I KNEW IT WAS OVERwhen tonight you couldn’t make the phone ringwhen you used to make the sun risewhen trees used to throw themselvesin front of youto be paper for love lettersthat was how i...

Dying only means moving into a nicer house. We have only gone into the next room.We still are what we have always been.We aren’t far away. We are only on the other side of the...

something genuine like a mark in a toilet, graced with guts and gutted with grace

The beautiful you is not the color of your skinOr the texture of your hair.The beautiful you is not how tall or short you areThe beautiful you is not rather you’re skinny or overweight by...

And must I then, indeed, Pain, live with youall through my life?-sharing my fire, my bed,Sharing-oh, worst of all things!-the same head?-And, when I feed myself, feeding you too?

So this is what I amPondering his eyes that could notConceive that I was a creature to run fromI who have always believed too much in words

Igen: élni, míg élünk,Igen: ez a szabály.De mit csináljunk az életünkkel,Ha fáj?Élni, míg élünk

For those who sense and comprehend,They know that heaven is at hand;The river blue which stream and stream,It has the pictures of my dream.

Spring and Fall: To a Young ChildMárgarét, are you gríevingOver Goldengrove unleaving?Leáves, líke the things of man, youWith your fresh thoughts care for, can you?Ah! ás the heart grows olderIt will come to such sights...

Negative people feed off of your anger, let them starve.

Bedenkelijker dan de veelbesproken verrechtsing van de jongeren, lijkt me de vertrutting van de oudjes.

One must read poetry with one’s nerves.

Let our scars fall in love.

We say God and the imagination are one . . .How high that highest candle lights the dark.

He [the poet] brings out the inner part of things and presents them to men in such a way that they cannot refuse but must accept it. But how the mere choice and rhythm of...

I told you in the course of this paper that Shakespeare had a sister; but do not look for her in Sir Sidney Lee’s life of the poet. She died young–alas, she never wrote a...

Songwriting and poetry are so commonly birthed from underdogs because one can make even the ugliest situations admirable, or more beautiful than the beautiful situations – they are the most graceful media in which the...

Amy King is a true bard.

A tree is my keeper, a warrior silhouette.

I don’t write poems to melt your heart.I write them,so our heartscan melt together.

The InfiniteIt was always dear to me, this solitary hill,and this hedgerow here, that closes out my view,from so much of the ultimate horizon.But sitting here, and watching here, in thought,I create interminable spaces,greater than...

why can’t you see i’m a kid’, said the kid.Why try to make me like you?Why are you hurt when I don’t cuddle?Why do you sigh when I splash through a puddle?Why do you scream...

As palavras que te envio são interditasaté, meu amor, pelo halo das searas;se alguma regressasse, nem já reconheciao teu nome nas suas curvas claras.

Haven’t you seen and heard that every word I seed for you is a feeling, and every thought I bloom bears a meaning? Rivers of words, blending together for the same course, the action of...

Great poetry needs no interpreter other than a responsive heart.

The pure products of Americago crazy……[] No one to witnessand adjust, no one to drive the car

There’s a book of poetryin the lines of my handsthat no one wants to read

LADY LAZARUSI have done it again.One year in every tenI manage it–A sort of walking miracle, my skinBright as a Nazi lampshade,My right footA paperweight,My face a featureless, fineJew linen.Peel off the napkinO my enemy.Do...

Aku di sini kamu di sana, tapi kita tetap bisa berpelukan dalam doa dan puisi.

Writing, then, was a substitute for myself: if you don’t love me, love my writing & love me for my writing. It is also much more: a way of ordering and reordering the chaos of...

Please lift your snowy skies off my soul -Your diamond dreams slice through my veins

Whenever a time arises where clarity is desired, it is always wise to reflect on the sage within.

If there is no God,Not everything is permitted to man.He is still his brother’s keeperAnd he is not permitted to sadden his brother,By saying there is no God.

Love alters all. Unblood my instinct, love.

A skillful literary artist has constructed a tale. If wise, he has not fashioned his thoughts to accommodate his incidents; but having conceived, with deliberate care, a certain unique or single effect to be wrought...

There’s gold, and it’s haunting and haunting; It’s luring me on as of old; Yet it isn’t the gold that I’m wanting So much as just finding the gold. It’s the great, big, broad land...

The LakeIn spring of youth it was my lotTo haunt of the wide world a spotThe which I could not love the less-So lovely was the lonelinessOf a wild lake, with black rock bound,And the...

Then, what is sacrelige [sic]? If it is nothing more than a rebellion against dogma, it is eventually as meaningless as the dogma it defies, and they are both become hounds ranting in the high...

People are looking for chimes and resonances. Chimes leave echoes, and that’s what rhyme is. Poetry is about leaving an echo imprint in somebody else’s head, in the dark snow of their mind.

I’ll be writing as long as I can hold a pen in my curled, crimped arthritic hands and then I’ll dictate it, if it comes to that. They’ll have to pry my pen out of...

The Ph.D is one of the chosen who know that some things can never be fathomed, no matter how hard you try. What good are explanations? There is no possibility of explaining how such a...

There is a great deal of poetry and fine sentiment in a chest of tea

we’re lost where the mind can’t find usutterly lost

Distance, the dissonance insurmountable,would be not the end,but a magnet.When fingertips kiss,they imprint and cement something,that cannot be disintegrated. Time becomes a phantom,the wind becomes an anchor,and old dreams- blankets of warmth.Lull with me, Lady,there...

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.

Places We LovePlaces we love exist only through us,Space destroyed is only illusion in the constancy of time,Places we love we can never leave,Places we love together, together, together,And is this room really a room,...

Time past and time futureWhat might have been and what has beenPoint to one end, which is always present.” (Four Quartets)

There is no Frigate like a Book To take us Lands awayNor any Coursers like a Page Of prancing Poetry – This Traverse may the poorest takeWithout oppress of Toll – How frugal is the...

They went forth to battle, but they always fell; Their eyes were fixed above the sullen shields;Nobly they fought and bravely, but not well,And sank heart-wounded by a subtle spell. They knew not fear that...

Heart, we will forget him!You and I, to-night!You may forget the warmth he gave,I will forget the light.When you have done, pray tell me,That I my thoughts may dim;Haste! lest while you’re lagging,I may remember...