Poetry Quotes

May I live to see the day when I long for the agony I feel now. /ながらへば またこのごろや しのばれむ 憂しと見し世ぞ いまは恋しき

Swift waters parted by the jagged rocks are joined at river's end. / 瀬をはやみ 岩にせかるる 滝川の われても末に あはむとぞ思ふ

With people you can never tell, Will they have changed when next we meet? But here in my dear old home at least, The plums still smell as sweet. / 人はいさ 心も知らず ふるさとは 花ぞ昔の 香ににほひける

Oh, you cherry petals, On this calm and balmy day, Why are you so restless, So keen to fly away? / ひさかたの 光のどけき 春の日に しづ心なく 花の散るらむ

Impassionate gods have never seen the red that is the Tatsuta River. /ちはやぶる 神代も聞かず 竜田川 からくれなゐに 水くくるとは

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.

If perfection is absurd, why is tragedy common?

I only ever wanted to feel more human.

I find that the thoughts spoken between the lines are the most important parts of a poem or story.

Have you sipped your poems today?

Anything is a poem if you say it often enough.

At the end of all things, why do lovers break up? Because love is magic. You have to believe, for it to exist.

The atmospheric intensity of two electric lovers is the most righteous place I need to rediscover.

You are to me, what wind is to dry leaves.The reason for me to fall, the reason for me to fly.

You are to me, what wind is to dry leaves. The reason for me to fall, the reason for me to fly.

I am happy Because, IFound someoneTo BlameFor mistakesThank God &You mate, You endedMy suffocation.Amen

we have forgotten what night tastes like, salted by full moon silver rupturingthe dark. we have forgotten how the skin sings when the lunar fervor unfurls across its follicles.

Perhaps it was the way he'd look at me and smile, Perhaps it was the sound of his voice after being utterly defeated, Perhaps it was the warmth of his touch, Perhaps I've always been in love with you

One has to commit a painting, ' said Degas, 'the way one commits a crime.

I stood there on the corner of the street, I held on to your hand, I looked into your eyes, And all you responded with was, "move on

I am at the gates of my own destruction.(Or so I'm told.)

Deep down, I lay dormant inside her head, Deep down, I lay the rules inside her head, Deep down, I lay inside inside her heart, Deep down, I know she will never move onBecause deep down, I am always there

she prays to feel as powerful as she might if God sang silentwords into her ear and answeredall the rattling questions

How—I didn't know anyword for it—how "unlikely". . .How had I come to be here, like them, and overheara cry of pain that could havegot loud and worse but hadn't?

I did what I could, I tried to stay away, I told myself that I don't need you, I don't need to feel this way, But soon I realized that I am just a fishAlways falling as you're prey

Determined, I riseand face the dawn with resolve.This time I will win.

The sweetest melody that playson starry nights and wintry days, most soothing to my listening earsand calming to beleaguering fears, I call a symphony on air―the song of sweet, still silence rare.

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

we are two like-minded creatures too well-matched, both equal halves of a whole not altogether wholesome

Hers is a timeless life weaving through other longer lives like a flash of lightning in a clouded evening sky.

A litany of headlights blinding her, she stands unsteady on the dotted traffic line, takes timid steps toward rolled up windows behind which any horror could crouch....

I escape disaster by writing a poem with a joke in it:The past, present, and future walk into a bar—it was tense.

...flames moved towards himand dropped within-singed and marred his tender skin ...(the frightful plight tale)

There can be no law of nature, no science, No aberrant infliction of human willThat unchained the soul cannot conquer, Simply sweep away, should it chose to.

Sacred space in whichTo distil, like amber, The best of your love.

Do You BelieveDo you believethat I have loved yousince the dawn of time?Do you believethat we were destinedto be intertwined?...

Do You Believe...on this road of lifeon this dayI take younow husband and wife...

Ode to the Chamber...linger here amidst the chamberin which we embrace our lovetalk to me of sonnetsand call me turtledove...

The Bane...where coxswain's dirtand seaman's shirtsbrushed bawdily upon her chest...

Cradle of SolitudeFor we know not why our tribulationsare given as suchour fragile formscreated from the dust...

Imperfection is my ticket, perfection is my pursuit

Parched by the deprivation of your love for so long made me forget what a cup brimming with love, on my lips, felt like. Everything that now wets it, only wrinkles it with a bland taste.

Pina colada kisses and cocaine nipsnever lie, swear to me that this feeling is real.

Dear Lover...you are the only man, who never hurt me, but broke my heart.

I wanted you mine. I wanted me yours.

Poetry is another name for a person’s telling of the self, existence and what is beyond, and one’s own perceptions.

You love meand love me notyour love is an arm of clockjoining hands with mineonly to leave me again

I cannot forgive you. That day, if you had not refused, I would have given you a present. I would have carved my love in stone.

cherry reddenim tornholding closethe smell of warm

You may continue to call it a breakup. I will continue to call it an exorcism.