Poetry Quotes - Page 18

Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul...

Emily Dickinson

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

nothing is more opaque than absolute transparency. Look--my feet don't hit the marble! Like breath or a balloon, I'm rising, I hover six inches in the air in my blazing swan-egg of light. You think I'm not a goddess? Try me. This is a torch song. Touch me and you'll burn.

Margaret Atwood

Life is beautiful. Death is astonishing.And love is the just breaths taken in between

Hands burn for a stone, a bomb, to shiver down the glass. Nothing's changed.

Tatamkhulu Afrika

I'm merely dying to be remembered for simply writing about my living memories

In vogue and cosmopolitan they clutch their Pomeranians and walk among the millionaires or watch from swayback steamer chairs

Why spend our time searching to feel reality, when it’s the times that don’t feel real that we remember forever?

I heard your whispered fantasies so clear Softly told in my earI opened my eyes you weren't thereSo real my dream, I was so awareBut we'll meet again so certainlyIn our whispered fantasy

I’m looking for youinto that silverspoon where I taste my reflection to feel the touch of your untouchables- from the poem "Looking For You

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

E.A. Bucchianeri

Come quickly with me.Inhale the divine that swoopsfrom nostril to blunted throatthen sneaks past guarded doorsinto the hallway of your heartwhere the lamplight grows.

Over the water of time I call to youIn a language I do not know.

Visitors come and go.Daily I read tea leaves for signsof the approaching century:a raven perched on a crossa sword piercing a cloud--A Victorian Life

Clara Blackwood

Your face expresses a simple majesty,Your look is that of a captive princess,Your lips have a slight smile andThis shows your glory of being a woman.

Doutor Luis Alexandre Ribeiro Branco

Daisy, simple and discreet flower,That earned the heart of this poet.

Doutor Luis Alexandre Ribeiro Branco

Poetry rhymes, a song our souls need to nourish upon. Poetry is a drum, a sound our bodies wish to have. Poetry is organized, a reading our eyes wish to view. Poetry is refined, a structure our moral selves seek. Poetry is civil, instigating the world to remain sane. Poetry is not ordinary, but it needs the ordinary eyes to continue to be the interesting art form of expression. Poetry is like a child communicating, who later grows to be an adult communicating in prose.

Gloria D. Gonsalves

Loneliness why do you accompany me if I wish to be alone?

Doutor Luis Alexandre Ribeiro Branco

The experiences, the lessons, and the defeats,They were all necessary for me to be me,took me a while being blind before i could see,had to crawl on my knees before i stood on my feet,once i stood on my feet i found out i had wings,the flight is amazing, i felt like a king,and when no one is listening, i found out i can sing, what happy times and thoughts does it bring,whatever it takes just make sure you are free,free to live, and grow like a tree,The people you love are the branches you need,its not about the type, the color, or breed,Live life with ambition, ambition indeed,Thats what it took, and thats what i need.

Little,It is a small measureBut can you measure love?

Doutor Luis Alexandre Ribeiro Branco

My poetry is the highest valuable thing I have to make you smile...

Doutor Luis Alexandre Ribeiro Branco

Poetry is born of a lack of love, born of a crazy and impossible passion...

Doutor Luis Alexandre Ribeiro Branco

Push off, and sitting well in order smite the sounding furrows

Ulysses Tennyson

I am a convinced believer that nothing is "as it is", but it is something that "can become", or we can make out of, if we put faith in our inner resources and feelings to bring the right impetus to the driving wheels of our lives’ mechanism. (Soar)

Soar

The source of beauty in a man, It is humbleness and grace;Equality is the pearl of a king,Justice his scepter;Salvation is his crown.

When the words have been said and the music has been played, feelings are the only form of art which will remain to reign. (Soar)

Soar

Poetry, playing with your words until you breathe life into them.

Morgan Dragonwillow

The comedy of the wicked,Is the tragedy of the saint;But the saint’s comedy,Is the wicked’s remedy.

And in the vine of the divine, There is a fine line;Between tragedy and comedy,That a man cannot define.

I only wake up twice a year,And twice a year I live;In the equinox I am aware,Flying high and everywhere;On other days I grieve.

There is a difference between a poem and a writing incrusted with a feel of Poetry to fall within range

Better poetry than riches,Better poverty than fortunes.

Oh the stellar sensation,Oh the cosmic elevation;Time is sober in death,For the wine of love;Is the blue life of the earth.

You are the know place to which the unknown is always leading me back.""I possess nothing worthy to give you." "There's only me." ~ quotes from poetry that Angelo feels match him and Zach

For those who sense and comprehend,They know that heaven is at hand;The river blue which stream and stream,It has the pictures of my dream.

Stars ink your fingerswith a lexicon of flameblazing rare knowledge.

Aberjhani

Purity is defined by the clearness of the stars

The temporal heart resonates at whispersFrom a Truth overarchingOf whose countenanceTimeless Intellect yearns vainly to fathom

We are not from here, my dear. So:Let the flames take over our bodies,‘cause I wanna merely burn with you.And we can dance until we become ashes,but don’t you dare leave me when we become pointless dust.Because this is when we canfinally blow away with the wind,back to that place where lovewas once real...

Etchings endure, But not in SandMeanings Collide To Unresolved FragmentsCodes fizzle to StaticThey are not lostBut UnheardNever lostFading slowly to SilenceBy infinite degrees

The heart doth recognise thee,Alone, alone! The heart doth smell thee sweet,Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete,—-Though seeing now those changes that disguise thee.

Elizabeth Barrett-Browning

I speak of new cities and new peopleI tell you the past is a bucket of ashes.I tell you yesterday is a wind gone down,a sun dropped in the west.I tell you there is nothing in the worldonly an ocean of tomorrows.a sky of tomorrows.I am a brother of the cornhuskers who sayat sundown:Tomorrow is a day.”- Carl Sandburg, Cornhuskers

Beauty Lies Within The unknown

… For everything precious and pure coming in our lives should be treated likewise.

Soar

There are things we do that the human mind doesn't understand, yet the same things are meant for the heart to fully comprehend.

Soar

Not every given chance deserves love, but every love deserves a given chance.

Soar

But when I think of us,in the quiet when I'm on my own,I think of Beauty and the Beast.I, being the beast, and you being the last beautiful thing in this city.

Danabelle Gutierrez

To withstand the nothing, it really takes everything.But it can also take just one thing: a heartbeat in truth beside you; when the mask has been removed.(Soar)

Soar

Woman with known intentintending to exploreWoman with her senses on the edgeedging for some more..."From my poem, "Known Intent" - The Poetic Art of Seduction - Volume 1©Clarissa O. Clemens

Clarissa Clemens

poetry is the tombstone of experience,nothing i write is my own.~from "the damned

D.W.Metz

In dealing with many words and different cultures every day, I have come to realize that the essence of life can be reduced to the magic of three sentences, in the order of their strength: “I apologize”, “I love you”, “Hi”. The use and the meaning you replenish them with become the mirror of yourself, eventually of an entire humanity. (Soar)

Soar

Decades from now, my grandchild is going to be a poet... And she's going to write about how she's a living testament to how her grandmother made love to hurricane and calmed the storm.

Danabelle Gutierrez

~ Not every poem is meant for oral stimulation, some are better devoured mentally.

Break, break, break,On thy cold gray stones, O Sea!And I would that my tongue could utterThe thoughts that arise in me.O, well for the fisherman's boy,That he shouts with his sister at play!O, well for the sailor lad,That he sings in his boat on the bay!And the stately ships go onTo their haven under the hill;But O for the touch of a vanished hand,And the sound of a voice that is still!Break, break, break,At the foot of thy crags, O Sea!But the tender grace of a day that is deadWill never come back to me.

Alfred Tennyson

On sunny days of summer, I am indeed the butterfly;And like the ancient drummer,I rhythm straight towards the sky...

Thou therefore on these Herbs, and Fruits, and Flow'rsFeed first, on each Beast next, and Fish, and Fowl, No homely morsels, and whatever thingThe Scyth of Time mows down, devour unspar'd, Till I in Man residing through the Race, His thoughts, his looks, words, actions all infect, And season him thy last and sweetest prey.

Eyes closed on an open soul...the world starts from within its core towards its final frontier: the end surface.

Soar

When the shadows shroud the woods,And the mountains are empty and bare;I am flying with the crow...

I came to explore the wreck. / The words are purposes. / The words are maps. / I came to see the damage that was done / and the treasures that prevail.

But he who feels too much,He soars in angels’ tears of joy...

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