Best 8159 quotes in «poetry quotes» category

Clothed in facts truth feels oppressed. In the garb of poetry it moves easy and free.

Closed eyes can't sacrifice a third time i may never know A dreamer's dream my stars are only made of gold Came into this life holding on Was it a dream Or life lived before Alien genetics Formed on the 7th Too late So i was turned away Too late But i seen those gates It’s just lately i’ve forgot the way What am i saying? somewhere out there is a star Covered in gold laugh, its okay it's just best i wait this time can't sacrifice a third time how will i know feverish devils place their bets the abyss or the flame But at the edge i stop & look to the sky tonight I find the stars are covered in gold so right here i will just stay Here i’ll just remain in a place where time and space does not exist but a gateway to Sarin does covered in gold deep in the chest you appear just like I always knew a distant star

Cliche is Truth's most loyal friend...

Coding like poetry should be short and concise.

Cold feet under a warm blanket, steam over an empty mug--rain splatters on dry window pane--open journals of closed memories... tears of laughter and joy of pain... schmaltz of diametric morning.

cold walls no need to whisper I hear you

Colorless green ideas sleep furiously three old owls on a chest of drawers were screwing the daughter of the doctor. But then the mother called them, colorless green ideas slepp furiously.

clouds very high look not one word helped them get up there

Colored by a pure love, stay the night, and next day wake me with delight. (Kipyang: `Hued`)

Come to the beach with me And watch the pelicans die, Hear their feeble screams Calling to an empty sky Where once they played And scouted for food, Not scavenging like the gulls But plummeting unafraid Into friendly waters. Come to the beach with me And watch the pelicans die, Listen to their feeble screams Calling to an empty sky. Maybe Christ will walk by And save them in their final toil Or work a miracle from the shore, A courtesy of Union Oil. Come to the beach with me And watch the pelicans die. My God! They'll never fly again. It's worse than Normandy somehow, For there we only murdered men.

Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Come close - let our hearts beat like one, we'll be the two that became one. Love is the rhythm of our night.

Come closer, my dears, let me give you a warning, Of the fate that befalls those who stay out past morning, In the darkest hours before the dawn, When witches roam and demons spawn, And children die with spirit gone, Magicked away in the gloaming.

Come down, O Christ, and help me! reach thy hand For I am drowning in a stormier sea Than Simon on thy lake of Galilee: The wine of life is spilt upon the sand, My heart is as some famine-murdered land Whence all good things have perished utterly, And well I know my soul in Hell must lie If this night before God's throne should stand.

Come gaze about aged churchyard and behold Those vanish'd hours of lead and hours of gold.

Come, get entwined in the dream catcher of my heart.

Come, said my Soul Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,) That should I after death invisibly return, Or, long, long hence, in other spheres, There to some group of mates the chants resuming, (Tallying Earth’s soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,) Ever with pleas’d smiles I may keep on, Ever and ever yet the verses owning — as, first, I here and now, Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name,

Come, said my Soul Such verses for my Body let us write, (for we are one,) That should I after death invisibly return, Or, long, long hence, in other spheres, There to some group of mates the chants resuming, (Tallying Earth’s soil, trees, winds, tumultuous waves,) Ever with pleas’d smiles I may keep on, Ever and ever yet the verses owning — as, first, I here and now, Signing for Soul and Body, set to them my name, WALT WHITMAN

Come boy, and pour for me a cup Of old Falernian. Fill it up With wine, strong, sparkling, bright, and clear; Our host decrees no water here. Let dullards drink the Nymph's pale brew, The sluggish thin their blood with dew. For such pale stuff we have no use; For us the purple grape's rich juice. Begone, ye chilling water sprite; Here burning Bacchus rules tonight!

Come live with me and be my Love, And we will all the pleasures prove

Come, my darling, it is never too late to begin our love again.

Come play with my wild - I need my hair pulled, my lips kissed, your tender caress. I need your savage, I need your gentle. Only you know how to embrace my fire, the secrets I desire. Come play with my wild and I'll love you like there's no tomorrow.

Come with me And you will find What's been trapped Inside my mind...

Come back to me. Where have you gone? And why so long? I miss the star below your lip, the constellation on your chest. I miss your ways, how you net butter-flying words and release them for others to enjoy. I miss your tenderness, the sweetness of your breath and the song of your voice. I miss how you worship me. Come back to me once more. Why did you go? And whatever for? The heavens plotted against us. The clouds came and pissed on our lives. The smell of charged particles still lingers in the air. What will become of you and I? Come back to us.

Come, Sleep; O Sleep! the certain knot of peace, The baiting-place of wit, the balm of woe, The poor man's wealth, the prisoner's release, Th' indifferent judge between the high and low; With shield of proof shield me from out the prease Of those fierce darts Despair at me doth throw.

Come, drunks and drug-takers; come perverts unnerved! Receive the laurel, given, though late, on merit; to whom and wherever deserved. Parochial punks, trimmers, nice people, joiners true-blue, Get the hell out of the way of the laurel. It is deathless And it isn't for you.

Come, let us speak with our bodies. Teach me how to please you. I am here to learn. Let us not waste this time. It is the hour of union. Come And after you do, Come again.

Come on cats, let's go. Let's teach those old dog cheap trick beatniks some new kicks and bottle up and blow.

Come to me. Why must you ruin this moment? You are burdened with thought. Burdened with the past and expectations of the future. You are burdened with your self. Cast these aside by laughing at yourself. And love, for what more is there than to love me? Take me now and let it be heaven for us.

Comfortable? Don't be. I believe in those moments where we grow comfortable is where we stop growing, and in order to keep evolving, God slips the rug from beneath our feet and makes us look up.

COMMITMENT is like rain in Oregon. You wake up every morning and there it is. It cups your house in its liquid hands and fills your gutters to overflowing. It makes green things grow tall and lush, rivers run deep and invincible. On sunny days it seeps up through petals and pine needles, roots and aqueducts. Other days, it makes mud too thick for walking, and you cannot leave the house. You pace the house, restless and lonely. Then you smell its perfume in a dry, empty room and part the curtains, watch it finger the window with long, slow rivulets. From 'A Compendium of Miniatures

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.

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")