What Is Poetry Quotes

Here in this endless and gleaming wildernessI was removed farther than ever from the world of men --And I never saw so close and so clearlyThe image in the mirror of my own soul.

Late, by myself, in the boat of myself, no light and no land anywhere, cloudcover thick. I try to stayjust above the surface, yet I'm already underand living within the ocean.

Not sorry, not calling, not cryingAll will pass like smoke of white apple treesSeized by the gold of autumn, I will no longer be young.

Silence can be a planrigorously executedthe blueprint to a lifeIt is a presenceit has a history a formDo not confuse itwith any kind of absence

In a single wave of meaning the triumphant purity of being.

Poetry doesn’t pay. But I need it. And so do you.

if you eat menand still feel like you’re starving, you’re craving something that they cannot give.

Remind your bones that that dance inside something worthy

Is it not enough to dip your tongue into my soul and write poetry?

When admiring other people's gardens, don't forget to tend to your own flowers.

Don't shrink your standards, link yourself with those who think and ink like you.

The past is uselessto me now:an old suitcasewith mould in the lining, heavy even when empty.

And so beneath the weight lay IAnd suffered death, but could not die.

I almost gave my life long ago for a thingThat has gone to dust now, stinging my eyes—It is strange how often a heart must be brokenBefore the years can make it wise.

To suffer together is to suffer with beauty...

To toil, to think, to long, to grieve, —Is such my future fate?The morn was dreary, must the eveBe also desolate?

it is being honest about my painthat makes me invincible.

...but beautiful mosaics are made of broken pieces.

All of my insecuritiesshine in the dark.

to live asubstance-freelife under thepressures ofthe daily grindis state-sponsoredsuicide

I hate forcing myself to go to bed to avoid committing suicide.

When my desiregrows too fierceI wear my bed clothesinside out, dark as the night’s rough husk.

It is not given to each of usTo be desired.

Without the wetness of your love, The fragrance of your water, Or the trickling sounds ofYour voice, I shall always feelthirsty.

I want to have a romance so grand, it would have made Shakespeare fumble for words.

Saturated Arrogance...imprisoned musescried to be freeshe took away their quillsand saiddo not bother me...

False love, desire, and beauty frail, adieu! Dead is the root whence all these fancies grew.

This was what the poets couldn't put in their poetry, she thought dumbly, the rush of desire so fierce and pure it made one shake, all on the force of a word.

Whiteness of moonlight builds a house that is not there

You should not have to burn your hand every day to feel the mystery of fire.

God, is there no faith left?He has not told. I would not know Him if I saw Him.

Madness is loving the unsolvable puzzle of your soul and replacing the lost pieces with my own.

A mask you ask? Optional I find!Masks lend appeal of a mysterious kind.

Poetry is a connection to a change within you.

As we change, our writing changes too. You cannot write the same poem twice. And that's a good thing.

Some people are hard to forget, but some people are hard to remember.

The funny thingaboutadvice is, we always tellothersthe thingswecannotreally doourselves.

I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

Your oddity is your hottest commodity but you scratch yourself like it's the lottery to reject yourself mentally, spiritually & bodily.

We each bring our own unique beauty to the world, and how blessed we are to have the freedom to find that beauty in each other.

May you always remember the Beloved is your divine and sacred self.

You have survived so muchthat no one remembers.And you still spread warmrain on all your overgrownlots. And you still get dressedin the morning. You stillopen wide for the sun.

Let go, let go, let go, Just let it go, Let the tears come out, Stop fighting the tears back, Stop wearing different masks, Let yourself be seen, Let yourself be the real you,

do not look for healingat the feet of thosewho broke you

Surrender your pain, look within and see your perfect and divine self.

Tchingis, if you determine this is to be so, who can withstand you? You are poetry after an ugly day, and heal wounds I didn't know I had.

I was coming together...limb by limb, after being brokenfor an infinity.

The most beautiful, amazing and inevitable fact about life- Everything has a natural healing process.

I think that the habit of gloomy poetry is very funny. It’s like a special competition in losing.

Remove the mask. Let me love the darkness you hide underneath.