Poetry Quotes - Page 101

We have calcium in our bones, iron in our veins, carbon in our souls, and nitrogen in our brains. 93 percent stardust, with souls made of flames, we are all just stars that have people names.

Nikita Gill

Humanity i love you because youare perpetually putting the secret oflife in your pants and forgettingit's there and sitting downon itand because you areforever making poems in the lapof death Humanityi hate you

E.E. Cummings

The last thing one discovers in composing a work is what to put first.

Blaise Pascal

I don't think all writers are sad, she said.I think it's the other way around—all sad people write.

Lang Leav

Your reason and your passion are the rudder and the sails of your seafaring soul.If either your sails or your rudder be broken, you can but toss and drift, or else be held at a standstill in mid-seas.For reason, ruling alone, is a force confining; and passion, unattended, is a flame that burns to its own destruction.Therefore let your soul exalt your reason to the height of passion, that it may sing;And let it direct your passion with reason, that your passion may live through its own daily resurrection, and like the phoenix rise above its own ashes.

Kahlil Gibran

The difference between the poet and the mathematician is that the poet tries to get his head into the heavens while the mathematician tries to get the heavens into his head.

G.K. Chesterton

Don't tell me you're not beautiful. You're the kind of beautiful the blind would see if we could figure out some way to give them three seconds of sight.

Shane L. Koyczan

A poet's autobiography is his poetry. Anything else is just a footnote.

Yevgeny Yevtushenko

Licence my roving hands, and let them go Before, behind, between, above, below.

John Donne

I live not in myself, but I becomePortion of that around me: and to meHigh mountains are a feeling, but the humof human cities torture.

George Gordon Byron

Who is the third who walks always beside you?When I count, there are only you and I togetherBut when I look ahead up the white roadThere is always another one walking beside youGliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hoodedI do not know whether a man or a woman-But who is that on the other side of you?

T.S Eliot

Such sweet compulsion doth in music lie.

John Milton

They say that I am a poetI wonder what they would say if they saw me from the inside I bottleemotions and place them into the sea for others to unbottle ondistant shores I am unsure as to whether they ever reach and forthat matter as to whether I ever get my point acrossor my love

Saul Williams

Love is a clash of lightnings

Pablo Neruda

Love is a fire that burns unseen,a wound that aches yet isn’t felt,an always discontent contentment,a pain that rages without hurting,a longing for nothing but to long,a loneliness in the midst of people,a never feeling pleased when pleased,a passion that gains when lost in thought.It’s being enslaved of your own free will;it’s counting your defeat a victory;it’s staying loyal to your killer.But if it’s so self-contradictory,how can Love, when Love chooses,bring human hearts into sympathy?

Luís de Camões

I'll Die For Your Sins If You Live For mine.

Jim Carroll

Is it the sea you hear in me,Its dissatisfactions?Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness?

Sylvia Plath

And I learned what is obvious to a child. That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day spent with dreaming and sunsets and refreshing breezes cannot be bettered.

Nicholas Sparks

Our state cannot be severed, we are one,One flesh; to lose thee were to lose myself.

John Milton

I am God, la de dah.

Anne Sexton

Poetry is an act of peace. Peace goes into the making of a poet as flour goes into the making of bread.

Pablo Neruda

See with your soul and not your eyesbecause to dance with the beasts youmust penetrate their disguise.

P.C. Cast

Each in the most hidden sack keptthe lost jewels of memory,intense love, secret nights and permanent kisses,the fragment of public or private happiness.A few, the wolves, collected thighs,other men loved the dawn scratchingmountain ranges or ice floes, locomotives, numbers.For me happiness was to share singing,praising, cursing, crying with a thousand eyes.I ask forgiveness for my bad ways:my life had no use on earth.

Pablo Neruda

But my heart is an old house(the kind my mothergrew up in)hell to heat and cooland faulty in the wiringand though it’s nice to look atI have no businessinviting lovers in.

Clementine von Radics

The stars are brilliant at this time of night and I wander these streets like a ritual I don’t dare to break for darling, the times are quite glorious.I left him by the water’s edge,still waving long after the ship was goneand if someone would have screamed my name I wouldn’t have heard for I’ve said goodbye so many times in my short life that farewells are a muscular task and I’ve taught them well. There’s a place by the side of the railway near the lake where I grew up and I used to go there to burry things and start anew. I used to go there to say goodbye. I was young and did not know many people but I had hidden things inside that I never dared to show and in silence I tried to kill them, one way or the other,leaving sin on my body scrubbing tears off with saltand I built my rituals in farewells. Endings I still cling to. So I go to the ocean to say goodbye.He left that morning, the last words still echoing in my headand though he said he’d come back one day I know a broken promise from a right onefor I have used them myself and there is no coming back.Minds like ours are can’t be tamed and the price for freedom is the price we pay.I turned away from the oceanas not to fall for its pleafor it used to seduce and consume meand there was this one nighta few years back and I was not yet accustomed to farewellsand just like now I stood waving long after the ship was gone.But I was younger then and easily fooledand the ocean was deep and dark and blueand I took my shoes off to let the water freeze my bones.I waded until I could no longer walk and it was too cold to swim but still I kept on walking at the bottom of the sea for I could not tell the difference between the ocean and the lack of someone I loved and I had not yet learned how the task of moving on is as necessary as survival.Then days passed by and I spent them with my work and now I’m writing letters I will never dare to send.But there is this one day every year or sowhen the burden gets too heavyand I collect my belongings I no longer needand make my way to the ocean to burn and drown and start anewand it is quite wonderful, setting fire to my chains and flames on written wordsand I stand there, starring deep into the heat until they’re all gone. Nothing left to hold me back.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 wrapped around my veins,and if you see a fire from the shore tonightit’s my chains going up in flames. The time of moon i quite glorious. We could have been so glorious.

Charlotte Eriksson

So runs my dream, but what am I?An infant crying in the nightAn infant crying for the lightAnd with no language but a cry.

Alfred Tennyson

If I never meet you In this lifeLet me feel the lackA glance from your eyesThen my life Will be yours

James Jones

So many things I had thought forgottenReturn to my mind with stranger pain:Like letters that arrive addressed to someoneWho left the house so many years ago.

Philip Larkin

Some people will tell you there is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

Stop this day and night with me and you shall possess the origin of all poems,You shall possess the good of the earth and sun.... there are millions of suns left,You shall no longer take things at second or third hand.... nor look through the eyes of the dead.... nor feed on the spectres in books,You shall not look through my eyes either, nor take things from me,You shall listen to all sides and filter them from yourself.

Walt Whitman

It is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: it is shyness before any sort of new, unforeseeable experience with which one does not think oneself able to cope. But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical will live the relation to another as something alive.

Rainer Maria Rilke

their heart grew coldthey let their wings down

Sappho

Pity me that the heart is slow to learnWhat the swift mind beholds at every turn.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Safety isn't always safe. You can find one on every gun.

Andrea Gibson

A billion stars go spinning through the night,glittering above your head,But in you is the presence that will bewhen all the stars are dead.

Rainer Maria Rilke

Take this kiss upon the brow!And, in parting from you now,Thus much let me avow-You are not wrong, who deemThat my days have been a dream;Yet if hope has flown awayIn a night, or in a day,In a vision, or in none,? that we see or seemIs but a dream within a dream.

Edgar Allan Poe

When you are old and grey and full of sleep And nodding by the fire, take down this book, And slowly read, and dream of the soft look Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep

W.B. Yeats

To feel most beautifully alive means to be reading something beautiful, ready always to apprehend in the flow of language the sudden flash of poetry.

Gaston Bachelard

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

Stephen Dunn

Truths are written, never said... Lines are drawn, but then they fade.

Colleen Hoover

I am not yours, not lost in you,Not lost, although I long to beLost as a candle lit at noon,Lost as a snowflake in the sea.You love me, and I find you stillA spirit beautiful and bright,Yet I am I, who long to beLost as a light is lost in light.

Sara Teasdale

We pull our boots on with both handsbut we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do is stand on the curb and say Sorryabout the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.

Richard Siken

I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another til I drop.

Jack Kerouac

If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happened better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is not made to be a crumb. (Don't Hesitate)

Mary Oliver

You dance inside my chest,where no one sees you,but sometimes I do, and thatsight becomes this art.

Jalaluddin Rumi

I never dreamed the sea so deep,The earth so dark; so long my sleep,I have become another child.I wake to see the world go wild.

Allen Ginsberg

No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Exercises are like prose, whereas yoga is the poetry of movements. Once you understand the grammar of yoga; you can write your poetry of movements.

Amit Ray

I don't want to go on being a root in the dark,vacillating, stretched out, shivering with sleep,downward, in the soaked guts of the earth,absorbing and thinking, eating each day.

Pablo Neruda

Women who focus on style over substance usually find themselves in a big fucking hole, with other men who want to fuck the hole. Oh so smooth, and none sophistacted. Because, you know, how sophisticated can hole-fucking really be

Emilie Autumn

And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

John Milton

I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.

Walt Whitman

To those who abuse: the sin is yours, the crime is yours, and the shame is yours. To those who protect the perpetrators: blaming the victims only masks the evil within, making you as guilty as those who abuse. Stand up for the innocent or go down with the rest.

Flora Jessop

And would it have been worth it, after all,Would it have been worth while,After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets, After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor - And this, and so much more? -

T.S Eliot

I. Those of us born by water are never afraid enough of drowning. Bruises used to trophy my knees from my death-defying tree climb jumps. Growing up, my backyard was a forest of blackberry bushes. I learned early nothing sweet will come to you unthorned. II. At twelve your body becomes a currency. So Jenny and I sat down and cut up all our clothes into nothing. That year I failed math class but knew the exact number of calories in a carrot stick. I learned early being desired goes hand in hand with hunger.III. The last time I tried to scream I felt my father climbing up through my throat and into my mouth.IV. There is a certain kind of girl who reads Lolita at fourteen and finds religion. I painted my eyes black and sucked barroom cherries to red my tongue. There was a boy who promised Judas really did love Jesus. I learned early every kiss and betrayal are up for interpretation.V. I think he must have conferenced with my nightmares on exactly how to hurt me.VI. He never broke my heart. He only turned it into a compass that always points me back to him.

Clementine von Radics

A poet should be so crafty with words that he is envied even for his pains.

Criss Jami

Democracy! Bah! When I hear that I reach for my feather boa!

Allen Ginsberg

the stars began to burnthrough the sheets of clouds,and there was a new voicewhich you slowlyrecognized as your own

Mary Oliver

never trust anyone who says they do not see color. this means to them,you are invisible.

Nayyirah Waheed

My love is like a red, red rose That's newly sprung in June: My love is like the melody That's sweetly played in tune. How fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in love am I; And I will love thee still, my dear, Till all the seas gang dry. Till all the seas gang dry, my dear, And the rocks melt with the sun;I will love thee still, my dear, While the sands of life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only love. And fare thee weel awhile! And I will come again, my love, Though it were ten thousand mile.

Robert Burns

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Poetry Quotes - Page 101

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