How beautiful is the experience of dance. It can melt the grief of a heart with its steps of solace.

If spirit is the seed, dance is the water of its evolution.

You must take these poems as mirrors; for you know that the mirror has no form of itself, but rather reflects the face of anyone who looks in it. Just so a poem has no...

Let craft, ambition, spite, Be quenched in Reason’s night, Till weakness turn to might, Till what is dark be light, Till what is wrong be right!

And guard you well from violent menWho’d put you back in the shafts again.”But the ass had far too wise a headTo answer one of the things I said,So he twitched his fair ears up...

Shine and shimmer my Harvest Moon,illuminate the shadows in the sky.

the price of creationis nevertoo high.the price of livingwith other peoplealwaysis.

I’m restless. Things are calling me away. My hair is being pulled by the stars again.

Yet, beauty cannot be forgotten,Eternal Wisdom can never die …

Shall the dire day break when lifefinds us merely husband and wifewith passion not so much deniedas neatly laundered and put asideand the old joyous insistencetrimmed to placid coexistence?Shall we sometime arise from bedwith not...

God promised you to give you dreams and visions, see Him as your great dream/vision giver.

La raison qui m’a conduit à proférer de la poésie (shi‘r) est que j’ai vu en songe un ange qui m’apportait un morceau de lumière blanche ; on eût dit qu’il provenait du soleil. « Qu’est-ce que...

That’s what I love about poetry. The more abstract, the better. The stuff where you’re not sure what the poet’s talking about. You may have an idea, but you can’t be sure. Not a hundred...

Di gran furore si pregna il suo scheletro,bagliori saettano, uscendo e rientrandoda essa come rincorsi durante una fuga.Sembra un dio del cielo, pieno di boria,quando ai mortali si appresta a elargiredoni che celano invero soltanto...

We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

Four simple chambers.A thousand complicated doors.One of them is yours.

If their tears could be read,as the blind can read brailleWould your eyes then be openedto another & how they feel?Without condemnation or any aversions from withinCould you set aside judgementwhile seeking total absolution?

We write about love like we should be bound in padded rooms.

an English girl might well believethat time is how you spend your love.

While I was looking the other way your fire went outLeft me with cinders to kick into dustWhat a waste of the wonder you wereIn my living fire I will keep your scorn and mineIn...

Lo que yo quiero, corazón cobarde,es que mueras por mí.Y morirme contigo si te matasy matarme contigo si te mueresporque el amor cuando no muere mataporque amores que matan nunca mueren.

MotherHushed and sacred silencefills the dawning skyI ponder in this momentof our journey which is nigh…

At sunset, on the river ban, KrishnaLoved her for the last time and left. . .That night in her husband’s arms, Radha feltSo dead that he asked, What is wrong,Do you mind my kisses, love?...

If you’re frightened of the countless number of books in the library, you’ll never write anything, until you close your eyes and hold the pen.

I will meet you on the nape of your neck one day, on the surface of intention, word becoming act.We will breathe into each other the high mountain tales, where the snows come from, where...

If love and beauty were easy to find, they would not exist.Chaos and sadness exist in order for you to find the love and beauty in them. So that love and beauty mean something.It’s meant...

Determined, I riseand face the dawn with resolve.This time I will win.

We made love outdoors—without a roof, I like most, without stove, my favorite place, assuming the weather be fair and balmy, and the earth beneath be clean. Our souls intertwined and dripping with dew, and...

For I dance And drink and sing,Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing.If thought is lifeAnd strength and breathAnd the wantOf thought is deathThen am IA happy flyIf I liveOr if I die

But the seawhich no one tendsis also a garden

My heart’s in the Highlands, my heart is not here;My heart’s in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,My heart’s in the Highlands wherever I go.

If you opened the dictionary and searched for the meaning of a Goddess, you would find the reflection of a dancing lady.

I am 15 and you are 51, I know you are the best, to be loved by, everyone.

No sun—no moon! No morn—no noon—No dawn— No sky—no earthly view— No distance looking blue—No road—no street—no “t’other side the way”— No end to any Row— No indications where the Crescents go— No top to...

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

My cup is yellowOr not, though not’sImpossibleIt’s yellow

And it seems people should not build houses anymoreit seems people should stop working and sit in small rooms on second floorsunder electric lightswithout shades;it seems there is a lot to forgetand a lot not...

The Garden Under Snow “Now the garden is under snow a blank page our footprints write onclare who was never minebut always belonged to herselfSleeping Beautya crystalline blanketthis is her springthis is her sleeping/awakeningshe is...

Have they known scorn like youFive cellars down?

Loveis not leaning on each other, adjusting to fit a different size.Loveis simply two hands reached out in the darkness,saying; I’ll be your light, if you’ll be mine.

You’ve slipped away like a fistful of sand. You’ve vanished so quickly like a wind. Do you know how I long to hold you love of my life.

In school, I hated poetry – those skinny,Malnourished poems that professors love;The bad grammar and dirty words that catchIn the mouth like fishhooks, tear holes in speech.Pablo, your words are rain I run through,Grass I...

The core of your true self is never lost. Let go of all the pretending and the becoming you’ve done just to belong.Curl up with your rawness and come home. You don’t have to find...

Answers I kept my answers small and kept them near;Big questions bruised my mind but still I letSmall answers be a bullwark to my fear.The huge abstractions I kept from the light;Small things I handled...

And I Said To My Soul, Be LoudMadden me back to an afternoonI carry in menot like a woundbut like a will against a woundGive me again enough manto be the childchoosing my own annihilationsTo...

You sit at the edge of the world,I am in a crater that’s no more.Words without lettersStanding in the shadow of the door.The moon shines down on a sleeping lizard,Little fish rain from the sky.Outside...

Poetry can be more eloquent than the most eloquent sermons, and it becomes a weapon more formidable than the sharpest of swords; whenever such a poem–which finds its correct tune and conveys the excitement of...

Sex with an exIs it ever really painless or just inviting stress?I mean, reallyWho does that?Oh wait, I’m sure if they could, most everyone would…

Gargoyles sat on the battlements- lean they were and the same hideous damp grey as the stone. They looked at her with hollow eyes and rattled their silver chains. They had wings of bats or...