Quotes about poetry-quotes

Laugh until you crynever let your eyes look dryThis is not a matter of jokethis is all to provokeour sense of humourLife is its own consumer!

Love will find you when you least expect it to it will find it in an unusual moment on a strange day!

Faith is a question of eyesight even the blind can see that.

The world cannot be translated It can only be dreamed of and touched.

They grew they did not talk about growing.

Color is the overpowering of black white – the final victory over black.

If only youcould see me as the Devil does: palatable & raw chasing a chance blue moon

I recreate myself that is my only power.

The stars are but tears shed by a miriad of unrequited dreams each sparks with fire and guides its light homeward when a dream is revealed

With wine beside a gently flowing brook - this is the bestWithdrawn from sorrow in some quiet nook - this is the best

His Kiss:He has me at his every whim everything starts with him. To all the boys I used to kiss— everything stops with his.

Hunger allows no choiceTo the citizen or the policeWe must love one another or die.

My pond life with hydra is over now I’m into the ocean world of poetry to dive deeper..

With me: one minus one = one with you: it’s zero. Here lies the only difference.

You are not what you are You are darkness Looking for light within.

There is a moonlight note in the Moonlight Sonata there is a thunder note in an angry sky.

Even great men bow before the Sun it melts hubris into humility.

There are countless circles of hell believers never penetrate the ninth circle.

There are many secrets don’t try to resolve them all.

He confided his deepest secret to you be always wary of his secret.

He thought others were small that was his greatness.

Darkness does not age nothing is always nothing

Unborn eternity does not die existence is dying and falls asleep in the eternity beyond existence.

A lie is still a lieeven if it’s disguisedas the truth.

I believe the night I’ve never methides one elusive star I needto divide me between darkness and light

The garden was full of sorrowSongbirds and unusual winds whistled a rhymeClouds caused to appear and cast down darknessFor this was the first day the sun didn't shine

Even in solitude,silence stays,like a loyal supporter,with its unbroken presence.

I write because there are things in me that cannot die.

A Poet never denies creativity entrance.

poetry. i am not writing it.(make way for me please)it is my skin. dripping with light.

Unforgiveness,splinter in your breastbone, lives there lodged like a small tree.Withers in winter, looms in spring. Its fruit is sweet on first bite, then turns into the taste of your own flesh.

The gilded spiralOf longings within.Our very own cathedralThat points persistently to heaven.

I am sad, like the hot dust on the streetsAnd the music of fresh fallen leavesCaught in a sliding summer breeze.

love canembellish its beginningsing its blossomingand engrave its eternitiesbut can never explain its loss.

When you left you left behind a fieldof silent flowers under a sky full of unstirred clouds...you left a million butterfliesmid-silky flutters You left like midnight rain against my dreaming ears Oh and how you left leaving my coffee scentless and my couch comfortless leaving upon my fingers the melting snow of you you left behind a calendar full of empty days and seasons full of aimless wanders leaving me alone with an armful of sunsets your reflection behind in every puddle your whispersupon e

Tomorrow camewith the illusion of todayeven more fleeting than yesterdayit camelike it always comesand wentlike it’s always gonelike a favorite song in its final secondsTomorrow came and leftleaving nothingnothing...but a familiarlingeringsense of loss behind.

most of the timesit’s the hardest to saywhat I love moreyouor your memory.

give mea pillow of strongever-dependable shouldersthat i can bury my head in.

The Poets light but Lamps-Themselves-go out-

we are all like poems. some of us rhyme. some don’t. some are Pulitzer prizessome are just scribblesand yet, we all possessa special kind of beautythat can either heal or cut to the boneone that can never quitebe fathomed, nor forgotten.

holding the eveningtremblingly close to mei weepinto the sun lettingthe burdenof hopelift off my chesti realizethis is what it meansto be free.

The searing light of morningAsks unwelcome questions,Fragile hopes soon blistered by daylight.

I see You, Every time I look into Buddha’s eyes. I give myself to You. Every time I alter one of Your 1,000s names. Honestly & fully I love You. Through Christ and Maria, Shiva and Shakti, Krishna and Radha, With every day that passes and every breath I take. I enter gratitude for receiving Your Love. Obeying Your Laws of Truthfulness and Ahimsa, Weaving Prana With hearts and souls of Gaia. Through mysticism, shamanism, sufism, and ecstatic meditations. I yearn to touch You, to feel You, to be Y

...I will find once again the light of your beauty - your colored windows in the night...

for we all have our own twilights and mistsand abyssesto return to.

some words bring warmthjust bybeing next to each other.

what ismore beautifultears, in someone’s eyesfor meor in my eyesfor them.

wordslike mysterious mermaids come and live permanentlyin the soft sweepsand scars of my skin.

i would rather havefeelings without wordsthan words without feelings.

Letters are meaningless unless put together correctly. Words are worthless unless backed by truth. Sentences are handed out and judged accordingly, but only genuinely honest men or women can create writings that change the world forever.

Whenever I learn a new word, I feel strong, for I discover a new world. Whenever I share a word, I feel weak: I give away a sparkle of my dreams. (Soar)

I will not impress you with words, I will prove to you their definition. It’s a genuine vocabulary.

Man disavows, and Deity disowns me;Hell might afford my miseries a shelter;Therefore Hell keeps her ever-hungry mouths allBolted against me.Hard lot! encompassed with a thousand dangers,Weary, faint, trembling with a thousand terrors,I'm called, if vanquished, to receive a sentenceWorse than Abiram's.Him the vindictive rod of angry JusticeSent quick and howling to the centre headlong;I, fed with judgement, in a fleshy tomb, amBuried above ground.

How strange and ironic it is- all the words i long to sayare lost in words.

A single poemis worth a hundredcozy winter nightskind wordsand healed wounds.

Let thy words be few. I agree, but only if my ink can relentlessly run.

in the endit is wordspoetry. sunsetssomeone’s deep blue silk voice.mountain scents.someone’s smile.eyes. that we haveno defenses against.

Poetry without words, you are, the beat to my hearts rhythm.

how these words, wait to diein the arms of all the poetry..yet to be written.

Poetry keeps mein a highly drunken stateof divinity.

sometimes i wake upin the middleof the nightand findpoetry splatteredall over my bed.

i am alwaysstalking you, my dear. with my thoughtsmy words.my breath.

Poems are invisible flowers on my skin.

Your words... I hold them deeplike ancient skinshold wrinkles.

everything that is scatteredcomes together in wordseverything that is lostcomes back in poetry.

In greatness, life and death merge.

From one bell all the bells toll.

Long ago an uncalled rain fell and a called-upon God stayed equally distant.

They are both spectacular, Life and death.

One hand I extend into myself, the other toward others.

I travel, always arriving in the same place.

My mathematics is simple: one plus one = one.

We will go far away, to nowhere, to conquer, to fertilize until we become tired. Then we will stop and there will be our home.

Through everything I have passed but nowhere I have been.

All dust is the same dust. Temporarily separated To go peacefully And enjoy the eternal nap.

And this that you call solitude is in fact a big crowd.

Life eats life to live.

Mathematics doesn’t care about those beyond the numbers.

Neither alive nor dead; No one lets up, No one wins.

He awaits himself while walking, out of the icy circle to escape.

Instead of imitating me, you simply loiter.

In the end, the world returns to a grain.

Death swallows death.

Vandals listen only when others are stronger.If vandals are equal or strongerTheir word is the last word.

In the biggest and the smallest I sleep but at the same place I stay.

Every star was once darker than the night, before it awoke.

If emptiness is empty, how can something be borne or awaken from it?

Nothing is part of everything.

What does infinity mean to you? Are you not infinity and yourself?

Will the day tell its secret Before it disappears, Becomes timeless night.

From what you didn’t say, lies that you did say.

I can see myself before myself—A being through dark scenery.

The farther away, the closer the home becomes.

There is nobody to wake up eternal seekers.

If emptiness is endless, then everything rests in emptiness.

You are hurrying to the sweet place, To the nonsense chasing your spirit And in the nonsense you look for answers.

The eyesight for an eagle is what thought is to a man.

While gazing at myself from yourself, I was beautiful.

He will understand when it is too late that it is easier to love.