What Is Poetry Quotes
They were too much to carryso i left them behindfor a new life, in a new placebut no one forgot who i wasi didn'tand neither did the people who watchthey watched for yearsthey watch now
The sea waves stirred before methey dashed against the rocksLike a mermaid rising from its depthscurled white sea foam were her locks...
The most procession that ever comes to a man in this world is a women's heart.
(1)BEING A POETis like opening a car door& exposing yourself.(2)BEING A GOOD POETis like opening the door& exposing the passengeras well.
Maybe I live in the gates that lead to outbound international flights. Maybe that is home.And do I feel more comfortable at the departures or at the arrivals?
I contemplate the impossible and achieve madness. This is my blessing. This is my curse. My heaven, my hell.
Cuz even a gangsta rapper can find redemptionFor the sins committed before revelation.
I miss you, I miss you at night, I can’t sleep without you anymore, I’m scared. Meet me in heaven.
The HurricaneThe tree lay downon the garage roof and stretched, You have your heaven, it said, go to it.
Youth is as easily wasted as a fine wine consumed by a drunken man. There is no poetry in aging, and Javert lived out the process in its most hideous iteration.
when we were eleven, say, we really weren't interested in each other's poems at all. . . . But we didn't know a thing about poetry. We didn't care about it.
I had forgotten such innocence exists, /forgotten how it feels/ to live with neither calendars nor clocks
I know you . . .That you hold insideVast possibilities and dreamsAnd limitless love.
Love is a strange creature that no man can understand
Give me a life time by the fire, with a book in my hand, nothing more and I will tell you a great story.
Infectious smile has infected tears The laughter strikes with spears I am not dear and they are not sincere Feeling fear I must perform For when I stop the stage is gone
Poetry is and should not be explained It’s not a theory not a formula or a set patternIt’s a labyrinth of reflection with no source of image
Yet should there hover in their restless headsOne thought, one grace, one wonder at the least, Which into words no virtue can digest.
I never wanted to be saved, just loved in ways that would make the Gods jealous.
Nothing fills the world quite as poetry does. A poet need not dwell on the pagecount of his life.
my mother gave me islam.my father gave me the god of absence.and here i am.a religion made of myself.
Muse’s creations are predominately lyrical often resulting in poetic sonnets and fairytale like art.
Dance, Live, Sing, Cry, Love, Travel and Love again, until the day you have to stop
The deepest truth however is, that no love begins unconditional, but the only one that grows to be it, is the one that survives the breaking of all conditions, yet standing tall.
Once taken by her, you glowedAnd you drank her poisons, content. Because all the stars seemed to grow, And fields had a different scent, Autumn fields.
Nothing touches your skin of sweat(meltdown of oceanic kisses)when the purple lightwhispers to the moon in silent moonlit clarity
She was the reason I started to write but her beauty is kept me writing.
I cast my eyes out to the seaAnd gaze at all eternity.until forever turns to night.My eyes then lift to catch starlight.
The wind is made of haunting souls that moan and groan in whistles and whispers. This ghostly choir chills the breeze and orchestrates a rise of goose bumps on my skin.
Wilted or in bloom, taking or lending daylight, the world transitions.
Oh, mightiest wind, wilt thou cease thy breathing inand hold thy exhales?
Twinkle tiny star.Oh, how great you truly are!God's sign from afar.
A whiff of fresh mintthat tastes like strawberry pie.Your kisses tempt me.
Because, " said a boy."Because why?" asked a young girl."Because I love you.
The blue of daylightfades and chills as the sun sinksbeneath clouds of fire.
Look! Why want anything more marvellous than what is.
The people need poetry that will be their own secretTo keep them awake forever, And bathe them in the bright-haired wave of its breathing.
you’ll find the buildings taller, thatthe halls are full of ghostsbut everything still here iswhat you remember most
