Poetry Lovers Quotes

Love's Question "
And is this all true,
My ever-loving friend?
That the lightning-flash of the light in my eyes
Makes the clouds in your heart explode and blaze,
Is this true?
That my sweet lips are red as a blushing new bride,
My ever-loving friend,
Is this true?

That a tree of paradise flowers withing me,
That my foosteps ring like vinas beneath me,
Is this true?
That the night sheds drops of dew at the sight of me,
That the dawn surrounds me with light from delight in me,
Is this true?
That the touch of my hot cheek intoxicates the breeze,
My ever-loving friend,
Is this true?

That daylight hides in the dark of my hair,
That my arms hold life and death in their power,
Is this true?
That the earth can be wrapped in the end of my sari,
That my voice makes the world fall silent to hear me,
Is this true?
That the univrse is nothing but me and what loves me,
My ever-loving friend,
Is this true?

That for me alone your love has been waiting
Through worlds and ages awake and wandering,
Is this true?
That my voice, eyes, lips have brought you relief,
In a trice, from the cycle of life after life,
Is this true?
That you read on my soft forehead inginite Truth,
My ever-loving friend,
Is this true? ~ Rabindranath Tagore

I didn't know love could disperse
without making a single seed grow,
that longing after you in solitude
would become dearer to me
than being in your arms. ~ Tatjana Ostojic

We are just a few atoms
In the vast universe, stardust,
Yet who can measure the sum
Of two lovers and what's between us ~ Eric Overby

a single poem
the thing that can keep me
light on my feet,
when my soul is
heavy with sorrow. ~ Sanober Khan

Writhe and sway to music's pain searing with asides, caress death with a lover's touch for it shall be your bride. ~ Lou Reed

The man who invented Eskimo Pie made a million dollars, so one is told, but E.E. Cummings, whose verse has been appearing off andon for three years now, and whose experiments should not be more appalling to those interested in poetry than the experiment of surrounding ice-cream with a layer of chocolate was to those interested in soda fountains, has hardly made a dent in the doughy minds of our so-called poetry lovers. ~ John Dos Passos

I see the beauty in you, and the darkness. Both are brilliant. ~ Christina Strigas

We hold on to poetry because it lights a fire in our soul and keeps our bodies warm. ~ Sanober Khan

The lilac moon came high an altitude from mine to clasp its beauty,yet next to my bosom hide, lies she,like ten thousand silver moons illumine;and her soul's music showered words as she spoke wide. ~ Nithin Purple

I love you, I want to tell yu that, I want to say it for the billion times I couldn't say it. - Fletcher Green ~ Kimball Lee

Conceive a canvas for a lyrical or fairytale buffoonery, for a pantomime, and translate it into a serious novel. Drown everything in an abnormal and dreamy atmosphere, - in the atmosphere of the great days. - It must be something soothing, - even serene in its passion. - Regions of pure Poetry. ~ Charles Baudelaire

We are most ourselves, the most human, when we unabashedly immerse ourselves in the world with love and hope, gratitude and kindness. ~ John Sean Doyle

English kings married their cousins and so their kids were as sharp as clubs. ~ Peter Prasad

1.I WON'T SHAM

Why pretend all is well, yet in hurt
When inside I'm dying for your affection?
Why should l flout you?
When my heart yearns for communion?

'l don't care' cries the broken hearted
When inside the heart cries for love
When the very reason they are crying
Is them they are pretending to slur

'l never loved you' cries the divorced
When their heart bleeds for love, just one act of love
The one that brought them together at first
The very reason they even got married

'l hate you' cries the frustrated
When fulfillment is all they long for
The reality of which is still a fallacy to them
If only they could hold on just a little longer

'That's a dry joke' cries the scowling
When laughter is what they long for
In as much as they pretend to frown
Merriment is still so true in their hearts

But, l hate to say goodbye, when all l want is to be with you
I hate to walk away, when l could have gone with you
You'd make me sad by waving goodbye
When all that's true is for you and me to be together

I hate to shout at you, when l can just speak tenderly
l hate to hang you down on the phone,
When l could have said a little more to make you blissful
I hate to say goodnight when l'm not heavy-eyed myself

All that's real to me is l abhor to be a dummy
But hold on my love, l WON'T SHAM.... ~ TinMasun

I hold you in my mouth, in the words that contain you, in the unsaid and the haunts, in all the forms your name. ~ Gwen Calvo

Her total intellectual association was the Bible, except the talk of Samuel and her children, and to them she did not listen. In that one book she had her history and her poetry, her knowledge of peoples and things, her ethics, her morals, and her salvation. She never studied the Bible or inspected it; she just read it. The many places where it seems to refute itself did not confuse her in the least. And finally she came to a point where she knew it so well that she went right on reading it without listening. ~ John Steinbeck

On the path of Love we are neither masters nor the owners of our lives. We are only a brush in the hand of the Master Painter. ~ Rumi

Emmett Till's name still catches in my throat,
like syllables waylaid in a stutterer's mouth.
A fourteen-year-old stutterer, in the South
to visit relatives and to be taught
the family's ways. His mother had finally bought
that White Sox cap; she'd made him swear an oath
to be careful around white folks. She'd told him the truth
of many a Mississippi anecdote:
Some white folks have blind souls. In his suitcase
she'd packed dungarees, T-shirts, underwear,
and comic books. She'd given him a note
for the conductor, waved to his chubby face,
wondered if he'd remember to brush his hair.
Her only child. A body left to bloat. ~ Marilyn Nelson

I hate that I am crowded with no ghost. ~ Farrah Field

In the beginning Dave and Marlene's relationship had been fantastic. The sex was amazing. There were other good things too of course, but Dave couldn't always remember exactly what they were. But the sex had been off the scale. ~ Jackson Radcliffe

Oh, night that guided me, Oh, night more lovely than the dawn,Oh, night that joined Beloved with lover, Lover transformed in the Beloved! ~ John Of The Cross

Something significant, magical, and
inspiring happens with each word you read in the pages of a book. You explore new lands, meet new people, feel new emotions, and are no longer the same person you were one word prior to reading it. ~ Martha Sweeney

I've got mixed feelings about poetry cause done well poetry is fantastic. But not many people are capable of doing it well. I think you should have some kind of license to perform poetry. A poetic license perhaps. ~ Craig Ferguson

What else is a poem about?
The rhythm and the images buried in the language. All the ways you can build an emotion with words, but you can't just write 'I feel sad.' I mean, you can, but it's not poetry ... I think it has to be experienced instead of studied. You step into it. ~ Garret Freymann-Weyr

They say she is too much to handle, but when the moon pulls the tide and the wolves howl her name, blessed are the ones who have been taken by her wild. ~ Nicole Lyons

Father, R.I.P., Sums Me Up at Twenty-Three
She has no head for politics,
craves good jewelry, trusts too readily,
marries too early. Then
one by one she sends away her friends
and stands apart, smug sapphire,
her answer to everything a slender
zero, a silent shrug
and every day
still hears me say she'll never be pretty.
Instead she reads novels, instead her belt
matches her shoes. She is master
of the condolence letter, and knows
how to please a man with her mouth:
Good. Nose too large, eyes too closely set,
hair not glorious blonde, not her mother's red,
nor the glossy black her younger sister has,
the little raven I loved best. ~ Deborah Garrison

Registration Day' by Gavin Gunhold (1899 - )
Toronto Review of Poetry, 1947

On registration day at taxidermy school
I distinctly saw the eyes of the stuffed moose
Move. ~ Gordon Korman

My mind is an instrument of peace
I am the peace
My heart sing the song of peace
My mind dances with peace
I laugh with peace
My soul is longing for peace
My spirit is the source of peace. ~ Debasish Mridha

Serious affairs and history are carefully laid snares for the uninformed. ~ Dejan Stojanovic

I hadn't gone to Andover, or Horace Mann or Eton. My high school had been the average kind, and I'd been the best student there. Such was not the case at Eli. Here, I was surrounded by geniuses. I'd figured out early in my college career that there were people like Jenny and Brandon and Lydia and Josh - truly brilliant, truly luminous, whose names would appear in history books that my children and grandchildren would read, and there were people like George and Odile - who through beauty and charm and personality would make the cult of celebrity their own. And then there were people like me. People who, through the arbitrary wisdom of the admissions office, might share space with the big shots for four years, might be their friends, their confidantes, their associates, their lovers - but would live a life well below the global radar. I knew it, and over the years, I'd come to accept it.
And I understood that it didn't make them any better than me. ~ Diana Peterfreund

Felicity was more romantic. She's waiting for her lover. He's a sailor and she's watching for his ship to come in. Nobody's dared tell her it's been wrecked and her lover is at the bottom of the sea. She'll go on waiting and waiting until her red hair turns as white as his bones- Good. ~ Vivien Alcock

Poetry may appear to be just words, but it is an extension of our lives. It is the music of life and for us to f ind true happiness, we have to immerse ourselves in its beauty. ~ Abdul Milazi

everybody loves me because i'm good at making people feel good. i'm good at making people feel good because i have had a lot of practice on myself ~ Sabrina Benaim

The one who pulls the puppet strings knows fairytales can heal. ~ Sally Odgers

it's
spring
and
the
goat-footed

balloonMan whistles
far
and
wee ~ E. E. Cummings

For what is the gift of the poet and the artist except to see the sights which others cannot see and to hear the sounds that others cannot hear? ~ Ouida

There's something helpless about truly being in love, the kind of love they write songs about, that inspires poetry and launches ships and wreaks havoc. It leaves you slightly off balance, controlling when you mean to cherish, smothering when you mean to hold close. ~ Kennedy Ryan

I paint the darkness and the silence,
You see them as stars and poetry. ~ Jenim Dibie

I really believe, or want to believe, really I am nuts, otherwise I'll never be sane. ~ Allen Ginsberg

I WANT TO BE WITH SOMEONE WHO DREAMS OF DOING EVERYTHING IN LIFE
AND NOTHING ON RAINY SUNDAY AFTERNOONS. ~ Atticus Poetry

Mountain Center"
Maureen McLane


The cords are strong
a loose weave strung
between white pines.

Now I will offer
a transcript of today's news
and you'll know it

as conceptual poetry
as this hammock
is a plagiarism

of all other hammocks
in all poems & the world.
My dream of originality

a copy
of an idea
no one had.

Like everyone
"I have wasted my life."

Magpie day
mockingbird night
cuckoo mind ~ Maureen McLane

Poetry is language playing with itself. ~ Harryette Mullen

I believe in solitude broken like bread by poetry. ~ Anne Hebert

Somehow my soul remembers it all, hers doesn't. ~ Hope Irving

Songs of myself
These are really the thoughts of all men in all ages and lands, they
are not original with me,
If they are not yours as much as mine they are nothing, or next to nothing,
If they are not the riddle and the untying of the riddle they are nothing,
If they are not just as close as they are distant they are nothing.
This is the grass that grows wherever the land is and the water is,
This the common air that bathes the globe. ~ Walt Whitman

french kisses
french fries
him
tonight ~ C.J. Carlyon

Picnic, Lightning

It is possible to be struck by a meteor
or a single-engine plane
while reading in a chair at home.
Safes drop from rooftops
and flatten the odd pedestrian
mostly within the panels of the comics,
but still, we know it is possible,
as well as the flash of summer lightning,
the thermos toppling over,
spilling out on the grass.

And we know the message
can be delivered from within.
The heart, no valentine,
decides to quit after lunch,
the power shut off like a switch,
or a tiny dark ship is unmoored
into the flow of the body's rivers,
the brain a monastery,
defenseless on the shore.

This is what I think about
when I shovel compost
into a wheelbarrow,
and when I fill the long flower boxes,
then press into rows

the limp roots of red impatiens -
the instant hand of Death
always ready to burst forth
from the sleeve of his voluminous cloak.

Then the soil is full of marvels,
bits of leaf like flakes off a fresco,
red-brown pine needles, a beetle quick
to burrow back under the loam.
Then the wheelbarrow is a wilder blue,
the clouds a brighter white,

and all I hear is the rasp of the steel edge
against a round stone,
the small plants singing
with lifted faces, and the click
of the sundial
as one hour sweeps into the next. ~ Billy Collins

But I finally concluded that it is an inalienable right of lovers everywhere to become temporarily worthless to the world, it may even be their duty. ~ David James Duncan

Titian, Tintoretto, and Paul Veronese absolutely enchanted me, for they took away all sense of subject ... It was the poetry of color which I felt, procreative in its nature, giving birth to a thousand things which the eye cannot see, and distinct from their cause. ~ Washington Allston

Every day I try to fight my own
brokenness. But once you are forgotten,
it's not so bad: a heart broken
joins another chorus. ~ Sally Wen Mao

The poetry was all in the anticipation - there is none in the reality. ~ Mark Twain

When your lover is a liar, you and he have a lot in common, you're both lying to you! ~ Susan Forward

She was sitting cross-legged on her bed in her white kimono, writing in a notebook with an ink pen she dipped in a bottle. 'Never let a man stay the night,' she told me. 'Dawn has a way of casting a pall on any night magic.' The night magic sounded lovely. Someday I would have lovers and write a poem after. ~ Janet Fitch

The poem in which the reader does not feel himself or herself a participant is a lecture, listened to from an uncomfortable chair, in a stuffy room, inside a building. ~ Mary Oliver

It's the winter of my youth now, And there is no one even to hug, The girl I longed for never came, And all the waiting turned into, These long and lonely hours, Which faded into the pages of some books… And what is left of all this learning now, If not just worries and fears. ~ Piyush Rohankar