I never heard sound and thrill of my painful heart until that very day she touched it.

Poems, even when narrative, do not resemble stories. All stories are about battles, of one kind or another, which end in victory or defeat. Everything moves towards the end, when the outcome will be known.Poems,...

It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.

Only God can mend a broken heart.

Beloved,my ears listen for you, my lips thirst for you,my eyes search for you, and darkness brings light, but light brings truthto be fed by your sight.And when the winds of Persia blew,for a moment...

Poetry’s task is to increase the available stock of reality, R P Blackmur said.

The searing light of morningAsks unwelcome questions,Fragile hopes soon blistered by daylight.

Hello,” Life says, “Remember me?We started out together hereWhen you were just a bundleOf innocent amazement.Remember how you saw the worldWith nothing but wonder?We were such rowdy playmates then.We painted on the sky with cloudsAnd...

SOWING LIGHTNINGSeizeBolts of lightning from the skyAnd plant them in fields of life.They will grow like tender sprouts of fire.Charge somber thoughtsWith unexpected flash,You, my lightning in the soil!

I am talking about the responsibility of the poet, who is irresponsible by definition, an anarchist enamored of a solar order and never of the new order or whatever slogan makes five or six hundred...

Acquainted with the NightI have been one acquainted with the night.I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.I have outwalked the furthest city light.I have looked down the saddest city lane.I have passed by...

Carcharadon carcharias. Six thousandpounds of muscle powering a hoopof butcher’s knives. The only animalthat ate its weaker siblings in the womb.Immune from cancer. Constantly awake.

It is strange how often a heart must be broken Before the years can make it wise.

Poetry is the language of the soul;Poetic Prose, the language of my heart.Each line must flow as in a song,and strike a chord that rings forever.To me, words are music!

Trees are green gold

I was the solitary plovera pencil for a wing-boneFrom the secret notesI must tiltupon the pressureexecute and adjust In us sea-air rhythm”We live by the urgent waveof the verse

Sonnet 23As an unperfect actor on the stage, Who with his fear is put besides his part,Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,Whose strength’s abundance weakens his own heart; So I, for fear...

Whiteness is the color of death, you know, not black. Wetness is life, the breeder and shaper of life. In the beginning the sun was black. So all light was absorbed before it had a...

So I don’t think I’ll make Poet Laureate,but I swear I’m not twisted and bitter,If finely-wrought talentsdon’t weigh in the balance,I can always write haiku on Twitter.

Live for everything, or die for nothing

What can be explained is not poetry.

The one who pulls the puppet strings knows fairytales can heal.

Landscape is my religion….God in a green legend, I lean over the poolIn a testament of leaves. I dangle my twinkling mood Before me in a cool cave roofed with branchesAnd floored with a skin...

All a poet can do today is warn.

Tilanteessa jossa henkilö on jo kiivennyt katolleja heiluttelee nyt räystään yli jalkojaan kuin krokettimailoja(puuttuu vain punainen pallo ja kalahdus, aimo annos aurinkoista mieltä)tyyneys on valttia. Haasteellisinta on hillitä vastustamaton halu kiivetähänen viereensä, levittää kädet siiviksi...

Birds shouldn’t be able to find tearsThey are the definition of freedom

From the poetry of Lord Byron they drew a system of ethics, compounded of misanthropy and voluptuousness, in which the two great commandments were, to hate your neighbor, and to love your neighbor’s wife

SolitudeThere is a charm in Solitude that cheersA feeling that the world knows nothing ofA green delight the wounded mind endearsAfter the hustling world is broken offWhose whole delight was crime at good to scoffGreen...

Poetry…… a place for the genuine,Hands that can grasp, eyesthat can dilate, hair that can rise

Men had always been the reciters of poetry in the desert.

They don’t know I only speak in runaway train stationsand everybody is always a few minutes too late to the platform.No one has ever gotten the chance to get too closebecause it is never romantic...

Forgive me,joy,if I blasphemed youbefore I learned to love.

The words ‘I Love You’ kill, and resurrect millions, in less than a second.

Only tears can hear the sound of pain when warm blood reddens discolored stain

poems open doors;that don’t even exist.

I wonder at the starry pattern in the skyAre they little pieces of moon which want to fly..?

We are all running towards a destination which doesn’t exist. On our way, dogs of life keep barking at us where we respond to some and some we throw stones at. Every dog teaches a...

I recall that now and I recall everything for what do we have but the past to parent us?

Do you know they found land mines in woman’s souls.

Each month is gay,Each season nice,When eatingChicken soupWith rice

There has fallen a splendid tearFrom the passion-flower at the gate.She is coming, my dove, my dear;She is coming, my life, my fate.The red rose cries, “She is near, she is near;”And the white rose...

When we walk in the sunour shadows are like barges of silence.

I am not obsessing.I am just sitting hereperforating this post-itwith a push-pin.

… ancient days of sorrowancient days of pain-heartaches of the pastslowly began to wane …(from gleaning granules)

Just know I amNot there to catch youBut I am there for you

Bring Down The WallsI will bring down the wallsthat surround me today.I will no longer be kept quietMeek enough to drown today….

In hundreds of years of wish fulfillment,never once to the demon’s bereavement,had a wish gone unable to be yielded.It was love this day, which defeated the curse,and there in Hell there was little worse,than the...

To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.

I write, write and write but I can’t find words that define what I feel inside.

When When it’s over, it’s over, and we don’t know any of us, what happens then.So I try not to miss anything.I think, in my whole life, I have never missed The full moonor the...