Poetry Quotes - Page 3

Instead of imitating me, you simply loiter.

Dejan Stojanovic

In the end, the world returns to a grain.

Dejan Stojanovic

Moon is the light from a lantern in heaven

Even in the broken state, my mind find waysto connect with you.

Anjum Choudhary

The artistic methods of poetry, painting, photography, and writing share certain commonalities of deep composition: spirit, rhythm, thought, and scenery.

Kilroy J. Oldster

Don’t try to present your art by making other people read or hear or see or touch it; make them feel it. Wear your art like your heart on your sleeve and keep it alive by making people feel a little better. Feel a little lighter. Create art in order for yourself to become yourselfand let your very existence be your song, your poem, your story.Let your very identity be your book.Let the way people say your name sound like the sweetest melody.

Charlotte Eriksson

I don’t existmetal pressed to pagesspilling blood, inkin vein each thought ragesSunlight shootingthrough a forest of pinesblack top windingand yellow dotted linesI am not hereonly a deep aching,a lightning flashand a tree trunk breakingSheets once alive covered in a deep redmark the presentbut I am not yet deadNothing is hereonly the rain and mistfresh air and soilI do not need to exist.

THE SILENT PEOPLESome people are so rude,Living their lives with no concern for others,Or possibly just intent on pissing other people off-Annoying everyone around them.The silent people-Want to kill them-And drive forks into their skulls-Create weapons of extreme torture-And scream from the top of their lungs-"SHUT UP."But words are not spoken-And attention is not given.Though annoyance is apparent,The annoying keep on living.

Give me another Chance Then, You will Get Less than I Gain...

Root yourself in this earthand it will root itself in you.

Sheniz Janmohamed

Don't tell a girl with fire in her veins and hurricane bones what she should and shouldn't do. In the blink of an eye, she will shatter that ridiculous cage you attempt to build around her beautiful bohemian spirit.

I feel no grief for being called somethingwhichI am not;in fact, it's enthralling, somehow, like a goodback rub

Charles Bukowski

I was never afraid of the dark and I spent my youth walking through empty playgrounds at midnight, worried mothers telling girls to be careful and ”the world is an ugly place and not everyone wants you well”. But I was not afraid and I wished for adrenaline to make my veins pulsate in that way that puts them more on the outside of my skin than inside.After the first night with you I never walked alone at night again because suddenly I had something to lose. Something to save.

Charlotte Eriksson

...unquestioning automatonsblindly marching to the beat -an eerie crunching soundhoards of shuffling feet...(from silent moments)

Muse

Dancing falls into the same category as poetry for a woman – it equals dreaming, which may inspire thoughts about such banned topics as love and desire.

I stand in my own power now, the questions of permission that I used to choke on for my every meal now dead in a fallen heap, and when they tell me that I will fall, I nod. I will fall, I reply, and my words are a whispermy words are a howlI will fall , I say, and the tumbling will be all my own. The skinned palms and oozing knees are holy wounds, stigmata of my She. I will catch my own spilled blood, and not a drop will be wasted.

I shall have my lasso, I shall lead the course;I recognize it’s time to mount a different horse.

If freedom is free and none need worry, then what blood drops for thee?

Everyday can be extraordinaryAnd ripe,Like a flower burst,If the will is there.

Real Martial Arts is Mathematics, Physics, Poetry; Meditation in Action

Soke Behzad Ahmadi

Give me a moment I am preparing to drawback to screamLouder than a train overhead below a railroad bridge

John E. Wordslinger

Superior poets say what they really feel. Mediocre poets say what they decide to feel. Inferior poets say what they think they should feel.

Álvaro de Campos

I collect my thoughts, I choose my words, Whenever I decide to talk to you.But...I feel like a dumb, without a tongue,Whenever I reach in front of you.I wonder why it happens to me?even when my feelings are genuine and true.

The season was waning fastOur nights were growing cold at lastI took her to bed with silk and song,'Lay still, my love, I won’t be long...I must prepare my body for passion.''O, your body you give, but all else you ration.''It is because of these dreams of a sylvan scene...A bleeding nymph to leave me serene...I have dreams of a trembling wench.''You have dreams,' she said, 'that cannot be quenched.''Our passion,' said I, 'should never be feared...As our longing for love can never be cured...Our want is our way and our way is our will...We have the love, my love, that no one can kill.''If night is your love, then in dreams you’ll fulfill...This love, our love, that no one can kill.'Yet want is my way, and my way is my will,Thus I killed my love with a sleeping pill.

Big Love and More Light!XxMwaaahhhhXx

K. Love

Passion lingers on a state of blissLove loves you more when you kiss

I am the interpretation of the prophetI am the artist in the coffinI am the brave flag stained with bloodI am the wounds overcomeI am the dream refusing to sleepI am the bare-breasted voice of libertyI am the comic the insult and the laughI am the right the middle and the leftI am the poached eggs in the skyI am the Parisian streets at nightI am the dance that swings till dawnI am the grass on the greener lawnI am the respectful neighbour and the graceful manI am the encouraging smile and the helping handI am the straight back and the lifted chinI am the tender heart and the will to winI am the rainbow in rainI am the human who won’t die in vainI am Athena of Greek mythologyI am the religion that praises equalityI am the woman of stealth and affectionI am the man of value and compassionI am the wild horse ploughing throughI am the shoulder to lean ontoI am the Muslim the Jew and the ChristianI am the Dane the French and the PalestinianI am the straight the square and the roundI am the white the black and the brownI am the free speech and the free pressI am the freedom to expressI will die for my right to be all the above here mentionedAnd should threat encounter I’ll pull my pencil

Magic is when you live your life the way you didn’t picture it and leave nothing behind.

Robert M. Drake

Ill love you with every little bit of everything that has ever consumed me and I will forever love you and forever find you in every life time and so on. Until the stars die out and the universe leaps but even then, my love will remain.

Robert M. Drake

our love likestepping on to a planesitting down in a carwalking on unknown land will either take us to where we belongor throw us into darkness

scott mcgoldrick

Come to me.Why must you ruin this moment?You are burdened with thought.Burdened with the pastand expectations of the future.You are burdened with your self.Cast these aside by laughing at yourself.And love,for what more is there than to love me?Take me nowand let it be heaven for us.

In a world of lovelightning and rainbow are lovers now. They arc and strike upon the horizon of credence to rise above their cloudy vow

Sitting in a corner, I live like a toad Oh! How I love my room: my tiny abode! Here I wake up; and I sleep in hereThe world far away; yet virtually near Not that I'm jailed in this place of graceJust don't want to face another face

That old man over thereIs selling trinkets made of stonesThat old woman the entire worldIn a map without any hole!

The world is always open, Waiting to be discovered.

Dejan Stojanovic

Change happens for youthe moment you want somethingmore than you fear it.

Eric Micha'el Leventhal

Between the poles of the conscious and the unconscious, there has the mind made a swing:Thereon hang all beings and all worlds, and that swing never ceases its sway. (pg. 16)

Kabir

PartingOne is strong, a child now grownThe other weak, a parent aged-The strong once feebleThe weak once mighty-Time, the infinityhas marked them...

Muse

Life is an affair of mystery; shared with companions of music, dance and poetry.

Shah Asad Rizvi

Make dance the mission every moment seeks to accomplish.

Shah Asad Rizvi

Meadow's Waltz...the meadow had becomeher sanctuary of spiritoffering an escape from a painno child should ever endureforeboding clouds began...

Muse

Little Maiden Encounters FearDeepest regions walked she therelittle maiden sweet and fairventured far from the pathnever a whispernever a laugh...

Muse

Brahma and AiravataLong ago in lands of golden sandBrahma turned to Saraswatiand gently kissed her inked hand....

Muse

I keep my kindness in my eyes Gently folded around my iris Like a velvety, brown blanket That warms my vision I keep my shyness in my hair Tucked away into a ponytail Looking for a chance to escape On a few loose strands in the air I keep my anger on my lips Just waiting to unleash into the world But trust me; it’s never in my heart It evaporates into words I keep my dignity upon my chin Like a torch held up high For those who have betrayed me Radiating a silent, strong message I keep my gratitude in my smileA glistening waterfall in the sun Gently splashing at that personWho made me happy for some reason I keep my sensitivity in my hands Reaching out for your wet cheek Holding you, with all the love The love I want to share, and feel I keep my passion in my writing My words breathing like fire Screeching against an endless road As I continue to be inspired I keep my simplicity in my soul Spread over me like a clear sky Reflecting all that I am And all that’s ever passed me by And I hope you will look Beyond my ordinary faceMy simple, tied hairMy ordinary tastes And I hope you will see me From everyone...apart As I keep my beauty in my heart.

When I write...I am in the fond armsof a childhood friendupon whose colorful heart I can hang the charcoal drawingsof my woes.

Am I making something worth while?I’m not sure.I write and I sing and I hear words from time to time about my life and choices making ways, into other lives, other hearts,but am I making something worth while?I’m not sure.There was a boy last night who I never spoke to because I was too drunk and still shy, but mostly lonely, and I couldn’t find anything lightly to say,so I simply walked awaybut still wondered what he did with his lifebecause he didn’t even speak to meor look at mebut still made me wonder who he wasand I walked away askingAm I making something worth while?I am not sure.I am a complicated person with a simple lifeand I am the reason for everything that ever happened to me.

Charlotte Eriksson

this heart yearns...for the salt of unsmelt airunswept thunderstorms...unknown adventures.

I breathe in...the silenceof my own heartaching with tendernesswith memories..Of home.

Get out of my head,You've overstayed your stay,This head no longer can spare more thoughts,Leave my aching heart alone,You weaved your web all over my heart,Captured what was never yours,The aching in my chest can't bare more,Get out of here,My soul is no longer a safe place.

I am clumsy, drop glasses and get drunk on Monday afternoons. I read Seneca and can recite Shakespeare by heart, but I mess up the laundry, don’t answer my phone and blame the world when something goes wrong. I think I have a dream, but most of the days I’m still sleeping. The grass is cut. It smells like strawberries. Today I finished four books and cleaned my drawers. Do you believe in a God? Can I tell you about Icarus? How he flew too close to the sun?I want to make coming home your favourite part of the day. I want to leave tiny little words lingering in your mind, on nights when you’re far away and can’t sleep. I want to make everything around us beautiful; make small things mean a little more. Make you feel a little more. A little better, a little lighter. The coffee is warm, this cup is yours. I want to be someone you can’t live without.I want to be someone you can’t live without.

Charlotte Eriksson

With dark raven paper and twinkling white ink, I wrote my heart in the night’s sky.

Shannon L. Alder

I am not a broken heart,and I am not your fault.

Charlotte Eriksson

You are the mark on my liquid heartwhere love begins with the beginning’s startYou are the desire of the ablaze fires the only truth from ten-thousand-liarsFrom the poem- A Letter to My Love

The moon seems unawareof night's dark hittingon the damp warm rain misguiding owl's spitting A thunder light of loveraising hearts beatingwhile weather learns morefrom rain lovers meeting

BLESSINGS ARE IMMEASURABLEYou canLose a childOr a parent,The love of your life,A good job,A game,A deal,A bet,An idea,Your favorite thing,Money,Your best friend,A moment,An opportunity,A chance,Your keys,Your mind,Your health,Your identity,Your virginity,Your religion,Your shirt,Your license,ID or Passport,Phone or phone number,Hope,Faith,Luck,Your pride,Or your house,And feel likeYou've lost everything,And keep on losing.StopCounting lossesAnd start counting your blessings.Only then,Will you discover that lossesAre easier to point outAnd countThan blessings,And that blessingsOutnumber your lossesFor they are trulyImmeasurable.It is only normal thatPeople count losses withTheir minds,And ignoreTo count blessingsWith the graciousnessOf their hearts.

Sealing your lips makes your eyes talk Truth creeps beneath your lame feet’s walk Knees stiffen when blood vessels stalk A pounding heart’s lies hard as rock

When the tidal waves wildly behavingMy bare feet on the shore busy savingThe calm warmth leaking out of the sandTo let my heart feel peacefully tanned!

PEOPLE WITH THE SMARTEST MOUTHSHAVE THE DUMBEST BRAINS

Qwana Reynolds-Frasier

To transform a grimace into a sound sounds impossible, yet it is possible to transform a vision into music, to go outside an enslaved personality, to become impersonal by transforming into sand, into water, into light.

Dejan Stojanovic

Lorenzo: In such a night stood Dido with a willow in her hand upon the wild sea-banks, and waft her love to come again to Carthage Jessica: In such a night Medea gathered the enchanted herbs that did renew old Aeson. Lorenzo: In such a night did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew, and with an unthrift love did run from Venice, as far as Belmont. Jessica: In such a night did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well, stealing her soul with many vows of faith, and ne'er a true one. Lorenzo: In such a night did pretty Jessica (like a little shrow) slander her love, and he forgave it her. Jessica: I would out-night you, did nobody come; but hark, I hear the footing of a man.

William Shakespeare

Previous 1 2 3 4 5 … 7 Next