I am the constellation of my own.

At one time I was weary of verse writing, and wanted to give it up. At another time I was determined to be a poet until I could establish a proud name over others. The alternatives battled in my mind and made my life restless.

There are many unspeakable words, forgotten, or forbidden.Great thanks to the poets who make them all become reachable.

He was, as every truly great poet has ever been, a good man; but finding it impossible to realize his own aspirations, either in religion or politics, or society, he gave up his heart to the living spirit and light within him, and avenged himself on the world by enriching it with this record of...

Dance is the healing treasure within your spirit that only movements of passion can set free.

The reason a poet is a poet is to write poems, not to advertise himself as a poet.

Past and future monopolize the poet’s sensory and intellectual faculties, detached from the immediate spectacle. These two philtres become utterly clear the moment one stops being hypnotized by the cloudy precipitate constituted by the world of today.

How are his poems?””He’s not as good as he thinks he is, but then most of us feel that way.

Frequent friction when love becomes political.

The trouble with poetry is it’s often written to the sound of a drum only the poet may hear; nonetheless, blessed are those poets who always manage to find unshakeable pleasure in their own works.

My heart’s scripture tastes foreign in the mouths of cowards and on the tongues of those who have never breathed inthe moon and breathed out the world.

That young man with the long, auburn hair and the impudent face – that young man was not really a poet; but surely he was a poem.

Live for everything, or die for nothing

it was dawning on me how uphill a poet’s path was, and I confessed to her that if I had to be the choice between being happy or being a poet, I’d choose to be happy.

…what else would a poet priest do on an endless night, but write of love?…

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 twilight, where the noise of other people passes by, far in the distance.

Because philosophy arises from awe, a philosopher is bound in his way to be a lover of myths and poetic fables. Poets and philosophers are alike in being big with wonder.

In this world there are thousands of healers but none possesses the medication of spiritual ecstasy like dance.

when you’re a poetyou can dish out whatever’son your mind and you don’t have toapologize for it

The pure and poorly adapted one who crashed against the world of fakes and cheats.

The poet is a Cyclops in the Kingdom of the Blind whose sole cure for the madness of his vision must be starvation.

Early in her career, Muse engaged her skills for technical purposes, such as document translation and schematic visualizations for government entities. She continued to write and paint poetically, in secret, using her pen name, Muse. An inner compass is evident in her work. Pieces reflect both past and present dilemmas; while showcasing her victories in...

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.

It is not certain whether the effects of totalitarianism upon verse need be so deadly as its effects on prose. There is a whole series of converging reasons why it is somewhat easier for a poet than a prose writer to feel at home in an authoritarian society.[…]what the poet is saying- that is, what...

The poet is at the edge of our consciousness of the world, finding beyond the suspected nothingness which we imagine limits our perception another acre or so of being worth our venturing upon.

ink marks the page/where you execute your will like a doe announcing an/ox-stern mate with a single, bleary blink.

Use all the ugliness you’re feeling to make something beautiful

Poetry is inspired by the elements of random thoughts, an overflow of gazing at the unseen.

The poet is a madman lost in adventure.

For the poet is a light and winged and holy thing, and there is no invention in him until he has been inspired and is out of his senses, and the mind is no longer in him: when he has not attained to this state, he is powerless and is unable to utter his oracles.

When a dancer performs, melody transforms into a carriage, expressions turn into fuel and spirit experiences a journey to a magical world where every aspiration becomes a conquest.

Everyone should be forcibly transplanted to another continent from their family at the age of three.

Every poet — every storyteller — requires motivation.

The beauty of words will forever be stronger than the silence of tears.

My writing, it’s my way of making sense of everything. My way to feel whole. May I never be complete and may I never feel content – please, let me always have the need, always have the urge to write. 

For a poet, it will be terrible if there are no women. He will not have anything to write about.

I was born with my eyes turned inward.

Every time a poet is about to write, every time the open their mouth to say something, they express their inner world and tell of their own feelings, thoughts, beliefs, and opinions, unless they are deliberately pursuing fantasies which contrast with their beliefs, opinions, thoughts, and the point of view.

Just take my hand, lead, dance with me…and I will simply follow the blueness of the water, the white waves rolling free…where the earth beneath my feet and stars make my heart whole again…in long and priceless moments of shared solitude…

Had in him those brave translunary things/ That the first poets had.

I believe that Gaston Cleric narrowly missed being a great poet, and I have sometimes thought that his outbursts of imaginative talk were fatal to his poetic gift. He squandered too much in the heat of personal communication. How often have I seen him draw his dark brows together, fix his eyes upon some object...

When confronted with suffering that won’t go away or with even a minor problem, we instinctively focus on what is missing,…not on the Master’s hand. Often when you think everything has gone wrong, it’s just that you’re in the middle of a story. If you watch the stories God is weaving in your life, you…...

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

To my way of thinking the function of the poet is to make us aware of what we know and don’t know we know.

People can’t see that if I had not been a poet, I could never have had such success as a traveler.

Growing up, I’d already decided I wanted to be a beatnik. A Bohemian poet, I thought. Or a musician. Maybe an artist. I’d dress in black turtlenecks and smoke Gitanes. I’d listen to cool jazz in clubs, getting up to read devastating truths from my notebook, leaning against the microphone, cigarette dangling from my hand.

I wish that I could fly into the sky and touch the clouds with my hands.

He was a poet; and they are never exactly grown-up.

Your flesh is not a reflection of your soul. So when you look in the mirror, remember that your light outshines your flaws.

Don’t ask me any questions. I’ve seen how things that seek their way find their void instead.