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

Pause, why won’t you let a woman love you?

If thou must love me, let it be for noughtExcept for love’s sake only. Do not say’I love her for her smile … her look … her wayOf speaking gently, … for a trick of...

True poetry is embarrassing.

The townspeople took the prince for deadWhen he never returned with the dragon’s headWhen with her, he stayedShe thought he’d be too afraidBut he loved her too much instead.

You are the poemthat sticks in my throatteaching me to whisperwith the voice of my heart.

It lies here deep in the heart, the small chest of painSharp words like daggers placed it hereTo fill with hurtIn filling it grew heavy and drug me downFor to not feel is not to...

To love is to soar in the wild unexpectedly.

Use love as the only instrument to question the world around you.

A short poem from my book:PerspectiveOf coursethere is a hellshe saidand it hasan observation deck;so I maystand and waveto all those kindsouls belowwho warned meI would go there.

If I wasn’t writing poems I’d be washing my hands all the time.

we are all like poems. some of us rhyme. some don’t. some are Pulitzer prizessome are just scribblesand yet, we all possessa special kind of beautythat can either heal or cut to the boneone that...

No map to help us find the tranquil flat lands, clearings calm, fields without mean fences. Rolling down the other side of life our compass is the sureness of ourselves. Time may make us rugged,...

She winced and covered her ears as Eric,onstage, wrestled with his microphone.”Sorry about that, guys!” he yelled. “All right. I’m Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called...

One hand I extend into myself, the other toward others.

my bones are heavy” i would only mean itas a good thingheavy bones can’t be broken,you can’t break heavy bones

Twas noontide of summer,And mid-time of night;And stars, in their orbits,Shone pale, thro’ the lightOf the brighter, cold moon,’Mid planets her slaves,Herself in the Heavens,Her beam on the waves.I gazed awhileOn her cold smile;Too cold–too...

Sad that there is books that are based on bad events that has happened. But there is books that has been based on really good events. I like to read the ones that are based...

If I knew where poems came from, I’d go there.

YOU

You will not know all about the firesimply because you asked.When she speaks of the forestthis is what she is teaching you,you who thought you were her master.

The Power of the Dogby Rudyard KiplingThere is sorrow enough in the natural way From men and women to fill our day; And when we are certain of sorrow in store, Why do we always...

Maybe all that we are is what people expect us to be.

The greatest adventure is to have no fear for the blaze that lies ahead.

Perasaan tidak sejalan dengan logika!Kebodohan macam apa ini?

moonlight disappears down the hillsmountains vanish into fogand i vanish into poetry.

when I finally begin to driftinto sleepyour memory is the…firstand the moonlightthe last, to kiss my face.

[poems are] crystals deposited after the effervescent contact of the spirit with reality.(cristaux deposes apres l’effervescent contact de l’esprit avec la realite)

Start Where You StandStart where you stand and never mind the past,The past won’t help you in beginning new,If you have left it all behind at lastWhy, that’s enough, you’re done with it, you’re through;This...

Long ago we conquered our passions looking at ourselves in the mirror of eternity.

What else is a poem about?The rhythm and the images buried in the language. All the ways you can build an emotion with words, but you can’t just write ‘I feel sad.’ I mean, you...

Words I ONCE HEARD A MAN SAY OR WAS IT SOMEWHERE I READ, OR MAYBE SOMETHING I WROTE A THOUSAND TIMES IN MY MIND. YOU GOT TO FIND YOUR OWN MEANING IN THIS WORLD. NO...

Good folk, I have no coin,To take were to purloin:I have no copper in my purse,I have no silver either,And all my gold is on the furzeThat shakes in windy weatherAbove the rusy heather.

The machines are too dull when weare lion-poems that move & breathe.

My demons creep like a pedo in a park full of kids. Each one reminding me of the consequences, what I didn’t do, or did.

When They Die We Change Our Minds About Them When they die we change our minds about them. While they live we see the plenty hard they’re trying,to be a star, or nice, or wise,...

Suddenly, everything was beautiful. The way she viewed the world was nothing more but a reflection of herself.

Excuse me, I feel interrupted and I think I’ve overdose from the idea of loving you.

I like poems you can tack all over with a hammer and there are no hollow places.

When I Read the Book”When I read the book, the biography famous, And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man’s life? And so will some one when I am dead and...

i am permanentlytannedin the summer of poetry.

Projection from the beginning of time White women with a passionate horns Butchered yet another beloved

[L]ife is a phenomenon in need of criticism, for we are, as fallen creatures, in permanent danger of worshipping false gods, of failing to understand ourselves and misinterpreting the behaviour of others, of growing unproductively...

I wanted to write the most beautiful poem but that is impossible; the world has written its own.

Sublime wonders lie in store,I am shown a regal residence;a mighty kingdom, an empirewith more grandeur than before …

There is never a time or place for love. It happens accidentally. Oops!

I hide myself behind, a cloud of smoke; the smoke screen varies, dependent on the variable. The variable consists of: stress, anguish, boredom, madness, anger, depression, apathy, negativity, sex, violence & a little chunk of...

In fiction, the characters have their own lives. They may start as a gloss on the author’s life, but they move on from there. In poetry, especially confessional poetry but in other poetry as well,...

If lighthouse becomes a burning candle, flickered upon ocean’s insanity.Your sailing heart there anchors to handle the obsessed breeze towards sand dune’s vanity.

I build boxesand place them at your feet,to measure the distance between dreams and reality.