Poet Quotes - Page 7

You are my reality, fantasy, daydream, fairytale, music, more than the princess in Cinderella; you are much more than a traditional myth.

Delano Johnson

I must find you. So I travel to the depths of hell and conquer perverse monsters and repulsive demons and the deceitful vicious devil himself to find the truth.

Delano Johnson

If I cannot fix your broken heart can I put mine in its place, because these stars are not enough, and all the money in the world does not equal your worth.

Delano Johnson

Romance her, enhance her, desire her, put her first.

Delano Johnson

We simply can’t feel fulfilled by love we pay for.

Delano Johnson

Creation of a pregnant imagination.

Delano Johnson

Impulsive passion please set me free.

Delano Johnson

Your love is like star sky showers and magenta unicorns.

Delano Johnson

Joys circular fulfillment was so persistent, when I was weak it gave me strength.

Delano Johnson

Reminiscent of a diamond, she is gifted, privileged, and positioned to glisten.

Delano Johnson

Frequent friction when love becomes political.

Delano Johnson

The beauty of words will forever be stronger than the silence of tears.

Delano Johnson

A good woman comes in all shapes and colors.When you find her, adore her.

Delano Johnson

Honor a good woman because she is virtuous and honorable.

Delano Johnson

I promised her that I would never kiss and tell, but I have to tell someone about my dreams and fairytales. So I’m telling you that I kissed her.

Delano Johnson

You are a fantastic scheme of captivating ecstasy.

Delano Johnson

I looked at an angel today, but the angel could not see me. The angel was more amazing than beautiful, like the best forgotten dream.

Delano Johnson

Morning and eveningMaids heard the goblins cry:'Come buy our orchard fruits,Come buy, come buy

Christina Rossetti

The most magical thing I have come across is a beautiful face with a beautiful heart and it's you❤ ❤

Michael J. Bazin

Loveis not leaning on each other, adjusting to fit a different size.Loveis simply two hands reached out in the darkness,saying; I’ll be your light, if you’ll be mine.

Charlotte Eriksson

Poetry contains few words but tells much. Its beauty is that by being condensed it is rich in meaning and open to various interpretations. Unlike prose, there is no boundary to poetry. There is nothing concrete or black and white. Poetry is mutable; it is transformative. Poetry is the alchemy of hearts. And what cannot be said in prose can sometimes be only said through poetry.

Salil Jha

Take a shower. Wash away every trace of yesterday. Of smells. Of weary skin. Get dressed. Make coffee, windows open, the sun shining through. Hold the cup with two hands and notice that you feel the feeling of warmth.   You still feel warmth. Now sit down and get to work. Keep your mind sharp, head on, eyes on the page and if small thoughts of worries fight their ways into your consciousness: threw them off like fires in the night and keep your eyes on the track. Nothing but the task in front of you. Get off your chair in the middle of the day. Put on your shoes and take a long walk on open streets around people. Notice how they’re all walking, in a hurry, or slowly. Smiling, laughing, or eyes straight forward, hurried to get to wherever they’re going. And notice how you’re just one of them. Not more, not less. Find comfort in the way you’re just one in the crowd. Your worries: no more, no less.Go back home. Take the long way just to not pass the liquor store. Don’t buy the cigarettes. Go straight home. Take off your shoes. Wash your hands. Your face. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. It’s still beating. Still fighting. Now get back to work. Work with your mind sharp and eyes focused and if any thoughts of worries or hate or sadness creep their ways around, shake them off like a runner in the night for you own your mind, and you need to tame it. Focus. Keep it sharp on track, nothing but the task in front of you.Work until your eyes are tired and head is heavy, and keep working even after that. Then take a shower, wash off the day. Drink a glass of water. Make the room dark. Lie down and close your eyes. Notice the silence. Notice your heart. Still beating. Still fighting. You made it, after all. You made it, another day. And you can make it one more.  You’re doing just fine. You’re doing fine.I’m doing just fine.

Charlotte Eriksson

When your heart starts to feel full again. I love FREE refills, and if a restaurant tries to double charge me, I refuse to write a love poem on their Yelp page.-Karen Quan and Jarod Kintz

Karen Quan

She placed her hand on her chest and thought, 'So this is what the poets write about'.

Kamand Kojouri

I know that touching you will be understanding my fingers for the first time.

Kels Adeline Sapp

A torpid heart in agony needs a pen to bleed

Munia Khan

Who has not sat before his own heart's curtain? It lifts: and the scenery is falling apart.

Rainer Maria Rilke

... and I realise the only way to tell the others is through the way my voice can take these broken wordsand turn it into music. Turn it into poetry.And I sing to make myself come alive, but also for you,because I’d like this to mean something.To not disappear with the dark I will enter one day and so now I will tell.If not for you, then for my own heart, because it tells me to,and I'm learning to listen.

Charlotte Eriksson

If movements were a spark every dancer would desire to light up in flames.

Shah Asad Rizvi

Show me a person who found love in his life and did not celebrate it with a dance.

Shah Asad Rizvi

I've written you sixty-seven love poems.Here’s another one for you.But really, for me.These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me.I place this candle here and another thereso even if the stars have argued with the moonand are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me.Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us?Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect?I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of loveif by lighting these candlesour own flame loses its brightness?I know the good is more than the bad. Much more.I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

Kamand Kojouri

A poetess is not as selfishas you assume.After months of agonising over her marriage of words—the bride—and spaces—the groom,she knows that as soonas she has penned the poem,it’s yours to consume.So, without giving it a think,she blows on the inkand the letters fly awaylike dandelions on a windy day,landing on hands and lips, on hearts and hips.But more often than not,you can easily spotthem trodden and forgotten,becoming sodden and rotten.Yet, she will continue to makewhat’s others to takebecause selfishness is not the mark of a poetess.

Kamand Kojouri

All I need to dois place my pen against paperand your lovewrites for me.

Kamand Kojouri

You ask me to write you a poem,I pen you an empty ocean,You run away.You ask me who I am,I paint you a breaking sky,You weep in the rain.

Jenim Dibie

I have these knives in my chest that can't become words.

Jenim Dibie

This empty shell holds nothing but the echoes of what was.

Jenim Dibie

A poet adds the awe factor to our ordinary perceptions.

Debasish Mridha

Poetry keeps my heart neat, even when incomplete, I find peace.

Delano Johnson

WHO AM I?I have seven heavenly panelsLeading up to a pointed sphereI’m multidimensional like a crystalAnd my center is never clear.I’m an inventor and pioneer.A mentor to my peers.But I'm not as sound as my shell reveals,Because I’m tormented by my fears -That may appear to be groundedBut my insides are filled with tears.And the sadness is well-founded,From years and yearsOf traumatic experiencesCompoundedIn the most dementedAtmospheres.I talk but feel like nobody hears.Has reason disappeared?And, God, are you near?This is Giza’s 7th light forceAnd I'm asking you to interfere.I can no longer walk amongst the blind and deadWith open eyes and ears.I’m trying to maintain my sanityAnd to straighten up my veneerAs I roll amongst the growing calamitiesFlowing on Earth’s severely trashedFrontier.Suzy Kassem, Rise Up and Salute the Sun (2010)

Suzy Kassem

There is a property in the horizon which no man has but he whose eye can integrate all parts, that is, the poet.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

I don’t want to be remembered for my work. I want to be remembered for my love.

Kamand Kojouri

The history of time is captured by poet, artist, writer, photographer…!

Lailah Gifty Akita

They say that history is going on somewhere.They say it won't stop. I have heldOne picture still for a long time and waited.

William Stafford

For what was it about books that once finished left the reader in a bit of a haze and made them reread the last few sentences in order to continue the ringing in their hearts a while longer, so as not to let the silence illumine the fact that reading, they had gained something — distance, a lesson, a companion, a new world — but now, after the last full stop, they had lost something palpable and felt a little emptier than before.

Kamand Kojouri

Sit here, so I may writeyou into a poem and make you eternal.

Kamand Kojouri

Poetry is a storm asking peace to dance with her.

Jenim Dibie

The serenity of the lulling ocean is a wondrous thing to behold..more precious than the gems coveted and covered in platinum or gold...

Oksana Rus

We are all born as storytellers. Our inner voice tells the first story we ever hear.

Kamand Kojouri

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

Kamand Kojouri

To see things as the poet sees them I must share his consciousness and not attend to it; I must look where he looks and not turn round to face him; I must make of him not a spectacle but a pair of spectacles; in fine, as Professor Alexander would say, I must enjoy him and not contemplate him.

C.S. Lewis

It is a dangerous thing to substitute reading or writing for living. Live first, then write.

Kamand Kojouri

There is no revelation in my words. I am merely stating what others have forgotten to write down.

Kamand Kojouri

Poetry isn’t an island, it is the bridge. Poetry isn’t a ship, it is the lifeboat. Poetry isn’t swimming. Poetry is water.

Kamand Kojouri

An artist is like a handicaphe needs his art to carry himself.

Yarro Rai

It starts off like climbing a tree or solving a puzzle - poetry, if nothing else, is just fun to write. But deeper into each and every piece, you no longer hesitate to call it work. It's passion. A poet's sense of lyrical accomplishment is then his food and water, his means of survival.

Criss Jami

After all, what is art? Art is the creative process and it goes through all fields. Einstein’s theory of relativity – now that is a work of art! Einstein was more of an artist in physics than on his violin.Art is this: art is the solution of a problem which cannot be expressed explicitly until it is solved.

Piet Hein

Maybe you are a poet and a dreamer, but don't you realize that those two species are extinct now?

J.G. Ballard

I breathe in... The sights and smells Of this city I’ve come to know... So well I gaze... Across the turquoise ocean Where the waves Liberate my spirit... From its shell I breathe in... The brilliant sky line Where the birds Emerge shyly From the dappled sunshine I breathe in... The gently... Blowing winds That soothe me Like a mother, around her child I breathe in... The sounds of laughter Pure and pretty Like the golden-green butterfly I’m always after I breathe in... The closeness, I have always shared With people, Who almost knew me, Almost cared I breathe in... The comfort Of my home, The safe walls, The scents of childhood On the pillows I breathe in...the silence Of my own heart Aching with tenderness... With memories.. Of home I breathe... in... The fragrance Of love, and moist sand The one... His roses left... On both my hands And I just keep on breathing Every moment As much as I can Preserving it, in my body For the day It can’t So I breathe in.. Once again.. Feeling life's energy Fizzing through my cells Never knowing What awaits me Or what's going to happen to me.. Next I breathe in This moment... Knowing it's either life Or it's death I close my eyes, And breathe in Just believing in myself.

Sanober Khan

To a poet, his works aren't just a reflection of life itself, but an entire life in the boundless invisible. Isn't the heavenly oasis of all human emotions - the soul - invisible? I reaped: We cannot see the wind, but we can feel it, we cannot see the warmth of the sun, but we can also feel it. This bond between nature and humans is the best proof of the Creator’s existence.

Walter William Safar

When in love, every soul becomes a poet.

Lailah Gifty Akita

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Poet Quotes - Page 7

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