I’m Noah, and you are the ship coasting along the banks and as long as you are my valentine I will sail between your eyes..

There are things known and there are things unknownand in between are the doors.

Many women are singing together of this: one is in a shoe factory cursing the machine, one is at the aquarium tending a seal, one is dull at the wheel of her Ford, one is...

No one understands now. Those who couldhear a song this deeply vanished long ago.

we must bringour own lightto thedarkness.

And so sepúlchred in such pomp dost lie,That kings for such a tomb would wish to die.

What am I to do?What is my destiny?I have no idea, not a clueFeeling lost and empty.What is my dream?What is my future?I beg thee to listen to me,I beg thee to answer.

I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them asingle word: Home.

I watch with envious eyes and mind, the single-souled who dare not feelThe wind that blows beyond the moon, who do not hear the fairy reel

My mama steps out of her dressand drops it, an inheritance falling to my feet.She stands alone: bathed, blooming,burdened with nothing of this world.Her body is naked and beautiful,her wings gray and scorched,her brown eyes...

Maybe you’re one of those people who writes poems, but rarely reads them. Let me put this as delicately as I can: If you don’t read, your writing is going to suck.

Why?” asked my master Caeiro.

Everything you invent is true: you can be sure of that. Poetry is a subject as precise as geometry.

We are all too fixed on wrecking ourselves rather than bettering ourselves.

it’s a myth, you know;he doesn’t have to draw bloodfor him to leave a scar.

I suppose that’s how it looks in prose. But it’s very different if you look at it through poetry…and I think it’s nicer…’ Anne recovered herself and her eyes shone and her cheeks flushed… ‘to...

Were knowledge all, what were our needTo thrill and faint and sweetly bleed?

…words are so strong and I am so timid – my soul ignores warnings and I end up covered with your paint …

Johnson, who defines poetry as ‘metrical composition’, defines poet as ‘An inventor; an author of fiction; a writer of poems; one who writes in measure’. We can gauge how far we have traveled by comparing...

The house burned in the fire. Her house. Her prison of lies and of denial. Her American dream turned nightmare.”~Unbreakable Heart

If birth is a manifestation of life, death is another.

The practice of deliberately making somebody believe things that are not true. An act, a trick or device entended to deceive somebody”.Thus, all war is based in metaphor.All war necessarily perfects itself in poetry.Poetry (since...

Dreams are our only geography—our native land.

mind-boggling” moments, when I would doubt myself and what I was writing. It has been said that we, ourselves, are our own worst critics.All the hard work had payed off though, and I created a...

They are both spectacular, Life and death.

I have been right, Basil, haven’t I, to take my love out of poetry, and to find my wife in Shakespeare’s plays? Lips that Shakespeare taught to speak have whispered their secret in my ear....

All dust is the same dust. Temporarily separated To go peacefully And enjoy the eternal nap.

anyone who has no feelings for animals has a dead heart.

A mighty flame follows a tiny spark.

Society will always be too fragile to accept us for all that makes us beautiful.

Everything seems impossible And everything seems possible.

I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

Tell me something only you know and make a new friend.

Poetry can be dangerous, especially beautiful poetry, because it gives the illusion of having had the experience without actually going through it.

There are countless circles of hell; believers never penetrate the ninth circle.

The aesthetic construct, and nothing else, has taught us to expose ourselves to a non-enslaving experience of rank differences. The work of art is even allowed to ‘tell’ us, those who have run away from...

Say No! Accept the burdens of revenge.

Magic Words””Silly words cause trills because they’re ludicrous and funny.Happy words paint endless smilesand swallow troubles whole.Thoughtful words are thusbecause they make the day feel sunny.But hurtful words are suchthat pierce the heart and weigh...

Through words to the meaning of thoughts with no words.

She cries,I laugh,She becomes numb,I become filled with joy,She slowly crumbles,I feel on top of the world,Yet somehow in the end,Out of the ashes,She rose like a Phoenix,As if nothing had ever touched her

Because She Would Ask Me Why I Loved HerIf questioning would make us wiseNo eyes would ever gaze in eyes;If all our tale were told in speechNo mouths would wander each to each.Were spirits free...

I rhyme… to see myself, to set the darkness echoing.

GONE TO STATICit sounds better than it is,this business of surviving,making it throughthe wrong placeat the wrong timeand livingto tell.when the talk shows and movie creditswear off, it’s just me and my dumbluck. this morningI...

Funeral BluesStop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,Silence the pianos and with muffled drumBring out the coffin, let the mourners come.Let aeroplanes circle moaning overheadScribbling on...

it’s springand the goat-footedballoonMan whistlesfarandwee

A tired man lay down his headin a dusty room so dim,and for so long his wife did shakeand yell to waken him.Meanwhile his thoughts, his dreams, did stirof sandy, red bullfights,of powder-blasts in the...

And all at once the heavy nightFell from my eyes and I could see, –A drenched and dripping apple-tree,A last long line of silver rain,A sky grown clear and blue again.And as I looked a...

We keep asking where they have gonethose years we remember and wereach for them like hands in the night

non fu mai così tesa la boccache chiude in sé il Tuo nome,straziata dal tormento di non dirti

Better poetry than riches,Better poverty than fortunes.