The sonnet, a lyrical poem, the beauty and magic… convey with our hearts the truth of the universe in a single moment briefly.

Yes You Are!Like the Blossoming rose,Like the Rays of hope.Like a deer in the forest,Like an athlete full of zest.Like a lamp in temple,Like the life feeling ample.Like the feel of the dawn,Like the grace...

Suddenly I remembered that laugh, it told a different story, our story.

Remembrance and reflection how allied!What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!

Fear is a hurdle that stops the expression

We will go far away, to nowhere, to conquer, to fertilize until we become tired. Then we will stop and there will be our home.

She saved all of those poems in a scrapbook, … And when I look at the scrapbook, it brings back so many memories of fights we used to have or the people we used to...

I wish I had eyes that changed colors from blue to gray, and then after I cried, to all the colors of the rainbow, because then I’d just sit in front of the mirror writing...

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la SeineEt nos amoursFaut-il qu’il m’en souvienneLa joie venait toujours après la peineVienne la nuit sonne l’heureLes jours s’en vont je demeureLes mains dans les mains restons face à faceTandis...

Ô beaux cheveux d’argent mignonnement retorsÔ beaux cheveux d’argent mignonnement retors !Ô front crêpe et serein ! et vous, face dorée !Ô beaux yeux de cristal ! ô grand bouche honorée,Qui d’un large repli retrousses...

Viceversa”Tengo miedo de vertenecesidad de verteesperanza de vertedesazones de vertetengo ganas de hallartepreocupación de hallartecertidumbre de hallartepobres dudas de hallartetengo urgencia de oírtealegría de oírtebuena suerte de oírte y temores de oírteo sea resumiendoestoy jodidoy...

Love doesn’t always mean rings and veils and walks down the aisle.Sometimes love means broken windows and broken hearts,and not being able to fix either. And sometimes love means telling you, there’s no such thing...

It’s funny, for all it took was a broken heart and that alone was enough, enough for her to do everything she ever dreamed of.

I know how you feel because I’ve been there too. I’ve hated and I’ve loved. I’ve seen my demons root and crawl and my angels branch and soar. I’ve died within myself and lived a...

Chanson d’automneLes sanglots longsDes violons De l’automneBlessent mon coeur D’une langueur Monotone.Tout suffocant Et blême, quand Sonne l’heure,Je me souviens Des jours anciens Et je pleure ;Et je m’en vaisAu vent mauvais Qui m’emporteDeçà, delà,Pareil...

My beloved isn’t dazzling light, Darkness is my beloved – The reason I’m so fond of her…

I live there…Far above the song-filled clouds,where the dewdrops touch my skin so bareI live there.

depth and substance.the two most exquisite qualities. be it in a poemor a person.

At any time, and under any circumstances of human interest, is it not strange to see how little real hold the objects of the natural world amid which we live can gain on our hearts...

Our past sins, our fractured lives–soon nothing but drowned stars in dark skies.

BurialCathy Linh CheThere is the rain, the odor of fresh earth, and you, grandmother, in a box. I bury the distance, 22 years of not meeting you and your ruined hands.I bury your hair, parted...

Instead of imitating me, you simply loiter.

Take’th my temple and cut it into little stars, placed carefully to the face of heaven and the world will shine.

Allen turned up at my little cabin, … and we immediately began exchanging poems.

The universe is in your eyes Never look outside, because The stars are inside, without Your eyes, you cannot see the Cosmos, the reality is in you Not the sky, because we’re Born in time,...

I think that I shall never seeA poem lovely as a tree.A tree whose hungry mouth is pressedAgainst the earth’s sweet flowing breast;A tree that looks at God all dayAnd lifts her leafy arms to...

I balance you on the end of my pen.Teetering between loveand letting go.

Daddy-by Nancy B. BrewerWhen I used to say, speak up you are as good as they, You would just smile and say, let them have their way. When in my foolish youth, I so often...

I had to learn to live without you and I couldn’t make sense of it, because I left so much of me inside of you.

Your greatest dreams will always slumber within the vicious depths of fear.

The shadow of a character is defined by its maker…while a heroine is personified by its actions and relatability. So writers can create a world with a heroine that has impact and finish with everessence...

EnnuiTea leaves thwart those who court catastrophe,designing futures where nothing will occur:cross the gypsy’s palm and yawning shewill still predict no perils left to conquer.Jeopardy is jejune now: naïve knightfinds ogres out-of-date and dragons unheardof,...

some poems frothand foam and rise…out of my morning cup ofmist-sweetened coffee.

For every moment of suffering,Others will arriveThat will instead pierce you with joy.

[His] poems are astonishing. These are poems that rival anything anyone in the world has ever written.

You ask how it is possible to be your own father and son. You should seek answers, although it is better to anticipate some, to be the light and dream.

A Very Short Song Once, when I was young and true, Someone left me sad- Broke my brittle heart in two; And that is very bad. Love is for unlucky folk, Love is but a...

This heart is a hurricane, turbulent with ache screaming winds of grief waiting to make the skyfall, to pluck the cloudsfrom their beds with itswhipping winds

My religion consists of a dwelling admiration of illimitable spirit, with no hate in place, a whole heart to Love and care about the human race. There is lust within each of us, it’s sometimes...

I didn’t think about whether I was writing poems. I was thinking. And the more I was thinking, the more there was I didn’t understand.

An envy of that one consummate partSwept me, who mock. Whether I laugh or weep, Some inner silences are at my heart.

I need to work on me.The mewithout you.

I write small poems— the kind that fit on a postcard… and still can break your heart

She had more of me then I had of myself. We were both wild birds chasing the stars. We’d lose our way and find new places, close our eyes and fall back towards a constellation...

She was broken from moment to moment, watching her world collide she felt lost inside herself. She fell apart for a passion that flamed beneath her. She waited and died a hundred times, it dripped...

Following dark winter’s strife, a warm air rises, teemed with life. Birth, rebirth, as the waiting die. Old love, new love sprouts wings to fly.

I started to think about the abyss that separates the poet from the reader and the next thing I knew I was deeply depressed.

Poems are invisible flowers on my skin.

After a RetreatWhat hast thou learnt today?Hast thou sounded awful mysteries,Hast pierced the veiled skies,Climbed to the feet of God,Trodden where saints have trod, Fathomed the heights above?Nay,This only have I learnt, that God is...

hough we travel the whole over to find the perfect match,we must carry it with us a light or it’s playing hard to catch.