Best 1872 quotes in «poem quotes» category

I try to hide you With the silence But, my eyes Say the unsaid words and Speak in the loudest volume. In your hesitation, I found my answers. In your silence, I found my answers. Sometimes, I laugh at myself So much that The tears roll down and Reach to my cracked lips. I try to hide you With the silence But, my eyes Say the unsaid words and Speak in the loudest volume.

It’s always safe to do nothing when it rains.

It’s a poem, of our love, that doesn’t rhyme. A story, never meant to have, a happy end.

It's been awhile since I have heard from you, To me it felt like it was only yesterday that all we could do was talk to each other To me it felt like it was only yesterday that I'd fall asleep with you on my mind and be awakened with a smile from your morning messages To me it felt like it was only yesterday that you started to back away, when I was in a dark place To me it felt like it was only yesterday when you left my mind and heart in a million pieces

It’s called Sisyphus. No. Sisyphus. Yes. Apparently some Greek myth. This guy is punished for—punished—yes— for something, and has to roll a rock up a hill every day and every day it rolls—a rock, yes— and every day it rolls back down. Something about the absurdity of life. Camus says—Camooo—says it’s about the condition of man and that it’s meaningless and we have to just keep doing it and—the rock, yes, rolling the rock—and that gives our life meaning. Yeah. Well if that don’t drive you to God—

It's easy to convince men to love you, Puck. All you have to do is be a mountain they have to climb or a poem they don't understand. Something that makes them feel strong or clever. It's why they love the ocean.

(...) It,s hard not to be able. There, look there!/ I cannot get the movement nor the light;/Sometimes it almost makes a man despair/To try and try and never get it right./Oh, if I could -oh, if I only might,/I wouldn,t mind what hells I,d have to pass,/Not if the whole world called me fool and ass." Dauber (A poem). John Masefield. 1916. London William Heinemann

It's just me throwing myself at you, romance as usual, us times us, not lust but moxibustion, a substance burning close to the body as possible without risk of immolation.

It’s my broken sore mending the unbreakable A deep shaken hollow from the unshakeable

It's okay darling, creative people are called crazy all the time.

It's okay to collapse into broken words. You don't always have to be a poem.

It sometime takes a long time and a hard time to realize he just doesn’t deserve your you.

It's so diffuse being alive. Suddenly one is aware that nobody really gives a damn.

It starts between two suns Between dream and sleep Like a sigh after oblivion -The way you hold the night. It goes on in a kiss So many pains exchanged Like a song of compassion -The way you reveal my name. It ends In my body It ends In a shiver Where we remain only Two souls And, naturally, We recognize each other.

It’s the end of man and I can do whatever I want.

It's the thrill of the game the lions preys before devouring says grace and amen.

It takes an aeon to shift position, get comfortable, let alone create a wave in this fishbowl full of glue. - from the poem 'Critical Mass

It was a burden on all her muscles. A hollow deeper than her bones. She braced herself though, she knew why Atlas stood so tall.

It was a slow fall, through warm experiences and good laughs. It didn't even feel like love until I got to the end. Even then, it was not the hard surface of rock, but the scorching embrace of more.

It was her eyes. Soft, meadow-shade eyes with frostbitten edges. Every glance casually held gossamer infinity. Every stare revealed inky black abyss with a hint of divinity.

It was quite a sad thing, the way I watched you sleep like nothing could go wrong and I did not want to harm it, I did not want to blur it, but how could I not when everything I’ve ever known has slowly gone away.

It wouldn't have to be sunny It wouldn't have to be anything else then just that It would really simplify my walk home at night, where every thought I think is some contrived line I repeat over and over to myself Words are always just replaced with new ones The pictures would never need to know otherwise

It was uncontrollable, overpowered by others, these colors within me, staring out at a black and white world; without spurning about, wanting to rule, too much negligence, they left me no choice, but to surrender. It was time, had to crash the lightning, and bow to the rain, where promises have broken, and pain still reigns. Had to give up myself and bring life to the world, had to. Dye

It was soldier's went marching over the rocks, and still they came in watery flocks, because it was spring and the birds had to come, No doubt that soldier's had to be marching, and that the drums had to be rolling, rolling, rolling

It was the end for something. It was the beginning for another. But in reality it just fell in the middle. In that confusing moment of time between my birth and my death.

I understand He took something with him That you will never get back But baby Be strong and live a little

I've barely survived inside a world that took too long to ring it's song. The poet simply becomes the the last line of his greatest poem he never wrote.

I've heard you say so many a time That I know just the right words to say, just the right lines to rhyme... Today it's been 7 years since we last met I have learnt to say just the wrong words, just the lines you hate....

I’ve learned a hundred secrets, a thousand mysteries and a million more. But of all the lessons I learned, the greatest is love.

I've spent a life chasing stories to tell when I'm old.

I’ve reached the vanishing point without you. Here my heartache begins with your pain trying to find an unborn start in this fatal disappearance From the poem ‘Me with the Vanishing Point

I want a fairytale romance in a make-believe land. Let’s run through the beautiful meadow and pretend the walls aren’t closing in. One trip and the world will consume us but don’t hesitate and don’t look back. This world of make-believe survives solely on your faith.

I wanted to write you a love poem But my heart feels out of tune So I coax my breath into the darkness of my rib cage And invite it to fan open Maybe I would say something like, "One day, I would like to fall in love with you," And here I pause while the tears that have been threatening to rain down all day swell high in my chest, blurring my vision "One day, I would like to fall in love with you," I will start writing again, & continue, "wherever you are, whoever you are, but in this moment, I will fall in love with me." My brow furls ever so slightly, because that is not what I expected to say I pause again & allow the container to soften, for the edges to get blurry And the tears, one by one spill over And all the holding of the day crumples away And I am me again & you are you again, too

I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

I want to build / and raise anew / Theseus' Temple and the Stadiums / and where Pericles lived But there's no money, too much spent today / I had a guest over and we sat together.

i want the moon tattooed on my wrists my grandmother keeps asking me to pray, i don’t have the heart to tell her that my poems are the only God i have left in me my mother keeps leaving without saying goodbye i wish she’d let me cut my hair in the 7th grade, maybe i’d know how to deal with loss by now i told myself i’d stop kissing boys who didn’t know my name i said, i’d stop picking at my bones like broken decorations, i’d quit with the smoking and the drunken poems, and when i said things like “my bones are heavy” i would only mean it as a good thing heavy bones can’t be broken, you can’t break heavy bones

I want to kiss you hard enough to matter

I want you alongside So near to each other For I could listen to your heartbeats I want to stare at you I know this makes me super shy But baby I will try

I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea, But we loved with a love that was more than love— I and my Annabel Lee—

I've discovered a way to stay friends forever - There's really nothing to it. I simply tell you what to do And you do it!

I've got some broken ducks. I need to get them in a row.

I've never been in the military, but I have a purple heart: I got it from beating myself up over things that I can't fix.

I’ve seen daggers pierce the chest, Children dying in the road, Crawling things hooked and baited, Rapists bound and then castrated, Villains singed in public square. Yet none these sights did make me cringe Like when my Love cut all her hair.

I've written you sixty-seven love poems. Here’s another one for you. But really, for me. These poems are the candles that I light with the fire you have ignited in me. I place this candle here and another there so even if the stars have argued with the moon and are sulking away in a corner, you can still find your way to me. Sixty-eight poems now. What does the future hold for us? Joy? Disappointment? Gentle caresses? And subtle neglect? I hope the good is more than the bad. Much more. For what is the point of love if by lighting these candles our own flame loses its brightness? I know the good is more than the bad. Much more. I cannot wait to write you sixty-nine.

I've written of you so often I think I've made you immortal.

I wanted her presence... but her absence was the reply... i wanted peace... instead her anger she try... i wanted freedom... it was her tantrums I got always... i wanted love... but it was ignorance i was gifted... i wanted to hate... but it was care i offered instead... i wanted to leave... but stayed indeed...

I wanted nothing more than her attention. Her thoughts filled with me. Her eyes lost in my image. I wanted her so badly I didn't even realize I lost myself in the process. Now, when I look in the mirror, I only see her... where is me?

I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.

I wanted you mine. I wanted me yours.

I wanted to know every story behind the scars on her curves. I wanted to decipher the whispers hidden beneath her every breath. I wanted to unravel her with my hands.