Poetry Quotes - Page 116

What will he then do unto his name whereby we are called? ...of these things have I asked.

The more thou search, the more thou shall marvel.

If the most High grant thee to live, thou shall see after the third trumpet that the sun shall suddenly shine again in the night, and the moon thrice in the day:

Blood shall drop out of wood, and the stone shall give his voice, and the people shall be troubled:

He shall rule, whom they look not for that dwell upon the earth, and the fowls shall take their flight away together:

The Sodomy sea shall cast out fish, and make a noise in the night, which many have not known: but they shall all hear the voice thereof.

There shall be confusion also in many places, and the fire shall be oft sent out again, and the wild beasts shall change their places, and menstruate women shall bring forth monsters:

Salt waters shall be found in the sweet, and all friends shall destroy one another; then shall wit hide itself, and understanding withdraw itself into his secret chamber-

One land also shall ask another, and say, ‘Is righteousness that makes a man righteous gone through thee?’ And it shall say, ‘No.

At the same time shall men hope, but nothing obtain: they shall labor, but their ways shall not prosper.

To shew thee such tokens I have leave; and if thou wilt pray again, and weep as now, and fast even days, thou shall hear yet greater things.

An extreme fearfulness moves through all your body, and your mind is troubled more.

After seven days of fasten so it was, that the thoughts of my heart were very grievous unto me- and my soul recovered the spirit of understanding.

Hear me, and I will instruct thee; hearken to the thing that I say, and I shall tell thee more.

Thou art sore troubled in mind for the people in the world’s sake: loves thou that people better than he that made them?

Number me the things that are not yet come- gather me together the dross that are scattered abroad- make me the flowers green again that are withered- Open me the places that are closed, and bring me forth the winds that in them are shut up- shew me the image of a voice: and then I will declare to thee the thing that thou labor to know.

O Lord that bear rule, who may know these things, but he that had not his dwelling with men?

As for you, you're unwise: how may you then speak of these things whereof thou ask you?

Like as thou canst do none of these things that I have spoken of, even so canst thou not find out my judgment, or in the end the love that I have promised unto my people.

Behold, O Lord, yet art thou nigh unto them that be reserved till the end: and what shall they do that have been before me, or we that be now, or they that shall come after us?

I will liken my judgment unto a ring: like as there is no slackness of the last, even so there is no swiftness of the first.

Could thou not make those that have been made, and be now, and that are for to come, at once; that thou might shew thy judgement the sooner?

They that be born in the strength of youth are of one fashion, and they that are born in the time of age, when the womb fail, are otherwise.

Seeing thou hast now given me the way, I will proceed to speak before thee: for our mother, of whom thou hast told me that she is young, draw now nigh unto age.

Like as a young child may not bring forth the things that belong to the aged, even so have I disposed the world which I created.

What betrayed me? Was it my heart? Or my Soul?

Stand up upon the right side, and I shall expound the similitude unto thee.

Consider with thyself; as the rain is more than the drops, and as the fire is greater than the smoke; but the drops and the smoke remain behind: so the quantity which is past did more exceed.

As for the tokens whereof thou ask me, I may tell thee of them in part: but as touching thy life, I am not sent to shew thee.

Iniquity shall be increased above that which now thou see, or that thou hast heard long ago.

The land, that thou see now to have root, shall thou see wasted suddenly.

Even so have I given the womb of the earth to those that be sown in it in their times.

You'd corner me in your conformity but even in dormancy i'm sleeping with enormity, stretching the belly of the earth & everything i was born to be.

Curtis Tyrone Jones

I am a world of uncertainties disguised as a girl.

In love madly,traveling though thelife-raft's unravelingin a beautiful tragedy,but gladly i'm stillpaddling throughthe oceanof youranatomy.

Curtis Tyrone Jones

The best piece of life's magnificence is your slice of internal peace.

Curtis Tyrone Jones

You can'tassume i'min bad shapejust becausei've run out ofthe energy toimpressyou.

Curtis Tyrone Jones

Life's a gloomy puddle, until you start jumping in it.

Curtis Tyrone Jones

Some bow to the spirit of collectivism, while you ascend to the spirit of your own eclectic rhythms.

Curtis Tyrone Jones

The fun part is finding which thoughts, in that crazy beehive of emotion, are the ones that mass produce the honey.

Curtis Tyrone Jones

Your fate is never determined when your massive imagination is.

Curtis Tyrone Jones

Wise is the one who flavors the future with some salt from the past. Becoming dust is no threat to the phoenix born from the ash.

Curtis Tyrone Jones

Your words on the screen are my color palette I dip my brush into your words and paint youOn the sky, on the ceiling, on the snow; on the tabletOf things eternal : love truth beauty happiness

Richard L. Ratliff

To the person in my future...I hope you're ready, because I'm going to love you... fiercely. You'll never have to suffer for my past heartache. It's taught me that I need love more than the absence of it. I'm not perfect, nor is my track record. I've experienced a lot of takers in my life - but I'll love you with every part of me that remains.

Alfa H

Unusual things, they quickly grab my attention. Messy hair and rainy days are my kinds of perfection, but I mostly love when you kiss me hard and take me beyond this realm to that holy place I only find with you.

There are those times when you need to push negative people aside, give fear a swift kick in the ass and fire up your dreams.

When catastrophe strikes compassion and love unite. A storm can't break the spirit of love. A storm may crack your windows, tear off your roof, wreck your house, but it absolutely cannot destroy the foundation you hold within yourself. Stay strong. Stay rooted. Carry love in your heart, always, and know the sacred things in life can't be touched.

If I should get lost in all the chaos of the world, pull your butterly net and catch me in the beauty of your love. Remind me of important things -- friends, flowers, fields of cool grass under bare feet, blue skies above, rain on my face, and freedom... freedom to make a difference, freedom to be me. Pull out your butterfly net and remind me of these things, and most of all... your undying love.

My art is that of the 35mm kind; my poetry is of the lead and ink kind; my happiness is of the product of both; and my legacy is of the story of my soul, that my life left behind

And me, standing under the splintered night, catching fractured glimpses into the black behind the black, hearing the prayers of stars, the angry whispers of the dark summer night.Its voice cracks,on your name.My eyes close,on your name.

You know what I love? The spaces between I love you. The tap of your fork against the plate and how my cup of wine clicks against our table. The scratchy voice coming from the radio in the other room. The quiet sound of your hand reaching across the table and whispering over mine. How your voice sounds like your mouth on the back of my neck. The soft murmur of our easy conversation.Between these quiet Tuesday night routines, following every comma and right after every pause for breath, is I, love, and you. In the middle of every I love you is a sink full of dishes, whisper of socked feet tangled in white sheets, and gentle kisses against curved cheeks. We lyric ourselves into the laundry that needs to be finished, into the ends of every smile that follows me repeating your name. We write ourselves into the grocery bags we need to carry, the cracks running up our rented walls, the sides of the bed we choose to drag up the sails of heavy eyed dreams.Like the spaces between our fingers, in the spaces between I, love, and you, we wait.The in-betweens have always been my favorite.

she slammed the door andwas gone.I looked at the closed doorand at the doorknoband strangelyI didn't feelalone.

Charles Bukowski

If you stand right at the edge of the night sky, some place where one o’clock leaves to meet two, the breeze will carry your words up to the stars. And they’ll swallow your secrets until its time to hand them over to the truths in the sky- the ones that draw maps in the black. They carve their answers into the backs of my hands, the grooves of the words running deep in my palms.

Percy wakes me (fourteen)Percy wakes me and I am not ready.He has slept all night under the covers.Now he’s eager for action: a walk, then breakfast.So I hasten up. He is sitting on the kitchen counter Where he is not supposed to be. How wonderful you are, I say. How clever, if you Needed me, To wake me. He thought he would a lecture and deeply His eyes begin to shine.He tumbles onto the couch for more compliments.He squirms and squeals: he has done something That he needed And now he hears that it is okay. I scratch his ears. I turn him over And touch him everywhere. He isWild with the okayness of it. Then we walk, then He has breakfast, and he is happy.This is a poem about Percy.This is a poem about more than Percy.Think about it.

I like the disaster of the night sky, stars spilling this way and that as if they were upturned from a glass. I like the way good madness feels. I like the way laughter always spills. That's the word for it. It never just comes, it spills. I like the word 'again'. Again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again. I like the quiet sound a coffee cup makes when it's set down on a wooden table. So hushed. So inviting. Like morning light yawning through the window and stretching out onto the kitchen floor. I like the way girls' lips look like they're stained with berries. I like the way morning light breaks like a prism through the empty wine bottles on our dusty apartment floor. Glasses empty except for the midnight hour. I like the way blueberries stain my fingers during the summer. I like the way light hits your eyes and turns it into a color that doesn't exist anywhere else other than in this moment. I want it all. I want the breeze to call my name as it rushes down my street, looking for me. I want to feel grass underneath my bare feet and I want to feel the sun kiss freckles onto my cheeks. I want to hear you yell hello as you make your way towards me, not goodbye as you have to go. That's just a little bit about me.

We remember though all the firelit glowOf a great hearth's gleam and glare,And we looked for a space at each happy faceAnd the love that was written there.

To sense the peace of extinguished passionHappiness in not knowing the ultimate knowledge

Dejan Stojanovic

Happiness. It comes onunexpectedly. And goes beyond, really,any early morning talk about it.

How can I tell Bob that my happiness streams from having wrenched a piece out of my life, a piece of hurt and beauty, and transformed it to typewritten words on paper? How can he know I am justifying my life, my keen emotions, my feeling, by turning it into print?

I enjoy melancholic music and art. They take me to places I don't normally get to go.

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