Whenever you touch a poem that caresses your soul, breathe it gently for it might be the wind that perfects your life’s goal.

We know the particular poem, not what it says that we can restate.

These aren’t still shots; the camera is always moving. And the scene is always just slipping out of sight, as if in spite of myself I were always descending a hill, rounding a corner, stepping...

What makes us leave what we love best?What is it inside us that keeps erasing itselfWhen we need it most,That sends us into uncertainty for its own sakeAnd holds us flush there until we begin...

She asks why I like her.Might as well askWhy I breathe.Maybe tomorrow I won’tBreathe or like herAnymore.Maybe tomorrow the tidesWill stop.Maybe tomorrow will bringNo more rainbows.Maybe tomorrowShe will stopAsking useless questions.

When daylight is here i dream of the night,The stars of a country sky that shine so bright.A night sky without clouds, for the moon to hide under,Revealing every twinkle and every beam, of the...

Help people.Be interested.Make a difference.Live passionately.Go comando.

Am learning every day that there are more threads to me That I have been rising and changing, rediscovering who I ambecoming who I want to be putting the broken pieces back together and becoming...

The longer a life, the challenge is not the distance between destinations, but the difficulty of travelling light. My soul’s a portmanteau packed full, one half filled with what was, the other with what is,...

a woman’s love is never conditionala man’s love is never blinda woman’s love is never careless a man’s love never leaves you behinda woman’s love is never gone a man’s love is never fara woman’s...

Don’t fall asleep yet. Contrary to popular belief, that’s not where dreams get accomplished.

Since ever the world was spinningAnd till the world shall endYou’ve your man in the beginningOr you have him in the end,But to have him from start to finishAnd neither nor borrow nor lendIs what...

Just looking at themI grow greedy, as if they werefreshly baked loaveswaiting on their shelvesto be broken open–that oneand that–and I make my choicein a mood of exalted luck,browsing among themlike a cow in sweetest...

Tonight, I won’t dream, because nobodyhas held me and no hands have strayed and eventhough I’m drunk with love, my arms are empty.

Time is a watchful adversary, who waits enduringly for that merciless hour, hurrying to work the hands of separation.

The stars will live for me, if not anything else

I know now that the poem in my head, the one that pushed me to the page, begged me – or dared me to be born is almost never the poem that comes out. I...

Today I write,riots with insite!Tomorrow I read,take the lead!Sometimes I sleep, health to keep!But for now I write,and got no gripe!

Out of the huts of history’s shameI riseUp from a past that’s rooted in painI riseI’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.Leaving behind nights of terror and fearI...

the star that I was wishingthe light that I was kissingsitting back and reminiscing that night, it was missing.

Thoughts are powerfulSo be careful

The way of love is not a subtle argument. The door there is devastation. Birds make great sky-circles of their freedom. How do they learn it? They fall, and falling, they’re given wings.

The extremity of her sensitivityimpressed a richly idle princely family,of her discomfort, bothered as she had to beby the absurd softness of the ample beddings,not to mention the pillow piles aggravatingher much lamented acrophobic dis-ease.[from...

Death stoops over me.I’m a problem in chess. Hehas the solution.

POOR ANGUSOh what do you do, poor Angus,When hunger makes you cry?”I fix myself an omelet, sir,Of fluffy clouds and sky.”Oh what do you wear, poor Angus,When winds blow down the hills?”I sew myself a...

Jag skriver inte för allaJag skriver för dejDu som fyller huvudet med drömmar och fantasiOch som krockar med verklighetens lyktstolpar om och om igenJag skriver för dejDu som tänker på livet, hur det är och...

Words of mankind limited in meaning to describe the enchantment that illuminates from aura of a dancer.

Darkness all around, smoke in between my fingers, all you have given me dear, sorrow and sadness to sing here.

The poem is called: The first glance.You were standing there Your presence changing the atmosphere.I can’t help to stare Your beauty is so rare. Watching you Is like the sunset on the ocean shore. Hearing...

Qu’y-a-t-il au sommet de la montagne ?- Le ciel.- Que dit le loup quand il hurle ?- Joie, force et solitude.- A qui s’adresse-t-il ?- A la lune.- Où va la rivière ?- Remplir la...

I cast myself at him, like a fool, but he didn’t see me. And then one day he noticed I was beautiful and he wanted me. He broke me off and took me with him,...

Looking from outside into an open window one never sees as much as when one looks through a closed window. There is nothing more profound, more mysterious, more pregnant, more insidious, more dazzling than a...

Why are you so scared and creeping around,taking photographs all over town,pictures in the dark that live in the light,the world is my playground too and I’ll do what I like.

and when we speak we are afraidour words will not be heardnor welcomedbut when we are silentwe are still afraidSo it is better to speakrememberingwe were never meant to survive

The Scorpion?The Grasshopper?Which way will she go?

Wäre ich ein Zimmermann, würde ich dir ein Fenster zu meiner Seele zimmern.Wenn du hineinschauen würdest, sähest du dich selbst in der Scheibe gespiegelt.Und dann wüsstest du, dass meine Seele einSpiegelbild von deiner ist.

In times of need I call unto you Abba Father and you answer.

A poem for Beth: Roses are red, Violets are blue, I didn’t know what love meant, until I looked it up in the dictionary.

I am in awe of flowers. Not because of their colors, but because even though they have dirt in their roots, they still grow. They still bloom.

Abraham Lincoln wrote a poem about me once. You might know it as the Gettysburg Address. Men with beards are romantic.

Mental illness People assume you aren’t sick unless they see the sickness on your skin like scars forming a map of all the ways you’re hurting. My heart is a prison of Have you tried?s...

Then a hundred sad voices lifted a wail,And a hundred glad voices piped on the gale:’Time is short, life is short,’ they took up the tale: ‘Life is sweet, love is sweet, use to-day while...

In fact, poetry has always been like archives that peoples have continually used to serve their feelings, thoughts, national identities and cultures, and it has served as a factor uniting different historical periods. Those who...

You’re growing up. And rain sort of remains on the branches of a tree that will someday rule the Earth. And it’s good that there is rain. It clears the month of your sorry rainbow...

Sometimes, I marvel at the wonderof how graceful words seem to appearpen to paper; in others’ handsAnd I think to myself-oh, how obsolete my existence is,to be unable to do the same.

EAT YOUR HEART OUT” to reach the goal.From the poem- Holy Dio: the Diver (A tribute to Ronnie James Dio)

For [W. B.] Yeats magic was not so much a kind of poetry as poetry a kind of magic, and the object of both alike was evocation of energies and knowledge from beyond normal consciousness.

Calico KittyMy calico kittywas painted and primedshe could prowlthe night away ~without spending a dime…

She reminded me that I could write stories,/could be struck by lightning & live.

As long as music survives, poetry will never die.