Poems Quotes

Imagination will often carry us to worlds that never were. But without it, we go nowhere - Carl Sagan

I’m looking for youin the bare corridor where my shadow is the only passerbyharmonizing an unsettling whisper: echoed through my chiming thoughtsFrom the poem 'Looking For You

Eagle's flight of loneliness soars so high Around its sigh, no more alone the sky Other birds remain away, clouds pass byBetween shrouds of life and haze sun rays die

...you hold a poemthat functions half as personalnote and half as telescopeto the heightsawaiting us all.

Sometimes the rainfallsjust for you and meto be the violinplaying in the backgroundof our loneliness's song.

I write small poems— the kind that fit on a postcard… and still can break your heart

It is not given to each of usTo be desired.

Scent of old books a mystery

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

This winter, there will be no voices, no glimpses, no arms.only the fabric of poetry, to keep me warm.

and everyone wants to read the poem we’re afraid to write.

my poetry is merely a body.you are the soul in my words.

A book is a place where my reality, escapism, hope, despair, love and death lie.

My only wish is to be buried with my books.

Great writers experience their dreams. They put them on paper, where others can read about them.

As long as music survives, poetry will never die.

If it wasn’t for all those silver wings spread out to help you on your journey, you would’a been dead or someplace screamin’ in a nut house a long time ago.

Oh that's right Keep away from me Please give me a pushDon't let me understand you Don't realise meOr we might tumble togetherDepersonalizedIdenticalInto the terrific NirvanaMe you --- you --- me

A poem that is itself a name does not yearn for the name of its creator, but shines from its name alone.

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.

In all the flames of fire fume’s left the traceInto the bluest sea the sky is drownedThe miracles of life can you embraceFrom the poem 'Can You Embrace?

Sometimes my helpless blood runs numb and, if only for a second, I forget how frail bones can be.

Even lungs that are gasping are lungs that are trying.

3 A.M. isn't a time for sleep when the silhouette of you is breathing next to me.

Nostalgia dies in the pit of my throat from lack of exercise and I buried the word six feet under the pronunciation of hopeful tomorrows.

Sitting makes us think of standingOur current stance keeps on demanding We wish to fly without the wings Puppets move before pulling the strings

Everything is like a wall. Said a scholar to the troll. Bang your head to go on through. Then you'll see, there is no queue.

Our past sins, our fractured lives--soon nothing but drowned stars in dark skies.

If lighthouse becomes a burning candle, flickered upon ocean's insanity.Your sailing heart there anchors to handle the obsessed breeze towards sand dune's vanity.

Projection from the beginning of time
White women with a passionate horns
Butchered yet another beloved

We write about love like we should be bound in padded rooms.

Her touch is like doing simple mathWhen she sleeps in the bed, subtracting clothesThere is a red ink, like a sparkling red wine, adding colorsDividing body, remembering gods, without multiplying

Yet, beauty cannot be forgotten, Eternal Wisdom can never die ...

And life goes on like this, an uncomplete poem.

I listen to the rainfall, my words wanna flow!Droplets run down the wall, where do they go?Letters in the raw, mesh together for the show!

Sure, we thought the acresThat we tilled were sacred, But how could we have knownThat wheat can haunt like ghosts

Today I write, riots with insite!Tomorrow I read, take the lead!Sometimes I sleep, health to keep!But for now I write, and got no gripe!

you are here.the moontides are here.and that’s all that matters.

You were the poem I never knew how to write because no words could describe the wind you cannot see, but feel.

MAN is a slave only to his own mental lethargy.

for those memories are nowjust like these little kittensI hold in my handsthose can be kissedand treasuredbut not held too tightly.

when I finally begin to driftinto sleepyour memory is the...firstand the moonlightthe last, to kiss my face.

she's gotoceanstucked awayin her hairpoems swimunder her skin.

i am permanentlytannedin the summer of poetry.

No!I don’t love you!I just like you, a little.Your lips are sweet, and your eyes are precious to me.No!I don’t love you!I just like you, a little....

The hell in your soul will always find heaven in mine.

My heart always knew, you're the dew, my dry soul would never adieu.. but I still don't know why I let you go and waited all my life just for you.

savorwith methe lushnessof a lingering sleep...and last night’sdream.

How envious I am that the sun may kiss your porcelain skin and forever change how the world sees you.

I knew I loved youwhen 'home' went from being a placeto being a person.