What Is A Poem Quotes

What Is A Poem Quote of the day

Can you remember who you were, before the world told you who you should be?

The meaning of life is to find your gift. The purpose of life is to give it away.

Don't fall asleep yet. Contrary to popular belief, that's not where dreams get accomplished.

I think that I shall never see a poem lovely as a tree.

Every poem is an infant labored into birth and I am drenched with sweating effort, tired from the pain and hurt of being a man, in the poem I transform myself into a woman.

I feel the only thing you can do about life is to preserve it, by art if you're an artist, by children if you're not.

Whatever is produced in haste goes hastily to waste.

She's kind of a walking poem, she's this perfect beauty...but at the same time very deep, very smart.

Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.

We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests.

For my best poems were all written when I felt the worst. When I was happy, I didn't write anything.

A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.

My care is like my shadow in the sun, Follows me flying, flies when I pursue it, Stands and lies by me, doth what I have done.

You were born a child of light’s wonderful secret— you return to the beauty you have always been.

In summer the empire of insects spreads.

Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!

Light is more important than the lantern, The poem more important than the notebook

And the poem, I think, is only your voice speaking.

The dancing vortex of a sacred metaphor clashes horns and halos to make wounded music set to the tempo of a new era in brilliant labor.

A poem begins with a lump in the throat

Not all that have fallen are vanquished.

Look, do you see that poem?' she said suddenly, pointing.

What happens to a dream deferred?

The same hot lightning that burns your blood with passion–– cools your fears with peace.

I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you. I want to ride in the swing of your hips. My fingers will dig in you like quotation marks, blazing your limbs into parts of speech.

Your pain is a school unto itself–– and your joy a lovely temple.

The best poem is that whose worked-upon unmagical passages come closest, in texture and intensity, to those moments of magical accident.

The true poem rests between the words.

Love much. Earth has enough of bitter in it.

We, peopling the void air, make gods to whom we impute the ills we ought to bear.

A poet is a verb that blossoms light in gardens of dawn, or sometimes midnight.

...like that star of the waning summer who beyond all stars rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance.

Life is a poem most people never read.

Where joy in an old pencil is not absurd.

Despair and Genius are too oft connected

Everyone should be forcibly transplanted to another continent from their family at the age of three.

Poetry, like jazz, is one of those dazzling diamonds of creative industry that help human beings make sense out of the comedies and tragedies that contextualize our lives.

Poems are never finished - just abandoned

Is it possible to write a poem or are these words just screams of outlaws exiled to the desert?

Feet sandaled with dreams tread paths of vision leading to wisdom’s sharp peaks.

You might as well ask an artist to explain his art, or ask a poet to explain his poem. It defeats the purpose. The meaning is only clear thorough the search.

It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.

Twas the night before Thanksgiving. All the food's in the oven. And I'm in the bedroom performin' self lovin'.

People can put their best poems straight onto the web.

I think of my best poems as vessels that I can or hope to fill with everything I have.

I once broke up with a boy because he wrote me an awful poem.

I often stood in front of the mirror alone, wondering how ugly a person could get.

We turned an anthem into an assignment, a poem into a job description.

Poetry looking in the mirror sees art, and art looking in a mirror sings poetry.