Dear Forgiveness, you know that recentlywe have had our difficulties and there are many thingsI want to ask you.

Pretense cannot sustain blind power.

REQUIEMUnder the wide and starry skyDig the grave and let me lie:Glad did I live and gladly die,And I laid me down with a will.This be the verse you grave for me:Here he lies where...

You are not what you are; You are darkness Looking for light within.

Seed Leaves Homage to R. F. Here something stubborn comes,Dislodging the earth crumbsAnd making crusty rubble.it comes up bending double,And looks like a green staple.It could be seedling maple,Or artichoke, or bean.That remains to be...

To expect to be kissed having bad breath is the secret of a fool.

technology murdered childhood.

No reason for a feverish rush For we will all arrive in the same place At the right time. Justice will be served. There will be no better or worse, No big and small, no...

With all honesty, somewhere between the hello and the dreams I saw you in I fell in love.

Consider, O Lord, how You sit atop the sky;like a man in a glass bottom boat.Consider sky elsewhere; worn thin as a mattress.

Nothing is more natural than mutual misunderstanding; the contrary is always surprising. I believe that one never agrees on anything except by mistake, and that all harmony among human beings is the happy fruit of...

I can hear the library humming in the night, a choir of authors murmuring inside their books along the unlit, alphabetical shelves, Giovanni Pontano next to Pope, Dumas next to his son, each one stitched...

I can blend words easily with my pen, and show concepts from deep within. Yet not everyone gets the message I send. So why do I even let these words begin? Maybe they will soak...

We like to admit to only that which already glows, although it is nobler to support brightness before it glows, not afterwards.

And wonder, dread and warhave lingered in that landwhere loss and love in turnhave held the upper hand.

After Homer and Dante, is a whole century of creating worth one Shakespeare?

You were just another stranger in the room,In a room full of bodies, I was attracted to you,I became your tiny dancer,I became everything to you,Little did you know,That I’m just a dancer, Not your...

Forever, if she promises to never part the ocean where the river sings.

The will of life and death, never share the same motivation…we all know that love is the ultimate motive to die for…but let’s not kid ourselves……we all know the ultimate motive to rise back from...

you can take this mouththis wound you wantbut you can’t kissand make itbetter.

Poetry is not an art, it’s a symptom.

hate blows a bubble of despair intohugeness world system universe and bang-fear buries a tomorrow under woeand up comes yesterday most green and young

We were hooked when we woke.We had arms for each other.But I yearned to resumeMy dreams of another.

I will come back to you, I swear I will;And you will know me still.I shall be only a little tallerThan when I went.

Modern poetry, for me, began not in English at all but in Spanish, in the poems of Lorca.

There’s no retirement for an artist,its your way of living so theres no end to it.

I began composing the next poem, the one that was to be written next. Not the last poem of those I had read, but the poem written in the head of someone who may never...

. . . We love fog becauseit shifts old anomalies into the elementssurrounding them. It gives relief from a way of seeing

If poets often commit suicide, it is not because their poems are bad but because they are good. Whoever heard of a bad poet committing suicide? The reader is only a little better off. The...

Er zijn op aarde enkel twee soorten socialisme: het geslaagde, dat wil zeggen het soort dat de kameraden verbeten het kapitalisme believen te noemen, en het mislukte, dat wil zeggen hun eigen soort. Het socialisme...

We live in an old chaos of the sun.

It’s the smell of him in the bathroom, all I need to get ready for the day. Watching him get dressed, and the sound in the kitchen; a slow hum of a song and his...

BELOVED, gaze in thine own heart, The holy tree is growing there; From joy the holy branches start, And all the trembling flowers they bear. The changing colours of its fruit Have dowered the stars...

If we surrenderedto earth’s intelligencewe could rise up rooted, like trees.Instead we entangle ourselvesin knots of our own makingand struggle, lonely and confused.So like children, we begin again…to fall,patiently to trust our heaviness.Even a bird...

Living in this skin is hard and painful, most of the times, because I never volunteered to take this on. The daily sacrifice of heart over mind,the forever ongoing task of explaining this and that,and...

Seulement la terre qui obéit,sait bien qu’elle tourne en rond,tandis que nous vers l’infininous précipitons.Translation:But the obedient Earth well knowsthat she moves round and round,whereas we hurtle downtoward infinity.

A poet should be so crafty with words that he is envied even for his pains.

Poetic talent doesn’t operate in a vacuum. There is a spirit of Polish poetry.

You only live twice:Once when you’re bornAnd once when you look death in the face.

Out of our quarrels with others we make rhetoric. Out of our quarrels with ourselves we make poetry.

A loner by nature and an introvert… i am a twinkling star, burning bright amidst a cloudless night. As such, i tend to fade in and out of people’s lives. This aspect of me is...

Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me?

To be a poet is to have a soul so quick to discern, that no shade of quality escapes it, and so quick to feel, that discernment is but a hand playing with finely-ordered variety...

I’m not your blue-eyed Czech,I’m just a brown-eyed girl, A little mix of rock your world,And now you’ll never be the same. You grabbed me by the hand,I grabbed you by the neck. I changed...

One’s-Self I Sing One’s-self I sing, a simple separate person, Yet utter the word Democratic, the word En-Masse. Of physiology from top to toe I sing, Not physiognomy alone nor brain alone is worthy for...

Our love went from fly to flower to butterfly, and it was meant to beautifully flutter, not sit still on a shelf like a trophy to be collected.

The HurricaneThe tree lay downon the garage roof and stretched, You have your heaven, it said, go to it.

If I waste all my charity, all I’ll wind up with in the end is the wind. Still, I think I want to be the Dandelion of Love.

I?I walk alone;The midnight streetSpins itself from under my feet;My eyes shutThese dreaming houses all snuff out;Through a whim of mineOver gables the moon’s celestial onionHangs high.IMake houses shrinkAnd trees diminishBy going far; my look’s...

Aku dan dia sama dengan selamanya,” bisikmu. Dan aku pun berulangkali terperangkap dalam kulkas berisi puisipuisi setengah jadi ini.