Poetry Quotes

You may think just a windowBut you overtook my soul.You are not just a whisper, You are louder than my soul. (from poem Chimera)

when whisperedwhat an exquisitesong, it makes-your name.

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

you make autumn misttaste like champagne and turn winter raininto the elixir of life itself.

my love is a winter’s mistgently dissolvingthrough the windowat the nape of your neck.

my lovefor youwill always belike a mountain stream.quiet. persistent. continuous.

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

funny how our heartswere designed to loveso fiercely.but break ever so gently.

fierce lovers.and battle warriorsboth comefrom the same place. there is bound to be, some bloodshed.

A relationship is more likely to succeed if positive attributes are confidently set in place and adhered to.

If I can’t spend the rest of my life with you, I will live alone.

Her beauty is a mastery of peace.

The ink of a pen is simply the blood of a heart

The fear of love can be replaced by the love of fear

...and I laugh and I spin and dance and frolic in ecstasy and I... I hurt no more, while you...you petrified little man, are left to wonder if it's you I speak of.

HONESTLY ....I believe people are intimidated with truthful/ outspoken people. HONESTY..... will help you grow and it shows maturity.HONEST.....people will push you closer towards your destiny.

Don’t take away my dignity While patching up my broken dreams

(...) like he left a piece of himself with youand you are terrifiedhe is coming back for it.Or he left a piece of himself with you and you are terrified he is not coming back for it.

Perhaps the year and a half spenttrying to make sense of all this has finally drained meMaybe, just maybe, I always know I deserved better, but was too afraid to accept it

Maybe the entire world is in love with you and I'm the only one brave enough to admit it.

I try to think of metaphors that suit him best, but he was made of the sea and the stars and the sun, and one wouldn’t do him justice.

There are many wounded hearts here. Many! Some admit. Others - the stubborn ones, scribble poetry instead.

you rupturedthe love lakes of my longingand scattered the continents of my heart.

It was only love, It only drove me to my knees.Rendering me hopelessLike an incurable disease.

From ashes I cameTo ashes, I'll return.But tonight I'm contentTo sit here and burn.

She wore his flowerIn her hairScent of amberSweetened the airHer dress was whiteHer feet bareHe found heavenWaiting thereShe is aliveIn his painful sigh...

slow down, oh sweet tearsflowing nectar...down my lashes' tipssomedaysomeone will kiss you away, even before you can reach my lips.

I mostly hope you think I miss you and in the end you hope you'll get me, but that's fantasy, untrue as you, and bitter as the hope you left me.

It's better to have loved and lost than never love at all - I doubt that sorry statement every time I fall.

I envythe cup of coffeethat getsto kissyour sleepy lipsawakeevery cold andbitter morning.

Watch me go. Watch me. Because you said i couldn't. Because you thought I wouldn't. Go on, cry now. Cry.

My journey defines me

I am a butterfly poetbirthed from painflying with the freedomof my verses.

I'm Noah, and you are the ship coasting along the banks and as long as you are my valentine I will sail between your eyes..

i am so crammedfull of fearsthat if you were to touch me i might eitherfly or break.

The poem is the point at which our strength gave out.

I think poor poetry writing skills are excused when you’re simply trying to flush out emotions.

Every situation is of man's making and can only contain what man contains.

I have not encouraged talk about man’s holy privacy, although I do respect and defend man’s right to have it.

For if our bodies aren’t our own, And justice isn’t ours, And our love is just a sin, And voices by the peopleAre no longer for the people, What have we left to lose?

All acts of kindness are lights in the war for justice.

Perhaps pondering words is also a form of seeking justice. If a monologue can invite a chorus, then perhaps it can speak for others as well.

You'll never be able to silence the woman who was born to write.

I respond to many names.Sometimes I am different people.Sometimes I am the me that howls in the night.Sometimes I am the sickening silence.I wear moonlight in my hair and bare my teeth.

Start with your heart, and only good can follow!

I'm going to Hell in a basketWeaved in from my sinsLike wickerWith little Wiccan tiesAs if I'm a witchAccused

The erotic drive is the great energy that moves through all evolution.What about love? Where does that fit in?Love's simply the handmaiden of the great energy, and an excuse to write suspect poetry.

Everything I try to hide ends up screaming from a mountaintop.

Imperfection is my ticket, perfection is my pursuit.

I’m fighting my way into existence, and I will keep doing so until the end of time.