Poem Quotes
Pure is honourable.Honourable is right.Right is lovely.Lovely is admirable.Admirable is excellent.Excellent is prasie worthy.Praise worthy is peace.
Inside my head / or in a distant / Galaxy / Soft I hear it / Calling me." from the song "In the Blackness" in the poetry collection "Terra Affirmative".
if you eat menand still feel like you’re starving, you’re craving something that they cannot give.
All that I desire in life are three...A wilderness: A beach on the sun-drenched sea, A puff of opium, And thee.
Saturated Arrogance...imprisoned musescried to be freeshe took away their quillsand saiddo not bother me...
God, is there no faith left?He has not told. I would not know Him if I saw Him.
A mask you ask? Optional I find!Masks lend appeal of a mysterious kind.
I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.
there is you and you.this is a relationship.this is the most important relationship.
Rejoice with glitters of ashes tonightSparkling for moon's spiced silver biteUpon skin of darkness, loving night moreStorm begins unlocking cold wind's door
Saturated Arrogance...she rebuked those about herin darkness did she dwella pathetic historyall mortal man would tell..
If you are still alive when you read this, close your eyes. I amunder their lids, growing black.
Fruition-Think of writing as a harvest.You till the ground.Plant.Water.Wait.Apple trees take years to bear fruit.Harvest.Clean.Process.Then you have apple pie.
If you're frightened of the countless number of books in the library, you'll never write anything, until you close your eyes and hold the pen.
If on thoughts of death we are fed, Thus, a coffin, became my bed.
grappling with some small understanding of this place, this time, we're in" my poem "In a BishopsWood Clearing
At night I dream that you and I are two plantsthat grew together, roots entwined, and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth, since we are made of earth and rain.
Nobody really knows herExcept the chosen fewHer secrets are kept hiddenBehind that sun-kissed hue.If I reach out to touch herShe’ll just run awayMy Forever and AlwaysWill have to wait another day.
It seems only yesterday I used to believethere was nothing under my skin but light.If you cut me I could shine.
The way of love is not a subtle argument. The door there is devastation. Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom. How do they learn it? They fall, and falling, they're given wings.
I will never hurt you.I will always help you.If you are hungryIll give you my food.If you are frightenedI am your friend.I love you now.And love does not end.
Miracles are to come. With you I leave a remembrance of miracles: they are by somebody who can loveand who shall be continually reborn, a human being.
Very possibly this was the night my white-knight complex, as Solange put it, would get me killed. Someone had better write a poem about it. It was only fair.
Tumbling-hair picker of buttercups violetsdandelionsAnd the big bullying daisies through the field wonderfulwith eyes a little sorryAnother comes also picking flowers
Sickness awakens sadness sleeps- Moments of aloneness results into peace.
The dividing line forms-fashioned from:Dragon's tearsMissed yearsOvercome fearsThe fire and ice paradoxSeen with True SightDarkness does not always equate to evilLight does not always bring good
Darkness all around, smoke in between my fingers, all you have given me dear, sorrow and sadness to sing here.
Any day of the week I would choose to be "out" with others and in touch with myself... then to be "in" with others and out of touch with myself.
The word love has always tasted like the scent of fresh ink and soft paper to me. Like a newly written poem.
If the world stops spinning, slowing to a crawl. I will continue to dream of you. Until, I no longer dream at all.
I am nobody, even if I say I am this or that.
I.Don't trace out your profile--forget your side view--all that is outer stuff.II.Look for your other halfwho walks always next to youand tends to be who you aren't.
We will paste upon the curled pages wordsLike charming and romantic and sentimentalForgetting that charming is witchcraftRomantic is loveAnd sentiment is what makes us human
Shade for a manAnd shelter for animals, Planted in your name, May you be the same for those around you, Every year the same.
The birthing wolf, Her heart fed with tenderness, Gave forth from ripe brown nipples, Food to feed the universe.
How can I wear the harness of toilAnd sweat at the daily round, While in my soul foreverThe drums of Pictdom sound?
Steal not this book for fear of shameFor on it is the owners nameAnd when you die the Lord will sayWhere is the book you stole awayAnd when you say you do not knowThe Lord will say go down below.
YOU YOU YOUyour eyes, thick as a high school scrapbook crackling and yellow, curling at the edgesa book of myths in which i do not appear.
If I wrote the word flower, would it still grow like a flower?If I wrote a poem concerning a river, would the water still flow in the eyes of the reader?
Bob's Words:Nobody knows what tomorrow bringsBy loving, giving, caringAnd sharing todayLets one know that if tomorrowDoes not comeToday is a good day to be the last
All letters of love are Ridiculous. They wouldn’t be love letters if they were not Ridiculous.