Best 8159 quotes in «poetry quotes» category

DICK’S DESIRE Dick's eyes- Soft, cold, and blue- Meet Devonshire's- Dark, sexy, and yearning. Turning away- Dick grabs two packets of sugar- While Devonshire's eyes- Are still upon him- Pondering his every move. Is Dick a playboy, A ladies' man, A mans' man, Or a killer? Does his sex long for, Something hard- Or something soft? Does he need cream in his coffee- The screaming splash of a man, Or the sweet flow of a woman? Finishing up at the bar- Dick turns to leave- Meets Devonshire's gaze again- Hot, thirsty, and longing- But full of trepidation. Following the flow of etiquette- Dick shoots out of the cafe, Past Devonshire, And into a world of dashed hopes, And regrets. But Devonshire- No longer of two worlds- Rises in pursuit- Goes after Dick, And taps him on the shoulder. Dick gives a turn, Raises his shoulders, And smiles with interest- Taking Devonshire's hand, And asking his name. Devonshire answers- Desire. Dick invites Devonshire to dinner, Where he eats everything, Swallowing Dick's life stories, And devouring his misgivings. For dessert, Devonshire takes Dick home, Into his bed, Against his flesh, And gives Dick all of him- His deepest desires, The love in his eyes, And the fire in his soul.

Did not scold me, did not praise me, Like friends and like enemies. Only left his soul to me And then said, "Now keep in peace." And one thing worries me so: If this moment he will die, God's archangel will come to me For his soul from the sky. How then will I hide her so, How to hide it from God's eyes? She, the soul, that cries and sings so Must be in His paradise.

Dictatorship is the best form of rule: decisions are quick, good results are full. If God were to come down to lead the word, wouldn't He act like an absolute Lord? Yet, most would rather choose democracy, they just could not stomach autocracy. It's because if godless be the ruler, dictatorship spells hell of disaster.

Did I love her? No. I obsessed over her completely. And thank heavens I was obsessed. Obsession, infatuation, is something short-lived. A sweet fever dream that leaves you exhausted from the high. Love is perpetual. Love is an entire world compared to that other form of mania people mistake love for. If love is loving the reality of a person, obsession is idealising the fantasy of another. Did I love her? No. Never. But I was utterly obsessed.

Did not the souls also of the righteous ask question of these things in their chambers, saying, "How long shall I hope on this fashion?" when cometh the fruit of the floor of our reward?

Did I live the spring I’d sought? It’s true in joy, I walked along, took part in dance, and sang the song. and never tried to bind an hour to my borrowed garden bower; nor did I once entreat a day to slumber at my feet. Yet days aren’t lulled by lyric song, like morning birds they pass along, o’er crests of trees, to none belong; o’er crests of trees of drying dew, their larking flight, my hands, eschew Thus I’ll say it once and true… From all that I saw, and everywhere I wandered, I learned that time cannot be spent, It only can be squandered.

Did I Not Say To You Did I not say to you, “Go not there, for I am your friend; in this mirage of annihilation I am the fountain of life?” Even though in anger you depart a hundred thousand years from me, in the end you will come to me, for I am your goal. Did I not say to you, “Be not content with worldly forms, for I am the fashioner of the tabernacle of your contentment?” Did I not say to you, “I am the sea and you are a single fish; go not to dry land, for I am your crystal sea?” Did I not say to you, “ Go not like birds to the snare; come, for I am the power of flight and your wings and feet?” Did I not say to you, “ They will waylay you and make you cold, for I am the fire and warmth and heat of your desire?” Did I not say to you, “ They will implant in you ugly qualities so that you will forget that I am the source of purity to you?” Did I not say to you, “Do not say from what direction the ser- vant’s affairs come into order?” I am the Creator without directions. If you are the lamp of the heart, know where the road is to the house; and if you are godlike of attribute, know that I am your Maser.

Did you tell them that you made love to the poet? Did you tell them that our lovechild is an elegy?

Did you truly think I was nothing but poems?

Did you finish yours, Kota?" "Working on it now, Actually." "How's it going?" He sat up, turning in his chair and holding up his notebook. "I don't know. What rhymes with formaldehyde?" My eyes widened. Gabriel laughed, rubbing his fingers against his forehead. "Dude, what kind of poem are you writing?" Kota blinked at us. "It's about a doctor." "Does the doctor fall in love?" Gabriel asked. "No." "Does someone die?" "Not in the story, technically." "What does he do?" "He performs an autopsy.

Did you know that Bharatiyar used the pen name “Shelley-dasan”? He admired the poems of Shelley so deeply that he wrote under the name “Shelley’s servant”. Wasn’t that a wonderful gesture of humility by someone who was such a great poet himself? And later, Bharatiyar had his own dasan, the poet Subburathinam, who took the pen name Bharathidasan. Subburathinam’s poetry inspired yet another poet who wrote as Surada, short for Subburathina-dasan. And to think this long chain of inspiration spans centuries, going back to the poets who inspired Wordsworth, who inspired Shelley, who inspired our own Bharati.

Did you not enjoy the fragrant flowers on the trails edge, The cool, crisp drink from the glistening pools at sunset, The song birds that filled the time as you experienced all that I Am, and all that I Am not? Did the dewy raindrops glisten on the gardens giving you a different memory of familiar landscapes? Did the rainbow fill your skies and force a pause of wonder in the midst of your journey?

Die Rache der Sprache ist das Gedicht

Different languages, the same thoughts; servant to thoughts and their masters.

Digging deep inside you as a writer will damn near kill you at times. But in the end, your words will be true and undeniable for the reader, and that is all that ever really matters in writing.

Dimity said, "I wrote him poetry!" (...) "Dimity," Sophronia said, horrified by such an admission, "you didn't give him the poetry, did you?" "Certainly not." Sidheag tilted back in her chair, grinning. "Well, let's hear it." "Oh, no. I don't think that's a good idea at all." But Dimity was already dipping into her reticule and pulling out a scrap of paper. She gave it to Sidheag, who read it with a perfectly straight face, her tawny eyes dancing, and then passed it Sophronia. "My love is like a red red rose Occasionally he has a red red nose He could keep me warm in the snows I wager he has very nice toes." Sophronia could think of nothing to say except, "Oh, Dimity.

Dig Deep! When the task at hand seems to be very difficult. Dig Deep! Whenever you feel you're drifting away from your intended course. Dig Deep! When others doubt you and say it can't be done. Dig Deep! Whenever you feel like giving up. Dig Deep! When life throws you a curve ball. If you quit, you'll never hit that homerun

Diré cómo nacisteis, placeres prohibidos, Como nace un deseo sobre torres de espanto

Discovery's friend is creativity

Dissociated, I follow this body in its reckless haste.

Distance, the dissonance insurmountable, would be not the end, but a magnet. When fingertips kiss, they imprint and cement something, that cannot be disintegrated. Time becomes a phantom, the wind becomes an anchor, and old dreams- blankets of warmth. Lull with me, Lady, there is no greater escape. Love and war, even when buttered on toast, still makes for the breakfast of champions.

Distance does not affect the fact that we look at the same moon every night.

Divine angel, who betrothed us Secretly on winter morn, From our sadness-free existence Does not take his darkened eyes. For this reason we love sky, And fresh wind, and air so thin, And the dark tree branches Behind fence of iron. For this reason we love the strict, Many-watered, and dark city, And we love the parting, And brief meetings' hour.

Does God know the number of kisses before we fall in love? Yesterday, I was nobody and I believed myself important. Today, I feel my worth in you. You, with your emerald eyes and ebony hair, even your heartbeat is beautiful. You, who is my greatest joy, all other concerns vanish in your presence. You swallow time and consume space, inspiring all my passion with a single embrace. I love your existence.

Does my soul suffer When my body breaks down When I feel mortal When my body is weak Does the soul rejoice The end is near

(does not dream; is only dreamed of)

Does not heed to the dark With its shimmering light, Moon quietly bathes the ocean

Does one really have to fret About enlightenment? No matter what road I travel, I’m going home.

Dogfish I wanted The past to go away, I wanted To leave it, like another country; I wanted My life to close, and open Like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song Where it falls Down over the rocks: an explosion, a discovery; I wanted To hurry into the work of my life; I wanted to know, Whoever I was, I was Alive For a little while. …mostly, I want to be kind. And nobody, of course, is kind, Or mean, For a simple reason. And nobody gets out of it, having to Swim through the fires to stay in This world.

Do not dispute your thirst of water… …not with the flowing brook.

Do not fall in love with me, for I will break your heart, long before you realize, you were going to break mine.

Do not conceale thy heavenly voice, Which makes the hearts of Gods rejoyce, Least Musicke hearing no such thing, The Nightingale forget to sing.

Do not feel alone. You are connected to everyone yesterday, today, and for days to come connected with a threadless garland that is love.

Do not judge a woman on her knees_ you never know how tall she is when she stands!

do not make yourself suffer so he can survive do not make yourself suffer so that he can survive.

Do not gossip or slander, rid yourself of jealousy and self-importance. Let insincerity drop away. Some have lied and cheated to get where they've got, but that will not be you.

Do not look too far for you will see nothing.

Do not try to save the whole world or do anything grandiose. Instead, create a clearing in the dense forest of your life and wait there patiently, until the song that is yours alone to sing falls into your open cupped hands and you recognize and greet it. Only then will you know how to give yourself to this world so worthy of rescue.

Do not worry about your contradictions - Persephone is both floral maiden and queen of death. You, too, can be both.

Do not think about failure. Remember that even stars fall sometimes, and when they do people wish on them.

Do not trap yourself into an owl's hooting sound where sad nights linger through the blackness of a hound

Do not turn me into restless waters if you cannot promise to be my stream.

Don't be afraid of poetry.

Don't ask me what it means; ask me how it felt.

Don't be afraid of Pain. Pain only comes down to a certain point... beyond that, it can't reach you and the love you have inside.

Don't ask her to be a rock for you to lean upon instead, build her wings and point her to the sky and she will teach you both to fly.

Don't be concerned with other women's beauty. Only admire God's amazing work and wish them well., this earth was made to bite us in half and grind us to bone, but we were made to be kind.

Don't be afraid to wake up your dream... give it a hard nudge, a toss of cold water... make it leap, make it fly. Dreams won't come to life without action.

Don't blame my heart's appetite for how it chooses to feast, for my heart is a wild lover, an all-consuming beast.

Don't be surprised when you open your crying eyes to the world before our heavenly sunrise, and it closes, shines those shut lids, blinds become eclipse realms I feel overwhelmed by what a surprise the final sunset looks like deep inside your eyes closing the line between hidden and revealed in the ink dripped seal