Poetry Readings Quotes

I don't like the word 'poetry,' and I don't like poetry readings, and I usually don't like poets. I would much prefer describing myself and what I do as: I'm kind of a curator, and I'm kind of a night-owl reporter. ~ Tom Waits

That which interests most people leaves me without any interest at all. This includes a list of things such as: social dancing, riding roller coasters, going to zoos, picnics, movies, planetariums, watching tv, baseball games; going to funerals, weddings, parties, basketball games, auto races, poetry readings, museums, rallies, demonstrations, protests, children's plays, adult plays ... I am not interested in beaches, swimming, skiing, Christmas, New Year's, the 4th of July, rock music, world history, space exploration, pet dogs, soccer, cathedrals and great works of Art. How can a man who is interested in almost nothing write about anything? Well, I do. I write and I write about what's left over: a stray dog walking down the street, a wife murdering her husband, the thoughts and feelings of a rapist as he bites into a hamburger sandwich; life in the factory, life in the streets and rooms of the poor and mutilated and the insane, crap like that, I write a lot of crap like that ~ Charles Bukowski

My favourite room in my house is easily the top room, which is a bedroom but also a bathroom, with a big, wooden carved bath, two huge fireplaces and a raised bit in the corner for performances. I've had some really lovely parties and poetry readings up there. ~ Deborah Moggach

In 2013 there were 7,427 poetry readings in April, many on a Thursday. For anyone born in 1928 who pays attention to poetry, the numerousness is astonishing. In April 1948, there were 15 readings in the United States, 12 by Robert Frost. So I claim. The figures are imaginary, but you get the point. ~ Donald Hall

What my character is or how many jails I have lounged in, or wards or walls or wassails, how many lonely-heart poetry readings I have dodged, is beside the point. A man's soul or lack of it will be evident with what he can carve upon a white sheet of paper. ~ Charles Bukowski

I have a publishing company of books by me and books of others. It drew people to poetry readings and photo exhibitions and painting exhibitions that I've been doing for years before that. ~ Viggo Mortensen

If I'm still wistful about On the Road, I look on the rest of the Kerouac oeuvre
the poems, the poems!
in horror. Read Satori in Paris lately? But if I had never read Jack Kerouac's horrendous poems, I never would have had the guts to write horrendous poems myself. I never would have signed up for Mrs. Safford's poetry class the spring of junior year, which led me to poetry readings, which introduced me to bad red wine, and after that it's all just one big blurry condemned path to journalism and San Francisco. ~ Sarah Vowell

I never really liked poetry readings; I liked to read poetry by myself, but I liked singing, chanting my lyrics to this jazz group. ~ Leonard Cohen

It's not a love of poetry readings that attracts those who do come to them but theater. ~ A.R. Ammons

In my life, I've seen enormous increase in the consumption of poetry. When I was young, there were virtually no poetry readings. ~ Donald Hall

Now the sun is wide awake, baring its teeth, making the sweat run down people's back. Before it will make its way across the sky and into the waiting arms of the Arabian Sea, so much will have happened: migrations into the city, births, marriages, dowry deaths, illicit love affairs, pay raises, first kisses, bankruptcy filings, traffic accidents, business deals, money changing hands, plant shutdowns, gallery openings, poetry readings, political discussions, evictions. Every event in human history will repeat itself today. Everything that ever happened will happen again today. All if life lived in a day. A day, a day. A silver urn of promise and hope. Another chance. At reinvention, at resurrection, at reincarnation. A day. The least and most of all of our lives. ~ Thrity Umrigar

I wish nature's magical things
with my little moist wings!! ~ Shasika Amali Munasinghe

listen.
it wouldn't have hurt so much if she wasn't the girl i always wanted to be.

in high school i carved the word ugly into my skin
so that even if i once reached
that pivotal point of high self esteem
i would always be reminded of who i was
underneath it all
and i wanted so badly to be
the athletic girl
who put makeup on effortlessly
who knew a thing or two about fashion
whose laughter sounded like flowers blooming
who knew what it meant to be sad,
and anxious,
but in the beautiful way
in the mysterious way
in the way that could be cured by true love's kiss
whose skin was always soft
and hair always brushed
- sometimes styled -
long, and long, and dark, and wavy
a fine contrast against her light eyes
and pale skin that never led anyone to question
just where she was from
whose body hair was fine,
or at least taken care of so frequently and expertly,
that no one ever questioned just where she fell
in human evolution
whose body curved in all the right places
whose skin was taut with muscle
and soft with and inviting where it should be
who ate right
who never smoked
and never tried to end her life;
once, twice, seventeen times
who liked art but didn't really understand it
who studied hard even though she hated it
who cared about injustice but not to the point
that too much thought ~ Kara Petrovic

But inside your sob-sodden Kleenex
And your Saturday night panics,
Under your hair done this way and that way,
Behind what looked like rebounds
And the cascade of cries diminuendo,
You were undeflected.
You were gold-jacketed, solid silver,
Nickel-tipped. Trajectory perfect
As through ether. ~ Ted Hughes

say, beautiful
& point to the map of your body
say, brave
& were your skin like a gown or a suit
say, hero
& cast yourself in the lead role

///

when a girl pronounces her own name
there is glory

when a woman tells her own life story
she lives forever ~ Denice Frohman

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art
Not in lone splendour hung aloft the night
And watching, with eternal lids apart,
Like nature's patient, sleepless Eremite. ~ John Keats

I don't believe we should carry backup
plans in life's suitcase
they're too easy to unpack
like living a life in yoga pants,
so comfortable our hips spread
into new timezones ... ~ Kelli Russell Agodon

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

Yes, the mistrust of poetry has a long history, for a variety of reasons, but they all come down to sentiment and invention over fact and truth. Figurative language is suspicious. ~ Mary Ruefle

We watch the chef slice eel and octopus, delicate operations of dismemberment and amputation. For some reason it makes me think of poetry. ~ Jessica Martinez

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it ~ Billy Joel

The image of a wood has appeared often enough in English verse. It has indeed appeared so often that it has gathered a good deal of verse into itself; so that it has become a great forest where, with long leagues of changing green between them, strange episodes of poetry have taken place. Thus in one part there are lovers of a midsummer night, or by day a duke and his followers, and in another men behind branches so that the wood seems moving, and in another a girl separated from her two lordly young brothers, and in another a poet listening to a nightingale but rather dreaming richly of the grand art than there exploring it, and there are other inhabitants, belonging even more closely to the wood, dryads, fairies, an enchanter's rout. The forest itself has different names in different tongues- Westermain, Arden, Birnam, Broceliande; and in places there are separate trees named, such as that on the outskirts against which a young Northern poet saw a spectral wanderer leaning, or, in the unexplored centre of which only rumours reach even poetry, Igdrasil of one myth, or the Trees of Knowledge and Life of another. So that indeed the whole earth seems to become this one enormous forest, and our longest and most stable civilizations are only clearings in the midst of it. ~ Charles Williams

Then the pulse.
Then a pause.
Then twilight in a box.
Dusk underfoot.
Then generations.

-

Then the same war by a different name.
Wine splashing in the bucket.
The erection, the era.
Then exit Reason.
Then sadness without reason.
Then the removal of the ceiling by hand.

-

Then pages & pages of numbers.
Then the page with the faint green stain.
Then the page on which Prince Theodore, gravely wounded,
is thrown onto a wagon.
Then the page on which Masha weds somebody else.
Then the page that turns to the story of somebody else.
Then the page scribbled in dactyls.
Then the page which begins Exit Angel.
Then the page wrapped around a dead fish.
Then the page where the serfs reach the ocean.
Then a nap.
Then the peg.
Then the page with the curious helmet.
Then the page on which millet is ground.
Then the death of Ursula.
Then the stone page they raised over her head.
Then the page made of grass which goes on.

-

Exit Beauty.

-

Then the page someone folded to mark her place.
Then the page on which nothing happens.
The page after this page.

Then the transcript.
Knocking within.

Interpretation, then harvest.

-

Exit Want.
Then a love story.

Then a trip to the ruins.
Then & only th ~ Srikanth Reddy

It is easy to see the glow but hard to recognize the awakening of silence. ~ Dejan Stojanovic

Some of the greatest poetry is revealing to the reader the beauty in something that was so simple you had taken it for granted. ~ Neil DeGrasse Tyson

...I see fetal sciences in you,
mummified poems, and bones
of my romantic secrets
and old innocence.

Shall I hang you on the wall
of my emotional museum,
beside the dark, chill,
sleeping irises of my evil?

Or shall I spread you over the pines
―suffering book of my love―
so you can learn about the song
the nightingale offers the dawn?... ~ Federico Garcia Lorca

You do not need words to tell the truth. ~ Mia Hollow

Funeral Blues

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
For nothing now can ever come to any good. ~ W. H. Auden

A violent order is disorder; and a great disorder is an order.
These two things are one. ~ Wallace Stevens

If I do a poetry reading I want people to walk out and say they feel better for having been there - not because you've done a comedy performance but because you're talking about your father dying or having young children, things that touch your soul. ~ Roger McGough

Well you can't teach the poetry, but you can teach the craft. ~ David Hockney

Poetry is what is gained in translation. ~ Joseph Brodsky

In a house, as in a garden, there is a point when over-mingling can occur. At first, when the new plants are dug in, there is too much space between them. They seem artificial, temporary. Then, as they grow, the bed finds a point of balance, the taller trees occupying the upper layers, the sprawling shrubs - the hydrangeas, buddleia, pittosporum - filling out the middle, and the smaller bulbs and ground covers punctuating the under-spaces. Then, without warning, equilibrium is lost. A rampant jasmine covers an adolescent tree; a hydrangea thrives, forcing out a lilly pilly that struggles for light beneath a spreading magnolia. The spaces are subsumed. In the house, there was a period when everyone thrived. Even Heloise had been noticed by Jerome, who was sitting down with her on most days and doing sums and geography, and reading poetry. 'She has real talent,' he said to Helena, over the kitchen bench. She raised an eyebrow ambiguously but didn't comment. Then, slowly, the balance began to slip. ~ Emily Bitto

Understand the poem not the poet. ~ Christina Strigas

That woman wants to hear all my wishes,
For already a thousand years,
And each my thought knows to read,
Even if I don't utter it aloud. ~ Stjepan Varesevac Cobets

I embraced a cloud,
but when I soared
it rained. ~ Frank O'Hara

Don't forget to
raise your voice
when their words
hurt your soul.

Don't forget to shove,
when they try to hush you.

If every time you look
at yourself, and
all that you can see is
the ruined mascara,
dry lips and burning eyes
Girl,
that's the proof for you
to pack your bags and leave.

If they bury you
with the roses and
burn you alive
with their words
Girl,
that's the proof for you
to pack your bags and leave.

Don't forget to
raise your voice
when their words
hurt your soul.

Don't forget to shove,
when they try to hush you. ~ Jyoti Patel

I swear that girl was born with a pen in her hand, the moon in her hair and stars in her soul. ~ Melody Lee

[an encounter in space] Some celestial event. No
no words
no words to describe it. Poetry! They should have sent a poet. So beautiful. So beautiful ... I had no idea. I had no idea. ~ Carl Sagan

We hear the saints saying: Our brother the world. We hear the revolutionaries: Dare we win? ~ Muriel Rukeyser

Everyone sort of sees his own life and times as being ephemeral. One thinks that everything good or important that happened, happened in the past. But I think that seeing scenes that you are used to, but with the heightening effects of poetry, perhaps makes you value your life and times more than you might otherwise do. ~ Vikram Seth

Don't strive to sound poetic. Strive to sound genuine in your writing and you will find poetry in the most mundane things in life. ~ Bobby Hundley

SELF-HELP FOR FELLOW REFUGEES

If your name suggests a country where bells
might have been used for entertainment,

or to announce the entrances and exits of the seasons
and the birthdays of gods and demons,

it's probably best to dress in plain clothes
when you arrive in the United States.
And try not to talk too loud.

If you happen to have watched armed men
beat and drag your father
out the front door of your house
and into the back of an idling truck,

before your mother jerked you from the threshold
and buried your face in her skirt folds,
try not to judge your mother too harshly.

Don't ask her what she thought she was doing,
turning a child's eyes
away from history
and toward that place all human aching starts.

And if you meet someone
in your adopted country
and think you see in the other's face
an open sky, some promise of a new beginning,
it probably means you're standing too far.

Or if you think you read in the other, as in a book
whose first and last pages are missing,
the story of your own birthplace,
a country twice erased,
once by fire, once by forgetfulness,
it probably means you're standing too close.

In any case, try not to let another carry
the burden of your own nostalgia or hope.

And if you're one of those
whose left side of the face does ~ Li-Young Lee

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters ... But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk. ~ Charles Baudelaire