Best 8159 quotes in «poetry quotes» category

You are my brother and I love you. I love you worshipping in your church, kneeling in your temple, and praying in your mosque. You and I and all are children of one religion, for the varied paths of religion are but the fingers of the loving hand of the Supreme Being, extended to all, offering completeness of spirit to all, anxious to receive all.

You are my strength when I am weak You are my shield when I am hurting Whatever you say unto me Lord I will do

You are not dead You are not dead You are not dead You are still Here

You are nothing like my father. And like my father you are nothing.

You are not disposable. I know you feel that way when people choose to walk out of your life, but their emptiness causes space. And that vacant area of your life is desperately crying out for the one meant to take up residence. Let the angry tenant go. You don't want someone staying because you've begged and pleaded for their occupancy. You want the one who sees your quaking heart and says: "Honey I'm home".

You are not going to burn out, you're just beginning. You have an entire galaxy of stars burning fiercely inside of you and once the blaze begins it's impossible to annihilate. Passion can't be contained.

You are only as touched my the magic of this life as you want to be.

You are not worthless. Even if you've been called that your entire life.

You are only as free as you think you are and freedom will always be as real as you believe it to be.

You are not who you think. You're not even the thinker. You are the one conscious of the thought.

You are now 18 standing on the precipice, trembling before your own greatness. This is your call to leap. There will always being those who say you are too young and delicate to make anything happen for yourself. They don’t see the part of you that smolders. Don’t let their doubting drown out the sound of your own heartbeat. You are the first drop of a hurricane. Your bravery builds beyond you You are needed by all the little girls still living in secret, writing oceans made of monsters and throwing like lightening. You don’t need to grow up to find greatness. You are stronger than the world has ever believed you to be. The world is waiting for you to set it on fire Trust in yourself and burn.

You are not white, but a rainbow of colors. You are not black, but golden. You are not just a nationality, but a citizen of the world. You are not just for the right or left, but for what is right over the wrong. You are not just rich or poor, but always wealthy in the mind and heart. You are not perfect, but flawed. You are flawed, but you are just. You may just be conscious human, but you are also a magnificent reflection of God.

You are that one breath. that puts all the remaining breaths. back into my body.

You are the beautiful half of a golden hurt.

You are the calmest, fiercest person I know, and that is enough to draw me into your world and woo me into your heart. I've always enjoyed a good paradox and puzzle. You are no exception.

you are so delicious to my poetic side.

You are the dream But I’ve had wake up calls

you are the prettiest bouquet of dying flowers i have ever seen.

You are the ocean to my eyes.

You are the one addiction I can’t quite shake. You stimulate my mind and increase my heart rate.

You are the kind of thing who takes from me And never gives anything away And when you call to me with your synchronicity I can't help but run to you You my horrible star I can't help but run to you when you call for me

You are the mark on my liquid heart where love begins with the beginning’s start You are the desire of the ablaze fires the only truth from ten-thousand-liars From the poem- A Letter to My Love

You are the illness I will never cure. You are the poem I will never write. You are the thought I will never finish. You are the text I will never read.

You are the poem that sticks in my throat teaching me to whisper with the voice of my heart.

You are the remedy of intensity i need in my life, to spin me out of the miserable monotony of working on life's daily assembly lines.

You are the know place to which the unknown is always leading me back." "I possess nothing worthy to give you." "There's only me." ~ quotes from poetry that Angelo feels match him and Zach

You are the wild Door to my peace Because you are an honest sinner I see you as my priest You can be my compass If you let me be the maze Come as vision in my night I'll become the shade in your days

You are thunder and lightning Love and rage Intensity and sensitivity Made of mountains, oceans Fire and fierce things Dreams and curiosity You are paradoxes and contradictions Some days soft, some days Strong as fuck Always beautiful.

You are to me like white islands, in a world of vast darkness.

You are whole today, looking back at fragments of the past. Such a hollow foundation for such a powerful person.

You ask me to write you a poem, I pen you an empty ocean, You run away. You ask me who I am, I paint you a breaking sky, You weep in the rain.

You bear a sword and shield, remind me of her labor, her stoning gaze. What beast will your blade free next? What call will you loose from another woman's throat?

You big ugly. You too empty. You desert with your nothing nothing nothing. You scorched suntanned. Old too quickly. Acres of suburbs watching the telly. You bore me. Freckle silly children. You nothing much. With your big sea. Beach beach beach. I’ve seen enough already. You dumb dirty city with bar stools. You’re ugly. You silly shopping town. You copy. You too far everywhere. You laugh at me. When I came this woman gave me a box of biscuits. You try to be friendly but you’re not very friendly. You never ask me to your house. You insult me. You don’t know how to be with me. Road road tree tree. I came from crowded and many. I came from rich. You have nothing to offer. You’re poor and spread thin. You big. So what. I’m small. It’s what’s in. You silent on Sunday. Nobody on your streets. You dead at night. You go to sleep too early. You don’t excite me. You scare me with your hopeless. Asleep when you walk. Too hot to think. You big awful. You don’t match me. You burnt out. You too big sky. You make me a dot in the nowhere. You laugh with your big healthy. You want everyone to be the same. You’re dumb. You do like anybody else. You engaged Doreen. You big cow. You average average. Cold day at school playing around at lunchtime. Running around for nothing. You never accept me. For your own. You always ask me where I’m from. You always ask me. You tell me I look strange. Different. You don’t adopt me. You laugh at the way I speak. You think you’re better than me. You don’t like me. You don’t have any interest in another country. Idiot centre of your own self. You think the rest of the world walks around without shoes or electric light. You don’t go anywhere. You stay at home. You like one another. You go crazy on Saturday night. You get drunk. You don’t like me and you don’t like women. You put your arm around men in bars. You’re rough. I can’t speak to you. You burly burly. You’re just silly to me. You big man. Poor with all your money. You ugly furniture. You ugly house. You relaxed in your summer stupor. All year. Never fully awake. Dull at school. Wait for other people to tell you what to do. Follow the leader. Can’t imagine. Workhorse. Thick legs. You go to work in the morning. You shiver on a tram.

You bothered yourself and changed the season. I was left behind with your awful sounds.

You breathe upon us now through solid assertions of yourself: teaspoons, goblets, seas of carpet, a forest of old plants to be watered an old man in an adjoining room to be touched and fed. And all this universe dares us to lay a finger anywhere, save exactly as you would wish it done.

You ask my love completest, As strong next year as now, The devil take you, sweetest, Ere I make aught such vow. Life is a masque that changes, A fig for constancy! No love at all were better, Than love which is not free.

You ask how it is possible to be your own father and son. You should seek answers, although it is better to anticipate some, to be the light and dream.

You ask if I will write a poem I could, I suppose write the most splendiferous one of all but not right now not when your hands are brewing warm cinnamon tea across my skin not when I’m trying to imagine what might happen if you began flowering kisses upon me My dear, how can I write a poem when I’m already inside one?

You ask me why I don't speak Not a word at will But write so much worth well over a mill' Well I value words like I value kisses A sober one, a closer one penetrates the heart Darling it's how it mends it

You brought me to places I’d have never thought to go To a trail near the river Where the water runs slow; To a mountain where all we heard Was our voices’ echo; You showed me inward beauty That doesn’t show in photos.

You became moon dust in my soul, I couldn't quite brush you away because somehow you always returned to haunt my heart.

You brought me your darkness & I loved you with the radiant tears of a thousand suns.

you belong to me but I do not own you

You bend the nail But keep hammering because Hammering makes the world

You burn like a candle inside my soul, showing me a way through this darkness.

you came over every week to touch me; traced my body with your tongue till we saw sunrise; and we ate burgers in bed naked; watched The Bee Movie; talked philosophy; sipped red wine; played catch with an orange; I asked you to tell me all your secrets.

You came into my life like the rain to the parched desert!

You can get lost in any library, no matter the size. But the more lost you are, the more things you'll find.

You can never rouse Harris. There is no poetry about Harris- no wild yearning for the unattainable. Harris never "weeps, he knows not why." If Harris's eyes fill with tears, you can bet it is because Harris has been eating raw onions, or has put too much Worcester over his chop. If you were to stand at night by the sea-shore with Harris, and say: "Hark! do you not hear? Is it but the mermaids singing deep below the waving waters; or sad spirits, chanting dirges for white corpses held by seaweed?" Harris would take you by the arm, and say: "I know what it is, old man; you've got a chill. Now you come along with me. I know a place round the corner here, where you can get a drop of the finest Scotch whisky you ever tasted- put you right in less than no time." Harris always does know a place round the corner where you can get something brilliant in the drinking line. I believe that if you met Harris up in Paradise (supposing such a thing likely), he would immediately greet you with: "So glad you've come, old fellow; I've found a nice place round the corner here, where you can get some really first-class nectar.

You can home in a satellite - counting the people inside. And still, we feel protected by closing and locking the door. - The Illusion of a Door