I fought angrily against seeing particular types of poetic organization because it seemed awful to see my own life and these actual events in that way. But when you put forth an intention into the...

We look at the world once, in childhood.The rest is memory.

Each star is a mirror reflecting the truth inside you.

Once I dated a woman I only liked 43%.So I only listened to 43% of what she said.Only told the truth 43% of the time.And only kissed with 43% of my lips.Some say you can’t...

Today I introduced myself to my very own Heart,In silent agony, after all these years it bled apart.

Laugh until you cry;never let your eyes look dryThis is not a matter of joke;this is all to provokeour sense of humourLife is its own consumer!

Parched by the deprivation of your love for so long made me forget what a cup brimming with love, on my lips, felt like. Everything that now wets it, only wrinkles it with a bland...

2.07 WALK OF LIFELife but like a cycle that you be riding,You will fall if you ever stop peddling,Life not of good cards you be holding,But those held and how you be playing.[68]- 4

I wonder-Did I peek through the veil impatiently, while you slowly forged the bonds that brought me to mortality? And do you now stand where I stodd yesterday, your cheeks against Heaven’s curtain, and pray-Pray...

For [W. B.] Yeats magic was not so much a kind of poetry as poetry a kind of magic, and the object of both alike was evocation of energies and knowledge from beyond normal consciousness.

Anyone who has no need of anybody but himself is either a beast or a God.”Aristotle

I didn’t know how to hold my lips.

Poets are interested primarily in death and commas.

Lollypop…the passion contained merely kissesplaced upon lips, neck and cheekthese young lovers of the castleof which our fairytale speaks…

sekali berarti sesudah itu mati

Cradle of SolitudeFor we know not why our tribulationsare given as suchour fragile formscreated from the dust…

Dead tree branches rattled,the cold wind seethed, it prattled of abominations about to unfold.A lone wolf howled,the full moon it prowled,ready for evils untold.

I wanted the past to go away, I wanted to leave it, like another country; I wanted my life to close, and open like a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song...

I love you in my very own way.Like a stone loves the mosses around itLike a sea loves the pebbles in itLike a coincidence…Taking you as the way you are,With all the bruises, scars and...

DogfishI wantedThe past to go away, I wantedTo leave it, like another country; I wantedMy life to close, and openLike a hinge, like a wing, like the part of the song Where it fallsDown over...

Exercises are like prose, whereas yoga is the poetry of movements. Once you understand the grammar of yoga; you can write your poetry of movements.

Every avalanche was once a lonely snowflake, every flood was once an aching raindrop.

Love is as we will it to be.” ~ Amunhotep El Bey

When Great Trees FallWhen great trees fall,rocks on distant hills shudder,lions hunker downin tall grasses,and even elephantslumber after safety.When great trees fallin forests,small things recoil into silence,their senseseroded beyond fear.When great souls die,the air around...

Read for yourselves, read for the sake of your inspiration, for the sweet turmoil in your lovely head. But also read against yourselves, read for questioning and impotence, for despair and erudition, read the dry...

I’ve never seen beauty so devastatingas in the linesthat trace our hopeand fall from the stars.

A nation established under GodA nation that will only winif we stand together

To be a poet is to place pleasure, beauty and sensual delights front and centre, it means having a predilection for debauchery.

A fallen blossomreturning to the bough, I thought –But no, a butterfly.

A grain of poetry suffices to season a century.

the worst thing,” he told me,”is bitterness, people end up sobitter.

Hold your venomDo you recognise the instinctin me, fellow scorpion?

she wasn’t veryinterestingbut few peopleare.

I don’t think that I’ve been in love as suchAlthough I liked a few folk pretty wellLove must be vaster than my smiles or touchfor brave men died and empires rose and fellFor love, girls...

Kisslikeyouneverhada past.

It was at that agethat poetry came in search of me.

at first when the rain fell from the sky so wide and deepit smelled like sage, my favorite smellI went up on the plateau to watch it cometo see the gifts it always broughtbut this...

Fue adondo a mi me perdieronquw logre por fin encontrarme?Was it where they lost methat I finally found myself?

[Poetry] is the liquid voice that can wear through stone.

you see, my whole life is tied up to unhappiness it’s father cooking breakfast and me getting fat as a hog or having no food at all and father proving his incompetence again i wish...

say what you mean and mean what you say

She believes poetry is ‘a way of coming to know the realness of things; fiction is a way of coming to know the world of relationships; nonfiction is a way of coming to know the...

I have outlasted all desire,My dreams and I have grown apart;My grief alone is left entire,The gleamings of an empty heart.The storms of ruthless dispensationHave struck my flowery garland numb,I live in lonely desolationAnd wonder...

someone’s senta loving notein lines of returning geeseand as the moon fillsmy western chamberas petals danceover the flowing streamagain I think of youthe two of usliving a sadnessaparta hurt that can’t be removedyet when my...

A Litany for SurvivalFor those of us who live at the shorelinestanding upon the constant edges of decisioncrucial and alonefor those of us who cannot indulgethe passing dreams of choicewho love in doorways coming and...

Poetry is nearer to vital truth than history.

NowNow is the time…Now is the time – Make a changeNow is the time – All is strangeNow is the time – Start life anewNow is the time – Cannot stewHeartbreak, loss, pain, and challenges...

…poetry is paying attention to life when all the world seems asleep to its beauties and truths…

Even if you are alone you wage war with yourself.

… this longing inside me that never goes away, must be a poem…must be you …