Poetry Collection Quotes

If death should claim me
In my youth
Or when I go insane
These lines must tell you
That I loved you
Every single day ~ Vincent K. Hunanyan

Inside my head / or in a distant / Galaxy / Soft I hear it / Calling me." from the song "In the Blackness" in the poetry collection "Terra Affirmative". ~ Jay Woodman

I want to write a play. I'd like to do an original musical. I should probably put together a poetry collection. ~ Neil Gaiman

What is the finding of love,
but a voice answering a voice? ~ D. Antoinette Foy

I'd rather die fighting over great poets than over gods. ~ Salman Rushdie

Don't waste any more tomorrows
on someone who wastes your todays. ~ Atticus Poetry

Child of shadows, once born of flesh
Un-winged, amidst fear and agony

'Fraid of the lurking and yet to come
Oblivious, to the code of chivalry.

Voids in his desire were unveiled, as
Love taught him; death with dignity.

In desire to be and in wanting to live
His wretched soul began to purge,

As he wept at the beauty of night
He commenced to sing his own dirge,

Then born again of fire; ascended,
Like Phoenix must burn to emerge. ~ Zubair Ahsan

There is
something
mystically
sad
and beautiful
about
how
i will
never
see you
again

but
meet you
again
and again

in poetry. ~ Sanober Khan

I believe the world is beautiful, and poetry, like bread, is for everyone. ~ Roque Dalton

I have created a capsule collection for Genetic inspired by memories of growing up in LA. Denim has always been my go-to, especially during my modelling days. I discovered Genetic Denim about five years ago - they are so comfy, you could almost be wearing your pyjamas. ~ Liberty Ross

I hear there are people who actually enjoy moving. Sounds like a disease to me - they must be unstable. Though it does have it's poetry, I'll allow that. When an old dwelling starts looking desolate, a mixture of regret and anxiety comes over us and we feel like we are leaving a safe harbor for the rolling sea. As for the new place, it looks on us with alien eyes, it has nothing to say to us, it is cold. ~ Jan Neruda

I live there...

where the birds are infinite
everywhere

where they flee
it's a place your eyes can wander
but never see

Where everyone accepts me,
Without any pretense

It's a place your mind can picture
but never really comprehend. ~ Sanober Khan

Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything; it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through anyone that suits you. ~ Jim Morrison

My mama steps out of her dress
and drops it, an inheritance falling to my feet.
She stands alone: bathed, blooming,
burdened with nothing of this world.
Her body is naked and beautiful,
her wings gray and scorched,
her brown eyes piercing the brown of mine.
I watch her departure, her flapping wings:
She doesn't look back, not even once,
not even to whisper my name ~ Brenda Sutton Rose

As the mother of a small boy, she had developed a bad habit of carrying a little of everything in her purse, not to mention all the little treasures that Jeremy had given her - pretty rocks, a wilted violet, a ring he'd made from braided pine needles. The collection was a junky-looking mess. When the stranger picked up an unwrapped peppermint candy with more hair on it than stripes, Chloe wished the floor planks would separate and swallow her. His hard mouth twitched as he dropped the candy back in her purse along with an emergency tampon whose wrapper had nearly disintegrated. ~ Catherine Anderson

What do you know of poetry?" Ambrose said without bothering to turn around. "I know a limping verse when I hear it," I said. "But this isn't even limping. A limp has rhythm. This is more like someone falling down a set of stairs. Uneven stairs. With a midden at the bottom." "It is a sprung rhythm," he said, his voice stiff and offended. "I wouldn't expect you to understand." "Sprung?" I burst out with an incredulous laugh. "I understand that if I saw a horse with a leg this badly 'sprung,' I'd kill it out of mercy, then burn its poor corpse for fear the local dogs might gnaw on it and die. ~ Patrick Rothfuss

Traveling down a road of self-destruction
With no room for any reconstruction ~ Jessica-Lynn Barbour

Not a scar just psychological,
But as material as roaches,
Street corners and billy clubs.
A wound reopened systematically,
Inflicted with economic anarchy
And "No Help Wanted" signs. ~ Cabrini Gulag

That evening, in her apartment, still in Warsaw, Ana takes down a book from her shelf – a rather thick, ordinary paperback. It looks old, because it's worn out and somehow shabby. But it's not ordinary. I can tell by the way she handles it so carefully, like something unique. 'This is the book I told you about,' she says, holding out the Anthology of Feminist Texts, a collection of early American feminist essays, 'the only feminist book translated into the Polish language,' the only such book to turn to when you are sick and tired of reading about man-eater/man-killer feminists from the West, I think, looking at it, imagining how many women have read this one copy. 'Sometimes I feel like I live on Jupiter, among Jupiterians, and then one day, quite by chance, I discover that I belong to another species. And I discover it in this book. Isn't that wonderful. ~ Slavenka Drakulic

So now we're here and we are not dead, and Mom, what's more punk rock than living despite all that which has tried to make you not? ~ Neil Hilborn

She wasn't looking for a knight, she was looking for a sword. ~ Atticus Poetry

Peculiar as I was, and remain, I was trained to be practical. I'm still amazed at the radical temerity of my friends, you included, Julie, who choose poetry as their vocation. I envy your faith. ~ Debra Dean

Because, in fact, women, feminists, do read my poetry, and they read it often with the power of their political interpretation. I don't care; that's what poetry is supposed to do. ~ Diane Wakoski

Three years earlier her father had been buried (irritable and impatient as he always had been) in the Fladstrand Church cemetery that bordered the lovely park, Plantagen, which shared with the cemetery its trees, shared its beech and ash and maple, in the same plot where her mother, wide eyed and confused, had lain down almost willingly two years before, where her brother had lain for thirty-five years, dazed and unwillingly after too short a life.
A dove was looking down from atop the family gravestone. It was made from metal so it could not fly away, but sometimes it went missing all the same and only a spike would remain. Someone had taken that dove, someone out there maybe had an entire collection of doves and angels and other small, Christian bronze sculptures in a cupboard at home and on long evenings would close the curtains and take them out and run his fingers gently over the smooth, cold bodies. ~ Per Petterson

Everybody interprets things differently with their own perception, and I want poetry to pull out of them their own feelings. ~ John Trudell

A golf swing is a collection of corrected mistakes. ~ Carol Mann

I will not feel, I will not
feel, until
I have to ~ Norman MacCaig

A poet's object is not to tell what actually happened but what could or would happen either probably or inevitably ... For this reason poetry is something more scientific and serious than history, because poetry tends to give general truths while history gives particular facts. ~ Aristotle.

The Ideal
This is where I came from.
I passed this way.
This should not be shameful
Or hard to say.
A self is a self.
It is not a screen.
A person should respect
What he has been.
This is my past
Which I shall not discard.
This is the ideal.
This is hard. ~ James Fenton

Poetry, will you show me where your words find peace? ~ Delano Johnson

~Tonight's Sea~

Meet me by the sea,
Under the stars.
Where we can gaze
With our hearts.

Today, I am restless,
Waiting for tonight's meet.
I cannot believe how endless
These hours can be.

I hope the constellations
Are aligned. For tonight we'll see
Where our connection wanders.
I'll hold on to this dream.

My grip isn't fading.
My memory isn't gone.
Tonight we will be wading
In the sea waters of love.

-Rachel Nicole Wagner Original ~ Rachel Nicole Wagner

Poetry is the attempt which man makes to render his existence harmonious. ~ Thomas Carlyle

Pose your questions to people and you will get countless useless answers. ~ Dejan Stojanovic

Writing poetry is the only form of literary labour which gives me entire satisfaction. ~ Peter Porter

Live blindly and upon the hour. The Lord,

Who was the Future, died full long ago.

Knowledge which is the Past is folly. Go,

Poor, child, and be not to thyself abhorred.

Around thine earth sun-winged winds do blow

And planets roll; a meteor draws his sword;

The rainbow breaks his seven-coloured chord

And the long strips of river-silver flow:

Awake! Give thyself to the lovely hours.

Drinking their lips, catch thou the dream in flight

About their fragile hairs' aerial gold.

Thou art divine, thou livest, - as of old

Apollo springing naked to the light,

And all his island shivered into flowers. ~ Trumbull Stickney

Poetry is the hardest thing that there is. It fascinates me, so I want to write more of it. ~ Steve Earle

It is thus the adventure of poetry, not the closure of philosophy, that most truly reflects the human condition. ~ Terry Eagleton

I taste like salt. You taste like toothpaste. There's no poetry in that. It's just life. ~ Trista Mateer

In the place of the bells, where battle is waged,
The reeds all lie broken in Chalco today.
Dust yellows the air, our houses are smoking,
The sobbing is rising - from the lips of your Chalcans! ~ David Bowles

Our goodnight spooning
became goodbye turning away
from one another,
the farther we could,
to the edges of the same bed. ~ Tatjana Ostojic

After dark vapors have oppress'd our plains
For a long dreary season, comes a day
Born of the gentle South, and clears away
From the sick heavens all unseemly stains.
The anxious month, relieved of its pains,
Takes as a long-lost right the feel of May;
The eyelids with the passing coolness play
Like rose leaves with the drip of Summer rains.
The calmest thoughts came round us; as of leaves
Budding - fruit ripening in stillness - Autumn suns
Smiling at eve upon the quiet sheaves -
Sweet Sappho's cheek - a smiling infant's breath -
The gradual sand that through an hour-glass runs -
A woodland rivulet - a Poet's death. ~ John Keats

I've come down from the sky
like some damned ghost, delayed
too long ... To the abandoned fields
the trees returned and grew.
They stand and grow. Time comes
To them, time goes, the trees
Stand; the only place
They go is where they are.
Those wholly patient ones ...
They do no wrong, and they
Are beautiful. What more
Could we have thought to ask? ...
I stand and wait for light
to open the dark night.
I stand and wait for prayer
to come and find me here.
Sabbaths 2000 IX ~ Wendell Berry

Just as a musician loves music and not nightingales, and a poet loves poetry and not sunsets, a painter is not primarily a person who responds to figures and landscapes. He is primarily one who loves pictures. ~ Andre Malraux

The peril of every fine faculty is the delight of playing with it for pride. Talent is commonly developed at the expense of character, and the greater it grows, the more is the mischief. Talent is mistaken for genius, a dogma or system for truth, ambition for greatness, ingenuity for poetry, sensuality for art. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

The real reason for withholding taxes is the unwillingness of workers to share their incomes with the government and the consequent difficulties of collection. To overcome this handicap, the government has simply impressed employers into its service as involuntary and unpaid tax collectors. It is a form of conscription. Disregarding the right of privacy, which is an essential of liberty, the government's agents may, under the law, invade the employer's office, demand his accounts, and punish him for any infraction which they believe he has committed; they can impound his property and inflict a penalty for not having collected taxes for the government. ~ Frank Chodorov

Remember you are this universe and this
universe is you. ~ Joy Harjo

The best gift you can give today is the gift of LOVE! ~ Colishia S. Benjamin

Good poetry is like effective prayer, it feeds the human spirit, it nourishes, it puts us in touch with forces far greater than ourselves ~ Lorna Goodison

The poet discovers that what men value as substances have a higher value as symbols; that Nature is the immense shadow of man. A man's action is only a picture-book of his creed. He does after what he believes. Your condition, your employment, is the fable of you. The world is thoroughly anthropomorphized, as if it had passed through the body and mind of man, and taken his mould and form. Indeed, good poetry is always personification, and heightens every species of force in nature by giving it a human volition. We are advertised that there is nothing to which man is not related; that everything is convertible into every other. The staff in his hand is the radius vector of the sun. The chemistry of this is the chemistry of that. Whatever one act we do, whatever one thing we learn, we are doing and learning all things, - marching in the direction of universal power. Every healthy mind is a true Alexander or Sesostris, building a universal monarchy. ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

Frances Bellamy thought the changes spoiled the poetry of it. He was a pretty stern guy. Everybody has some sense of humor, but I don't think he had much. ~ John Bellamy Foster

Poetry enriches the human soul, as it nurtures love, conscience, goodness, honesty, justice, character, compassion, freedom and faith in people. ~ Walter William Safar