It was never about the world being too big, it was more like she was too much for the world to handle.

I need you because I know I deserve you but let me fall in love with you one last time before I let go. So I can remember the beautiful imperfection that rattled my bones.

I find no peace, and all my war is done,I fear and hope; I burn and freeze like ice;I fly above the wind yet can I not arise;And naught I have and all the world...

No matter how many romantic poems you recite, no matter how many glorious tales of love you read, how can you really understand the condition if you’ve never found yourself in it?

all my lifei have looked for poemsto elope with.

Gardens are poemsWhere you stroll with your hands in your pockets.(Les jardins sont des poemes Ou l’on se promene les mains dans les poches.)

Creating means living.

A thousand years or more ago,When I was newly sewn,There lived four wizards of renown,Whose name are still well-known:Bold Gryffindor from wild moor,Fair Ravlenclaw from glen,Sweet Hufflepuff from valley broad,Shrewd Slytherin from fen.They share a...

Said the Sun to the Moon-‘When you are but a lonely white crone,And I, a dead King in my golden armour somewhere in a dark wood,Remember only this of our hopeless loveThat never till Time...

La PucePuces, amis, amantes même,Qu’ils sont cruels ceux qui nous aiment!Tout notre sang coule pour eux.Les bien-aimés sont malheureux.

…and I laugh and I spin and dance and frolic in ecstasy and I… I hurt no more, while you…you petrified little man, are left to wonder if it’s you I speak of.

The poems are all wrong. It’s a bang, a really big bang. Not a whimper. And sometimes gold can stay.

Where were you then?Who else was there?Saying what?Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly when I am sad and feel you are far away?

Somewhere along the way we all go a bit mad. So burn, let go and dive into the horror, because maybe it’s the chaos which helps us find where we belong.

But I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and I choose both

Most of the poems I write take 5 minutes, but the words can give a lifetime of relief. Many people that have read my book say it helped them with their grief.

I’m making a listI’m making a list of things I must sayFor politeness,And goodness and kindness and gentlenessSweetness and rightness:HelloPardon meHow are you?Excuse meBless youMay I?Thank youGoodbyeIf you know some that I’ve forgot,Please stick them...

One clear moment, one of trance One missed step, one perfect dance One missed shot, one and only chance Life is all…but one fleeting glance.

Am dat cu trandafiri în oameni,Dar unii fiind de soare goi,Oprindu-și florile luminiiMi-au întors spinii înapoi.

Don’t be afraid of poetry.

I lose faith in mathematics, logical and rigid. What with those that even zero doesn’t accept?

You can save many lives but the most courageous act is to save your authentic-self.

Sarei forse più solasenza la mia solitudine.Sono abituata al mio destino.

They were full of mysteries and secrets, like… like poems turned into landscapes.””‘Poems turned into landscapes.'” he murmured with a slight smile. “And what of Vestenveld’s gardens? Do you see poems in them?””Your gardens are...

Trying to build myself up with the fact that I have done things right that were even good and have had moments that were excellent but the bad is heavier to carry around and feel...

In that wounded place,buried betweenmy ribs and letting go,I miss you.

Cold summer nightThe night is silenceBut your voice is shouting My mind reminiscing Your love is lackingThe night is coldLonging of your armsI need your heat And your goneThe dawn is immenentI’m dreaming of you...

technology murdered childhood.

I kept loving and loving and loving. Every waking hour, I marveled on how these moments would make made me feel. I wanted to love the world and be the change it so deliciously craved.

A Poet never denies creativity entrance.

Love what is simple and beautiful. These are the essentials.

the ocean mist engulfs me, like a lifetime’s friendship honored.

To truly understand poetry one must understand themselves from within one’s self.

Le ChatViens, mon beau chat, sur mon coeur amoureux; Retiens les griffes de ta patte, Et laisse-moi plonger dans tes beaux yeux, Mêlés de métal et d’agate. Lorsque mes doigts caressent à loisir Ta tête...

In greatness, life and death merge.

The burning off and the gathering together are one.

There are no lungs like the ones that breathe poetry.

The wall between writing and painting is just good grammar. Moderation in moderation. Fun is scary with a happy ending. Just love. If love doesn’t transform that which annoys you, it will be easier to...

poems are small moments of enlightenment

Technology is grey. More technology, less colors. We’re building a world with colors only in poems.

No one could say the stories were uselessfor as the tongue clackedfive or forty fingers stitchedcorn was grated from the huskpathwork was piecedor the darning was done…(from ‘The Storyteller Poems’)

Poetry is one of my guilty pleasures and I want to thank you poets for providing me with beautiful words that I can devour and selfishly indulge in any time I want. ♥-Nina Jean Slack

She wildly burned for the one she loved and he stood there watching, hoping he too would catch a blaze from the violence stirring in her heart.

She got inside me with her story. I could feel her flowing in me and far, faraway I related in parallel. Her smile was a reflection of my own brokenness. It defined buried feelings that...

Turn your attentions to it. Try to raise up the sunken feelings of this enormous past; your personality will grow stronger, your solitude will expand and become a place where you can live in the...

some winterswill never meltsome summerswe’ll never freezeand some things will only… live in poems.

Poems can getsleepless tooand becomethe loneliest thingin the universe.

Amour me tue…Amour me tue, et si je ne veux direLe plaisant mal que ce m’est de mourir :Tant j’ai grand peur, qu’on veuille secourirLe mal, par qui doucement je soupire.Il est bien vrai, que...

When you draw, you copy the world don’t you? You remake it on paper, but it isn’t the same. It’s yours. No one else could have created it just like that. When I make poems,...

What you gain here, you lose on the other side.