Love flows like flowers, and grows like water. I’m so thirsty for romance I could drink a dozen roses.
Whole life is a search for beauty. But, when the beauty is found inside, the search ends and a beautiful journey begins.
With these words there came the rending scream of a shattered stirk and an angry troubling of the branches as the poor madman percolated through the sieve of a sharp yew, a wailing black meteor...
I drive as fast as four tire swings hanging from a tree branch in the middle of winter. I also make love with as much speed and rotation.
I was wild and tame and pulled into shreds and crushed into being all at once.
you areso deliciousto my poetic side.
Like a kite, carried by the wind, he followed her into the fluffy white clouds of her imagination. He didn’t think her silly for living in the sky, but rather, he marveled at the wondrous...
Do not wander in the deeps,Where the Shriker’s shadow creeps.When he rises from beneath,Beware the Sharpness of his teeth.
Our house is quiet, small and plain,and yet its rooms run far and wide. A hundred pencils, swift as rain, writing on sheets of beaten goldwould not be quick enough to holdthe strange adventuresshadows hide…
I knew that people said love should be unconditional, given like a dog gives to its master, but what Being could give that way? What could love though it had been kicked and beaten? What...
The unwelcome November rain had perversely stolen the day’s last hour and pawned it with that ancient fence, the night.
…and the women spread their ntsaroz and sit on one side, the men on the other, like they are two different rivers that are not supposed to meet.
Sometimes stars do fall to earth. It was true. They did and then became commonplace like the rest of the dirt on the planet. His star was one of a kind.He would never allow her...
I have seen beyond the bounds of infinity and drawn down daemons from the stars. . . . I have harnessed the shadows that stride from world to world to sow death and madness. ....
You wanted hearts and flowers. You have my heart — and here are the flowers.
This time around I was so lonely that I was forced to be face to face with myself. Realizing at the end of the day I only have me and I didn’t seem to like...
A tattoo is a true poetic creation, and is always more than meets the eye. As a tattoo is grounded on living skin, so its essence emotes a poignancy unique to the mortal human condition.
Love can be so hauntingly beautiful, waking up past selves that have been wandering aimlessly through the corridors of our soul, for far too long. When someone else can take us from the ghost-town of...
My secrets must be poetic to be believable.
An errant May-fly swerved unsteadily athwart the current in the intoxicated fashion affected by young bloods of May-flies seeing life.
He is in love with the land that is always over the next hill and the next, with the bird that is never, Caught, with the room beyond the looking glass. He likes the half-hid,...
When it has finished saying it, it no longer is. The longer it is in saying it, the more it can say it at length, the more slowly it melts, the better quality it is.
His green eyes blazed with desire; such a different look than I’d known before. Chase had studied me, reading my feelings. Tucker was only trying to see his own reflection. Disturbing on several levels.
Descobri a minha estrela. Ela é bela e graciosa. Elegante e divina. O meu riso no inverno. Ela é corajosa e forte. Arrojada e tentadora. Diferente de qualquer outra no universo e não posso tocar-lhe....
His stories were not always new, but there was in the telling of them a special kind of magic. His voice could roll like thunder or hush down into a zepherlike whisper. He could imitate...
Beauty is startling. She wears a gold shawl in the summer and sells seven kinds of honey at the flea market. She is young and old at once, my daughter and my grandmother. In school...
—J. Ruth Gendler
If you were destined to be a poet, then you won’t brainstorm for lines that rhymes. If you were destined to be a celebrity, then you shouldn’t start searching for fans. If you are truly...
—Michael Bassey Johnson
… in these new days and in these new pages a philosophical tradition of the spontaneity of speculation kind has been rekindled on the sacred isle of Éire, regardless of its creative custodian never having...
Love can be such a mysterious muse and seductress… spinning her magical web of stardust and emotional euphoria. True love sang her siren song and we wrapped that song around us like the sweetest melody.
That life is simply a collection of little lives, each lived one day at a time. That each day should be spent finding beauty in flowers and poetry and talking to animals. That a day...
Every moment I shape my destiny with a chisel, I am a carpenter of my own soul.
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.
—Ana Claudia Antunes
The darkness has ink eyes, and if you stare long enough, you’re going to see it blink black. That’s the moment to start writing.
Once there was an elephant,Who tried to use the telephant-No! no! I mean an elephoneHe tried to use the telephone-(Dear me! I am not certain quiteThat even now I’ve got it right.)Howe’er it was, he...
Love encompasses so much, reaches so far, and heals so deeply, that any attempt to describe it, no matter how poetic, only dilutes it.
In the absence of sleep, my restless nights have been fueled by my overactive imagination, weaving waking dreams onto the canvas of conception. Filling my head with lots of ideas waiting to be born into...
Pain is subtle. He has cold grey fingers. His voice is horse from crying & screaming… When people try to avoid him, he follows them silently & turns upas the bartender, or the bus driver…...
Smokers always waxed poetic about the ritual of it, how a large part of the satisfaction was packing the box and pulling the foil wrapper and plucking an aromatic stick. They claimed they loved the...
Love is not love which alters it when alteration finds, or bends with the remover to remove: O no! It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken; it is...
If you want the naked beauty of my vulnerability, you have to have the strength to share the burden of, the private pain, that makes me feel so tender and fragile. For i am as...
Some of the poetic writers who insert passages of realism in their texts have no underlying philosophy to uphold them, and revert to realism.
Maybe we’ve lived a thousand lives before this one and in each of them we’ve found each other… I know I’ve spent each life before this one searching for you. Not someone like you but...
Woman study loving him his whole life; Man study loving well, your whole wife
I am a daydreamer.. I daydream a lot, and thus is when my wicked imagination emerges to bleed upon my paper…
Wings of a half finished book across his chest.
I will love you like the desert burns along the sun when they are together,and when you will be gone,just like every one else,I will cry for you like the snow that melts at the...
I want to be intoxicated by the darkened ether of midnight, running through my fingers as sparkling stardust. I crave the taste of the ocean’s salty tears, as her temperamental tides crash and break against...
Pleasure is wild and sweet. She likes purple flowers. She loves the sun and the wind and the night sky. She carries a silver bowl full of liquid moonlight. She has a cat named Midnight...
Poetry is inspired by the elements of random thoughts, an overflow of gazing at the unseen.
and I looked and looked at her, and knew as clearly as I know I am to die, that I loved her more than anything I had ever seen or imagined on earth, or hoped...
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