Best 1872 quotes in «poem quotes» category

Before you, nothing. Now you, and everything

Behold yon rough and flinty road Where youth, now youth no more, Gropes whining, seeking crumbs of loaves He cast away of yore.

Beneath the gentle gaze of a god turned in stone holding the dreaming wish of safety in our arms

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms, Which I gaze on so fondly to-day, Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms, Live fairy-gifts fading away, Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art, Let thy loveliness fade as it will, And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart Would entwine itself verdantly still. It is not while beauty and youth are thine own, And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear, That the fervor and faith of a soul may be known, To which time will but make thee more dear! No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets, But as truly loves on to the close, As the sunflower turns on her god when he sets The same look which she turned when he rose!

Be nothing which thou art not

Benarkah angin tidak sedang mencoba menyentuh bibirnya yang begitu sempurna?

Beneath it all I kept faith with Ithaca, travelled, Travelled and travelled, Suffering much, enjoying a little; Met strange people singing New myths; made myths myself. But this lion of the sea Salt-maned, scaly, wondrous of tail, Touched with power, insistent On this brief promontory... Puzzles.

be the kiss in my hair that no one sees move, when i move sigh, when i sigh... be that line from a poem that i hold in my eyes.

Be there a picnic for the devil, an orgy for the satyr, and a wedding for the bride.

Believe me when I say: 'Out of all those around, she’s the best locksmith in town.' Her stethoscope ears know when the dials of your heart click into place. She’s been cutting keys for years. You don’t stand a chance with that flimsy case. Alas, no matter how you lock your heart— bolt, fixture, and key— she’s got nimble fingers that pick locks for free. Padlocks and deadbolts are all in vain. Why do you even bother with that chain? She’s way too smart. Along with ours, she’ll have your heart. And you will see that the best locksmith in town is she.

BEWARE OF THOSE Beware of those who are bitter, For they will never allow you To enjoy your fruit. Beware of those who criticize you When you deserve some praise for an achievement, For they secretly desire to be worshiped. Beware of those who are needy or stingy, For they would rather sting you Than give you anything. Beware of those who are always hungry. They will feed you to the wolves Just to get paid. Beware of those who speak negatively About everything and everybody. A negative person will never say A positive thing about you. Beware of those who are bored And not passionate about life. They will bore you with reasons for not living. Beware of those who are too focused with Polishing and beautifying their outer shells. They lack true substance to understand That genuine beauty is in the heart that resides inside. Beware of those who step in the path of your dreams. They only dream to have the ability To take half your steps. Beware of those who steer you away From your heart’s true happiness. It would make them happy to see you Steer yourself next to them, Sitting with both your hearts bitter. Those who are critical don’t like being criticized, And those who are insensitive have a deficiency in their senses. And finally, Beware of those who tell you to BEWARE. They are too aware of everything – And live alone, scared. BEWARE OF THOSE by Suzy Kassem

Be still my hand and let the words write themselves upon my heart. Be still my heart and let your pages be filled in silence.

beware those quick to praise for they need praise in return beware those who are quick to censor they are afraid of what they do not know beware those who seek constant crowds for they are nothing alone

beware women grown old who were never anything but young

HOME no one leaves home unless home is the mouth of a shark you only run for the border when you see the whole city running as well your neighbors running faster than you breath bloody in their throats the boy you went to school with who kissed you dizzy behind the old tin factory is holding a gun bigger than his body you only leave home when home won’t let you stay. no one leaves home unless home chases you fire under feet hot blood in your belly it’s not something you ever thought of doing until the blade burnt threats into your neck and even then you carried the anthem under your breath only tearing up your passport in an airport toilets sobbing as each mouthful of paper made it clear that you wouldn’t be going back. you have to understand, that no one puts their children in a boat unless the water is safer than the land no one burns their palms under trains beneath carriages no one spends days and nights in the stomach of a truck feeding on newspaper unless the miles travelled means something more than journey. no one crawls under fences no one wants to be beaten pitied no one chooses refugee camps or strip searches where your body is left aching or prison, because prison is safer than a city of fire and one prison guard in the night is better than a truckload of men who look like your father no one could take it no one could stomach it no one skin would be tough enough the go home blacks refugees dirty immigrants asylum seekers sucking our country dry niggers with their hands out they smell strange savage messed up their country and now they want to mess ours up how do the words the dirty looks roll off your backs maybe because the blow is softer than a limb torn off or the words are more tender than fourteen men between your legs or the insults are easier to swallow than rubble than bone than your child body in pieces. i want to go home, but home is the mouth of a shark home is the barrel of the gun and no one would leave home unless home chased you to the shore unless home told you to quicken your legs leave your clothes behind crawl through the desert wade through the oceans drown save be hunger beg forget pride your survival is more important no one leaves home until home is a sweaty voice in your ear saying- leave, run away from me now i dont know what i’ve become but i know that anywhere is safer than here

Be you. That, my friend, is the change you want to become in the world.

Be Vast, Solitary, Down to Earth and Firm

Yes, it’s tough, it’s tough, that goes without saying. But isn’t waiting itself and longing a wonder, being played on by wind, sun, and shade?

Biar! tak kau ingat lampu-lampu yang menyihir kita menjadi orang yang mentertawakan dunia. tak kau ingat keringat meleleh di langkah kaki, di punggung, kening, menantang matahari! menunggingkan pantat ke muka-muka orang-orang yang dipuja sebagai dewa! o, engkau telah membunuh kenangan demikian cepat. seperti kulindas kecoak dengan ujung sepatuku. perutnya yang memburai, putih, mata yang keluar dari kepala, masih bergerak-gerak. aku menjadi pembunuh. seperti dirimu. demikian telengas. tanpa belas. kepada kenangan. biar. jika kau tak mau temani. biar kurasakan nyeri sendiri. di puncak sepiku sendiri!

.... Bless their believing happiness will make them happy; that the ocean is magical, a kingdom where we go to be human, and grateful.

BLESSINGS ARE IMMEASURABLE You can Lose a child Or a parent, The love of your life, A good job, A game, A deal, A bet, An idea, Your favorite thing, Money, Your best friend, A moment, An opportunity, A chance, Your keys, Your mind, Your health, Your identity, Your virginity, Your religion, Your shirt, Your license, ID or Passport, Phone or phone number, Hope, Faith, Luck, Your pride, Or your house, And feel like You've lost everything, And keep on losing. Stop Counting losses And start counting your blessings. Only then, Will you discover that losses Are easier to point out And count Than blessings, And that blessings Outnumber your losses For they are truly Immeasurable. It is only normal that People count losses with Their minds, And ignore To count blessings With the graciousness Of their hearts.

Blank pages are cruel Pure torture in white or beige But how else to start

bodhi tree dreams of enjoying the picnic with buddha's family

blue-gold sky, fresh cloud, emerald-black mountain, trees on rocky ledges, on the summit, the tiny pin of a telephone tower-all brilliantly clear, in shadow and out. and on and through everything everywhere the sun shines without reservation (p. 97)

Blonde moon White gown Red ribbon Angle eyes jasmine wish in thy heart Missing spring One day night slowly covering A whole life

Bombs on my backpack lunchbox full of fivestar crackers pockets loaded with rockets im gonna spit fireworks explosive rhymes connected like judas belt here comes my ride a mother rocket fly so high reach and bursts into the night sky

[On Love After Love by Derek Walcott] I read this poem often, once a month at least. In the madness and mayhem of modern life, where every man seems committed to an endless search for the approval and esteem of his fellows and peers, no matter what the cost, this poem reminds me of a basic truth: that we are, as we are, "enough". Most of us are motivated deep down by a sense of insufficiency, a need to be better stronger, faster; to work harder; to be more committed, more kind, more self-sufficient, more successful. But this short poem by Derek Walcott is like a declaration of unconditional love. It's like the embrace of an old friend. He brings us to an awareness of the present moment, calm and peaceful, and to a feeling of gratitude for everything we have. I have read it to my dearest friends after dinner once, and to my family at Christmas, and they started crying, which always, unfailingly, makes me cry.

...Both a baby and a poem masquerade as something we've created, when we know that they arrive from somewhere beyond us, that they are gifts.

Princes & Kings Isn't it strange how princes and kings, and clowns that caper in sawdust rings, and common people, like you and me, are builders for eternity? Each is given a list of rules; a shapeless mass; a bag of tools. And each must fashion, ere life is flown, A stumbling block, or a Stepping-Stone.

Bouraq itu ada dlm kedalaman jiwamu ia ditambatkan sejak awal penciptaan: tinggal Anda memberinya minuman Intuisi Rindu dan Rumput Kebijaksanaan : dia adalah Albaqoroh tapi bukan tuk disembelih tapi diberi tali kekang Mutmainnah, pelana Safayah dan Lawwamah, sepatu Ammarah dan Riadoh, ditelinganya giwang Mulhimah, dilehernya kalung Mardiyah dan di kepalanya mahkota Kamilah, tak usah dicambuk karena sang malaikat kan meminjamkan sayapnya 1 1 atau 2 2 hiìhihhhi.. dan bersama Almaidah anda akan merayakannya di sepanjang tahun2 kesukuran.. (Karel Bhi Saajan)‪

Boys learn too late that being the man, is not the same thing as being a man.

Bright star, would I were stedfast as thou art-- Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, Or gazing on the new soft-fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors-- No--yet still stedfast, still unchangeable, Pillow'd upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel for ever its soft fall and swell, Awake for ever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever--or else swoon to death. Glanzvoller Stern! wär ich so stet wie du, Nicht hing ich nachts in einsam stolzer Pracht! SchautŽ nicht mit ewigem Blick beiseite zu, Einsiedler der Natur, auf hoher Wacht Beim Priesterwerk der Reinigung, das die See, Die wogende, vollbringt am Meeresstrand; Noch starrt ich auf die Maske, die der Schnee Sanft fallend frisch um Berg und Moore band. Nein, doch unwandelbar und unentwegt MöchtŽ ruhn ich an der Liebsten weicher Brust, Zu fühlen, wie es wogend dort sich regt, Zu wachen ewig in unruhiger Lust, Zu lauschen auf des Atems sanftes Wehen - So ewig leben - sonst im Tod vergehen!

Bourgenvilla Kertas mungkin kerana rupa yang dizahirkan dari rupa datangnya nama Harum mungkin kerana harum yang tak terciumkan maka hanya mawar jadi pujaan Palsu Syukur kau tak dipalsukan seperti mawar Setidaknya kau tak disinonimkan dengan luka Walau kau punya duri seperti mawar bukan? Setidaknya kau tak pula dipetik sembarangan Brunei, 5 Nov 2014

Break my heart and you will find yourself inside.

This is what I had come for, just this, and nothing more. A fling of leafy motion on the cliffs, the assault of real things, living and still, with shapes and powers under the sky- this is my city, my culture, and all the world I need.

Broken Melody Broken melody — tear sparkling in the eye Of a woman loved… Please past, Jewel lost, A trampled dream Lips unkissed In the broken melody. With silent sobs the naked shoulders shake, Their whiteness dazzling… Stabbed, stabbed with remorse For the moments of mindlessness, For her ruined fate, For the happiness lost In the broken melody. Face hidden in her hands in shame, Remorsefully the woman weeps, With heart despairing (A broken guitar, A voice stifled On lips kissed by pain In the broken melody). Silent he stands beside the woman weeping Scolding tears of shame That dim her eyes. Some money on the table quickly lays And goes away, Leaving the woman lost In the broken melody. But when another comes, lust mounts again, The heated blood Pounds furiously through the veins, Benumbing mind … and only gasps And grants are heard In the horrid melody. (Translated by R.Elsie)

Bronze and copper to course through your veins Hair of coal, black as raven Liquid fossils flowing longer than the Nile Rubbies and sapphires inside your chambers And diamonds for pupils in almond set eyes Because I love you

The Cloudy Vase Past time, I threw the flowers out, washed out the cloudy vase. How easily the old clearness leapt, like a practiced tiger, back inside it.

She Dwelt Among the Untrodden Ways She dwelt among the untrodden ways Beside the springs of Dove, A Maid whom there were none to praise And very few to love: A violet by a mossy stone Half hidden from the eye! —Fair as a star, when only one Is shining in the sky. She lived unknown, and few could know When Lucy ceased to be; But she is in her grave, and, oh, The difference to me!

Buddha Speaks: In deep peace I journey the never ending path towards great stillness only to return again to kiss the warm lips of Mother Earth

BUNAHAN When the last speaker of Boro falls silent, who will notice the first-grown feather of a bird’s wing? (gansuthi) or feel how far pretending to love (onsay) is from loving for the last time (onsra)? Quiet and uneasy, in an unfamiliar place (asusu) no one sees her, or listens; there is less of her than there was. The last speaker feels Boro’s world fall apart, knowledge unravels: healing plants go unseen; the bodies of animals are unreadable. With a last thought, onguboy (to love it all, from the heart), she leaves fragments of the world she held in place. We touch their husks, about to speak and about not to speak (bunhan, bunahan); awash in loss, incomplete. Note: The italicized words are from Boro, an endangered language still spoken in parts of northern India. For more on this story, see Mark Abley’s Spoken Here: Travels Among Threatened Languages.

Bulan Merah lalu ditenggak darah bulan merah lolongnya yang serigala hingga ujung benua sebayang lindap sebayang lindap melayar-layar bulan merah mengucur airmata dengusnya yang api memunahkan negeri-negeri sebusur waktu sebusur waktu meluncur-luncur tatap bulan merah di waktu malam merapat di ubun-ubun hingga purnamanya penuh sempurna sebugil bulat sebugil bulan menggigil-gigil o, bulan merah di puncak sunyi geliat sepi amuknya!

Bucket I feel so dreamy dreamy lazy, crazy sleepy like I want to be there in the doorway, the doorway or the porch corner be sitting, be empty notdoing not going an old bucket left there in the porch corner is like I am an old empty bucket somebody left there.

Bukankah cara paling tepat untuk menikmati sebuah puisi adalah merasakannya saja?

But how conceive a God supremely good/ Who heaps his favours on the sons he loves,/ Yet scatters evil with as large a hand? [Written after an earthquake in Lisbon killed over 15,000 people]

But how wonderful when the tale is told, And the message that is meant for us Opens like the scents of a mountain flower!

...but beautiful mosaics are made of broken pieces.

But someone I know is dying-- And though one might say glibly, "everyone is," The different pace makes the difference absolute.

But tears are an indulgence. Memory sings.

But then you left exactly how all the sad songs said you would