blue. The herb of memory, imitating the blue robe of Mary, is not too legendary to flower both as symbol and as pungency. Springing from stones beside the sea, the height of Christ when thirty-three— it feeds on dew and to the bee “hath a dumb language”; is in reality a kind of Christmas-tree.

Marianne Moore

In the days of Prismatic Colornot in the days of Adam and Eve, but when Adam was alone; when there was no smoke and color was fine, not with the refinement of early civilization art, but because of its originality; with nothing to modify it but the mist that went up, obliqueness was a variation of the perpendicular, plain to see and to account for: it is no longer that; nor did the blue-red-yellow band of incandescence that was color keep its stripe

Marianne Moore

TO VICTOR HUGO OF MY CROW PLUTO “Even when the bird is walking we know that it has wings.”—VICTOR HUGO Of: my crow Pluto, the true Plato, azzurronegro green-blue rainbow— Victor Hugo, it is true we know that the crow “has wings,” however pigeon-toe- inturned on grass. We do. (adagio) Vivorosso “corvo,” although con dizionario io parlo Italiano— this pseudo Esperanto which, savio ucello you speak too— my vow and motto (botto e totto) io giuro è questo credo: lucro è peso morto. And so dear crow— gioièllo mio— I have to let you go; a bel bosco generoso, tuttuto vagabondo, serafino uvaceo Sunto, oltremarino verecondo Plato, a

Marianne Moore

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.

Marianne Moore

Paint me perfect poetry.

N'Zuri Za Austin

In The End The Words Are The All And The Nothing.

R.M. Engelhardt (TALON)

The poet is a faker / Who's so good at his act / He even fakes the pain / Of pain he feels in fact.

Fernando Pessoa

writing home"here in the wilderness of australiawriting home becomes easyin spite of the spreading wild firesthere is less heat, more certainty.writing home, writing thisi think of those without real homes–our city, people say, provides houseswhich do not, often, bring one home.

Kirpal Singh

A chronic poet should always be an inveterate nature-lover.

Munia Khan

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

Emily Dickinson

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.

Criss Jami

A poet is born in the present, lives in the past and thinks in the future.

TRIPURARI

Past and future monopolize the poet’s sensory and intellectual faculties, detached from the immediate spectacle. These two philtres become utterly clear the moment one stops being hypnotized by the cloudy precipitate constituted by the world of today.

André Breton

Poetry lets me pour out my various emotions even the suppressed ones we didn't know exist inside us' til the moment you start jotting down what you're feeling. It's more than an escape into the unknown, a refuge for your creativity and sometimes wild imagination not all ordinary, ungifted people like us understand." -Elizabeth's Quotes

Elizabeth E. Castillo

Sometimes a writer simply finds new ways of saying what has already been said because, ultimately, truth is unoriginal.

Kamand Kojouri

If you were destined to be a poet, then you won't brainstorm for lines that rhymes. If you were destined to be a celebrity, then you shouldn't start searching for fans. If you are truly a god, then let others worship you!

Michael Bassey Johnson

All that really matters isto feel alive, if only for a single moment –to feel in Intense Sensationthat our existence is not an endless repetitionof sleeping, eating, drinking, and dressing.

Pietros Maneos

At present, a good many men engaged in scientific pursuits, and who have signally failed in gaining recognition among their fellows, are endeavoring to make reputations among the churches by delivering weak and vapid lectures upon the 'harmony of Genesis and Geology.' Like all hypocrites, these men overstate the case to such a degree, and so turn and pervert facts and words that they succeed only in gaining the applause of other hypocrites like themselves. Among the great scientists they are regarded as generals regard sutlers who trade with both armies.Surely the time must come when the wealth of the world will not be wasted in the propagation of ignorant creeds and miraculous mistakes. The time must come when churches and cathedrals will be dedicated to the use of man; when minister and priest will deem the discoveries of the living of more importance than the errors of the dead; when the truths of Nature will outrank the 'sacred' falsehoods of the past, and when a single fact will outweigh all the miracles of Holy Writ.Who can over estimate the progress of the world if all the money wasted in superstition could be used to enlighten, elevate and civilize mankind?When every church becomes a school, every cathedral a university, every clergyman a teacher, and all their hearers brave and honest thinkers, then, and not until then, will the dream of poet, patriot, philanthropist and philosopher, become a real and blessed truth.

Robert G. Ingersoll

Previous 1 … 3 4 5 6 7 … 10 Next

Poet Quotes - Page 5

Related Topics