Best 8159 quotes in «poetry quotes» category

I crouch in corners The infection is widespread Love epidemic

I curated our love into poems and all the pains became less all the anger left, eventually but, there is no denying here on the tip of my soul with scars still healing, that once I loved a man.

I cut off all my hair, cut away at the soft curves of my clothing until I have edges once again, using my body like broken glass to slice at the world around me. I have to take something back, because I have nothing more to give. Eloi, eloi, lema sabachthani?

I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)

I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair. Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps. I hunger for your sleek laugh, your hands the color of a savage harvest, hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails, I want to eat your skin like a whole almond. I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body, the sovereign nose of your arrogant face, I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes, and I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight, hunting for you, for your hot heart, Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue.

I cry, beg and plead for my freedom but as long as I refuse to educate myself, I'll never enter the Promised Land that was promised to Abraham. Jesus is the Passover Lamb, sacrificing himself to help us pass over the oppression of this slavery. It's a throwback story in the books of Exodus and Deuteronomy. My people listen to me; the Lord keeps his promises pass a thousand generations to eternity. Metaphysical theology, give Yahweh what's His to enter the land flowing with milk and honey. Righteousness is what makes He which is Him in me and I am as He is as we are one, it's a double edged sword, it's supreme knowledge for those who call out to the Lord.

I danced with my shadows until they became part of my light.

Ideas must work through the brains and arms of men, or they are no better than dreams

Ideas are cumbersome and can't fly on their own; they need a poet to give them wings.

I define influence simply as literary love, tempered by defense. The defenses vary from poet to poet. But the overwhelming presence of love is vital to understanding how great literature works.

I denied it, this new land. But love, I’ll concede this: whatever state you are, I’ll be that state’s bird, the loud, obvious blur of song people point to when they wonder where it is you’ve gone.

I'd gladly trade the world And all of its gold, To see you safe in this fragile life.

I did it the hard way (a poem) ___________________ Many of the big dreams I dreamt, I dreamt, when I met a failed attempt. Life taught me to believe that Great ideas can start from a wretched hut. Many of the strongest steps I took, I took, when I was given the fiercest look. My passion pokes me to understand That people’s mockeries, I can withstand. Many of the fastest speeds I gained, I gained when I was bitterly stained. I first thought the only way was to quit As I tried again, I no longer have guilt. Many of the bravest decisions I made, I made, when my life was about to fade. I was frustrated and ripe to sink. But then I strive to release the ink. Many of the longest journeys I started, I started, having no resource; money parted I relied on God my creator all dawn long And at dusk He gave me a new song. Many of the hardest questions I tackled, I tackled, when I was heckled. They were very troublesome to settle But I make it happen little by little Yet, it was not I, but the Lord Jesus The saviour who gives me success. In Him, through Him and by Him I have the liberty to do everything with vim. I don’t want to enjoy this liberty alone. You too must step out of your comfort zone. It’s not easy, but you can do it anyway. Jesus is the life, the truth and the way.

I did not willingly let half of my soul leave my body. It was torn from me. I still hear the ransomed moans. It calls to me for rescue, yet clings to its abductor.

I did it the hard way Many of the big dreams I dreamt, I dreamt, when I met a failed attempt. Life taught me to believe that Great ideas can start from a wretched hut. Many of the strongest steps I took, I took, when I was given the fiercest look. My passion pokes me to understand That people’s mockeries, I can withstand. Many of the fastest speeds I gained, I gained when I was bitterly stained. I first thought the only way was to quit As I tried again, I no longer have guilt. Many of the bravest decisions I made, I made, when my life was about to fade. I was frustrated and ripe to sink. But then I strive to release the ink. Many of the longest journeys I started, I started, having no resource; money parted I relied on God my creator all dawn long And at dusk He gave me a new song. Many of the hardest questions I tackled, I tackled, when I was heckled. They were very troublesome to settle But I make it happen little by little Yet, it was not I, but the Lord Jesus The saviour who gives me success. In Him, through Him and by Him I have the liberty to do everything with vim. I don’t want to enjoy this liberty alone. You too must step out of your comfort zone. It’s not easy, but you can do it anyway. Jesus is the life, the truth and the way.

I didn't choose this path on my own, what other choice do I have? I would title it ignorance to the highest degree to do something I'm meant to do & do nothing at all. It's the abuse of it all, my souls willing to ride but my flesh is destined to fall, Niagara, but I will for the effects of viagra; stand erect against the evil as if it's the rise of the first fall.

i didn't know it was possible to spend a lifetime losing the same person over and over but here i am and there you aren't.

I did it the hard way ( a poem) _________________________ Many of the big dreams I dreamt, I dreamt, when I met a failed attempt. Life taught me to believe that Great ideas can start from a wretched hut. Many of the strongest steps I took, I took, when I was given the fiercest look. My passion pokes me to understand That people’s mockeries, I can withstand. Many of the fastest speeds I gained, I gained when I was bitterly stained. I first thought the only way was to quit As I tried again, I no longer have guilt. Many of the bravest decisions I made, I made, when my life was about to fade. I was frustrated and ripe to sink. But then I strive to release the ink. Many of the longest journeys I started, I started, having no resource; money parted I relied on God my creator all dawn long And at dusk He gave me a new song. Many of the hardest questions I tackled, I tackled, when I was heckled. They were very troublesome to settle But I make it happen little by little Yet, it was not I, but the Lord Jesus The saviour who gives me success. In Him, through Him and by Him I have the liberty to do everything with vim. I don’t want to enjoy this liberty alone. You too must step out of your comfort zone. It’s not easy, but you can do it anyway. Jesus is the life, the truth and the way. ___________________________ Israelmore Ayivor

I didn't get to God by effort or title, I got there by invitation. God can lift you quickly if you let Him. He really cares.

I did not foresee my words becoming such a reverie of mimic and refrain.

I didn't come from a success lineage but I am so glad that my earthly lineage is not my final story because when I gave my life to Jesus twelve years back, God interrupted my story.

I didn't know the demons that walked across your memory. They came from the dust when you were at peace in your grave.

I did what I could, I tried to stay away, I told myself that I don't need you, I don't need to feel this way, But soon I realized that I am just a fish Always falling as you're prey

I didn't know who to believe but one thing I do know: when a man is living many claim relationships that are hardly so and after he dies, well, then it's everybody's party.

I didn't want to sing. I wanted to be music.

I die a little, In the echo of your silence.

I die a little everyday, in trying to revive what I lost yesterday!

Disperse the sorrow of my sadden'd mind O Lord, help me some blessed peace to find!

I'd love to wake up to complete silence, white sheets, and the smell of crisp air and roses.

I do have a funny perception of mine I'd like to share. Being basically a lifetime poet. I've had many people say "I don't like poetry" But they'll listen to song after song that rhymes on the end in couplets Just a thought...

I'd love to give you something but what would help?

I'd never recited poetry to anyone before; I've never done it since. I have a highly sensitive, built-in fuse mechanism that keeps me from opening up too far, from revealing my feelings, and reciting poetry makes me feel as though I'm talking about my feelings and standing on one leg at the same time.

Idols of the injury, dug in behind the least understood motor plan information. The vile abomination temporal lobes and The four loathsome memory walls and The four reasoning, arithmetic beasts are found for all behind pain and planes. Portrayed as a house, Go in, function, cause blindness from The house's hearing spirit, judgment and The court's four bronze woes and The functioning brain lobe wings, Go in, hearing and perception, I dig under door fronts, pain and plans.

I do not know which to prefer, The beauty of inflections Or the beauty of innuendos The blackbird whistling Or just after.

I do not know how it is elsewhere, but here, in this country, poetry is a healing, life-giving thing, and people have not lost the gift of being able to drink of its inner strength. People can be killed for poetry here—a sign of unparalleled respect—because they are still capable of living by it.

I do not have any trust fund, I have always trusted God for all my funds.

I do not blame him for not knowing the gentleness of my soul. When I only showed him, how violently I loved.

I do not know of anything in modern poetry as violently hostile to contemporary life as was the poetry of T. S. Eliot, which so perfectly fitted the mood of the young people between the two wars. I also find much more benevolence towards humanity in younger historians than there was in Spengler or in Toynbee. Still, it is not difficult to sense the disgust of the intellectuals at the new prosperous working class, 'with their eyes glued to the television screen,' who have become indifferent to radical ideas.

I do not think I am fond, Father, Of the way in which always before he listens He prepares himself by listening. It is Unequal, Father, like the reason For which the wheel turns, though there is no wheel.

I do not want to sleep for fear I might miss the twinkle of the brightest star for fear I may never know how the moon glimmers, in the darkest hour.

I do not write poetry; I take words and dip them in feelings.

I don’t believe he deserves the thousands of poems I’ve written about him, but life doesn’t follow rules. We do things for people who don’t necessarily deserve it. But we liked it, we loved it and fell in love enough to write about it.

I don’t bother with rhyme. Rarely Are two trees the same, one beside the other. I think and write like flowers have color But with less perfection in my way of expressing myself Because I lack the divine simplicity Of wholly being only my exterior. I see and I’m moved, Moved the way water runs when the ground is sloping And what I write is as natural as the rising wind...

I do not trust the truth. It shifts into reality.

i DO NOT WHY BUT i KEEP THINKING OF YOU, WHAT DID YOU EVER DO TO ME? I have tried na nikashindwa kukudelete from my system, IMEKATAA. i KNOW YOU HAVE TRIED TOO, IT LEAVES ME WONDERING WHAT IS THESE. It can only be explained by the gods.

I don’t believe in magic,” the young boy said, the old man smiled, “you will, when you see her.

I don’t believe we should carry backup plans in life’s suitcase— they’re too easy to unpack like living a life in yoga pants, so comfortable our hips spread into new timezones...

I do not write to you, but of you,/because the paper that we write on/is our perishable skin.

I don't care what you say to me. I care what you share with me.

I don’t fear the madness that springs forth, occasionally devouring me. I’m ready to cut the crazy wide open and explore it more vigorously.