Poetry Quotes - Page 4

i am alwaysstalking you, my dear. with my thoughtsmy words.my breath.

Poetry keeps mein a highly drunken stateof divinity.

Zoe let the poetry flow over her, like shadows on water, sunlight against stone: timeworn words shaped like stars, like shells, like the ruins of lost temples, soft as the breaths of mystics.

Christine Brodien-Jones

I could be that tenebrous enigma that floods out your words with sighs and frustration.

Moonshine Noire

After Homer and Dante, is a whole century of creating worth one Shakespeare?

Dejan Stojanovic

We built tall buildings, but we have not become any taller.

Dejan Stojanovic

Teaching others, he corrected himself.

Dejan Stojanovic

All those big words produce disgust today.

Dejan Stojanovic

It is easy to see the glow but hard to recognize the awakening of silence.

Dejan Stojanovic

The light teaches you to convert life into a festive promenade.

Dejan Stojanovic

Is it possible to write a poem or are these words just screams of outlaws exiled to the desert?

Dejan Stojanovic

Trying too hard to be too good, even when trying to be bad, is too good for the bad, too bad for the good.

Dejan Stojanovic

A word into the silence thrown always finds its echo somewhere where silence opens hidden lexicons.

Dejan Stojanovic

To go against the grain is the secret of bravery.

Dejan Stojanovic

To expect to be kissed having bad breath is the secret of a fool.

Dejan Stojanovic

No reason for a feverish rush For we will all arrive in the same place At the right time. Justice will be served. There will be no better or worse, No big and small, no rewards, no punishment, No guilt, no judges, no hierarchies; Only silent equality.

Dejan Stojanovic

In an endless silence even screams sound silent.

Dejan Stojanovic

In every sound, the hidden silence sleeps.

Dejan Stojanovic

There are no clear borders, Only merging invisible to the sight.

Dejan Stojanovic

In the biggest and the smallest I sleep but at the same place I stay.

Dejan Stojanovic

From what you didn’t say, lies that you did say.

Dejan Stojanovic

All dust is the same dust. Temporarily separated To go peacefully And enjoy the eternal nap.

Dejan Stojanovic

He awaits himself while walking, out of the icy circle to escape.

Dejan Stojanovic

Instead of imitating me, you simply loiter.

Dejan Stojanovic

To jump over centuries In one step is impossible. Jump too high or far, You’ll be way too late.

Dejan Stojanovic

In the end, the world returns to a grain.

Dejan Stojanovic

They are both spectacular, Life and death.

Dejan Stojanovic

I Don't Write Because God Gives Me A Fresh Word Everyday, I write Because of The Words He Has Already Spoken Yesterday That Changed Today.

The Prolific Penman

I am no longer a writer. Just an emotion. An emotion that is unable to stay within its own body, and is therefore, trying to make its way into yours.

Zaeema J. Hussain

Even the new things thatI less than know,I keep trying, did againuntil perfect.

Alliah "Lenzkie" Tabaya

[Y]ou, one day, will knock lips with Turkish-coffee-clad veils whose beds our kin must tuck in misty-eyed.

Moon is the light from a lantern in heaven

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

Anjum Choudhary

MotherHushed and sacred silencefills the dawning skyI ponder in this momentof our journey which is nigh...

Muse

The aesthetic construct, and nothing else, has taught us to expose ourselves to a non-enslaving experience of rank differences. The work of art is even allowed to 'tell' us, those who have run away from form, something, because it quite obviously does not embody the intention to confine us. 'La poesie ne s'impose plus, elle s'expose' Something that exposes itself and proves itself in this test gains unpresumed authority. In the space of aesthetic simulation, which is at once the emergency space for the success and failure of the artistic construct, the powerless superiority of the works can affect observers who otherwise take pains to ensure that they have no lord, old or new, above them.

Peter Sloterdijk

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

It’s not that we have to leave this life one day, it's how many things we have to leave all at once: holding hands, hotel rooms, wine, summertime, drunkenness, and the physics of falling leaves, clothing, myrrh, perfumed hair, flirting friends, two strangers' glance; the reflection of the moon, with words like, 'Soon' ... 'do you want me?' ... '...to lie enlaced' ... 'and sleep entwined' thinking ahead, with thoughts behind...?' Ô, Why!Why can’t we leave this life slowly?

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.

Astray from a deep sleep chronic as I write by phonics, like insomnia I will always live the onyx night for revealing, and, upon it, still I'll steal the bright light of day right away just to keep building at speeds hypersonic.

If I die today, will you remember me tomorrow?The love I'm leaving behind, will you care to borrow? From a snake-shed-skin or from the sky unknownIn all living and the dead I'll dwell to groan

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

To be wild as the waves;enshrinedby the vastness—our cosmic immemorial.Unsettled as the forest.An indomitable flickeramidst worldviews,of jaded crownsand romantic ash.

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.

..giving power to negative thoughts or fears was bringing ideas to life in physical world,idea in mind became emotion in heart,emotion turned into words spoken,written,painted,strummed across guitar strings,or vibrantly held note by Tibetan singing bowl, thoughts affected physical world.

Christina Westover

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

...as we are endowed. ...with rhetorics. ...none will deny. ...of innocence. ...towards scribbling. ...of love lines. ...and of lust. ...to what seems like male. ...to what seems like female. ...in those days. ...I mean nothing. ...but in high school.....even me. ...I can't deny.

Michael Bassey Johnson

Courage sleeps within our heart waiting to be awoken.

Be as audaciousAs you wish.By all means look to the heavens.

We too can repair our cracks with goldAnd glow again.Crazed by life,More beautiful than ever before.

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

Ultimately not one amongst usWill ever be denied that,The glimmer of a chance to shine.

Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 … 11 Next