Best 1 875 of Poem quotes - MyQuotes

By Anonym 16 Sep

Suzy Kassem

He who creates a poison, also has the cure. He who creates a virus, also has the antidote. He who creates chaos, also has the ability to create peace. He who sparks hate, also has the ability to transform it to love. He who creates misery, also has the ability to destroy it with kindness. He who creates sadness, also has the ability to to convert it to happiness. He who creates darkness, can also be awakened to produce illumination. He who spreads fear, can also be shaken to spread comfort. Any problems created by the left hand of man, Can also be solved with the right, For he who manifests anything, Also has the ability to Destroy it. IN THE HANDS OF MAN by Suzy Kassem

By Anonym 15 Sep

Scott Hastie

A stream of primal voices Whispering in the breeze of your heart To urge you on.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Atticus Poetry

We all wear scars, find someone who makes yours feel beautiful.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Hubert Martin

...4-5-6: when time escapes the day in its most beautiful way. She starves for that beauty, she longs to quench her limitless thirst, but those moments are so fleeting and their limit is her unrest. Her bones are hollow and heavy as she takes a single step, and in that instant she is gone, blinded by the flash of a stray ray of light, her eyes close in that moment and stars flood her night. She falls forward slow, counting the half seconds of her descent. Her eyes stay closed, her thoughts are spent.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Charles Simic

The Prodigal Dark morning rain Meant to fall On a prison and a schoolyard, Falling meanwhile On my mother and her old dog. How slow she shuffles now In my father’s Sunday shoes. The dog by her side Trembling with each step As he tries to keep up. I am on another corner waiting With my head shaved. My mind hops like a sparrow In the rain. I’m always watching and worrying about her. Everything is a magic ritual, A secret cinema, The way she appears in a window hours later To set the empty bowl And spoon on the table, And then exits So that the day may pass, And the night may fall Into the empty bowl, Empty room, empty house, While the rain keeps Knocking at the front door.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Samiha Totanji

May god embrace the mess in your head, The chaos in your heart And the flames in your eyes. For you were never meant to Be loved in pieces Neither chained Or even understood . You are a piece of art And a piece of art is only meant to be admired, desired, and Kept away from anyone or anything that may mess with such kind of Magic…

By Anonym 17 Sep

Ramon Ravenswood

Merlin Speaks: Ô mighty trees of Avalon release sap and seeds into hearts and minds So Arthur’s dream can reveal echoes of futures past So Camelot’s glory is forever ingrained in the rich forests and mountains’ mysterious valleys where a once and future King lowered his sword and lay in the arms of his sweet Lady of Forests and Lakes

By Anonym 19 Sep

Annie Dillard

Were the earth as smooth as a ball bearing, it might be beautiful seen from another planet, as the rings of Saturn are. But here we live and move; we wander up and down the banks of the creek, we ride a railway through the Alps, and the landscape shifts and changes. Were the earth smooth, our brains would be smooth as well; we would wake, blink, walk two steps to get the whole picture and lapse into dreamless sleep. Because we are living people, and because we are on the receiving end of beauty, another element necessarily enters the question. The texture of space is a condition of time. Time is the warp and matter the weft of woven texture of beauty in space, and death is the hurtling shuttle… What I want to do, then, is add time to the texture, paint the landscape on an unrolling scroll, and set the giant relief globe spinning on it stand.

By Anonym 15 Sep

William Thomson Kelvin

… Fourier's great mathematical poem ... {Referring to Joseph Fourier's mathematical theory of the conduction of heat, one of the precursors to thermodynamics.}

By Anonym 18 Sep

Pierre Bottero

- Qu'y-a-t-il au sommet de la montagne ? - Le ciel. - Que dit le loup quand il hurle ? - Joie, force et solitude. - A qui s'adresse-t-il ? - A la lune. - Où va la rivière ? - Remplir la mer. - A qui la nuit fait-elle peur ? - A ceux qui attendent le jour pour voir. - Es-tu vent ou nuage ? - Je suis moi. - Es-tu vent ou nuage ? - Vent. - Es-tu ombre ou lumière ? - Je suis moi. - Es-tu ombre ou lumière ? - Les deux. - Que devient une lame qui se brise ? - Une poussière d'étoile. - Que fais-tu devant une rivière que tu ne peux pas traverser ? - Je le traverse. - Que devient une étoile qui meurt ? - Un rêve qui vit. - Offre moi un mot. - Silence. - Un autre. - Harmonie. - Un dernier. - Fluidité. - L'ours et le chien se disputent un territoire, qui a raison ? - Le chat qui les observe. - Marie tes trois mots. - Marchombre.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Kamand Kojouri

Come into my world. I will show you the phenomenon that Stendhal experienced. I will help you feel the cascading arpeggios of Wagner's overture. I will dance to Doga’s waltzes with you. A day spent without appreciating the beauty surrounding us is a waste. Let me appreciate you

By Anonym 18 Sep

Jyoti Patel

The heart that was filled With your memories Is empty and lost now I claim to enjoy the rain While there’s a cyclone within There’s always a smile on my face But, I question “Is there any happiness?” When the entire world is asleep Your silence speaks to me In a thousand different ways In a thousand different versions In a thousand different colors In a thousand different flavors The heart that was filled With your memories Is empty and lost now I claim to enjoy the rain While there’s a storm within There’s always a smile on my face But, I question “Is there any happiness?

By Anonym 16 Sep

Kamand Kojouri

I remember our childhood days when life was easy and math problems hard. Mom would help us with our homework and dad was not at home but at work. After our chores, we’d go to the old fort museum with clips in our hair and pure joy in our hearts. You, sister, wore the bangles that you, brother, got as a prize from the Dentist. “Why the bangles?” the Dentist asked, surprised, for boys picked the stickers of cars instead. “They’re for my sisters,” you said. Mom would treat us to a bottle of Coke, a few sips each. Then, we’d buy the sweet smelling bread from the same white van and hand-in-hand, we’d walk to our small flat above the restaurant. I remember our childhood days. Do you remember them too?

By Anonym 16 Sep

Nessie Q.

Don't fall in love with me. I am dissonance. I am always at war with myself – confusing my head with my heart, always retreating into my mind, because I don‘t want to lose.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Lori Jenessa Nelson

Dear Lover, Your laughter is warm rain, and you are the rainbow.

By Anonym 19 Sep

T. S. Eliot

Those who glitter with the glory of the hummingbird meaning death

By Anonym 19 Sep

Tripurari

What is poetry? Only the poetry can answer this!

By Anonym 16 Sep

Dejan Stojanovic

In a real poem a sound does not swallow a letter, but a letter swallows a sound.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Jay Woodman

grappling with some small understanding of this place, this time, we're in" my poem "In a BishopsWood Clearing

By Anonym 18 Sep

Charles Wolfe

The Burial of Sir John Moore after Corunna" Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note, As his corse to the rampart we hurried; Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot O’er the grave where our hero we buried. We buried him darkly at dead of night, The sods with our bayonets turning; By the struggling moonbeam’s misty light And the lantern dimly burning. No useless coffin enclosed his breast, Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him, But he lay like a warrior taking his rest With his martial cloak around him. Few and short were the prayers we said, And we spoke not a word of sorrow; But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead, And we bitterly thought of the morrow. We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed And smoothed down his lonely pillow, That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er his head, And we far away on the billow! Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him, But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on In the grave where a Briton has laid him. But half of our heavy task was done When the clock struck the hour for retiring; And we heard the distant and random gun That the foe was sullenly firing. Slowly and sadly we laid him down, From the field of his fame fresh and gory; We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone, But left him alone with his glory.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Santosh Kalwar

Her touch is like doing simple math When she sleeps in the bed, subtracting clothes There is a red ink, like a sparkling red wine, adding colors Dividing body, remembering gods, without multiplying

By Anonym 19 Sep

Tamara Stamenkovic

Tisina je moj maternji jezik.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Emmanuelle Soni-dessaigne

In your voice, I will hear all my pains And with your words, I will understand them I will tell you That everything is uncertain (And so possible) And I will give you my hand (Inaccessible)

By Anonym 17 Sep

Anne Carson

My mother always closes her bedroom drapes tight before going to bed at night. I open mine as wide as possible. I like to see everything, I say. What’s there to see? Moon. Air. Sunrise. All that light on your face in the morning. Wakes you up. I like to wake up.

By Anonym 18 Sep

Sherman Alexie

So Lightning says to Mud, “What would happen if I struck your blood?” And Mud says, “Brother, It would hurt, And make me the mother Of every living thing. But, Fire Boy, you ain’t lifting my grass skirt Until you burn me a ring.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Anjum Choudhary

Destruction wasn't when you chose to destroy me. It was when i let you.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Amit Kalantri

A poem shouldn't just give melody; it should give meaning.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Hamidreza Bagheri

My Serinity, Thee, my serenity, one can not bear, Seeing thee befuddled, bereaved, Dimmed like the midnight, secluded, darkened, Thee, my serenity, A window to my eyes, A window to laughter, and peace of mind, Thee, my serenity, one can not bear, Seeing thee wail, whine, cry, Like a gloomy, mourning brume, Thee, my serenity, Soared through fervor and delight, To the crown of heavens, the Almighty Myth, One can not bear, Seeing thee prostrate, razed, demure, Upon the dimmed streets, crawling, for a sight of the lune, Thee, my birdy in love, What befall to thy song, The very chant of my life, Cut short, stopped, along with all I gasp, Thee, my serenity, one can not bear, Seeing thee, caged in thy own night, Encumbered, through thy own heart, Lean on my shoulders now, My beautiful, wonderful Lily, That thee shall not fear, the sorrow of, Of being lonely, apart, not having a peer, As I promise, to my most dear, The girl to my heart, always near, Come what may, don’t age a year, That I will be, forever here,

By Anonym 16 Sep

Charles Bukowski

it does seem the more we drink the better the words go.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Kamand Kojouri

How is it that there was never you until there was and then all was you?

By Anonym 15 Sep

Farid Ud-din Attar

As you approach this stage's final veil, Kingdoms and wealth, substance and water fail; Withdraw into yourself, and one by one Give up the things you own--when this is done, Be still in selflessness and pass beyond All thoughts of good and evil; break this bond, And as it shatters you are worthy of Oblivion, the Nothingness of love.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Fernando Pessoa

All letters of love are Ridiculous. They wouldn’t be love letters if they were not Ridiculous.

By Anonym 18 Sep

George Gordon Lord Byron

The Assyrian came down like the wolf on the fold, And his cohorts were gleaming in purple and gold; And the sheen of their spears was like stars on the sea, When the blue wave rolls nightly on deep Galilee. Like the leaves of the forest when Summer is green, That host with their banners at sunset were seen: Like the leaves of the forest when Autumn hath blown, That host on the morrow lay withered and strown. For the Angel of Death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in the face of the foe as he passed; And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts but once heaved, and for ever grew still! And there lay the steed with his nostril all wide, But through it there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf. And there lay the rider distorted and pale, With the dew on his brow, and the rust on his mail: And the tents were all silent, the banners alone, The lances unlifted, the trumpet unblown. And the widows of Ashur are loud in their wail, And the idols are broke in the temple of Baal; And the might of the Gentile, unsmote by the sword, Hath melted like snow in the glance of the Lord!

By Anonym 15 Sep

Sara Secora

Battered was my heart in the deep search, branded with cracks like slices of silver birch. An ignorant dream, a wish, just fool's gold -- that was the tale that love had sold.

By Anonym 15 Sep

Jeanne Robert Foster

But the rare herb, Forgetfulness, / It hides away from me.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Munia Khan

If I die today, will you remember me tomorrow? The love I'm leaving behind, will you care to borrow? From a snake-shed-skin or from the sky unknown In all living and the dead I'll dwell to groan

By Anonym 15 Sep

Jorge Luis Borges

Casi no soy, pero mis versos ritman la vida y su esplendor. Yo fui Walt Whitman.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Hubert Martin

Hoping fast that my arrow's flight is steady and true, I need this, I need my arrow to find you, To pierce your skin and enter your undecided heart, Please, oh please, this can be our brand new start, Maybe it's not meant to be, Maybe my arrow will miss and strike a tree, But my love for you is strong, it guides my arrow, I cannot miss, the window to your heart is very narrow, It slams shut igniting embers and sparking fury spatter, To my heart and your window, we are known as 'shatter.

By Anonym 19 Sep

Jazalyn

What Love Are You That Causes Sorrow? Love is joy; It is not supposed to hurt; Then why pain Is part of it? Love is delight; It is not supposed to harm; Then why hate Is part of it? What joy are you That causes pain? What delight are you That causes hate? What love are you That causes sorrow?

By Anonym 17 Sep

Jay Woodman

NAMING THE EARTH (a poem of light for national poetry day) And the world will be born again in circles of steaming breath and beams of light as each one of us directs our inner eye upon its name. Hear the cry of wings, the sigh of leaves and grass, smell the new sweet mist rising as the pathway is cleared at last. Stones stand ready - they have known since ages and ages ago that they were not alone. Water carries the planet's energy into skies and down to earth and bones. The cold parts steadily as we come together, bodies and hearts warm, hands tingling. We are silent but our eyes are singing. We look, we feel, we know, we trust each other's souls, we have no need to speak. Not now, but later, when the time is right, the name will ring within the iron core of each other's listening - and the very earth's being. Every creature, every plant, will hear it calling, tolling like a bell - a sound we've always felt but never dared to hope to hear reverberating - true at last, at every level of existence. The poets come together to open the intimate centre. Believe in life and air - breathe the light itself, for these are the energies and rhythms that we need to see, to touch, to reach, to identify, to say, the NAME. Colours on your skin fuse and dissolve - leave the river clean for pure space and time to enter and flow in. We all become one fluid stream of stillness and motion, of flaring thought pulses discovering weird pools and twists within where darkness hides from the flames in our eyes but will not snare us. We probe deeper still, journeying towards a unity which will be more raw and yet also more formed than anything written or spoken before. Our fragile bodies fall away - and the trees, and the roots of trees, guide us - lead us away from the faces we remember seeing each day in the mirror - into an ocean of dreams seething with warmth, love, where the beginning is real, ripe, evolving. And the world is born again in circles of steaming breath and beams of light. An ache - a signal - a trembling moment - and the time is right to say the name. We sing as one whole voice of the universal - all the words, the names of every tiny thirsting thing, and they ring out together as one sound, one energy, one sense, one vibration, one breath. And the world listens, beats, shines, glows - IS - Exists!

By Anonym 16 Sep

Rainer Maria Rilke

Entre el día y el sueño estoy en casa donde duermen los niños, tibios de correrías y los viejos se sientan por la tarde, y arden hogares y su espacio alumbran. Entre el día y el sueño estoy en casa donde suenan campanas de oración y muchachas, cohibidas por ecos que se extinguen, se apoyan fatigadas en el brocal del pozo. Y hay un tilo, que es mi árbol predilecto: y todos los veranos que en él callan se vuelven a mover en las mil ramas y entre el día y el sueño vuelven a despertar.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Suzy Kassem

From her thighs, she gives you life And how you treat she who gives you life Shows how much you value the life given to you by the Creator. And from seed to dust There is ONE soul above all others -- That you must always show patience, respect, and trust And this woman is your mother. And when your soul departs your body And your deeds are weighed against the feather There is only one soul who can save yours And this woman is your mother. And when the heart of the universe Asks her hair and mind, Whether you were gentle and kind to her Her heart will be forced to remain silent And her hair will speak freely as a separate entity, Very much like the seaweed in the sea -- It will reveal all that it has heard and seen. This woman whose heart has seen yours, First before anybody else in the world, And whose womb had opened the door For your eyes to experience light and more -- Is your very own MOTHER. So, no matter whether your mother has been cruel, Manipulative, abusive, mentally sick, or simply childish How you treat her is the ultimate test. If she misguides you, forgive her and show her the right way With simple wisdom, gentleness, and kindness. And always remember, That the queen in the Creator's kingdom, Who sits on the throne of all existence, Is exactly the same as in yours. And her name is, THE DIVINE MOTHER. KINGDOM OF THE WOMB by Suzy Kassem THE SPRING FOR WISDOM, 1993

By Anonym 15 Sep

Cristen Rodgers

Be still my hand and let the words write themselves upon my heart. Be still my heart and let your pages be filled in silence.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Hubert Martin

I always deemed myself a one chance person, if you hurt me or betray me, then I'm done with you. As I grew older and the scars of wisdom imprinted on my soul and chest, I realized a second chance took a monumental amount of strength and some people deserve a chance to right their wrongs. Now, I would gladly allow another the opportunity to cauterize their wounds at the risk of ripping open my tight-knit scars. I would bleed for you and feel alive rather than watch with cold eyes as you decay.

By Anonym 16 Sep

May Sarton

I can tell you that solitude Is not all exaltation, inner space Where the soul breaths and work can be done. Solitude exposes the nerve, Raises up ghosts. The past, never at rest, flows through it.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Santosh Kalwar

I am nobody, even if I say I am this or that.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Sanober Khan

I breathe in... The sights and smells Of this city I’ve come to know... So well I gaze... Across the turquoise ocean Where the waves Liberate my spirit... From its shell I breathe in... The brilliant sky line Where the birds Emerge shyly From the dappled sunshine I breathe in... The gently... Blowing winds That soothe me Like a mother, around her child I breathe in... The sounds of laughter Pure and pretty Like the golden-green butterfly I’m always after I breathe in... The closeness, I have always shared With people, Who almost knew me, Almost cared I breathe in... The comfort Of my home, The safe walls, The scents of childhood On the pillows I breathe in...the silence Of my own heart Aching with tenderness... With memories.. Of home I breathe... in... The fragrance Of love, and moist sand The one... His roses left... On both my hands And I just keep on breathing Every moment As much as I can Preserving it, in my body For the day It can’t So I breathe in.. Once again.. Feeling life's energy Fizzing through my cells Never knowing What awaits me Or what's going to happen to me.. Next I breathe in This moment... Knowing it's either life Or it's death I close my eyes, And breathe in Just believing in myself.

By Anonym 17 Sep

Jyoti Patel

My child Your tears We cannot bear My child You are so full of laughter And it's our greatest power

By Anonym 18 Sep

Stephen Dunn

Stone Seeking Warmth Look, it's usually not a good idea to think seriously about me. I've been known to give others a hard time. I've had wives and lovers— trust that I know a little about trying to remain whole while living a divided life. I don't easily open up. If you come to me, come to me so warned. I am smooth and grayish. It's possible my soul is made of schist. But if you are not dissuaded by now, well, my door is ajar. I don't care if you're in collusion with the wind. I wouldn't mind being diminished one caress at a time. Come in, there's nothing here but solitude and me. I like to keep the house clean.

By Anonym 16 Sep

Cucuk Espe

If there is no perfection of a work , be sure the perfection of a plan.