Poem Quotes

America, the plum blossoms are falling.

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.

The word love has always tasted like the scent of fresh ink and soft paper to me. Like a newly written poem.

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.

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.

ANY FOOL CAN GET INTO AN OCEAN BUT IT TAKES A GODDESS TO GET OUT OF ONE.

Darkness all around, smoke in between my fingers, all you have given me dear, sorrow and sadness to sing here.

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

Sickness awakens sadness sleeps- Moments of aloneness results into peace.

Tumbling-hair picker of buttercups violetsdandelionsAnd the big bullying daisies through the field wonderfulwith eyes a little sorryAnother comes also picking flowers

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

At last the bottom fell out.No more water in the pail.No more moon in the water.

Iron helmets will not save/Even heroes from the grave/Good man's blood will drain away/While the wickid win the day.

We need each other yet, we bleed each other of the very life we are all drowning in with one another...

Your love taught me to grieveand I have been needing, for centuriesa woman to make me grievefor a woman, to cry upon her armslike a sparrowfor a woman to gather my pieceslike shards of broken crystal

It seems only yesterday I used to believethere was nothing under my skin but light.If you cut me I could shine.

Whenever you touch a poem that caresses your soul, breathe it gently for it might be the wind that perfects your life's goal.

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.

The.World.Is.Not.A.Safe.Place.

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.

grappling with some small understanding of this place, this time, we're in" my poem "In a BishopsWood Clearing

If on thoughts of death we are fed, Thus, a coffin, became my bed.

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.

As long as music survives, poetry will never die.

The horses have stoppedtheir clippity-clop, but feet are too slowfor where I must go.So here I shall stayuntil light of daywhen clippity-clopgets my team underway.

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 are still alive when you read this, close your eyes. I amunder their lids, growing black.

Saturated Arrogance...she rebuked those about herin darkness did she dwella pathetic historyall mortal man would tell..

Rejoice with glitters of ashes tonightSparkling for moon's spiced silver biteUpon skin of darkness, loving night moreStorm begins unlocking cold wind's door

there is you and you.this is a relationship.this is the most important relationship.

What is poetry? Only the poetry can answer this!

Silly little monster” all would say.They’d scratch its head and turn awayuntil it snatched their tiny noses.They couldn’t even smell the roses!Ever after, every childdreaded monsters, fierce or mild.

There are no good tights, Rare they are, a rare sight. You roll and roll Inside a new hole, They´re only good for a fight.

Ashryver eyes.The fairest eyes, from legends oldof brightest, ringed with gold.

You tell me that yes, I can do it. I know. And I may do it, if I so choose.You tell me that no, I cannot. I say, Oh? I shall do it, since you refuse!

A poem does not radiate from the name, but the name emanates from the poem.

The name does not deserve the poem, but the poem deserves the name.

In a real poem a sound does not swallow a letter, but a letter swallows a sound.

Rash is he who at unknown doors relies on his good luck.

Sipping teawith gleebeneath a gooseberry tree.I wish Alice were here.Oh, my dear, do not fear, she will be.

Does poem also walk the valleys seeking tongues from dandelions?

you are as faras the moonand as closeas it feelswhen I look upon it.

I say, flawless poems do not exist.

I was born one thousand times and all the while it was you I met again to only meet again under the thousand stars that divide us and connect us.