With slouch and swing around the ringWe trod the Fools’ Parade!We did not care: we knew we wereThe Devils’ Own Brigade:And shaven head and feet of leadMake a merry masquerade.

Will the day tell its secret Before it disappears, Becomes timeless night.

bad breath and butt smell; that is prison, in a nutshell.

Those ancients who in poetry presented the golden age, who sang its happy state,perhaps, in their Parnassus, dreamt this place. Here, mankind’s root was innocent; and herewere every fruit and never-ending spring; these streams–the nectar...

Sometimes the most beautiful people are beautifully broken.

If an ancient man saw planes two thousand years ago He would’ve thought they were birds Or angels from another world Or messengers from other planets.

I wrote her story because she wanted to live forever and I loved her far more with every word, too much! Even in death her life sought out beauty, for her moments were consumed with...

I see all of us reading ourselves away from ourselves, straining in circles of light to find more light until the line of words becomes a trail of crumbs that we follow across a page...

Only union with you gives joy. The rest if tearing down one building to put up another.

…(my father) would say nothing,And I could not find a silenceAmong the one hundred Chinese silencesThat would fit the one he createdEven though I was the one Who had just made up the businessOf the...

Discouragement, fear, and depression—three villains who lurk in the dark.They slip inside souls with a blindfold and goals to shatter your dreams and extinguish your spark.Their tactics are highly effective.They crush a great many each...

His Highness was always confident in his statements, especially about what he viewed for the first time.

ගඟ දියම හැඩි කළෙමිනොපෙනෙන පිණිස රුවඑ සඳ ඔබ මතු වියපුර පසම දෙබෑ කර

Darkness does not age; nothing is always nothing

My spirit mirrors the radiance of a clear, blue sky. With closed eyes I lift my face and smile, warmed from the core and from above. All hopes and dreams compete with this endless expanse...

A penny for the moat, where all the ashen song be wrote—a tune for man, so long eloped in hours of decision and derisive hope. Flutter, flutter heart, beyond your base and noble part. All...

All I know is a door into the dark

There is nothinggoing on. I took nothingyou wanted. You can’thave it back.

When words lose their meaning, physical force takes over.from an essay for Writers by Nancy Crampton

A single wire hanger on a nail by itselfIsn’t bad though a stack of them on a floorIs too gloomy for words.

He wanted to tell the baby that Paris was like a poem in stone.

Catch from the board of beauty/ Such careless crumbs as fall.

I used to be a poet.My words were traded in marketplaces like pieces of gold.Merchants bought my verses for as much as they paid for saffron and Indian jade.Now I am old…drunk on wine and...

How can I find the words? Poets have taken them all and left me with nothing to say or do””Except to teach me for the first time what they meant.

I only wake up twice a year,And twice a year I live;In the equinox I am aware,Flying high and everywhere;On other days I grieve.

And when Peace here does houseHe comes with work to do, he does not come to coo,He comes to brood and sit.

There’s no one to mourn for a life that love stole.

…Perses, hear me out on justice, and take what I have to say to heart; cease thinking of violence. For the son of Kronos, Zeus, has ordained this law to men: that fishes and wild...

Extinguish my eyes, I’ll go on seeing you.Seal my ears, I’ll go on hearing you.And without feet I can make my way to you,without a mouth I can swear your name.Break off my arms, I’ll...

You were the hardest year of my life and I’ve never been so happy. What does that say about me?

Love SongHow can I keep my soul in me, so thatit doesn’t touch your soul? How can I raiseit high enough, past you, to other things?I would like to shelter it, among remotelost objects, in...

I was never afraid of the dark and I spent my youth walking through empty playgrounds at midnight, worried mothers telling girls to be careful and ”the world is an ugly place and not everyone...

Perasaan tidak sejalan dengan logika!Kebodohan macam apa ini?

To be happy to be sad and sad to be happy is to sing an echo in that beautiful language called Sorrow.

Some PeopleSome people flee some other people. In some country under a sun and some clouds. They abandon something close to all they’ve got, sown fields, some chickens, dogs, mirrors in which fire now preens....

His mindIt says survival of the fittest butHis soulRevival of the idiotsSo good riddance, dancing

LESLIE CHEUNG JUMPS OFF MY BUILDING CLOSES HIS EYES AND THEN SINGS A SONGWE BOTH KNOW AND LOVE// LESLIE CHEUNG SE TIRA DESDE MI EDIFICIOCIERRA SUS OJOS Y LUEGO CANTA UNA CANCIÓNQUE LOS DOS CONOCEMOS...

Sweep my dreams not beneath my feet. Be somewhere that my steps won’t meet. Breaking the broom isn’t a must. Don’t mistake unmoved dreams for dust

The press of my foot to the earth springs a hundred affections,They scorn the best I can do to relate to them

Pirate Captain Jim”Walk the plank,” says Pirate Jim”But Captain Jim, I cannot swim.””Then you must steer us through the gale.””But Captain Jim, I cannot sail.””Then down with the galley slaves you go.””But Captain Jim, I...

Don’t be afraid of Pain. Pain only comes down to a certain point… beyond that, it can’t reach you and the love you have inside.

We met last fall, and dreamt of summer days together. Winter came, and when you left, Winter stayed.

This is the hour I hide everythingBehind my eyesTo see if you can seeAll the trouble my brain’s been brewing. Yes, I feel I am the worst and you are the bestAnd yet, and yet,...

When she left me I stood out in the thunderstorm, hoping to be destroyed by lightning. It missed, first left, then right.

Poetry is the beauty of life.

The sidewalks flash silver with mica.Skyline smeared with geese.By way of recognitionI lost the sound of your voice.

Gazing from the moon, we see one earth, without borders, Mother Earth, her embrace encircling one people, humankind.

One eats in holiness and the table becomes an altar. Martin Buber

A poem must be authentic. It could be flowery, it could have the most brilliant metaphor, it could be bursting with onomatopoeia and alliteration, assonance and consonance, hyperbole and paradox, from every end, it could...

I shall be your poet! I do not want to be a poet for others; make your appearance, and I shall be your poet. I shall eat my own poem, and that will be my...