Best 8159 quotes in «poetry quotes» category

COMING FORTH INTO THE LIGHT I was born the day I thought: What is? What was? And What if? I was transformed the day My ego shattered, And all the superficial, material Things that mattered To me before, Suddenly ceased To matter. I really came into being The day I no longer cared about What the world thought of me, Only on my thoughts for Changing the world.

Como se acuerda con los pajaros la traduccion de sus idiomas? How is the translation of their languages Arranged with the birds?

Có một thi sĩ làm thơ hô hào những nhà sáng tác, những ca sĩ từ bỏ lối sáng tác và ca hát đau thương đứt ruột. Ông ta viết những câu này, tôi còn nhớ: Đừng kể nữa những mảnh tình tan tác, Hãy đứng lên, nhạc sĩ, với tôi đi! Tôi ghét anh ưa giọng hát sầu bi, Và tung mãi những tâm hồn thường trụy lạc. Hãy đứng dậy! Vứt chiếc cầm áo não! Tôi cần nghe những khúc nhạc rất hùng, Thét ngựa lòng phi mãi chẳng chồn chân, Sáng như gươm tuốt, mạnh như luồng bão. Ôi nhạc sĩ! Thật anh người thậm tệ! Quan hoài chi những khúc hát mê ly, Những câu ca không đẹp lại không thi Của kỹ nữ vọc cuộc đời ê trệ? Hãy cung kính nhượng những người tuổi tác, Những bản đàn nhịp hát thiếu tinh thần. Hãy ra xem sõng vỗ với mây vần, Và sáng chể cho tôi vài điệu khác. Nếu chúng ta cứ hát những bài khóc gió than mây và cứ nghe những bài độc huyền thì có thể ‘vận cái rủi’ vào số mạng của mình, tưới tẩm những hạt giống đau buồn, điều đó không tốt.

Compañera usted sabe que puede contar conmigo no hasta dos o hasta diez sino contar conmigo si alguna vez advierte que la miro a los ojos y una veta de amor reconoce en los míos no alerte sus fusiles ni piense qué delirio a pesar de la veta o tal vez porque existe usted puede contar conmigo si otras veces me encuentra huraño sin motivo no piense qué flojera igual puede contar conmigo pero hagamos un trato yo quisiera contar con usted es tan lindo saber que usted existe uno se siente vivo y cuando digo esto quiero decir contar aunque sea hasta dos aunque sea hasta cinco no ya para que acuda presurosa en mi auxilio sino para saber a ciencia cierta que usted sabe que puede contar conmigo

Compraba las colinas con baluartes, con el pecho de las palomas, con el anca de las terneras. Comparaba las flores con el esmalte, el césped a las alfombras turcas adelgazadas por el uso. Los árboles eran brujas decrépitas, las ovejas peñas grises. Cada en cosa, efecto, era otra cosa.

Concrete breathes sun's heat.

Conditional love. Far from Gods original love.

Conflict occurs when two pasts step on the toes of the present.

Conflict is much the same, injustice and inequality is nothing new to our generation only the contest has changed because not only that everyone has opinion but they also have an opportunity to voice it and that is a bit dangerous.

confront your greatest fears voice your biggest problems acknowledge your tiniest issues the longer you stay silent the louder they become they won't disappear if you ignore them they will spread and affect all aspects of your life

Consciousness is the only home of which we know.

Consider, O Lord, how You sit atop the sky; like a man in a glass bottom boat. Consider sky elsewhere; worn thin as a mattress.

Consider in his spiritual martyr this being who lies with closed eyes, dislocated like the victim of a brutal accident who no longer requires care or rescue. Count the stabbing wounds of the hideous disappointment in the human imagination. Auscultate this pensive desert where alternate the rale and the silence. Feel pity for the grief that calls not only for death, but for a disgracied death, and receive, o World, this weight of trampled dream in the paradise with no conscience of your vain eternity !

Consider me, Descended also From the Mystery.

Consider with thyself; as the rain is more than the drops, and as the fire is greater than the smoke; but the drops and the smoke remain behind: so the quantity which is past did more exceed.

Considérez dans son martyre spirituel cet être qui gît les yeux clos, disloqué comme la victime d'un accident brutal qui ne nécessite plus ni attention ni secours. Dénombrez les coups de couteau de la hideuse déception dans l'imagination humaine. Auscultez ce désert songeur où alternent le râle et le silence. Apitoyez-vous sur la douleur qui appelle non seulement la mort, mais une mort disgraciée, et recevez, ô Monde, ce poids de rêve piétiné dans le paradis sans conscience de votre vaine éternité ! -Prière

Considering the number of ghastly love poems that had been written and which seemed fairly clearly a waste of everyone's time, Jonathan couldn't help but be surprised that coffee hadn't been thus immortalized.

Consider it warly, reid oftar than anys; Weill at a blenk sle poetry nocht tane is.

Controversă Era acel tânăr prea singur! Dar toți îl iubeau... - Atunci, nu era așa singur! Sau ceilalți nu erau.

Contemporary poets got so obscure that poetry kind of fell out of favor,

Contrasts The windows of my poetry are wide open on the boulevards and in the shop windows Shine The precious stones of light Listen to the violins of the limousines and the xylophones of the linotypes The sketcher washes with the hand-towel of the sky All is color spots And the hats of the women passing by are comets in the conflagration of the evening Unity There's no more unity All the clocks now read midnight after being set back ten minutes There's no more time. There's no more money. In the Chamber They are spoiling the marvelous elements of raw material ("Contrasts")

could not sleep last night bed cover of unease distance kept me awake windy whispers in summer night was telling you were awake one corner to another rolling like swimming in a competition my heart wanted to see you then n then we live ,we love on same earth mostly rare within a real another world don't allow us to sleep in side your ,or mine restful love ©litymunshi

Could thou not make those that have been made, and be now, and that are for to come, at once; that thou might shew thy judgement the sooner?

Cosmos and its stars; poet and his poetry!

Cosmos is God, who whispered the syllable of life.

Could any State on Earth Immortall be, Venice by Her rare Goverment is She; Venice Great Neptunes Minion, still a Mayd, Though by the warrlikst Potentats assayed; Yet She retaines Her Virgin-waters pure, Nor any Forren mixtures can endure; Though, Syren-like on Shore and Sea, Her Face Enchants all those whom once She doth embrace, Nor is ther any can Her bewty prize But he who hath beheld her with his Eyes: Those following Leaves display, if well observed, How she long Her Maydenhead preserved, How for sound prudence She still bore the Bell; Whence may be drawn this high-fetchd parallel, Venus and Venice are Great Queens in their degree, Venus is Queen of Love, Venice of Policie.

Could it be that while you are waiting for God to come down and help you, God is also waiting for you to get up? Maybe your breakthrough never happen when your situation changes but when you make a determination within yourself without excuses or blaming anybody and not waiting for anyone and stop praying that your situation change but let God change you. Let your prayer be God change me, God work in me, spring out the rivers of living water within me and I bet you, this is where the breakthrough begins. ☺just a thought and something to ponder on....

Courage brought me here. I desperately tried to dress myself with words. Yet excuses can no longer defend my walls. So here I am. Clueless. Defenseless. But I will tell you this, for this is all you have to know. I love you. Nothing in this life is more worth fighting for than that.

Courage sleeps within our heart waiting to be awoken.

Create childish words. Commingle what you feel with determined, mesmerizing, musical voices whispering cry smile wonder.

crawled like a blind slug into the web

Creativity is alive And thriving in my body. The energy you bring out in me Is within me infinitely. My power is overflowing. My lips are soft and welcoming To the exhale, The new Braille, The silence that persists After our moans die away, I look at myself and say, "Root down so you can burn. Beautiful girl, it's your turn To create magic within yourself. This time, without his help. Find your roots and find your fire, Be mindful of what you desire, Persist in what you know is true, Stay focused on the endless route Toward your own potential. Allow the existential Void to swallow you whole. Take on your old role: The lone seeker. Become quieter. Become meeker. Become the beauty that you seek. Embody strength if you feel weak. Find love within the walls Of this sacred temple. Let yourself shake and tremble, But keep your eyes ever fixed On the horizon Where it's rising, No revising, Fears capsizing As you sail, sail, sail Toward the wail Of your siren spirit Beckoning you to bloom The flower in your womb, The seed of creativity, Your triumphant legacy." These words, I will carry Within me as I bury Grains of wisdom In the whispers of the wind. And when I arrive To the altar of our origin, I'll be dressed in white and black, And I'll cradle that exact Feeling left on our sheets. And you'll be on your knees, Ready to receive The wholeness of my broken mind, Pried open by The sparkle gleaming in your eyes. And your hands will be full Of supple fruit and you'll Smile at me, and I will see That you have fed your hunger. You'll ooze with courage and wonder. And then, we will know That we've already lost each other A thousand times before. And I have found you As clear water after mud settles. And you have found me As a bee deep in a flower's petals. We have danced before, Pulled art out of each other's spines. We have died and birthed and died. We've already kissed a million times. This wasn't our first five act play, And it will not be the last. So when I thirst for your hands, I will sit and chant. We will meet again. We will meet again.

Crickets, an orchestra, trail in the shade. Is it God who closes his eyes in the color of surprise to see you? Tania Tome (C) " Tie me behind the sun" 2010

Criticism is like politics: if you don't make your own you are by default accepting the status quo and are finally yourself responsible for whatever the status quo does to you.

Creator of all Things, to sing: At the Potter's House, you see, we are His Pottery...Because God writes (in) Love, and speaks (in) 'Poetree': The Nature of Things, the King of Kings, oh Kingdom of the Holy, we sing!

. . .criticism is to poetry as air is to a noise: it allows it to be heard; and even if we can't see it or feel it, it is there, shaping how we hear.

Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude And fled to the silence of sweet solitude. Where the flower in green darkness buds, blossoms, and fades, Unseen of all shepherds and flower-loving maids— The hermit bees find them but once and away. There I'll bury alive and in silence decay.

creativity keeps the world alive, yet, everyday we are asked to be ashamed of honoring it, wanting to live our lives as artists. i’ve carried the shame of being a ‘creative’ since i came to the planet; have been asked to be something different, more, less my whole life. thank spirit, my wisdom is deeper than my shame, and i listened to who i was. i want to say to all the creatives who have been taught to believe who you are is not enough for this world, taught that a life of art will amount to nothing, know that who we are, and what we do is life. when we create, we are creating the world. remember this, and commit.

Crows are harbingers of death and omens, good and bad, according to Big Jim according to Google. Midnight-winged tricksters associated with mystery, the occult, the unknown. The netherworld, wherever it is- Portland? We make people think of the deceased and super angsty poetry. Admittedly we don't help the cause when we happily dine on fish guts in a landfill, buy hey ho.

Cruel, Clever Cat. Sally, having swallowed cheese, Directs down holes the scented breeze, Enticing thus with baited breath Nice mice to an untimely death.

Crowded places, I shunned them as noises too rude And fled to the silence of sweet solitude.

Cuando vayamos al mar yo te diré mi secreto: Me envuelve, pero no es ola... Me amarga..., pero no es sal...

CROWS CALLING AT NIGHT Yellow clouds beside the walls; crows roosting near. Flying back, they caw, caw; calling in the boughs. In the loom she weaves brocade, the Qin river girl. Made of emerald yarn like mist, the window hides her words. She stops the shuttle, sorrowful, and thinks of the distant man. She stays alone in the lonely room, her tears just like the rain.

CRYING OSPREYS Merrily the ospreys cry, On the islet in the stream. Gentle and graceful is the girl, A fit wife for the gentleman.

Crystal ball and candle light, I want your dance tonight. Show me the power of love as we stand together in the middle of the night.

Cruelty & menace; mix it with a cocktail of sweet liquor. Now laying in my bed, she taste sweet when I lick her. I'm too irresistible like the forbidden of fruit but I'll satisfy your thirst, I'm something like the Truth.

Cry out in the wilderness with a voice that's not heard. Speak boldly in Christ though you won't say a word.

cry there is no healing without release

Cuckoos lead Bohemian lives, They fail as husbands and as wives, Therefore they cynically disparage Everybody else's marriage - Ogden Nash, The Cucko

Cup of Joe There's nothing like a cup of joe, when the morning's grey and grim and slow, when the streets collide with the world outside, when litter lies where lilies grow. Just drink that smoking cup of black and feel your feelings surging back. Plus, spill a drop and a coffee shop will sprout up from a sidewalk crack!