Medival Poetry Quotes

Virtuous as a lady should need to be, And the kindness that spilled in her sovereign acts, I salute to her inward greatness, Blessed be her mother to bring forth such a princess… ~ Piyush Rohankar

they say
they only want
flowers
to grow from
my mouth,

so i will
look them
dead
in the
eye

as i
shove
soft petals
past
my lips,

chew
with
my jaw
completely
unhinged,

& spit
them
down
at
their feet

-i will never be your expectations of me ~ Amanda Lovelace

An editorial in the Los Angeles Times [1923] wistfully asked, 'Will eating chestnuts by crackling log fires become one of the lost arts preserved by a devoted people only in poetry and romance? ~ Susan Freinkel

Poetry and prayer put ideas in people's heads that got them killed, distracting them from the ruthless mechanism of the world. ~ Colson Whitehead

Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye
corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb,
leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear ~ Allen Ginsberg

As she bends for a Kleenex in the dark, I am thinking of other girls: the girl I loved who fell in love with a lion
she lost her head over it
we just necked a lot; of the girl who fell in love with the tightrope, got addicted to getting high wired and nothing else was enough; all the beautiful, damaged women who have come through my life and I wonder what would have happened if I'd met them sooner, what they were like before they were so badly wounded. All this time I thought I'd been kissing, but maybe I'm always doing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, kissing dead girls in hopes that the heart will start again. Where there's breath, I've heard, there's hope. ~ Daphne Gottlieb

You are hurrying to the sweet place,
To the nonsense chasing your spirit
And in the nonsense you look for answers. ~ Dejan Stojanovic

But while admiring my neighbour, I don't think I shall ever try to follow in her steps, my talents not being of the energetic and organising variety, but rather that of that order which makes their owner almost lamentably prone to take up a volume of poetry and wander out to where the kingcups grow, and, sitting on a willow trunk beside a little stream, forget the very existence of everything but green pastures and still waters, and the glad blowing of the wind across the joyous fields. ~ Elizabeth Von Arnim

For they can picture love affairs of chemicals and stars... ~ Jim Morrrison

I used to be fine in my loneliness
but something
or someone
snapped me out of it
and showed me company. What it's like to feel at home,
and so the going on by myself part wasn't as easy anymore.
Seasons happened and things got colder and harder and suddenly I found myself smoking circles in the air
by myself in the snow
and I was not okay. ~ Charlotte Eriksson

Ode to the Chamber
... linger here amidst the chamber
in which we embrace our love
talk to me of sonnets
and call me turtledove ... ~ Muse

All kids draw and write poetry and everything, and some of us last until we're about eighteen, but most drop off at about twelve when some guy comes up and says, 'You're no good.' That's all we get told all our lives. 'You haven't got the ability. You're a cobbler.' It happened to all of us, but if somebody had told me all my life, 'Yeah, you're a great artist,' I would have been a more secure person. ~ John Lennon

Why cry over dried flowers?
They're meant to be straw.
Why cry over miniature roses?
They're meant to be small. ~ Marilyn Chin

I want you. I want you inside and out. The parts you cover with laughter. The depth you shrug off with indifference. I want you. I want you to take me to the place you've hidden your heart. I want to walk by your side on this journey. You're worth it. We're worth it. Because... I want you. ~ Alfa Holden

Healing comes in waves
and maybe today
the wave hits the rocks
and that's ok,
that's ok, darling
you are still healing
you are still healing. ~ Ijeoma Umebinyuo

Even though trauma has a way of
becoming the wallpaper of my head,

watch me drag the art
out of my suffering.

Watch me plant seeds down my spine
and bloom into a garden of poetry

from every horrible thing that has ever
happened to me, all the nights my voice
turned to cement and I couldn't say anything-

Watch me build an empire from the ashes
of everything that tried to destroy me. ~ Blythe Baird

you wouldn't let me
love both of us
at the same time ~ Rudy Francisco

As if bad poetry could ever save anyone. ~ Sally Warner

Under the greenwood tree, who something something me", tum-te-tum the weather,' Tom remarked. 'Shocking memory for poetry. ~ Jude Morgan

My heart crys out ,
Knowing I cant see you,
Seeing your smile,
Feeling your touch ,
Eating your food,
Missing you oh so much,
its hurt to see I lost you in my present ,
a day as a child,
but I was young in i didnt know how.
I missed you sweet granny ~ Shaneika Marie

If it were not for poetry, few men would ever fall in love. ~ Francois De La Rochefoucauld

Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. ~ Edna St. Vincent Millay

When something is too beautiful or too terrible or even too funny for words, then it is time for poetry. ~ Eve Merriam

Poetry should be like 'Uh-huh. Baby has to have it. ~ Chelsey Minnis

Walter looked about him lingeringly and lovingly. This spot had always been so dear to him. What fun they all had had here lang syne. Phantoms of memory seemed to pace the dappled paths and peep merrily through the swinging boughs–Jem and Jerry, bare-legged, sunburned schoolboys, fishing in the brook and frying trout over the old stone fireplace; Nan and Di and Faith, in their dimpled, fresh-eyed childish beauty; Una the sweet and shy, Carl, poring over ants and bugs, little slangy, sharp-tongued, good-hearted Mary Vance–the old Walter that had been himself lying on the grass reading poetry or wandering through palaces of fancy. They were all there around him–he could see them almost as plainly as he saw Rilla–as plainly as he had once seen the Pied Piper piping down the valley in a vanished twilight. And they said to him, those gay little ghosts of other days, "We were the children of yesterday, Walter–fight a good fight for the children of today and tomorrow. ~ L.M. Montgomery

Stand by a moment while I take my place, in this universe of understated grace, and in the mirror of my eyes, behold your face. ~ Alida Van Braeden

...Her eyes, he says, are stars at dusk,
Her mouth as sweet as red-rose-musk;
And when she dances his young heart swells
With flutes and viols and silver bells;
His brain is dizzy, his senses swim,
When she slants her ragtime eyes at him...

Moonlight shadows, he bids her see,
Move no more silently than she.
It was this way, he says, she came,
Into his cold heart, bearing flame.
And now that his heart is all on fire
Will she refuse his heart's desire?―... ~ Conrad Aiken

All I've been working on is napping, and maybe being kinder to others, to myself. ~ Ada Limon

Be the man who has the spirit of a ruthless tiger, ravaging every dusty corner of my soul.
Be the man for whom I will tame myself voluntarily..
Be the man who can make me forget my birth date in moments of utter dellusion.
Be the man whose arms are my harbor, whose lips are my shore, and whose name is my only salvation.
Be the man who erases my past and draws my future with trails of roses and kisses.
Be the man who makes me sigh behind the windows of Poetry, longing to be written.
Be the man whose cigarette's ashes are confounded with mine.
Be the man whose voice moves mountains inside me.
Be the man whose eyes devour the innocence within me with every piercing glance.
Be the man for whom I will transform exceptions into rules.
Be the man who will dare to tear this poem from my hands.
The man who will rewrite with the uncertainty of the futur every single one of my verses. ~ Malak El Halabi

Poetry and art are the breath of life to her. ~ Edith Wharton

A book on steam engine design lay next to one of poems by the poet laureate Tennyson. Lenore traced the poetry book's cover design. A finely made book with its gold-tooled leather and gilt-edged vellum pages. A beautiful book. An expensive one given to her by a man who'd likely spent three months' hard-earned wages to obtain it.

Lenore made a mournful sound in her throat. Nathaniel. She closed her eyes, remembering his ready smile and eyes as blue as bachelor's button. She thought of him every day, but lately, in the weeks following her father's death, he was constantly on her mind. ~ Grace Draven

On Sunday, a lambent crevice opened up in the street outside my house,
By Tuesday birds were flying into it.
"I probably won't miss you," my mother said,
"I'm only interested in the end of the world," I replied.

Many find it difficult to breath
without the atmosphere
but we knew how. We just stopped breathing.

We're at the Moonlite All-Nite Dinner and they're serving up fruit from the plants growing out of the waitress.
The CLOSED sign whispers, "Please, don't touch me."
We watch bodies fall to the ground outside like deep-sea creatures surfacing.

You turn to me and ask, "Do you ever think about suicide?"
I look away from you and close my eyes,
eat the raspberries to confuse the blood in my mouth.

Now you're in the only car in the parking lot at midnight and you're watching me throw stones at the moon,
which hangs low in the sky so he can look into your house.
Your sister tried to touch him from her bedroom window once, and he flinched; now he and the oceans watch her with a quiet concern.
The lilac sky is trying to rest her head on his shoulder, all trees gradually growing through her.

A hummingbird whispers to you, "Be careful, under her dress is her skin," and then builds his nest in the middle of the highway,
I look back at you, and you close your eyes. ~ Katherine Ciel

The great error consists in supposing that poetry is an unnatural form of language. We should all like to speak poetry at the moment when we truly live, and if we do not speak it, it is because we have an impediment in our speech. It is not song that is the narrow or artificial thing, it is conversation that is a broken and stammering attempt at song. When we see men in a spiritual extravaganza, like Cyrano de Bergerac, speaking in rhyme, it is not our language disguised or distorted, but our language rounded and made whole. ~ G.K. Chesterton

Poetry is unfallen speech. Paradise knew no other, for no other would suffice to answer the need of those ecstatic days of innocence. ~ Abraham Coles

Poetry is a dangerous profession between conflict and resolution, between feeling and thought, between becoming and being, between the ultra-personal and the universal - and these balances are shifting all the time. ~ May Sarton

I hope, you find the strength to let go of what hurts you. I hope, you realize that pain is simple, what breaks you, won't heal you. I hope you'll realize, that love is simple because what really loves you, won't leave you. ~ Ventum

Organized religion is sane and not silly when read as myth and poetry rather than science and law. Religion speaks nonsense when taken literally, but reveals some of the deepest truths of humankind when understood mythically, poetically, and even allegorically-that is when it is read with an active and creative imagination. ~ Rami M. Shapiro

There's plenty that poetry cannot do, but the miracle, of course, is how much it can do, how much it does do. ~ Mary Szybist

There's plenty of room for strangeness, mystery, originality, wildness, etc. in poems that also invite the reader into the human and alive center about which the poem circles. ~ Thomas Lux

Phaedra's body pulled at the light, testing the softer side of midnight. Hyacinth usually slipped out of bed in the middle of the night, careful to fit her rustle inside Phaedra's dreams. ~ Naomi Jackson

More modern poetry is written than read. ~ P. J. O'Rourke

Poetry could be a brilliant antidote to some of our current cultural problems...our collective attention deficit. ~ Ian Gregson

I'll be your blanket, baby. Wrap yourself up in me. Let me give you shelter, in the winter of this world. ~ John Mark Green

In prose too much seems superfluous to me, in poetry (genuine) everything is necessary. Given my attraction to asceticism of the prosaic word, I could end up with a skeleton.

In poetry- there's a certain innate measure of flesh: less is impossible. ~ Marina Tsvetaeva

Sadness taught me to let someone hurt me and yet still talk beautifully about them. ~ Harlrey Biala

But all art is sensual and poetry particularly so. It is directly, that is, of the senses, and since the senses do not exist without an object for their employment all art is necessarily objective. It doesn't declaim or explain, it presents. ~ William Carlos Williams

Take you example by this thing,/ And yield to each his right,/ Lest God with such like miserye/ Your wicked minds requite ~ Various