Poetry Quotes - Page 34

All of my insecuritiesshine in the dark.

SOUL SHINEYou know that thingYou do so well,That little sparkYou hideIn the dark,That you thinkNobodyKnowsAboutButYou?Well,Did you knowThatThere'sA sheenThat you beam,When you talkOr doAnything,That everyoneKnowsAboutButYou?

Suzy Kassem

it is being honest about my painthat makes me invincible.

Nayyirah Waheed

Suffering is permanent, obscure and dark,And has the nature of infinity.

William Wordsworth

To toil, to think, to long, to grieve,—Is such my future fate?The morn was dreary, must the eveBe also desolate?

Charlotte Brontë

To suffer together is to suffer with beauty...

Kelli Russell Agodon

I almost gave my life long ago for a thingThat has gone to dust now, stinging my eyes—It is strange how often a heart must be brokenBefore the years can make it wise.

Sara Teasdale

I measure every Grief I meetWith narrow, probing, eyes –I wonder if It weighs like Mine –Or has an Easier size.I wonder if They bore it long –Or did it just begin –I could not tell the Date of Mine –It feels so old a pain –I wonder if it hurts to live –And if They have to try –And whether – could They choose between –It would not be – to die –I note that Some – gone patient long –At length, renew their smile –An imitation of a LightThat has so little Oil –I wonder if when Years have piled –Some Thousands – on the Harm –That hurt them early – such a lapseCould give them any Balm.

Emily Dickinson

Though fervent was our vow,Though ruddily ran our pleasure,Bliss has fulfilled its measure,And sees its sentence now.Ache deep; but make no moans:Smile out; but stilly suffer:The paths of love are rougherThan thoroughfares of stones.

Thomas Hardy

And so beneath the weight lay IAnd suffered death, but could not die.

Edna St. Vincent Millay

On the far horizon waved some flicker of lightMy heart, a city of suffering, awoke in a state of dreamMy eyes, turning restless, still dreaming,the morning, dawning in this vacuous abode of separation.

Faiz Ahmed Faiz

It could be yesterdaywhen I was less in loveI thinkFor I didn’t see you in the mirrorbehind mewhile getting dressed.The way your hands couldn’t stay awayand our bodies always found their ways back to each otheras if they were meant to be togetherClose.But then it was today and I saw you againin the mirrorbehind me while getting dressedSo I go to sleep tonightalonewithout actually falling asleep because I’m scared of the moment I will wake upand realise it was just a dreamYou’re actually gone.Now all I can do is get through to another tomorrowhoping that I will be less in loveagainLike yesterdayBut not today.I was never really well with things at all.

Charlotte Eriksson

There were days when I still put on make up in case you’d come back,but I wear the same clothes and shower in the rainand eat when I can and sleep when I can,which is rare and not often,so if you’d see me nowon these streetswhere I once imagined walking with youyou’d have a hard time recognising me.I takes a lot to run away.

Charlotte Eriksson

I live on in the sweetness of old dayswith strangers who build new dwellingson blue hills up to the edge of the sky,I talk softly with the captured treesand comfort them sometimes.How slowly time consumes the core of things,and soundlessly treads fate’s heavy heel.

Edith Södergran

When this, our rose, is faded,And these, our days, are done,In lands profoundly shadedFrom tempest and from sun:Ah, once more come together,Shall we forgive the past,And safe from worldly weatherPossess our souls at last?

Ernest Dowson

The past is uselessto me now:an old suitcasewith mould in the lining,heavy even when empty.

Robyn Sarah

I wish I was what I have beenAnd what I was could beAs when I roved in shadows greenAnd loved my willow treeTo gaze upon the starry skyAnd higher fancies buildAnd make in solitary joyLoves temple in the field

John Clare

even in death, his last breath was poetryexisting in the wind and on the breeze of"it used to be likes" forever remembering,yet never relivinghis lifewill never be what it used to be like.

N'Zuri Za Austin

Into my heart an air that killsFrom yon far country blows:What are those blue remembered hills,What spires, what farms are those?That is the land of lost content,I see it shining plain,The happy highways where I wentAnd cannot come

A.E. Housman

I want to look into a mirror that will love my own reflection harder than I hate myself.

Meggie Royer

EdgesI am a child throwing rocks into the stream.Challenging the rushing water.Raising my fist and daring fate to do it worst.I am a dancer in the waves of the ocean.Swaying in time with the tide.Pirouetting, the current my only friend.I am the sun, rising across the canyonAscending, and shinning down.Giving the illusion of perception and motion.I am thoughts like a rolling river.Water cascading over the rocks of my soul.Shaping, forming, conforming.I am the peace of the rain forest.Basking in solitudeTranquil, serene, transfixing angles.Reflecting from within.Dripping and dropping. Shaking it off.I am the dust of the galaxy.Yearning to know itself.I am the wind.Wandering. Searching.A storm brewing from within.

Tosha Michelle

Don't shrink your standards, link yourself with those who think and ink like you.

Michael Bassey Johnson

When admiring other people's gardens, don't forget to tend to your own flowers.

Sanober Khan

Is it not enough to dip your tongue into my soul and write poetry?

Evelyn Lielou Colon

I’m back there again, broken from being a champion,The boy that no one loved,The years I spent training like a method actor toBecome the man that everyone admired,But it means nothing, Like ashes on a forehead, they marked me inferior,When I was still young enough to receive it into the grain of my being

Terrence Alonzo Craft

Remind your bones that that dance inside something worthy

Q.Gibson

if you eat menand still feel like you’re starving, you’re craving something that they cannot give.

K.Y. Robinson

Poetry doesn’t pay. But I need it. And so do you.

Cory Basil

If you put it as 'complex nervous systems' it sounds pretty deflationary. What's so special about a complex nervous system? But of course, that complex nervous system allows you to do calculus. It allows you to do astrophysics… to write poetry... to fall in love. Put under that description, when asked 'What’s so special about humans...?', I’m at a loss to know how to answer that question. If you don’t see why we’d be special… because we can do poetry [and] think philosophical thoughts [and] we can think about the morality of our behavior, I’m not sure what kind of answer could possibly satisfy you at that point....I could pose the same kinds of questions of you... So God says, 'You are guys are really, really special.' How does his saying it make us special? 'But you see, he gave us a soul.' How does our having a soul make us special? Whatever answer you give, you could always say… 'What’s so special about that?

Shelly Kagan

We, peopling the void air, make gods to whom we impute the ills we ought to bear.

Titus Lucretius Carus

The Tao Te Ching is partly in prose, partly in verse; but as we define poetry now, not by rhyme and meter but as a patterned intensity of language, the whole thing is poetry. I wanted to catch that poetry, its terse, strange beauty. Most translations have caught meanings in their net, but prosily, letting the beauty slip through. And in poetry, beauty is no ornament; it is the meaning. It is the truth. We have that on good authority.

Ursula K Le Guin

I am who I am.A coincidence no less unthinkablethan any other.I could have had differentancestors, after all.I could have flutteredfrom another nestor crawled bescaledfrom under another tree.Nature's wardrobeholds a fair supply of costumes:spider, seagull, field mouse.Each fits perfectly right offand is dutifully worninto shreds.

Wisława Szymborska

In a single wave of meaning the triumphant purity of being.

Boris Pasternak

Silence can be a planrigorously executedthe blueprint to a lifeIt is a presenceit has a history a formDo not confuse itwith any kind of absence

Adrienne Rich

A poem can't free us from the struggle for existence, but it can uncover desires and appetites buried under the accumulating emergencies of our lives, the fabricated wants and needs we have had urged on us, have accepted as our own. It's not a philosophical or psychological blueprint; it's an instrument for embodied experience.

Adrienne Rich

How many people came and stayed a certain time,Uttered light or dark speech that became part of youLike light behind windblown fog and sandFiltered and influenced by it, until no partRemains that is surely you.

John Ashbery

Late, by myself, in the boat of myself,no light and no land anywhere,cloudcover thick. I try to stayjust above the surface, yet I'm already underand living within the ocean.

Jalaluddin Rumi

And I Said To My Soul, Be LoudMadden me back to an afternoonI carry in menot like a woundbut like a will against a woundGive me again enough manto be the childchoosing my own annihilationsTo make of this severed limba wand to conjurea weapon to shatterdark matter of the dirt daubers' nestsgalaxies of glassWhacking glintsbash-dancing on the cellar's fireI am the sound the sun would makeif the sun could make a soundand the gasp of rotstabbed from the compost's lumpen living deathis meO my life my war in a jarI shake you and shake youand may the best ant winFor I am come a whirlwind of wasted thingsand I will ride this tantrum back to Goduntil my fixed self, my fluorescent selfmy grief–nibbling, unbewildered, wall–to–wall selfwithers in me like a salted slug

Christian Wiman

For I have nothing to lean on, nowhere to call my home and there is nowhere I will go for Christmas to rest my head and touch familiar walls. I have no degree to show on paper or employment to take care of my health or the reassurance that I can pay my rent. And I have no right to complain because this is the road I choose and I built it myself, not really knowing where I wanted it to lead, but I have hope in all things ahead and behind and I am learning to let myself go. Forget my own ego and believe that what I am doing is grander than my very own self.

Charlotte Eriksson

Here in this endless and gleaming wildernessI was removed farther than ever from the world of men --And I never saw so close and so clearlyThe image in the mirror of my own soul.

Hermann Hesse

When I wake from my nightmaresI’m more afraid of the breath in my lungs than whatever might be chasing me.

Miriam Joy

Consciousness is the only home of which we know.

Emily Dickinson

It is, of course, we who house poems as much as their words, and we ourselves must be the locus of poetry's depth of newness. Still, the permeability seems to travel both ways: a changed self will find new meanings in a good poem, but a good poem also changes the shape of the self.

Jane Hirshfield

Refuse the old means of measurement.Rely instead on the thrumming wilderness of self. Listen.-From "Out West

Donika Kelly

You grow. You are large. You are a 19th century poem.All of America is inside you,a catalogue of lives and landand burrowing things.-From "Catalogue

Donika Kelly

In my errant life I roamedTo learn the secrets of women and men,Of gods and dreams.I've known all the countries of our world,I've lived a thousand lives:Many lives I lived in love, Other lives I squandered.For in my life I never traveled, All I did was wander.

Roman Payne

Everyone calls him BlockheadNo one sings his praisesOr takes him to heart...That is the kind of personI want to be

Kenji Miyazawa

Kind hearts are the gardens, Kind thoughts are the roots, Kind words are the flowers, Kind deeds are the fruits, Take care of your garden And keep out the weeds, Fill it with sunshine, Kind words, and Kind deeds.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Kindness went out to play all on a summer's day. With her about many smiles came out and joined in sweet array.Sara Loo, "Mother Goose Move Over or you're gonna love poetry

Sara Loo

From heart to hearta heartbeat staggers, looking for a haven.Bereft. It is easier to enter heaventhan to pass through each others' eyes

Bill Knott

No matter who’s looking at you, love, honesty, and kindness will always make you beautiful!

Delano Johnson

It is raining in my heart.Humanity is shedding a tear.I asked, “Who is suffering?”Is it my mother?Silence.No answer.Everyone has a mother,And she always suffers.Why as a child do we let our mothers suffer?I could not get an answer.

Debasish Mridha M.D.

Home is— Where the heart wants to dwell, Where the mind wants to dance, Where the air is always pleasant, And where love is always abundant.

Debasish Mridha

Change like a treeWhen it is winterDon’t complain or fearJust wait for the spring To bloom and sing

Debasish Mridha

O, flower! If you bloom with love in spring, will you understand if my soul sings?

Debasish Mridha

To get lost, all you need is poetry.

Debasish Mridha

Poetry of the universe is written with flowers and the lights of love on a canvas we call earth.

Debasish Mridha

You belong to everything andeverything belongs to you.You are in the beauty of a flower.You are also in the nourishing spring shower.Then why do you fear to change?You just lose your nameand your inner beauty remains the same.

Debasish Mridha

Poetry happens when there is nothing to say but you have a volcano hidden inside you waiting to erupt.

Debasish Mridha

The sacred stillness of your brilliant hearthas as the myriad wonders masqueraded.But if you knew this secret from the start,then you'd have quit this Game before you played it.

Eric Micha'el Leventhal

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Poetry Quotes - Page 34

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