What Is Poetry Quotes

And yet this self, containsTides, continents and stars―a myriad selves, Is small and solitary as one grass-bladePassed over by the windAmongst a myriad grasses on the prairie.

the glory of the protagonist is always paid for by a lot of secondary characters

Poetry had always seemed something I could turn to in need - an emergency exit, a lifebuoy, as well as a justification.

Every time your work is read, you die several deaths for every word, and poetry is like being flayed alive.

Where were you then?Who else was there?Saying what?Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?

The computer is incredibly fast, accurate, and stupid.Man is unbelievably slow, inaccurate, and brilliant.The marriage of the two is a force beyond calculation.

Here they have no time for the fine gracesof poetry, unless it freely growsin deep compulsion, like water in the well, woven into the texture of the soilin a strong pattern.

You ask me why I don't speakNot a word at willBut write so much worth well over a mill'Well I value words like I value kissesA sober one, a closer one penetrates the heartDarling it's how it mends it

yo te amo para comenzar a amarte, para recomenzar el infinitoy para no dejar de amarte nunca:por eso no te amo todavía.

Memang sulit menulis puisi. Dan untuk apa mempersulit diri sendiri.

Always learn poems by heart, ' she said. 'They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they'll make your soul impervious to the world's soft decay.

Learning to be a lady / is like learning / to live within a shell, / to be a crustacean encased / in a small white / uncomfortable world.

I live my life in growing orbits which move out over the things of the world.

I want to tie one thousand balloons around my neckand float upwhile slowly dying of happiness.

The surge of his ardour swept through him in climatic release, filling her womb with his final, mortal sowing.

I sing the song of my heartstrings, alone in the eternal muteness, in the face of God.

in a slapfight with Jesusmy face bleedsbecause no one cut their fingernails back then

Când ne deschidemtu mie şi eu ţie, când ne scufundămtu în mine şi eu în tine, când ne pierdemtu în mine şi eu în tine, Abia atuncieu sunt euşi tu eşti tu.

He loves me, he loves me not. How many flowers must I kill before he loves me?” ~He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

Love is as we will it to be." ~ Amunhotep El Bey

I learned a long, long time ago, that I could accomplish things in this place we call reality and yet still spend most of my time in the better reality of my mind.

Sólo la fiebre y la poesía provocan visiones. / Sólo el amor y la memoria. / No estos caminos ni estas llanuras. / No estos laberintos.

More sailors have drowned in words than in the sea.

say what you mean and mean what you say

Such a small, pure object a poem could be, made of nothing but air a tiny string of letters, maybe small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. But it could blow everybody's head off.

If I knew what to doI'd do more than write a song for you

Dying is a universe of its own.

The heart's actionsare neither the sentence nor its reprieve. Salt hay and thistles, above the cold granite. One bird singing back to another because it can't not.

It was a scary thought. A man could be surrounded by poetry reading and not know it.

... in the world, it will be women, mostly colored and poor. women will have to bury children, and support themselves through grief.

The subtleties of the mind cannot be transmitted in words, but can be seen in words.

How do you knowyou're a girl?I'm wearing a frock.And if you take it off?I get cold, so I putit back on.If I was a boy, I don't know what I'd do.

I say every dog looks like no otherbut that isn't true. Not entirely.Difference is slippery.

The one who pulls the puppet strings knows fairytales can heal.

Don’t forget to collect the memories on your journey. Remember, if you only focus on your destination, you will miss out on the benefits of the journey.

I will Basquiat the canvas of your body like a Broadway Junction wall…and Gordon Parks you for those dark midnights when your scent fades.

an English girl might well believethat time is how you spend your love.

A teacher will be frustrated if she is only motivated to teach what she has learned. Yet, if she is motivated because of the students, then she will learn from them how to teach.

I'm Artistry through Fluent and Flowing Poetry in Motion and I'm Letting it Flow.....

Far over misty mountains coldTo dungeons deep and caverns oldWe must away, ere break of day, To find our long-forgotten gold.

Thus I, gone forth, as spiders do, In spider’s web a truth discerning, Attach one silken strand to youFor my returning.

BeautyIs the fume-track of necessity. This thought Is therapeutic.If, after severalApplications, you do not findRelief, consult your family physician

ONE WORDOne word— one stonein a cold river.One more stone—I'll need many stonesif I'm going to get over.

No thought is a stupid thought, those who are thoughtless are thought of as stupid.

The world and the friends that lived in it are shadows: you alone remain real in this drowsing room.

We lay our words like tenuous plats, build a bridge over itsunsinkable depth: Not a sea of longing, but the brack of wanting what’s physicalto help us forget we are physical.

Make me, dear Lord, polite and kind, To everyone, I pray.And may I ask you how you find Yourself, dear Lord, today?

...Thought lengths it, pulls an invisible world through a needle's eye one detail at a time, ...

If you can't beat em: Poem.

Poetry is dancing with words.