Poets have been mysteriously silent on the subject of cheese.

Oh,’ said a very white body as it threw a wrist watch to the ground which broke without attracting anyone’s attention, ‘Oh, how can anyone not love poetry, natural machines, large white houses, the brilliance...

Tăcerea coboară-n spiraleRotunde şi-ovale,Ca nişte confeti de-aceeaşi culoare…

Long Sight In AgeThey say eyes clear with age, As dew clarifies air To sharpen evenings, As if time put an edge Round the last shape of things To show them there; The many-levelled trees,...

The Rainy DayThe day is cold, and dark, and dreary;It rains, and the wind is never weary;The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,But at every gust the dead leaves fall,And the day is dark...

funny how our heartswere designed to loveso fiercely.but break ever so gently.

Terror is an artery. Running unfailing channels of bloodied thoroughfares by dint of the wilds beyond our knowing. Fluctuations and murmurs are audible within the splintered leeway of our preserve as a consequence of interstices...

may my faith always beat the end of the daylike a hummingbird…returningto its favorite flower.

And I think that it is certainly possible that the objective universe can be affected by the poet. I mean, you recall Orpheus made the trees and the stones dance and so forth, and this...

The gates of hell are open night and day;Smooth the descent, and easy is the way:But to return, and view the cheerful skies,In this the task and mighty labor lies.

I will be glad to go. There is no poetry here. It is as I have always set forth: joy comes of its own free will; it cannot be belabored.

A wind starts to blow, without feelings,A song falls in love, without singing,A life will begin in melodies of the strings,May you find all pleasure of the light,God bless, Warrior of Light!

The universe, maybe a blank canvas, you and I are born to create a painting. Some people die from cancer, some people die at birth, and that’s their painting. We’ll share the same painting, we’re...

My brain hums with scraps of poetry and madness.

When I shut my eyes on this world I’ll finally have peace.

Let the wet earth embrace you firmly, soundly. She needs to be revived, she needs to beat like a heart full of adrenaline inside a chest.

The heart’s actionsare neither the sentence nor its reprieve. Salt hay and thistles, above the cold granite. One bird singing back to another because it can’t not.

We left you there, lonely,Beauty your power,Wisdom your watchman,To hold the clay tower.from ‘The Tale of the Tiger Tree

Man would not be man if his dreams did not exceed his grasp. … Like John Donne, man lies in a close prison, yet it is dear to him. Like Donne’s, his thoughts at times...

Let them shoot us in the head,My blood will grow rootsand will blossom.

Wordplay hides a key to reality that the dictionary tries in vain to lock inside every free word.

We ran as if to meet the moon.

A Rough GuideBe polite at the reception desk.Not all the knives are in the museum.The waitresses know that a nice boyis formed in the same way as a deckchair.Pay for the beer and send flowers.Introduce...

BarterLife has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things, Blue waves whitened on a cliff, Soaring fire that sways and sings, And children’s faces looking up Holding wonder like a cup. Life has loveliness...

I have no riches but my thoughts, Yet these are wealth enough for me

It is true that a mathematician who is not somewhat of a poet, will never be a perfect mathematician.

O serpent heart hid with a flowering face!Did ever a dragon keep so fair a cave?Beautiful tyrant, feind angelical, dove feather raven, wolvish-ravening lamb! Despised substance of devinest show, just opposite to what thou justly...

More sailors have drowned in words than in the sea.

This fellow is wise enough to play the fool;And to do that well craves a kind of wit:He must observe their mood on whom he jests,The quality of persons, and the time,And, like the haggard,...

It’s not pain. It’s raw material.

All the new thinking is about loss. In this it resembles all the old thinking

There are no barriers to poetry or prophecy; by their nature they are barrier-breakers, bursts of perceptions, lines into infinity. If the poet lies about his vision he lies about himself and in himself; this...

Again I resume the longlesson: how small a thingcan be pleasing, how littlein this hard world it takesto satisfy the mindand bring it to its rest.

Armed I am with love. Disarmed I am.

. . . On a sandbarsunlight stretches out its limbs, or is ita sycamore, so brazen, so clean and bold?

The poetry of the earth is never dead.

She Was A Phantom of DelightShe was a Phantom of delightWhen first she gleam’d upon my sight;A lovely Apparition, sentTo be a moment’s ornament:Her eyes as stars of twilight fair;Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair;But...

Hill tops like hot iron glitter bright in the sun, And the rivers we’re eying burn to gold as they run; Burning hot is the ground, liquid gold is the air; Whoever looks round sees...

It was about how men walk into a forest afraid because they know all the things that can happen. They might wake the noisy birds and cause chaos. But kids come into the trees and...

Writing the poems, I came to think that regarding is a form of love, but the regarding is not necessarily accurate. In the poems, people are always misperceiving one another. But misperceptions are a part...

You are the know place to which the unknown is always leading me back.””I possess nothing worthy to give you.” “There’s only me.” ~ quotes from poetry that Angelo feels match him and Zach

There always comes the day when children swallowthe key to the door of secrecy. They’ll not return it.

Southern trees bear strange fruit, Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze, Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.Pastoral scene of the gallant south,The bulging eyes and...

We live in a modern society. Husbands and wives don’tgrow on trees, like in the old days. So wheredoes one find love? When you’re sixteen it’s easy, like being unleashed with a credit cardin a...

the flames are silent,Peace is violent,Tears are frozen’cause massacre was chosen.~~ 26/11– Mumbai terror attack memories

I know we sort of said goodbye, but I don’t have anyone else to tell this to and I’m going to burst with it. You know EBB’s verse:God answers sharp and sudden on some prayers,And...

ContrastsThe windows of my poetry are wide open on the boulevards and in the shop windowsShineThe precious stones of lightListen to the violins of the limousines and the xylophones of the linotypesThe sketcher washes with...

A poet must discover that it’s his own story that is true, even if the truth is small indeed.

On the shining yards of heavenSee a wider dawn unfurled. . . . The eternal slaves of beautyAre the masters of the world.

poetry is when a natural melancholy what keep singing a melody