Poems Cute Quotes

Ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too
never returned to the world they knew
and nobody knows what happened to
dear ickle me, pickle me, tickle me too ~ Shel Silverstein

My heart always knew, you're the dew, my dry soul would never adieu.. but I still don't know why I let you go and waited all my life just for you. ~ Syed Arshad

All the books of the world full of thoughts and poems are nothing in comparison to a minute of sobbing, when feeling surges in waves, the soul feels itself profoundly and finds itself. Tears are the melting ice of snow. All angels are close to the crying person. ~ Hermann Hesse

My poems are dead because I'm dead. You're dead. We're all dead. Dead people in a dead world. ~ George Orwell

The more boys I meet the more I love my dog. ~ Carrie Underwood

MECH to Baal: Would you like some wine, Mr Baal? All take seats, Baal in the place of honour. Do you like crab? That's a dead eel. PILLER to Mech: I'm very glad that the immortal poems of Mr Baal, which I had the honour of reading to you, have earned your approval. To Baal: You must publish your poetry. Mr Mech pays like a real patron of the arts. You'll be able to leave your attic. MECH: I buy cinnamon wood. Whole forests of cinnamon float down the rivers of Brazil for my benefit. But I'll also publish your poetry. EMILIE: You live in an attic? BAAL eating and drinking: 64 Klauckestrasse. MECH: I'm really too fat for poetry. But you've got the same-shaped head as a man in the Malayan Archipelago, who used to have himself driven to work with a whip. If he wasn't grinding ~ Bertolt Brecht

I don't think so. Beth didn't get any presents. ~ Breehn Burns

The words that bore the deathless verse of Homer from bard to a group of fascinated hearers, and with whose fading sounds the poems passed beyond recall, are fixed on the printed page in a hundred tongues. They carry to a million eyes what once could reach but a hundred ears. ~ Nicholas Murray Butler

Peter Conners stunning prose poems are packed with keen sensitivity, dreaminess, and wit. I love his time travels, the vibrant layering of image and detail. Try taking walks as you are reading this book- the dazzle of landscapes, inner and outer, feel replenished and rich. This is language and vision I want to come home to again and again. ~ Naomi Shihab Nye

If you're seen as beautiful or sexy then your only options in terms of character descriptions are beautiful, sexy, cute - and that's it. And that affords you a certain amount of opportunity but that opportunity ultimately leads to a spark, never a flame. ~ Amber Heard

….unable to find a title for her last published novel, she wrote six lines which included her eventual title The Birds Fall Down. These lines were attributed to Conway Power (the name she generally appended to her poetry, even in her private notebooks), from a non-existent poem called 'Guide to a Disturbed Planet.' When the novel was published she had fun deflecting the enquiries of readers who wanted to know how to find the works of Conway Power. One was told a long story: Conway Power was a landowner in a remote area who had written thousands of poems and destroyed most of them. He had left some of them with her, given his property to a nephew, and gone abroad. 'If I can trace the book (if there is a book) I'll let you know. ~ Victoria Glendinning

He kept on having to remind himself that probably one day soon she'd trot her little brat ass back to Harrison and into the arms of her sexless fiancé, no matter what hungry little glances she was sending his way, he was not picking up that signal.

Not for a woman from his old life.

No matter how cute she looked or how much the center of his palms itched to slide up those bare legs.

Texas was no saint, far from it, but putting his head back in that familiar noose … he would have to be raving fucking mad. ~ V. Theia

Before I was ever a poet, my father was writing poems about me, so it was a turning of the tables when I became a poet and started answering, speaking back to his poems in ways that I had not before. ~ Natasha Trethewey

So, without saying anything to the others, it made its way to the farthest corner of the meadow and began to toast an imaginary muffin. That was always the best way to unwind when things got to be too much for it. ~ Thomas M. Disch

Just as the leaves know they belong to the trees, so do I to you. ~ Gin Love Thompson

The breath had become as much a trick as breathing. Things were not dual merely, but multiple. I had become a cage of mirrors reflecting vacuity. But vacuity once stoutly posited I was at home and what is called creation was merely a job of filling up holes. The trolley conveniently carried me about from place to place and in each little side pocket of the great vacuum I dropped a ton of poems to wipe out the idea of annihilation. I had ever before me boundless vistas. I began to live in the vista, like a microscopic speck on the lens of a giant telescope. There was no night in which to rest. It was perpetual starlight on the arid surface of dead planets. Now and then a lake black as marble in which I saw myself walking amidst brilliant orbs of lights. So low hung the stars and so dazzling was the light they shed, that it seemed as if the universe were only about to be born. What rendered the impression stronger was that I was alone; not only were there no animals, no trees, no other beings, but there was not even a blade of grass, not even a dead root. In that violet incandescent light witihout even the suggestion of a shadow motion itself seemed to be absent. It was like a blaze of pure consciousness, thought become God. And God, for the first time in my knowledge, was dean-shaven. I was also clean-shaven, flawless, deadly accurate. I saw my image in the marble black lakes and it was diapered with stars. Stars, stars... like a clout between the eyes and all remembrance fast ~ Henry Miller

Dill said striking a match under a turtle was hateful.
"Ain't hateful, just persuades him- 's not like you'd chunk him in the fire," Jem growled.
"How do you know a match don't hurt him?"
"Turtles can't feel , stupid," said Jem.
"Were you ever a turtle, huh? ~ Harper Lee

Self-Obsession & Self-Presentation on Social-Media"


Some people always post their cars/bikes photos because they love their cars/bikes so much.
Some people always post their dogs/cats/birds/fish/pets photos because they love their pets so
much. Some people always post their children's/families photos because they love their
children/families so much.
Some people always post their daily happy/sad moments because they love sharing their daily lives
so much.

Some people always post their poems/songs/novels/writings because they love being
poets/lyricists/novelists/writers so much.

Some people always copy paste other people's writings/quotes without mentioning the actual writers
name because they love seeking attention/fame so much. [Unacceptable & Illegal]

Some people always post their plants/garden's photos because they love planting/gardening so much.
Some people always post their art/paintings because they love their creativity so much.
Some people always post their home-made food because they love cooking/thoughtful-presentation so
much. Some people always post their makeup/hairstyles selfies because they love wearing
makeup/doing hair so much. Some people always post their party related photos because they love
those parties so much.
Some people always post their travel related photos because they love traveling so much. Some
people alway ~ Zakia FR

If more people recognized the difference between friendship and mere attraction, or how love must partake of both to prosper, I expect there'd be more happy people."
"And a lot fewer poems and plays," I said, laughing as I splashed about in the scented water. ~ Sherwood Smith

Lies belong in poems ~ Kenneth Koch

I would like a simple life / yet all night I am laying / poems away in a long box. ~ Anne Sexton

I guess that isn't the right word, she said. She was used to apologizing for her use of language. She had been encouraged to do a lot of that in school. Most white people in Midland City were insecure when they spoke, so they kept their sentences short and their words simple, in order to keep embarrassing mistakes to a minimum. Dwayne certainly did that. Patty certainly did that.
This was because their English teachers would wince and cover their ears and give them flunking grades and so on whenever they failed to speak like English aristocrats before the First World War. Also: they were told that they were unworthy to speak or write their language if they couldn't love or understand incomprehensible novels and poems and plays about people long ago and far away, such as Ivanhoe. ~ Kurt Vonnegut

I don't know, Y'know, I always wanted to be one of those cheerleader girls and I never was that, and I was never sort of cute and perky, and I always thought it was fun to be cute and perky, and those, I don't know what those girls are doing now. ~ Katey Sagal

Ed Friedman: [talking about Patti Smith] One time she told me, "Allen Ginsberg thought I was a cute boy and he tried to pick me up, so I said, "LOOK AT THE TITS, ALLEN! NOTICE THE TITS! ~ Legs McNeil

The clothes are so cute. On little kids .. it's so cute with accessories and little details. ~ Ashley Olsen

I can't believe I'm saying this, but you're perfect for each other! You irritate people, and he smooths things out. You have good mojo, and he only thinks he does. You're broke, and he's rich. You've got those weird feet of yours, and he's got them cute ears. ~ Kim Harrison

Poems don't have to rhyme. Poems are about beauty and emotion; in other words poems are about feelings. ~ Nikki Giovanni

center of her face. "Cute nose." He gently brushed her ~ Sara King

The Ghost

Like angels fierce and tawny-eyed,
Back to your chamber I will glide,
And noiselessly into your sight
Steal with the shadows of the night.
And I will bring you, brown delight,
Kisses as cold as lunar night
And the caresses of a snake
Revolving in a grave. At break
Of morning in its livid hue,
You'd find I had bequeathed to you
An empty place as cold as stone.
Others by tenderness and ruth
Would reign over your life and youth,
But I would rule by fear alone. ~ Roy Campbell, Poems Of Baudelaire (New York: Pantheon Books, 1952)

The Correspondence-School Instructor Says Goodbye to His Poetry Students

Goodbye, lady in Bangor, who sent me
snapshots of yourself, after definitely hinting
you were beautiful; goodbye,
Miami Beach urologist, who enclosed plain
brown envelopes for the return of your very
"Clinical Sonnets"; goodbye, manufacturer
of brassieres on the Coast, whose eclogues
give the fullest treatment in literature yet
to the sagging breast motif; goodbye, you in San Quentin,
who wrote, "Being German my hero is Hitler,"
instead of "Sincerely yours," at the end of long,
neat-scripted letters extolling the Pre-Raphaelites:

I swear to you, it was just my way
of cheering myself up, as I licked
the stamped, self-addressed envelopes,
the game I had of trying to guess
which one of you, this time,
had poisoned his glue. I did care.
I did read each poem entire.
I did say everything I thought
in the mildest words I knew. And now,
in this poem, or chopped prose, no better,
I realize, than those troubled lines
I kept sending back to you,
I have to say I am relieved it is over:
at the end I could feel only pity
for that urge toward more life
your poems kept smothering in words, the smell
of which, days later, tingled in your nostrils
as new, God-given impulses
to write.

Goodbye,
you who are, for me, the postmar ~ Galway Kinnell

No," Jason said. "No ban." The idea that Vale might write poems about him was deliriously wonderful. His heart squeezed and jolted. He wanted to be deserving of Vale's attention and dedicated words. "He'll write according to his inspiration." Father ~ Leta Blake

My name is Catbug. What's yours? ~ Breehn Burns

The term 'role model' is so odious, but the truth is it's a very strong writer indeed who gets by without a model kept somewhere in mind. I think of Keats. Keats slogging away, devouring books, plagiarizing, impersonating, adapting, struggling, growing, writing many poems that made him blush and then a few that made him proud, learning everything he could from whomever he could find, dead or alive, who might have something useful to teach him. ~ Zadie Smith

No, life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath ... We get one story, you and I, and one story alone. God has established the elements, the setting and the climax and resolution. It would be a crime not to venture out, wouldn't it? -Donald Miller,Through Painted Deserts ~ Donald Miller

... girls were like poems: weird, incomprehensible and boring, but those "in the know" assured me that they were beautiful. ~ Jake Vander Ark

I just enjoy watching you eat. It's cute." "Cute? What do you mean 'cute'?" "You make these little moans when you take a bite you love. You appreciate your meals. It's not often a woman can let herself enjoy her food. ~ Caterina Passarelli

As hard as I try to sound tough and dark, I still sound cute. ~ Jenny Lewis

The best public poems aren't necessarily those that go at the subject like a bull at a gate. ~ Andrew Motion

Because I live in south Florida I store cans of black beans and gallons
of water in my closet in preparation for hurricane season.
I throw a hurricane party in January. You're my only guest.
We play Marco Polo in bed. The sheets are wet like the roof caved in.
There's a million of me in you. You try to count me as I taste the sweat
on the back of your neck. I call you Sexy Sexy, and we do everything twice.
After, still sweating, we drink Crystal Light out of plastic water bottles.
We discuss the pros and cons of vasectomies. It's not invasive you say.
I wrap the bedsheet around my waist. Minor surgery you say.
You slur the word surgery, like it's a garnish on a dish you just prepared.
I eat your hair until you agree to no longer talk about vasectomies.
We agree to have children someday, and that they will be beautiful even if they're not.
As I watch your eyes grow heavy like soggy clothes, I tell you When I grow up
I'm going to be a famous writer. When I'm famous I'll sign autographs
on Etch-A-Sketches. I'll write poems about writing other poems,
so other poets will get me. You open your eyes long enough to tell me
that when you grow up, you're going to be a steamboat operator.
Your pores can never be too clean you say.
I say I like your pores just fine. I say Your pores are tops.
I kiss you with my whole mouth, and you fall asleep next to my molars.
In the ~ Gregory Sherl

Every mother should be a true artist, who knows how to weave into her child's life images of grace and beauty, the true poet capable of writing on the soul of childhood the harmony of love and truth, and teaching it how to produce the grandest of all poems - the poetry of a true and noble life. ~ Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

There's nothing cool about turning against God. There's nothing fun or cute or right about compromising who God wanted you to be. ~ Craig Groeschel

Consider little children. There are not many of them not cute and lovable and precious, sweet as whipped honey and butter. So where do all the wicked people come from? ~ Glen Cook

If God had wanted us to be concerned for the plight of the toads, he would have made them cute and furry. ~ Dave Barry

You got no idea, do you? You got no idea how beautiful you are. ~ Moira Young

I understand that she's like the ocean; no matter how much people try, they'd never be able to fathom every part, every depth, and every crevice, that lies within. ~ Simmy Kors