Best 1872 quotes in «poem quotes» category

Do the lovers know that when they whisper these poems they are commemorating our love? Do they ever think of you and me or only of themselves? Do they know that I once found a strand of your hair and wore it around my neck like a necklace? That I kiss your hands more than I kiss your lips? Do they realise that our love and their love are drops in the universe’s ocean of love and that without any of these drops, the ocean would be less?

Doubt quit stopping by when I started staying out late, dancing in a flood of self assurance discovered when holding your hand.

Do you see how the sky holds the sun? In a powerful but effortless way that shows off her beauty and strength? That's how a King holds his Queen.

Do you love me?” When I struggle to love myself? “Do you love me?” When I ask you to leave? “Do you love me?” In the moments When I struggle to breathe? “Do you love me?” In those days When I seem to hurt you the most? “Do you love me?” When I feel like a burden? When I act a little weird? When I constantly question you and On the nights, When I just leave without answering?

Do you love me?" I ask. In your hesitation I found my answer.

Do you remember the unbidden summer rain Washing the dew from mulberries away? Can you forget the scent of honey over fields, And those amber-colored acorns beads… And crowds of singing motley birds Around the foggy, misty lake? That’s where our childhood mirth Will be remained as a fairy-tale…

Do you want to see all the wrong things in our world? You sit right there. Then notice how many people move too fast about in life, they go blind over the miracle of being in the moment. Now, do you want to see all the right things? Well I can't honestly speak for others. But this is how it always works for me. I just sit right here. Right here. Beside you. Then silently, I notice how all the wrong things in my world just seem to start falling into their rightful places. Right here. Beside you.

Do you want to come in? Take a deep breath. The repo man is gone. All I had to do was show him My favorite gun And tell him about My conviction That a shame-faced galaxy Mutters a homily of return.

Do you want to come in? Take a deep breath. Everything is about to happen.

Dreaming of getting you I loosed everything Cheerfulness of smile And all the dreams of life

Dreaming of another time, Dreaming of clasping your hands so tight, Dreaming of another time, Dreaming of the shipwreck that is in my heart would end

Each today, well-lived, makes yesterday a dream of happiness and each tomorrow a vision of hope. Look, therefore, to this one day, for it and it alone is life.” —Sanskrit poem

Eagle's flight of loneliness soars so high Around its sigh, no more alone the sky Other birds remain away, clouds pass by Between shrouds of life and haze sun rays die

Easter blessings All life’s sacrifices like autumn leaves awaken our senses and power to love and be whole Our Mother Earth, Our Father Sky embraces our happiness and laughter Praise be to freedom and life’s seasons Praise be to Christ’s freedom song

eat, baby. eat. chew. please. I know it hurts. I know it doesn’t feel good. please. I know your hunger is different than mine. I know it doesn’t taste the same as mine. imagine you could grow up all over again and pinpoint the millisecond that you started counting calories like casualties of war, mourning each one like it had a family. would you? sometimes I wonder that. sometimes I wonder if you would go back and watch yourself reappear and disappear right in front of your own eyes. and I love you so much. I am going to hold your little hand through the night. just please eat. just a little. you wrote a poem once, about a city of walking skeletons. the teacher called home because you told her you wished it could be like that here. let me tell you something about bones, baby. they are not warm or soft. the wind whistles through them like they are holes in a tree. and they break, too. they break right in half. they bruise and splinter like wood. are you hungry? I know. I know how much you hate that question. I will find another way to ask it, someday. please. the voices. I know they are all yelling at you to stretch yourself thinner. l hear them counting, always counting. I wish I had been there when the world made you snap yourself in half. I would have told you that your body is not a war-zone, that, sometimes, it is okay to leave your plate empty.

EARLY BIRD Oh, if you’re a bird, be an early bird And catch the worm for your breakfast plate. If you’re a bird, be an early early bird-- But if you’re a worm, sleep late.

Eating Fruit at the Grand Canyon- A song to make death easy Since this great hole in earth is beyond My comprehension and I am hungry, I sit on the rim and eat fruit The colors of the stone i see, Strawberries of iron cliffs, sagebrush melons, white sand apple, grapes The barely purple of the stonewashed slopes, And every color I eat is in my vision, Colonized by my eye, by me and everyone I have known, so vast, so remote, That we can only gaze at ourselves, wondering At our reaches, eat fat fruit while we Grow calm if we can, our folded Rocky interiors pressed upwards through Our throats, side canyons seeming almost Accessible, the grand river of blood Carving us even as we sit, devouring Color that will blush on our skin Nourish us so that we may climb The walls of the interior, bewildered, Tremulous, but observant as we move Down in, one foot, another, careful not to fall, to fall, The fruit fueling us in subtle Surges of color in this vastly deep Where birds make shadow and echo And we have no idea Why we cannot comprehend ourselves, Each other, a place so deep and bright It has no needs and we wonder What we’re doing here on this fragment Of galactic dust, spinning, cradled, Awestruck, momentarily alive.

Echo of the waves appears in the sky, their lights reflected in your eyes. I'm back in our world and happy again. The sound of your voice, compassionate embrace... The power in your touch, serenity of stride... The beating of your heart calms down my presence, gracing with eternal peace of mind... Bathing in the sunshine of your arms I'm deeply aware of the melodic stream that has no language...gliding beneath the quiet Heaven of your eyes...

Ellerin neden ıslak? Yine yağmuru tutmaya mı çalıştın? Öldürmüşsün damlaları, fazla sıkma dedim sana. Pis! Pis! Dur! Nereye? İzin ver içeyim.

Endangered Species Even this brief thought is endless. A man speaks as if unaware of the erotic life of the ampersand. In the isolate field he comes to count one by one the rare butterflies as they die. He says witness is to say what you mean as if you mean it. So many of them are the color of the leaves they feed on, he calls sympathy a fact, a word by which he means to make a claim about grace. I have in my life said many things I did not exactly mean. Walk graceless through the field. Graceless so the insects leap up into the blank page where the margins fill with numbers that speak diminishment. Absence as it nears also offers astonishment. Absence riddles even this briefest thought, here is your introduction to desire, time's underneath where the roots root down into nothing like loose threads hanging from the weaving's underside. No one seeing the roots can guess at the field above. Green equation that ends in yellow occasions. Theory is insubstantial. The eye latches on to the butterflies as they fly and the quick heart follows, not a root in nothing but a thread across abstraction. They fly away. What in us follows we do not name. What the butterflies pull out us as in battle horses pull chariot, we do not name. But there is none, no battle, no surge, no retreat, a field full not of danger, but the endangered, where dust-wings pull from us what we thought we lost, what theory denies, where in us ideas go to die, and thought with the quaking grass quakes. Some call it breath but I'm still breathing. So empty I know I'm not any emptier. On slim threads they pull it out me, disperse-no one takes notes-disappear, &

Engkau tidak takut sekian lama tinggal sendirian? Engkau tidak pernah kesepian? Oh, tidak. Mungkin malah sepi yang takut dengan kesendirianku.

ENTER THIS DESERTED HOUSE But please walk softly as you do. Frogs dwell here and crickets too. Ain't no ceiling, only blue Jays dwell here and sunbeams too. Floors are flowers - take a few. Ferns grow here and daisies too. Whoosh, swoosh - too-whit, too-woo, Bats dwell here and hoot owls too. Ha-ha-ha,hee-hee,hoo-hoooo, Gnomes dwell here and goblins too. And my child, I thought you knew I dwell here...and so do you.

Entre el día y el sueño estoy en casa donde duermen los niños, tibios de correrías y los viejos se sientan por la tarde, y arden hogares y su espacio alumbran. Entre el día y el sueño estoy en casa donde suenan campanas de oración y muchachas, cohibidas por ecos que se extinguen, se apoyan fatigadas en el brocal del pozo. Y hay un tilo, que es mi árbol predilecto: y todos los veranos que en él callan se vuelven a mover en las mil ramas y entre el día y el sueño vuelven a despertar.

Even lungs that are gasping are lungs that are trying.

Es sind tausend Tropfen in einer Welt nur für uns gemacht Tausend Tropfen wenn der Himmel weint und man dennoch lacht

Es la noche un gato de ojos azules...

Even this shall pass away

Even when the lights go out, even when someone says to me: "It's over---," even when from the stage a gray gust of emptiness drifts toward me, even when not one silent ancestor sits beside me anymore---not a woman, not even the boy with the brown squint-eye: I'll sit here anyway. One can always watch.

Every decision, every single one, comes with a price to pay. It means you chose one thing over another, always. Whether you chose right or wrong, that cost remains constant. It's a permanent life tax. That's where taxes come from.

Everybody here is infirm. Everybody here is infirm.

Every book has to wait for the right time to be read and understood.

Every day I try to fight my own brokenness. But once you are forgotten, it's not so bad: a heart broken joins another chorus.

Every limb [of my body] sees him, even if he be absent from me, in every delicate, clear, joyous essence, In the tune of the melodious lute and flute when they blend together in trilling strains, And in luxurious pasturage of gazelles in the coolness of twilight and in the first rays of dawning, And in misty rains falling from a cloud on a carpet woven of flowers, And where the breeze sweeps her train, guiding to me most fragrant attar at sweet dawn, And when I kiss the lip of the cup, sipping the clear wine in pleasure and joy. I knew no estrangement from my homeland when he was with me: My mind was undisturbed where we were— That place was my home while my beloved was present; where the sloping dune appeared, that was my halting- place. (Ibn al-Fārid)

Every known thing used to be unknown And every rock could become a stone Someday nature will have to atone When soul sees dead flesh leaving the bone

Every morning before the birds start trilling me their stories, I give birth to a new love through my same old heart when a lake’s placidity finds life in the swans breath Only for you... From the poem 'Only For You

Every new day Our children's joy is as fresh as roses, Even the birds chatter at dawn.

every other time i have been cautious but this time, i didn’t stop myself from running into a hurricane

Every second, every minute, every hour our bodies breathe in the manna of Heaven. Our bodies resonate with the love and power of creative cosmic rhythms dancing through every cell in our beautiful beingness. Heaven is the heart of our atomic structure. Only with realisation of God manna within can the external cosmic energy fuse and ignite eternal bliss. Manna from Heaven.

Every soul needs a touch of erotic love. A deep, unconditional love is what every heart truly desires. True love is passionately erotic.

Everyone is their own, though they are so alone. They all sit on their imagined thrones, made only of their own bones. Ego and pride make exquisite delusional cushions.

Every poem is unique to each person who reads it.

Everything I do you are here to give me an assurance that I will succeed. What an awesome Father you are.

Everything is blood and vines. The mark of another day of revolving the body exact And the sky is ours our hope our blue our silence our throat of burning wildflowers.

Everything is still everything. The Poem Remains.

Everything is all right, When you’re here, When you’re right next to me, When my hand is in yours, Don’t leave me, Don’t leave me empty handed.

Everything is like a wall. Said a scholar to the troll. Bang your head to go on through. Then you'll see, there is no queue.

Everything is temporary, almost like a passing fase, some of laughter Some of pain. What we would do, If we had the chance to explore What we had taken for Granted the very day before, Some would say I'm selfish, To hold a little sadness in my eyes, But they don't feel the sorrow When I can't do, all that helps me feel alive. I can express my emotions, but I can't run wild and free, My mind and soul would handle it but hell upon my hip, ankle and knees, This disorder came about, as a friendship said its last goodbyes, Soooo this is what I got given for all the years I stood by? I finally stand still to question it, life it is in fact? What the fuck is the purpose of it all if you get stabbed in the back? And after the anger fills the air, the regret takes it places, I never wanted to be that girl, Horrid, sad and faded... So I took with a grain of salt, my new found reality, I am not of my pain, the disability doesnt define me. I find away to adjust, also with the absence of my friend, I trust the choices I make, allow my heart to mend. I pick up the pieces I retrain my leg, I find where I left off And I start all over again, You see what happens... When a warrior gets tested; They grow from the ashes Powerful and invested. So I thank all this heartache, As I put it to a rest, I move forward with my life And I'll build a damn good nest.

Every time I watch Lady and the Tramp I think "SHE'S HAVING SOME OF YOUR PASTA!" "QUICK! EAT IT ALL! EAT IT ALL, NOW!!!" "GROWL! BARE YOUR TEETH! DO SOMETHING! "OH, DON'T GIVE HER THE MEATBALL! THERE'S MEAT IN IT!" "IDIOT!" But then again I'm not the romantic type.

exactly half the phenomenal world is gone

Exil Ein Toter bin ich der wandelt gemeldet nirgends mehr unbekannt im Reich des Präfekten überzählig in den goldenen Städten und im grünenden Land abgetan lange schon und mit nichts bedacht nur mit Wind mit Zeit und mit Klang! Der ich unter Menschen nicht leben kann! Ich mit der deutschen Sprache dieser Wolke um mich die ich halte als Haus treibe durch alle Sprachen O wie sie sich verfinstert! die dunklen die Regentöne nur die wenigen fallen In hellere Zonen trägt dann sie den Toten hinauf