Poetry Quotes - Page 19

When the Earth was just a child,He searched for his mother Venus;And for his father Mars,But they were not home;They were gone elsewhere,Out there, in the great expanse; Beyond the breathing universe.

Time, so majestically fine, was passing by when I asked him to stop, a while, and lay his imprint upon the spaciousness of feelings: his face, reflected in the mirror of my memories, his smile, envisaged by my eyes, in quest of his new dwellings with wells of meanings. And there, he stopped its moment... and kissed my curiosity. It was then when I felt in love with him.

Soar

To hear her name I truly yearn,My heart is crying out;The sense of love I wish to earn,Without a second doubt.

LIFE IS NEVER OVER.

Amy King

ERRORS ARE WHAT MAKE US HUMAN. PLOT TWIST: I'M A HORSE.

Amy King

YOU SAY "POET" LIKE THAT MEANS SOMETHING.

Amy King

I WISH YOU ALL THE REALITY YOU COULD EVER WANT. HANDLE. WANT.

Amy King

Go to the poets, they will speak to theeMore perfectly of purer creatures--

William Wordsworth

Here's to adrenaline. Here's to dramatic abandon of protocol. Here's to treasured pain and purple rain. Here's to chasing our souls, burning across to sky. Here's to drinking the ash as it falls, and not asking why.

Virginia Petrucci

I don't analyze beautiful. I sit in its presence and love the wholeness of it--the sweet and sad and raw and bright together.Poetry is that, the weaving of light-shadow. Making words from the unwordable.

Whenever life is getting tough hold on.Don't let it get the best of you stay strong.

Laqueisha Malone

Cut lose your ties with expectation. Your dreams are charlatans, your memories, stalemating quarks. Listen only to the pull of your atoms and follow the discordant hum of your personal entropy.

Virginia Petrucci

I like my thingshurried and haunted. Night teadarktime. Sacred geometry, secret geometrypetal-flame whisper: I am here, and you aren't.

Virginia Petrucci

My mind: a thousand hungry daughters,my harlot heritage.Marbles: lost, no rescue search.Your heart: blooming thorns,and a stolen grocery cart.

Virginia Petrucci

You crawled inside myribs to die. Giant becomes squirrelbecomes a dirt-wet girlfeverishly alive.

Virginia Petrucci

You were, arecactus tourism. meeting you: granularfractals borrowed from oceans.

Virginia Petrucci

2 to 12 hearts 1 beat2 lips will meet2 birds 1 stone2 never b alone2 wills 1 goal2 haves 1 whole2 be in love2 be as One***©Clarissa O. ClemensThe Poetic Diary of Love and Change - Volume 1

Clarissa Clemens

And perhaps, I'm a Tuesday night and you're a Wednesday morning the way we'll never even notice how we blend into each other.

Danabelle Gutierrez

When he asks you whyyou chose alone all these years.Tell him that it’s becauseyou love with all claws and bared teeth.Apologize for the scratchesthat you will leave on his skin;ask forgiveness for the bite marks.Tell him you never ever mean to love so hard, but you do.

Danabelle Gutierrez

Winning a love is just an outcome, keeping a love is a true accomplishment.

Soar

He loved me like thick molasses on a summer's day. Pure, sweet, sticky, warm, dark.

Danabelle Gutierrez

Cultivate the distance. Nurture the silence. Let it grow until your fragile heart is as far and inaccessible as his marbled emotions. Don't talk. Don't move. Sit still. If he shows up, lie. Believe your own excuses.And if he tries to charm his way back in, punch him in the face.

Danabelle Gutierrez

Falling in desire with truth and hope is enhancing our soul with a precious love...

Soar

We met last fall, and dreamt of summer days together. Winter came, and when you left, Winter stayed.

William C Hannan

Don't be afraid of Pain. Pain only comes down to a certain point... beyond that, it can't reach you and the love you have inside.

Yet do I marvel at this curious thing: To make a poet black, and bid him sing.

And yet, my girl, we weep in vain,In vain our fate in sighs deplore;Remembrance only can remain,But that, will make us weep the more.

George Gordon Byron

Each oneFrom one’s little nooseCranes outYells and shoutsGroans aloudAnd grows stoutAnd the noose tightensLeaving no way to creap outTill at the endSwollenSpent outBecomes silent.I am also having my turn among all.

Anuradha Bhattacharyya

...make a poem that does not disturb the silence from which it came." Wendell Berry

When the Brooklyn rain comes downhopefully it will be to fuckin' wake you up

We will spend the rest of the day inventing a kind of love that no longer exists in the world, a kind of love no army can pillage at the outposts, no rumor could bring to its knees like a traitor.

Richard Jackson

Maybe I should just lie quietly inside you while our old selves slip in and out of the back rooms of the soul.

Richard Jackson

In writing I try to pare down the descriptive bits. If I feel that I could say something in as few words as possible, then I would rather do it than to go on padding. One should describe sufficiently to give the reader a sense of what one feels, but not at the same time overwhelm the reader in any way. For example, I feel that if you use lots of adjectives they have a mutually cancelling effect. If you can describe a scene well enough, without having to use far too many words, I would rather do so.

I had a theory; I’m not sure if it was my own but it worked for me. Public spaces, such as streets and subway stations, became inhabitable as I assigned them some value and imprinted an experience on them. If I recited a snatch of Paterson every time I walked along a certain avenue, eventually that avenue would sound like William Carlos Williams. The entrance to the subway at 116th Street was Emily Dickinson’s:Presentiment is that long shadow on the lawnIndicative that suns go down;The notice to the startled grassThat darkness is about to pass.

Valeria Luiselli

There are things that are not sayable. That's why we have words.

Amy King

You think her innocent/ Your little lost girl/ Caped in Inquisition red/ Yet when she leads you hunting Hyde/ Mind don't slay Jekyll in his stead

Shannon Barnsley

DESPITE THE INVENTION OF TIME MACHINES, WE KEEP BEING LINEAR.

Amy King

THE AMPUTATED HEARTBEATS HARDER

Amy King

OMG! I DESIGNED THIS NEW SOCIAL MEDIA PLATFORM! IT'S CALLED "POETRY" - YOU HAVE TO READ AMY KING'S POEMS TO GET AN INVITE ~

Amy King

SOME PEOPLE SIMPLY DO NOT EXIST ANYMORE. GET USED TO IT. QUESTION MARK.

Amy King

WORDS SHLD BE FREE. RELEASE THEM FROM THEIR SENTENCES.

Amy King

HER BARBED-WIRE SMILELIFTED YOU TO HEAVENBUT I HAVE TO ASKDID GOD LOOK LIKE HER VOICE

Amy King

IT'S NOT THE HONEY WHISKEY IN A FRIDAY NIGHT - IT'S THE MANIC SHOW OF POETRY TWEETS THAT TURNS ME ON.

Amy King

Poetry in the dark of the night you are my torch.Poetry makes you believe in the freedom in your own home.Poetry causes the increase of the human race.Poetry ennobles the spirit of man.Poetry is like a noble fragrance that caresses your soul.Poetry is the royal essence of beauty.

Kristian Goldmund Aumann

may my faith always beat the end of the daylike a hummingbird...returningto its favorite flower.

i will forever be collidingwith a billion unnamedundiscovered stars, each of uson our own orbital paths.

Love, bemysticalas the flickering blue flameof nightas the fully-awokenmoonbeneath cobwebsof passing cloudsamidst chantinghigh-tidesfuzzy,as my blanketbig enough to illuminate a hundredthousand billion galaxiesand just small enough to fitinto my embrace.

love was never meant to bejust a metaphorbetween the pages of poetry.

when i write of you, my deari am holding youin the most exquisiteways.

it's springand the goat-footedballoonMan whistlesfarandwee

We wear many things, but that with greatest import is our expression.

J. Benson

The tongues of hell are dull.

A poem in the heart is worthmore than a million dollarsin the bank account.

My emotions have already spilled out on a canvas; I need you my king, to rescue me from the madness!

To truly understand poetry one must understand themselves from within one’s self.

Richard M. Knittle Jr.

Having experimented in both poetry and prose, I can say that the two are such loaded words. But neither are quite as weighted as the word “poet”. I think some people can write poetry their whole lives, and never truly BE a “poet”. Whereas I see poets in the wanderers I encounter, the baristas who serve me, and the truckers I, so, love to talk to.To be a poet in my humble opinion is to be a muse of the human experience. I love that I love the idea, that anything can be poetry, it can’t be defined. It’s a feeling, like punk rock. I’m not one for form or structure. I say if your words are visceral and honest, it’s poetry. If you see the beauty of the world and humanity, and you preach it, you’re a poet.

When you find yourself writing, reading, or listening the delivery of words when spoken? You know the melody of wordplay. “& I love Wordplay

The most racket time of the year for those that don't know, is the warmest of the four seasons and the winter as it is so cold and felt in your heart.

Auliq-Ice

You touched my heart...ever so softlyand I realizedtears had never been...merely saltand the rainOh the Rain!had never been merely water.

sometimes i am not sure.if i am writing the poemor the poemis writing me.

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