The poet must be more useful than any other member if his tribe.

I think it was Milosz, the Polish poet, who when he lay in a doorway and watched the bullets lifting the cobbles out of the street beside him realised that most poetry is not equipped...

Poetry should be like ‘Uh-huh. Baby has to have it.

There are things we do that the human mind doesn’t understand, yet the same things are meant for the heart to fully comprehend.

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.

To the Virgins, To Make much of TimeGather ye rose-buds while ye may,Old Time is still a-flying;And this same flower that smiles today,Tomorrow will be dying.The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,The higher he’s a-getting,The...

Take’th my temple and cut it into little stars, placed carefully to the face of heaven and the world will shine.

I Am VerticalBut I would rather be horizontal.I am not a tree with my root in the soilSucking up minerals and motherly loveSo that each March I may gleam into leaf,Nor am I the beauty...

Dan aku tiba di sini; jalan raya yang terbuat dari parasmu. Katakatacanggung, waktu gugu. Bagaimanakah kau menerjemahkan kekosongan?

And because it is my heart.

It is difficult to write a paradiso when all the superficial indications are that you ought to write an apocalypse.

Books are carefully folded forests/void of autumn/bound from the sun

What is the finding of love, but a voice answering a voice?

Every word was once a poem.

I would define, in brief, the poetry of words as the rhythmical creation of beauty.

What would your shoes say about the things you do everyday?

LITTLE STAR BIG UNIVERSE I love everyone-And everything.The ocean,The sky,The other planets,The people here,The people there.I love to smile,To run and play,I love to work hard,And create everyday.I love to rest,When the long day’s through,But...

In Xanadu did Kubla KhanA stately pleasure-dome decree:Where Alph, the sacred river, ranThrough caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.

The middle finger is a great body language tool for letting people know you’re upset. Poetry isn’t quite as effective in a fit of road rage.

Heartache makesfor good poetry,heartburnnot so much.

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...

The untented Kosmos my abode,I pass, a wilful stranger:My mistress still the open roadAnd the bright eyes of danger.

Drinking the energy of the universeBreathing along with the CosmosWith each breathI am rebornInto a brand new existence.

The responsibility of any science, any pure pursuit, is ultimately to itself, and on this point physics, philosophy, and poetry unite with Satan in their determination not to serve. Any end is higher than utility,...

He didn’t much like reading novels – he preferred history or philosophy – or poetry, although he could read only a little poetry at a time, because when a poem “spoke to him” it was...

The Element of Surprise is their in every day,It’s when you wake up.

Shall earth no more inspire thee,Thou lonely dreamer now?Since passion may not fire thee,Shall nature cease to bow?

To thee, to thee, my fire! Thou hast been burning in my heart all these futile years. If my life were a piece of gold it would come out of its trial brighter, but it...

It was not death, for I stood up,And all the dead lie down;It was not night, for all the bellsPut out their tongues, for noon.It was not frost, for on my fleshI felt siroccos crawl,Nor...

…so i will greet youin a wayall loved thingsare meant to be greetedwith a tear in my heartand a poem in my eye.

Even though I seem not human, a mute shelfof glucose, bottled blood, machineryto swell the lung and pump the heart—even so,do not put out my life. Let me still glow.

i can’t always tell what’s betterlong drivesin the star-spangled desertsor long walksalong winding tea gardens.

Critics write out of intellectual exercise, not poets. Poets write straight from the heart.

AubadeI work all day, and get half-drunk at night. Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare. In time the curtain-edges will grow light. Till then I see what’s really always there: Unresting death, a...

fortune has no era finer than this moment

i am eithera stormor a drought.in-betweenshave neverbeen my thing.

Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montaña.

how is it thathe’s alwaysin my thoughts. even when i am not thinking.

Resolve, and thou art free.

Soughing” we call it, fromOld English, no less. How weightlesswords are when nothing will do.

Furthermore, he had beautiful eyes.

she’s gotoceanstucked awayin her hairpoems swimunder her skin.

Once upon a time, son, they used to laugh with their hearts and laugh with their eyes; but now they only laugh with their teeth, while their ice-block-cold eyes search behind my shadow. There was...

I don’t care what you say to me. I care what you share with me.

The surge of his ardour swept through him in climatic release, filling her womb with his final, mortal sowing.

Share your dreams and they will be inspired. Plant seeds of knowledge and they will grow and reproduce beyond measure.

I do strongly feel that among the greatest pieces of luck for high achievement is ordeal. Certain great artists can make out without it, Titian and others, but mostly you need ordeal. My idea is...

Falling in love was easy-when romantic attraction was combined with hungry, unsated desire, they formed a glamorous, glittering bauble as fragile as it was alluring, a bauble that could shatter as soon as it was...

Emerging from chaos, came Light, filling need.

No matter how you feel you have to actlike you are very popular with yourself;very relaxed and purposefulvery unconfusedand notlike you are walking through the sunshinesingingin chains.