Best 8159 quotes in «poetry quotes» category

We hold on to poetry because it lights a fire in our soul and keeps our bodies warm.

Weigh thou therefore their wickedness now in the balance, and theirs also that dwell the world; and so shall thy name no where be found anymore.

we imagine you with a pen between your teeth in an electric city

We humans are so tortured by not properly guessing what will make us happy.

We just cannot fulfill the thirst of the society

We lay our words like tenuous plats, build a bridge over its unsinkable depth: Not a sea of longing, but the brack of wanting what’s physical to help us forget we are physical.

Welcome the small cracking of your hard-clodded shell, Embrace the warm sting of tears, Kiss the shadow which frightens you awake as you turn the corners of your day, Love the whole of everything, Smooth sunshine skies and Jagged edges Which all seek us out in Constant whisper and touch To say, 'hello, Beautiful. You’re alive

We know ourselves only insofar as we have been tested.

We know The wheel of time moves on New bonds, new ties ignite Moments fleet, memories drift, shadows glide There is always a hope At the horizon we seek.

Welcome to America, a Wall Street Corporation Where the stockholders are rich and own this nation Where cubicle preparation masquerades as education And people of color are guilty by association.

We just want the world to love the little monsters that we are.

We know ourselves only as far as we've been tested. I tell you this from my unknown heart.

We let our lives mix with our dreams like two coloured paints, until we didn't know which is what and we didn't care.

We knock upon silence for an answering music.

We left you there, lonely, Beauty your power, Wisdom your watchman, To hold the clay tower. from 'The Tale of the Tiger Tree

We left dents on each other. Mine was in her heart, and hers was on my car.

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don't grow on trees, like in the old days. So where does one find love? When you're sixteen it's easy, like being unleashed with a credit card in a department store of kisses. There's the first kiss. The sloppy kiss. The peck. The sympathy kiss. The backseat smooch. The we shouldn't be doing this kiss. The but your lips taste so good kiss. The bury me in an avalanche of tingles kiss. The I wish you'd quit smoking kiss. The I accept your apology, but you make me really mad sometimes kiss. The I know your tongue like the back of my hand kiss. As you get older, kisses become scarce. You'll be driving home and see a damaged kiss on the side of the road, with its purple thumb out. If you were younger, you'd pull over, slide open the mouth's red door just to see how it fits. Oh where does one find love? If you rub two glances, you get a smile. Rub two smiles, you get a warm feeling. Rub two warm feelings and presto-you have a kiss. Now what? Don't invite the kiss over and answer the door in your underwear. It'll get suspicious and stare at your toes. Don't water the kiss with whiskey. It'll turn bright pink and explode into a thousand luscious splinters, but in the morning it'll be ashamed and sneak out of your body without saying good-bye, and you'll remember that kiss forever by all the little cuts it left on the inside of your mouth. You must nurture the kiss. Turn out the lights. Notice how it illuminates the room. Hold it to your chest and wonder if the sand inside hourglasses comes from a special beach. Place it on the tongue's pillow, then look up the first recorded kiss in an encyclopedia: beneath a Babylonian olive tree in 1200 B.C. But one kiss levitates above all the others. The intersection of function and desire. The I do kiss. The I'll love you through a brick wall kiss. Even when I'm dead, I'll swim through the Earth, like a mermaid of the soil, just to be next to your bones.

We lead a difficult life, not always managing to fit our actions to the vision we have of the world. (And when I think I have caught a glimpse of the color of my fate, it flees from my gaze.) We struggle and suffer to reconquer our solitude. But a day comes when the earth has its simple and primitive smile. Then, it is as if the struggles and life within us were rubbed out. Millions of eyes have looked at this landscape, and for me it is like the first smile of the world. It takes me out of myself, in the deepest meaning of the expression. It assures me that nothing matters except my love, and that even this love has no value for me unless it remains innocent and free. It denies me a personality, and deprives my suffering of its echo. The world is beautiful, and this is everything. The great truth which it patiently teaches me is that neither the mind nor even the heart has any importance. And that the stone warmed by the stone or the cypress tree swelling against the empty sky set a boundary to the only world in which "to be right" has any meaning: nature without men. This world reduces me to nothing. It carries me to the very end. Without anger, it denies that I exist. And, agreeing to my defeat, I move toward a wisdom where everything has already been conquered -- except that tears come into my eyes, and this great sob of poetry which swells my heart makes me forget the truth of the world.

We left this love in ruins, wreckage and debris. A ghost of our former glory, artifacts of what used to be.

We like to admit to only that which already glows, although it is nobler to support brightness before it glows, not afterwards.

We live in an old chaos of the sun.

We live in a world of unfulfilled fairytales.

Well, I’m not sure if we’re supposed to understand everything in a poem. I think the point is it’s supposed to hit you on a deeper level, a deeper truth that your soul feels even if your rain can’t understand it.

Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little. If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you.

We'll never be heroes when we're always waiting to be saved.

We look at your eyes. The eyes carry the wounds. The eyes know damage. Damaged people recognize other damaged people, and we let you in. We are kindred. - Broken Places

we looked at each other like we were the sun and the moon locked in a gravitational war, bound to cross and bound to break apart.

We made the choice, right there in our local coffee shop, that we were going to do things differently. We were going to put the story first, no matter where that led us. We’d open ourselves up to all genres, all forms. We’d publish works that stayed with us in an intangible way, long after that last page is turned.

We manufacture wonder where we can.

We made love outdoors Without a roof, I like most, Without stove, to make love, assuming the weather be fair and balmy, and the earth beneath be clean. Our souls intertwined and gushing of dew.

We maintain, therefore, that the first essential, the life and soul, so to speak, of Tragedy is the Plot; and that the Characters come second—compare the parallel in painting, where the most beautiful colours laid on without order will not give one the same pleasure as a simple black-and-white sketch of a portrait.

We may kill each other someday.

We may be just a drop in the ocean, but even the ocean envies the depth of our love.

We may feel bitterly how little our poems can do in the face of seemingly out of control technological power and seemingly limitless corporate greed, yet it has always been true that poetry can break isolation, show us to ourselves when we are outlawed or made invisible, remind us of beauty where no beauty seems possible, remind us kinship where all is represented as separation." (Defy the Space That Separates, The Nation, October 7, 1996)

we must bring our own light to the darkness.

We must experience certain things in life, even in our childhood, so we can later look back and value the journey.

We must lice with our hearts in our hands - like Mary. We must hold the blood- red heart and no be disappointed when others look away.

We need knew knights, but without swords.

We number nothing that we spend for you; Our duty is so rich, so infinite, That we may do it still without accompt. Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face, That we, like savages, may worship it.

We need your patience Your knowledge we need your caring heart

We never know how high we are Till we are called to rise; And then, if we are true to plan, Our statures touch the skies. The heroism we recite Would be a daily thing, Did not ourselves the cubits warp For fear to be a king.

We often pray to the stars above, to help us find somebody to love.

We pass away out of the world as grasshoppers, and our life is astonishment and fear, and we are not worthy to obtain mercy.

We only live in moments, passing us by. As big as the sky. They’re here and gone in the blink of an eye. Don’t waste time thinking about What you’re going to sprout out Or what route you need to scout. There is a reason for everything that happens. Don’t worry too much and let in sadness. Don’t let the thoughts throw off your balance. We only live in moments, here and gone Quick as a sunrise and slow as the dawn. Please hold on before your moment’s drawn.

We played with the moon all night, painting faces on its blank cheek, shining its spotlight into sleeping people’s windows. But mostly we just ate the moon, stuck tongues to its surface and felt it dissolve, left chunks of its minty scalp on neighbors’ doorsteps.

We played the game of love. She kept playing, I kept losing.

We quenched the bulging flame, amongst the ashes embers of fire remain

We're all the same whoever loves.

We pull our boots on with both hands but we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do is stand on the curb and say Sorry about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine. I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.

We're all just wandering souls searching for a heart to call home...