Life Poetry Quotes

Through windows, in wishing wells, whispering in the wind...that's where I find you.

In that wounded place, buried betweenmy ribs and letting go, I miss you.

I die a little, In the echo of your silence.

I was just an option.Blown easily to piecesand offered to the skyby the sweet laced painupon your lips.

I can't love anymore.Except for you...I love you so much it hurts to breathe.

Bridge burned from end to end, and I don't miss you anymore.You delivered silenceI've birthed freedom.

You are the poemthat sticks in my throatteaching me to whisperwith the voice of my heart.

I've never seen beauty so devastatingas in the linesthat trace our hopeand fall from the stars.

Steep fall to the groundshatteringlike clay pigeons missed by bad shotsand unsteady hands.

I build boxesand place them at your feet, to measure the distance between dreams and reality.

I bleed to un-break you, un-mending me.I fall to save you...now who will save me.

I balance you on the end of my pen.Teetering between loveand letting go.

Careful.The fall is quick, steep, and permanent.

I need to work on me.The mewithout you.

Birthing hope from the madnessthat perches on the fenceof our once perfectdreams.

It is kind of ridiculous that a poet is expected to live in the real world.

I’m burning in despair Love which you distanced from me Return once again I’ll forgive you againReturn, Page 19

Life is like facing two mirrors at each other: There is no beginning... no end.Just the beauty within the reflected infinity

The heavens declare the glory of God.The heavens declare the majesty King.The heavens declare the marvellous Lord.The heavens declare the mighty Saviour.

You have to choose what you want to be.You have to choose your own path in life.

In the Light of your Wisdom, You Shine. In the Midst of your Truth, Your Faith is Evident. From inside your Spirit, You are Love.

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.

nothing is lifelesswhen the moon writes its screedon the silvern sand silence-From the poem:"The Universe In Blossom

I don't feel strong anymoreI feel like falling to my knees.Things aren't the way they were before, They're not the way they're supposed to be.

I yearn to make these scars disappearAnd to forget about the past.To throw away all of my fearsAnd to be happy at last.

Within my reflection I see tears, for what I see is the truth, are my greatest fears.

Poetry is the whispering of a truth by the shouting of the best possible lies

Contemporary poets got so obscure that poetry kind of fell out of favor,

A Writer in Love.I was just a word weaverWhat did I know of love?Only thatSome days when the words weren’t enough, I knewI was in love.

God’s justice in the one, and his goodness in the other, is exercised for evermore, as the everlasting subjects of his reward and punishment.

As a way of getting in touch with my originsevery night I set the alarm clockfor the time I was born so that waking upbecomes a historical reenactment...

I was born with my eyes turned inward.

There's two ways to become a famous Poet, find that one person that knows somebody, that knows somebody, that knows somebody.Or die trying

Life is just a slide. Back and forth between loving and leaving, remembering and forgetting, holding on and letting go.

Cold feet under a warm blanket, steam over an empty mug--rain splatters on dry window pane--open journals of closed memories... tears of laughter and joy of pain... schmaltz of diametric morning.

One clear moment, one of trance One missed step, one perfect dance One missed shot, one and only chance Life is all...but one fleeting glance.

Last night your thin walls invited me to the party next door / reminded me I am a quiet person in a quiet life.

Life is like facing two mirrors at each other: There is no beginning, no end. Just the beauty within the reflected infinity

Had we but world enough, and time...

Kretanje je duša svega što drhti.Započinje tako da se prvo dogodi trenutakonima koji žive trenutak, a onda se, onima koji žive vječnost, vječnost nametne kao bolest.

Just knowing that you are there and you would be thinking about me while I am thinking about you makes my heart feel serene and contented.

Life is like a poetry, without meaning or purpose - it's useless.

we inhale life and exhale words. that's just what writers' do--

Poetry is more than a form of art. It's a vibration and a pulsing heart. Whether it's sour or whether it's sweet. It can give you strength no one can defeat

It is time I came back to my real lifeAfter this voyage to an island with no name, Where I lay down at sunrise drunk with light.

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

She who reconciles the ill-matched threadsOf her life, and weaves them gratefullyInto a single cloth – It’s she who drives the loudmouths from the hallAnd clears it for a different celebration.

there isn't enough of anythingas long as we live. But at intervalsa sweetness appears and, given a chanceprevails.

This autumn-why am I growing old?bird disappearing among clouds.

Is there any reward?I'm beginning to doubt it.I am broken and bored, Is there any rewardReassure me, Good Lord, And inform me about it.Is there any reward?I'm beginning to doubt it.