Poetry Quotes
The house burned in the fire. Her house. Her prison of lies and of denial. Her American dream turned nightmare.”~Unbreakable Heart
Fiction and poetry are doses, medicines. What they heal is the rupture reality makes on the imagination.
No sword Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word She shook the world.
Demander à la poésie du sentimentalisme ... ce n'est pas ça. Des mots rayonnants, des mots de lumière ... avec un rythme et une musique, voilà ce que c'est, la poésie.
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.
A little bunny or some kind of ferret was probablythere too, and bore witness as only rodents can.
They miss the whisper that runsany day in your mind, "Who are you really, wanderer?"--and the answer you have to giveno matter how dark and coldthe world around you is:"Maybe I'm a king.
When we lose these woods, we lose our soul. Not simply as individuals, but as a people.
A tree forms itself in answerto its place and the light.Explain it how you will, the onlything explainable will beyour explanation.” Sabbaths 1999 IV
Rather a thousand times the county jail than to lie under this marble figure with wings and this granite pedestal bearing the words "pro patria." What do they mean anyway?
the inletour friend looks as he didwhen we first knew him, and until I wake I believeI will die of grief, for I knowthat this boy grew into a manwho was a faithful friendwho died.
There is a master way with words which is not learned but is instead developed: a deaf man develops exceptional vision, a blind man exceptional hearing, a silent man, when given a piece of paper...
We are metered only by our own machines, while the book is a clock that forgets her machanics.
Though the body is itsgenesis, a poem is the vision of a processCarved in space, vision your poor eye's singlearmor against winter spring summer fall
![Poetry Quotes: "It [Bach's cello suites] is like a great diamond, " said [Mischa] Maisky in a thick Russian accent, "with so many different cuts that reflect light in so many different ways."](https://www.quoteslyfe.com/images/collection3/quotations25/It-Bach-s-cello-suites-is-like-25531.jpg)
It [Bach's cello suites] is like a great diamond, " said [Mischa] Maisky in a thick Russian accent, "with so many different cuts that reflect light in so many different ways.
When I took my poetry class in school. I read an e. e. cummings poem. I don’t mind eels except how they feels and maybe as meals. I knew there was hope for me.
A poem is a frozen momentmelted by each reader for themselvesto flow into the here and now.
I could have been 23 next July I gambled on what mattered most, the dice were cast. I lost.
But he never forgot how once by not knowing time, He escaped into the clockless land of ever, Where time hides tick-less waiting to be born.
You and those shot-glass eyes, deep swirling pools of 80-proof firewater, with the depth and profundity of Saturn’s spinning pulsars…
ink marks the page/where you execute your will like a doe announcing an/ox-stern mate with a single, bleary blink.
Behold yon rough and flinty roadWhere youth, now youth no more, Gropes whining, seeking crumbs of loavesHe cast away of yore.
The future belongs to all who, refusing to look back at the past move ahead with the clock as it ticks.
An educator will teach the students. An Educarer will reach the students.
Take you example by this thing, / And yield to each his right, / Lest God with such like miserye/ Your wicked minds requite
I hate the day, because it lendeth lightTo see all things, but not my love to see.
Think of your woods and orchards without birds!Of empty nests that cling to boughs and beamsAs in an idiot's brain remembered wordsHang empty 'mid the cobwebs of his dreams!
Just EnoughSoil for legsAxe for handsFlower for eyesBird for earsMushrooms for noseSmile for mouthSongs for lungsSweat for skinWind for mind
Where even ravi (the sun) cannot reach, there will go a kavi (poet)." - Vimalananda
As Henry Moore carvedor modelled his sculpture every day, he strove to surpass Donatello4. and failed, but woke the next morningelated for another try.
Death makes its own choices. Has reasoning an order has a taste…
to split the very sea into ours and theirs." Border at the BeachAnd More White Sheets
Who will read these poems when the people are gone?
It comes down to this: we're pieces of equipmentTo be counted and signed for. On occasion some of us break down, And those parts which can't be salvagedAre replaced with other GI parts, that's all.
We have no quarrel with the German nation, One would not quarrel with a flock of sheep.But, generation after generation, They throw up leaders who disturb our sleep.
I don't tolerate politics that come from anger. I want a politics derived from beauty... I don't admire politicians, but poets. (Rubem Alves, p. 189)
EpitaphDen Tigern ertrann ichDie Wanzen nährte ichAufgefressen wurde ichVon den Mittelmäßigkeiten.
