Spend the glittering moonlight therePursuing down the soundless deepLimbs that gleam and shadowy hair,Or floating lazy, half-asleep.Dive and double and follow after,Snare in flowers, and kiss, and call,With lips that fade, and human laughterAnd faces...

I have been here before, But when or how I cannot tell: I know the grass beyond the door, The sweet keen smell, The sighing sound, the lights around the shore.

It is clear enough that not every something can be elevated to the rank of a thing – otherwise everything and everyone would be speaking once more, and the chatter would spread from humans to...

Do not look too far for you will see nothing.

A teacher will be frustrated if she is only motivated to teach what she has learned. Yet, if she is motivated because of the students, then she will learn from them how to teach.

Unborn eternity does not die; existence is dying and falls asleep in the eternity beyond existence.

Strephon kissed me in the spring,Robin in the fall,But Colin only looked at me,And never kissed at all.Strephon’s kiss was lost in jest,Robin’s lost in play,But the kiss in Colin’s eyesHaunts me night and day.

Has father from HeavenSent the Angel to me?

Why Roses Crave Thorns”Petals detach from a wilting bud—a single stem plucked before fully blossomed. They descend in hesitant swirls, too soft and limp to shatter like teardrops. One by one they light to blanket...

A mí me ha tocado no estar contigo; no tengo miradas para encontrarteni hay cosa en que pueda reconocerte.

may came home with a smooth round stoneas small as a world and as large as alone.

All the rest is silenceOn the other side of the wall;And the silence ripeness,And the ripeness all.

Ando como el que va por su destinooyendo un clima oscuro de relojes,de manos, de preguntas, de papeles,de ensangrentados cuervos y cordeles.

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,I have forgotten, and what arms have lainUnder my head till morning, but the rainIs full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sighUpon the glass and...

I fancied my luck to be witnessing yet another full moon. True, I’d seen hundreds of full moons in my life, but they were not limitless. When one starts thinking of the full moon as...

Poetry, above all, is a series of intense moments – its power is not in narrative. I’m not dealing with facts, I’m dealing with emotion.

Wild creatures’ eyes, the colonel said,Are innocent and fathomlessAnd when I look at them I seeThat they are not aware of meAnd oh I find and oh I blessA comfort in this emptinessThey only see...

…much of poetry in the making is the fiddle with a few items. You lay a word against another and wait. You try another word. And another. Yet another. You wait. You begin again. Listening....

Knowing me better than I think anyone shouldExcept, perhapsNo, probablyNo, definitelyDefinitely except you

How they had dreamed together, he and she… how they had planned, and laughed, and loved. They had lived for a while in the very heart of poetry.

If your daily life seems poor, do not blame it; blame yourself, tell yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its riches; for to the creator there is no poverty and no...

Poetry is plucking at the heartstrings, and making music with them.

I haven’t been very impressed lately.By people,or places,or the way someone said he loved me and then slowly changed his mind.

The Plot Against The GiantFirst GirlWhen this yokel comes maundering,Whetting his hacker,I shall run before him,Diffusing the civilest odorsOut of geraniums and unsmelled flowers.It will check him.Second GirlI shall run before him,Arching cloths besprinkled with...

Am I making something worth while?I’m not sure.I write and I sing and I hear words from time to time about my life and choices making ways, into other lives, other hearts,but am I making...

Bisognerebbe saper attendere, raccogliere, per una vita intera e possibilmente lunga, senso e dolcezza, e poi, proprio alla fine, si potrebbero forse scrivere dieci righe valide. Perché i versi non sono, come crede la gente,...

If I knew what to doI’d do more than write a song for you

i was really into communal living and we were all /such free spirits, crossing the country we were /nomads and artists and no one ever stopped / to think about how the one working class...

Adrijene, nemoj da se duriš!Vrati se!U redu grešila samduge godine nisam se vracala kuci,ali sam ti uvek krilada je to zato što sam bila u zatvoru!Grešila sam priznajemcesto sam tukla psa,ali sam te volela!Adrijene, nemoj...

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.

For we cannot tarry here,We must march my darlings, we must bear the brunt of danger,We, the youthful sinewy races, all the rest on us depend, Pioneers! O pioneers!

It is always fatal to have music or poetry interrupted.

Reality is not made of dreams, until you make them real.

To the sea, to the sea! The white gulls are crying,The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.West, west away, the round sun is falling, Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them...

beauty’ is related not to ‘loveliness’ but to a state in which reality plays a part.

If passion was a substance I would say it is dark brown, and then blood red. It’s like wet grass, tons of it soaked in mud. It’s warm and it stinks like shit and it’s...

Mother Earth, one of my absolute favorite places……where the sounds, the energy, the beauty and the Life pounds into your every fiber of being, letting you Know that you are alive. I will always respect...

And yet, my girl, we weep in vain,In vain our fate in sighs deplore;Remembrance only can remain,But that, will make us weep the more.

Clouds pass and disperse.Are those the faces of love, those pale irretrievables?Is it for such I agitate my heart?

Memang sulit menulis puisi. Dan untuk apa mempersulit diri sendiri.

For the past thirty years or so, much American poetry has been marked by an earnestness that rejects the comic. This has nothing to do with seriousness. The comic can be very serious. The trouble...

No duties. I don’t have to be profound.I don’t have to be artistically perfect.Or sublime. Or edifying.I just wander. I say: ‘You were running,That’s fine. It was the thing to do.’And now the music of...

What grace I have is enough.

A Dream Within A DreamTake this kiss upon the brow!And, in parting from you now,Thus much let me avow-You are not wrong, who deemThat my days have been a dream;Yet if hope has flown awayIn...

I have no doubt at all the Devil grins,As seas of ink I spatter. Ye gods, forgive my “literary” sins –The other kind don’t matter.

Life is the courier of the universal brilliance.” Elysse

PoetTo mask the fiery thought,in simple words succeeds.For still the craft of genius is,To mask a king in weeds

Rather a thousand times the county jail than to lie under this marble figure with wings and this granite pedestal bearing the words “pro patria.” What do they mean anyway?

Có một thi sĩ làm thơ hô hào những nhà sáng tác, những ca sĩ từ bỏ lối sáng tác và ca hát đau thương đứt ruột. Ông ta viết những c u này, tôi...

The sea waves stirred before methey dashed against the rocksLike a mermaid rising from its depthscurled white sea foam were her locks…