Best 8159 quotes in «poetry quotes» category

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.

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

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

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.

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!

Cut my life into pizzas. this is my plastic fork. oven baking, no breathing, dont give a fuck if its carbs that i'm eating' -Catherine Spann

Cuvajte osobe koje ne odustaju od vas, cak i onda kada vi odustanete od sebe.

Cuz even a gangsta rapper can find redemption For the sins committed before revelation.

Daba la sensación de que no eran las luces las que se apagaban, sino que era la oscuridad la que se encendía.

Dahulu aku pernah menyembunyikanmu dalam baitbait puisi, membelaimu dalam rimanya yang pasi. Dahulu.

Da li ste zaista zaljubljeni u tu osobu ili ste zaljubljeni u osecaj koji imate dok ste sa njom?

Dahulu aku sering bertanya sendiri; kalau puisi itu berwujud akan seperti apakah dia? Matahari? Bulan? Bintang? Gunung? Laut? Bertahun lalu aku temukan puisi memancar mancar dari matamu, masuk ke dalam tubuhku. Seperti yang kau duga pada akhirnya aku tahu puisi tak pernah punya rupa. Ia rasa yang menggenang, meluap di jemari kenangan. Kenangan bernama engkau

Da li osetis nesto kad cujes moje ime?

Dance,' they told me, and I stood still, and while I stood quiet in line at the gate of the Kingdom, I danced. 'Pray,' they said, and I laughed, covering myself in the earth's brightnesses, and then stole off gray into the midst of a revel, and prayed like an orphan.

Dancing is like poetry written by our bodies: our outstretched arms our words of longing.

Dammi il mio giorno; ch'io mi cerchi ancora un volto d'anni sopito che un cavo d'acque riporti in trasparenza, e ch'io pianga amore di me stesso. Ti cammino sul cuore, ed è un trovarsi d'astri in arcipelaghi insonni, notte, fraterni a me fossile emerso da uno stanco flutto; un incurvarsi d'orbite segrete dove siamo fitti coi macigni e l'erbe.

Dance less in motion and more in spirit; awaken the dreamer within.

~Dance~ My fingers dance On the set Of ivory & black pirouettes. I let go While my fingers fly, Making music through the night. This is the best therapy. A place of release, House of freedom & relief. My oasis of redemption. My river of gentle. My ocean of mental. My mind is relieved. My fingers are free To let go, making music sweet. Rache Nicole Wagner Original

Dance resides within us all. Some find it when joy conquers sorrow, others express it through celebration of movements; and then there are those... whose existence is dance,

Dancing is very like poetry.

Dan aku tiba di sini; jalan raya yang terbuat dari parasmu. Katakatacanggung, waktu gugu. Bagaimanakah kau menerjemahkan kekosongan?

Dance with me. Bring my demons to their knees.

Dance with the waves of sea and sing with the sky, touch the sands with love and let your mind fly high.

Dancing falls into the same category as poetry for a woman – it equals dreaming, which may inspire thoughts about such banned topics as love and desire.

Dancing to the sounds of trees and stones and slow minutes ticking in our hearts and bones.

Dan kerinduan pagi pada matari memberi jejak pada puisi yang resah senantiasa, memanjati dinding hari dalam dekapan memori, menanti takdir berikutnya bagi cinta tanpa spasi ini

Dan pancaran matamu adalah syair ribuan hari yang menyihir airmata jadi kuntumkuntum asa. Tubuh kita menjelma rumahrumah pasi di dada jalan yang selalu setia menampung sejarah, kenangan atas perjumpaan dan perpisahan berkali kali

Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat? Then crouch within the door— Red—is the Fire’s common tint— But when the vivid Ore Has vanquished Flame’s conditions— It quivers from the Forge Without a color, but the Light Of unannointed Blaze— Least Village, boasts it’s Blacksmith— Whose Anvil’s even ring Stands symbol for the finer Forge That soundless tugs—within— Refining these impatient Ores With Hammer, and with Blaze Until the designated Light Repudiate the Forge—

Dans la rue de rien personne

Dark, dark my light, and darker my desire. My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly, Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?

Darkness does not age; nothing is always nothing

Darkness my beloved home, I return! I return, not whole, but damaged. Fatigued by quixotic tendencies, The prodigal has come back famished. An outer world, so hostile and strange Filled immensely with ignorant natives The land where all good is forgotten Where hatred itself is life’s matrix. Though I’ve brought an odd mystery, An enigma that requires my genius A phenomenon, in foreign land; A veiled embodiment of Venus. Since, I’ve craved for my sanctuary, I have returned to you, oh darkness! Now I will restore my lost vigor to Unravel demeanors of this goddess. But..... Why am I estranged to this darkness? Maybe I’ve been away for too long, But shouldn’t home always feel home? Why am I in dire need to belong? As if this soul is deprived of life As if this body is in swift decay As if this mind screams for peace As if this heart calls to be lured ‘way Unwise, to have brought the goddess, When she is of a different realm Unfortunate, to have fallen in love, As she leaves to retain her helm Perhaps, this home lies deep within For everything is, but mere illusion Hence, I’ll reside her in my heart; To feel her, even in seclusion.

Darling, I’m walking around our places without you. Thinking of the last time we talked, we laughed, kissed, and made love. I couldn’t remember. Not one moment. Not one feeling. Just a faded canvas left in front of me.

Darling, I'm sorry but, I’m going back to home. To myself! I realized, Home is not the place I live in, It is not where you are, It is not somewhere in the world Waiting for me to arrive but, Home is wherever I am, Home is within me. It’s just been a really long time, I’m going back to home. To myself!