You are capable of doing everything you are afraid of doing, If only you would energize and motivate the Magical thing would absolutely happen to you!

The world deprived of clear-cut outlines, of the up and the down, of good and evil, succumbs to a peculiar nihilization, that is, it loses its colors, so that grayness covers not only things of...

I’ll say I love you,Which will lead, of course,to disappointment,but those words unsaidpoison every next moment.I will try to disappoint youbetter than anyone else has.

With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion.

Have you suffered, starved and triumphed, grovelled down, yet grasped at glory,Grown bigger in the bigness of the whole? ‘Done things’ just for the doing, letting babblers tell the story,Seeing through the nice veneer the...

The profoundest of all sensualitiesis the sense of truthand the next deepest sensual experienceis the sense of justice.

Too lazy to be ambitious,I let the world take care of itself.Ten days’ worth of rice in my bag;a bundle of twigs by the fireplace.Why chatter about delusion and enlightenment?Listening to the night rain on...

Instead of reciting her an original love poem using words, I think I’ll use my tongue to more creatively explore the deepest parts of her.

My earliest poems appear almost skeletal to me now – it seems I’ve learned to add meat, muscle and a nice suit of clothes.

In numele si sub teroarea ei (plictiselii, n.m.) parasesc oamenii caminul si moartea agreabila legata de el si se avanta in lume, spre a muri undeva fara acoperis si fara lacrimi; adolescentii se gandesc la...

Nothing Stay Forever””Nature’s first green is gold,”Her hardest hue to hold.”Her early leaf’s a flower;”But only so an hour.”Then leaf subsides to leaf.”So Eden sank to grief,”So dawn goes down today.”Nothing gold can stay.– Robert...

it isn’t that we’re alone or not alonewhose voice do you want mine? yours?

(Wallace) Stevens turns to the idea of the weather precisely as the religious man turns to the idea of God.

Time for you and time for me,And time yet for a hundred indecisions,And for a hundred visions and revisions,Before the taking of a toast and tea.

from the prose poem “The Universe Thrums on regardless” in my book SPAN.We are almost nothing in the night. Reduced to warm blobs and the sound of breathing. There is comfort in that.

I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;Her coat is one of the tabby kind,with tiger stripes and lepard spots.

PHOSPHORESCENCE. Now there’s a word to lift your hat to… to find that phosphorescence, that light within, that’s the genius behind poetry.

After I consumed Frost in his entirety, my days of exploration began. I read The Diving Comedy while leafing through E. E. Cummings. I read Sidney and Milton and Shelley, piecing together my own aesthetics,...

We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

I breathe in…the silenceof my own heartaching with tendernesswith memories..Of home.

Absence of problems does not lead to happiness. Dealing with them does.

sometimes i wake upin the middleof the nightand findpoetry splatteredall over my bed.

Tho’ you’re tired and weary, still journey on, Till you come to your happy abode,Where all the love you’ve been dreaming of,Will be there at the end of the road.

Once in a while i am struckall over again… by just how blue the sky appears .. on wind-played autumn mornings, blue enoughto bruise a heart.

We must listen to poets.

i have known yousince the beginningof timethe one i have loved alwaysin spirit.only just discoveredin person.

As Unto the bow the the cord is ,So unto the man is woman;Though she bends him, she obeys him,Though she draws him , yet she follows:Useless each without the other.

You are that one breath. that puts all the remaining breaths. back into my body.

These are the woes of Slaves;They glare from the abyss;They cry, from unknown graves,”We are the Witnesses!

Tea is just an excuse.i am drinking this sunset, this evening.and you.

Most of my friends like words too well. They set them under the blinding light of the poem and try to extract every possible connotation from each of them, every temporary pun, every direct or...

Jika cintaku kepada Sita dianggap terlarang, itu artinya kau merendahkan takdir Tuhan. Kau sendiri tahu, aku tak akan pernah mampu menentukan kepada siapa aku dilahirkan, maka sekarang aku juga tak akan pernah bisa memilih kepada...

You shall create beauty not to excite the sensesbut to give sustenance to the soul.

The very essence of I is being killed by You.

I wouldn’t want to be faster or greener than now if you were with me O you were the best of all my days!

Green in nature is one thing, green in literature another. Nature and letters seem to have a natural antipathy; bring them together and they tear each other to pieces.

What wretched poverty of language! To compare stars to diamonds!

It’s not magic. I remember because I make comparisons. Not in terms of better or worse, just different. And not all of these memories are great, but they’re mine.Which lends way to believe, that none...

One way poetry connects is across time. . . . Some echo of a writer’s physical experience comes into us when we read her poem.

Here, illuminated at last,Nestles the ruddy glint of spiritual certainty;Sweet moments of passion and healing,Of sensual release.

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, so what happens when the person’s eyes are unavailable to look into? You read their words.

Every question possesses a power that does not lie in the answer.

Like poetry, fashion does not state anything. It merely suggests

Whose woods these are I think I know.His house is in the village, though;He will not see me stopping hereTo watch his woods fill up with snow.My little horse must think it queerTo stop without...

I have been incapable of moving, even a finger or an eye, for at least a year now. I feel relatively certain about this timeframe because I have been watching the crepe myrtle outside the...

Stephen kissed me in the spring,Robin in the fall,But Colin only looked at meAnd never kissed at all.Stephen’s kiss was lost in jest,Robin’s lost in play,But the kiss in Colin’s eyesHaunts me night and day.

I can’t even make up a rhyme about an umbrella, let alone death and life and eternal peace.

Winter StarsI went out at night alone;The young blood flowing beyond the seaSeemed to have drenched my spirit’s wings—I bore my sorrow heavily.But when I lifted up my headFrom shadows shaken on the snow,I saw...

Evil is not good’s absence but gravity’severlasting bedrock and its fatal chainsinert, violent, the suffrage of our days.

Go wisely and slowly. Those who rush stumble and fall.