Best 129 quotes in «love poetry quotes» category

I love poetry, be it in music or be it in Andrei Tarkovsky, Francesca Woodman or anyone else, I just love poetry.

What are the sources of poetry? Love and death and the paradox of love and death. All poetry from the beginning is about Eros and Thanatos. Those are the only subjects. And how Eros and Thanatos interweave.

ACTS OF LOVE Love is not a word Or a thought. It is the name for An action That breathes from its light. What do you DO In Love's name? And is it only done Outside In the light? Or with an inner Flame Illuminating Love's TRUE Name? I want to know. Are your actions Done by remote Or with SOUL? And when you say You love someone, Does a light go off Inside at all? What have YOU Done In the Name of LOVE? Because, Really, I want to know.

Art sincerely obeys a mind,who is willing to tame a Wild Stone to mould a desired Shape.

In the dance, one finds the cinema, the comic strips, the Olympic hundred meters and swimming, and what's more, poetry, love and tenderness.

Adieu, valour: rust, rapier: be still, drum, for your manager is in love: yea, he loveth. Assist me, some extemporal god of rhyme, for I am sure I shall turn sonnet. Devise, wit: write, pen, for I am for whole volumes in folio.

But, in the end, a kiss is just a kiss; I have no time for love, or seasoned lips.

As long as I can hear the sweet melody of your words, I need not; The angel’s secret, to be whispered in my ears As long as I can lace your silky fingers round my own, I need not; Pretty diamonds, nor big cash nor gold As long as I can watch the handsome sunshine of your face, I need not; Open skies, nor snowfall, nor the rain As long as I can gaze into the emeralds of your eyes, I need not; New colors, new wings or paradise As long as I can feel the tender tickle of your breath, I need not; The drifting wind, nor its call, nor caress As long as I can feel your soft lips upon mine, I need not; Melted sugar, nor the most expensive of wines As long as I can feel your warm body close to me I need not; A blanket, nor a bonfire's luxury As long as I can see you every morning I wake, I need not; A mirror, nor a cloud, nor shade As long as I can keep you in every petal of memories I need not: Dreams, nor desires, nor fantasies And as long as I can hold you in every moment that I breathe, I need not; Oxygen, nor blood, nor heartbeats.

Call me obsessed, color me consumed I’ve always been the type to notice The smell of a rose in bloom, But let me confess, this is new You’ve stopped my heart, let it resume And I, to finish, must tell it true I’m high on your perfume.

But when you kiss me there's a spark, and I can't remember I'm only food to be consumed like an apple and not loved like a woman.

DON'T SAY, DO Do not say things You think I want to hear. Instead, Say what you sincerely mean, And really intend to do. Do not think you are helping me By occasionally Being here or there, If you really have no intention Of holding my hand All the way through. Do not say you care for me, If you do not care Whenever I'm clearly Down and blue. And do not want what's best For you, If you do not wish the best For me too. Do not calculate gifts or deeds Or your giving will never feel Genuinely true. Just say what you mean And mean what you say, And let's lay these down – As our love's Golden rules.

Happy be Thy world The world forgetting by the forgotten world; The failed attempts to remember the need to forget; Naturally, Eventually, Gradually, Usually, Finally ; Thy Allies will accompany you and end this Abruptly. For Thy, it may seem simple; Oh Shameless Crook! Thy have done it before and will do it again and when thy does it -- seems that only the innocence weeps.

A Writer in Love. I was just a word weaver What did I know of love? Only that Some days when the words weren’t enough, I knew I was in love.

...cause it was hard... so much harder... when I couldn't live with me.

Don't bow your head! It gets even harder... Look at me and say that, what was incomplete. Think of forbidden and dream, as I do. ...

He loves her for a reason and its not rational

His tongue was one of his greatest qualities. He knew exactly how to use it with me. Encouraging, kind, and loving words flowed freely and frequently from his lips. Always inspiring me to upgrade my thinking. His tongue spoke life into me… Awakening gifts in me that I didn’t know existed. He used his tongue wisely. Truth be told, he’s part of the reason why I am me. Exquisite, Powerful, Fearless, and Unapologetic. I’ll be forever grateful for his genuine love.

He danced closely but never touched. The air between them crackling and sparkling like an electrical fire that must be contained quickly or it will take everything.

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43) Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1806 - 1861 How do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love thee to the depth and breadth and height My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight For the ends of being and ideal grace. I love thee to the level of every day’s Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light. I love thee freely, as men strive for right. I love thee purely, as they turn from praise. I love thee with the passion put to use In my old griefs, and with my childhood’s faith. I love thee with a love I seemed to lose With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath, Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose, I shall but love thee better after death.

Home for me is not where I am. Home for me is a physical structure where the girl whom I love is sheltered and protected from the incoming storms of life. Home for me is not where I am safe, but where she is safe. Home for me is not where she exists, but where she lives. She is my home.

How like a winter has been my hard spring away from you, my harp. --Psalm

Forgive me, you are amiable and heavenly perfect. It is me who carries the old pain as if it were a badge of honour.

I came up with a new reason To write your name today I plagiarized each letter From a love note you wrote me. The scent of ink was sacred to me In that relapsed moment… For a minute I could pretend The paper reminded me of your skin; I could pretend the glimmering ink Was the moonlit lake Of our summer night. But the pretending crumpled with paper And I threw us into the trash can For the bridge between us is long burned And it’s time I accepted that.

I did best when I had least truth for my subjects.

I collect my thoughts, I choose my words, Whenever I decide to talk to you. But... I feel like a dumb, without a tongue, Whenever I reach in front of you. I wonder why it happens to me? even when my feelings are genuine and true.

I do not write about love as if I have invented it. I write about love because thoughts of you inspire self-forgetfulness. And because writing about you gives birth to a star. These stars sit inside me where there was once darkness.

If I began to draw myself away from you we’d still be like two mixed colors of paint impossible to separate.

I found a night’s sky full of stars In your cinematic eyes And heard a symphony In your laughter.

I have hunger for your mouth, for your voice, for your hair

I know you and I were lovers since 1000000000000 years

I am a Dancer; rehearsing the steps of our unheard song with utmost perfection. Never will you tap your feet consciously. I am a Singer; singing the tune of the song I always wanted you to hear. Never will the melody bring back our memories to you. I am an Orator; emphasizing and emoting what I feel for you. Never will you hear your name throughout. I am a Writer; penning all the unsaid intentions with sincerity. Never will you see your name at the top. Because at the end of it all I am Actor; Nevertheless you taught me how well to pretend!

If I have loved anyone truly it is you. You are the completeness of my incompleteness. You walked into my life and made me fall in love with life. I who was a wanderer in search of true love found the ocean of love in you. You came into my life like the rain to a parched desert. You made me understand the sensitivity and tenderness present within my own heart. You made a melancholy poet like me find the elixir of love. Your tenderness and sensitivity has pervaded into the very pore of my being. Last night you made me inhale the fragrance of the moon. I love you. And I can't love anyone else after you!

if you love somebody, tell them. if you think somebody may need a friend, be that friend. you don't want to be stuck in the aftermath of a tragedy, thinking, "oh, if only i'd said this. if only i'd done this.

I guess you will always be my heart’s deepest wound. The kind that aches terribly. The kind that time could never heal. I glimpse a memory of you and I feel it! I feel both the joy and the pain of loving you.

I heard your whispered fantasies so clear Softly told in my ear I opened my eyes you weren't there So real my dream, I was so aware But we'll meet again so certainly In our whispered fantasy

I'm an open book in a closed room.

I’m wrapped in you. Melting in your silhouette and becoming one, a strange contour of love, flowing with the wind.

In love madly, traveling though the life-raft's unraveling in a beautiful tragedy, but gladly i'm still paddling through the ocean of your anatomy.

In my heart is a space that is so sacred and none can enter in but you. And I shall wait for you though it takes forever, though my heart bleeds and my all consumed. I wait because I love you And love waits for the only one that it loves.

I'm afraid of waking up to a world where you see and I am not what you saw

In Wales, they love with abandon. When a Welsh person loves you, you'll finally know your potential. They are different from the Americans, who are precarious with their love. They are different from the English, who are reserved even when you stand in front of them, naked, handing them your heart. The English give you their love in cups: here, you’ve been good. drink another glass. But the Welsh, they drown you in an ocean of love. You have their attention, their consideration. You have all of them. They aren’t even careful to keep any for themselves. It seems to me that only the Welsh know how to love, how to make someone feel loved. Because when a Welsh person loves you, you’ll finally know how it feels to belong to poetry.

I repeated: come with me, as if I were dying, and no one saw in my mouth the moon that was bleeding, no one saw the blood that was rising into the silence. Oh love, now let us forget the star with thorns!

Is it possible to silence the mind of a lover without losing it? Getting desires fulfilled might satisfy it, taking away its peace.

It doesn’t really matter you aren’t here. The raindrops are keeping you alive through growing palm forests. Wild, untamed and unconquered, as your wandering heart.

I touch this pen, and I feel your fingers, I hear a song, and tears flow down my eyes. Everything comes to life because you have touched them, but all the world is meaningless without love.

Let us love like the spark Between flint and stone In reckless abandonment, Promising no eternities, But promising only to seek out Upon each day’s sunrise Something to choose to love In each other.

Like two stars in the depths of the sky This gravity is just irresistible We spin around each other, you and I When I fell for you, I fell into your orbit.

LIKE MOTHER, LIKE LOVER There is the mother Who cooks too much To feed her children, And there is the mother Who cooks too little, Or not at all. There is the bird That returns to its nest With just a frail worm And feeds it to her babies, And there is the bird That kills its frail babies Just to eat the worm. There is the lover Who argues that There is never Enough love, And there is the other lover Who argues that love is All there ever Was.

Llama que a la inmortal vida trasciende, ni teme con el cuerpo sepultura, ni el tiemnpo la marchita ni la ofende.

Love- if not reciprocated, comes with an expiry date, no matter how strongly we beg to differ.