Realistic Poetry Quotes

I'm a man of integrity. My heart is locked and I have given you the only key. ~ Delano Johnson

I eat words for breakfast, almost savagely. Webster and Dictionary are mad at me. ~ Delano Johnson

If I can't spend the rest of my life with you, I will live alone. ~ Delano Johnson

Her beauty is a mastery of peace. ~ Delano Johnson

A relationship is more likely to succeed if positive attributes are confidently set in place and adhered to. ~ Delano Johnson

Come on cats, let's go.
Let's teach those old dog cheap trick beatniks some new kicks and bottle up and blow. ~ Harry Whitewolf

My grandmother
had no time for old,
no matter how her face crinkled
or her days folded like an apron around
her middle. ~ April Michelle Bratten

Part of what we love about poetry is the fact that it seems ancient, that it has an authority of ancient language and ancient form, and that it's timeless, that it reaches back. ~ Robert Morgan

PRETENDING TO DROWN

The only regret is that I waited
longer than a breath
to scatter the sun's reflection
with my body.

New stars burst upon the water
when you pulled me in.

On the shore, our clothes
begged us to be good boys again.

Every stick our feet touched
a snapping turtle, every shadow
a water moccasin.

Excuses to swim closer to one another.

I sank into the depths to see you
as the lake saw you: cut in half
by the surface, taut legs kicking,
the rest of you sky.

Suddenly still, a clear view
of what you knew I wanted
to see.

When I resurfaced, slick grin,
knowing glance; you pushed me
back under.

I pretended to drown,
then swallowed you whole. ~ Saeed Jones

It is part of my creed that the only poetry is history, could we tell it right. ~ Thomas Carlyle

Shows what you know, sunny-girl! I'm sure you've heard people talk about their Heart's Desire - well that's a load of rot. Hearts are idiots. They're big and squishy and full of daft dreams. They flounce off to write poetry and moon at folk who aren't worth the mooning. Bones are the ones that have to make the journey, fight the monster, kneel before whomever is big on kneeling these days. Bones do the work for the heart's grand plans. Bones know what you need. Hearts only know want. I much prefer to deal with children, boggans, and villains, who haven't got hearts to get in the way of the very important magic of Getting-Things-Done. ~ Catherynne M Valente

She slid a slim volume of poetry off the shelf and returned to her chair, swishing her rather unnattractive skirts before she sat down.
Benedict frowned. He'd never really noticed before how ugly her dress was. Not as bad as the one Mrs. Cabtree had lent her, but certainly not anything designed to bring out the best in a woman.
He ought to buy her a new dress. She would never accept it,of course, but maybe if her current garments were accidentally burned...
"Mr. Bridgerton?"
But how could he manage to burn her dress? She'd have to not be wearing it, and that posed a certain challenge in and of itself...
"Are you even listening to me?" Sophie demanded.
"Hmmm?"
"You're not listening to me."
"Sorry," he admitted. "My apologies. My mind got away from me. Please continue."
She began anew, and in his attempt to show how much attention he was paying her, he focused his eyes on her lips, which proved to be a big mistake.
Because suddenly those lips were all he could see, and he couldn't stop thinking about kissing her, and he knew- absolutely knew-that if one of them didn't leave the room in the next thirty seconds, he was going to do something for which he'd owe her a thousand apologies.
Not that he didn't plan to seduce her. Just that he'd rather do it with a bit more finesse.
"Oh, dear," he blurted out.
Sophie gave him an odd look. He didn't blame her. He sounded like a complete idiot. He didn't think he'd uttered t ~ Julia Quinn

People compose poetry, novels, sitcoms - for love. ~ Helen Fisher

You carried your infant daughter in one arm, and walked with me, a child six years of age, tired, trudging beside you. You left that nightmare behind. And you left behind other things, too. The elm trees that lined your street. The familiar scent of autumn. The baker's smile when he handed you the fresh bread, the song of the peddlers in the street, the sound of strangers around you talking, haggling, buying, singing, speaking, fighting in a language you understood. Your friends. Your career. Your home. Your dreams. Your family. Your memories. Pots, pans, the fine silver spoons and forks. Photographs. Heirlooms. Your favorite dresses. Your father's grave. The colorful wares of the markets at the new year. Streets you knew by name. Cab drivers who recited poetry. The halls of your old university. You left whatever you couldn't fit into a single suitcase behind you and closed the door of your home for the last time, the dishes washed, the beds made, the curtains drawn, thinking, "Perhaps, perhaps we will come back," and you shut the door, and left, without knowing if you'd ever find home again. ~ Parnaz Foroutan

How do I learn to speak
when silence is all I know? ~ Susie Clevenger

[W]hat counts as 'realistic', what seems possible at any point in the social field, is defined by a series of political determinations. An ideological position can never be really successful until it is naturalized, and it cannot be naturalized while it is still thought of as a value rather than a fact. Accordingly, neoliberalism has sought to eliminate the very category of value in the ethical sense. Over the past thirty years, capitalist realism has successfully installed a 'business ontology' in which it is simply obvious that everything in society, including healthcare and education, should be run as a business. … [E]mancipatory politics must always destroy the appearance of a 'natural order', must reveal what is presented as necessary and inevitable to be a mere contingency, just as it must make what was previously deemed to be impossible seem attainable. ~ Mark Fisher

I'm gonna try to learn. Gonna learn why folks walk in the grass, gonna hear 'em talk, gonna hear 'em sing. Gonna listen to kids eatin' mush. Gonna hear husban' an' wife a-poundin' the mattress in the night. Gonna eat with 'em an' learn. Gonna lay in the grass, open an' honest with anybody that'll have me. Gonna cuss an' swear an' hear the poetry of folks talkin'. All that's holy, all that's what I didn't understan'. All them things is good things. ~ John Steinbeck

She cries,
I laugh,
She becomes numb,
I become filled with joy,
She slowly crumbles,
I feel on top of the world,
Yet somehow in the end,
Out of the ashes,
She rose like a Phoenix,
As if nothing had ever touched her ~ Tanzy Sayadi

Romanians have a particular love for poetry and have a beautiful, vivid language. The poets they love are not versifiers like Vadim Tudor, but genuinely complex mystical souls like Mircea Cartarescu. ~ Andrei Codrescu

From whichever side I start, I think I am in an old place where others have been before me. ~ Dejan Stojanovic

For me, poetry is an impish attempt to paint the colour of the wind. ~ Maxwell Bodenheim

To me, poetry is about survival first of all. Survival of the individual self, survival of the emotional life. ~ Gregory Orr

I don't think the creative writing industry has helped American poetry. ~ Robert Morgan

The bars of jail shall make you frail. Now that's poetry for you. ~ E.J. Norris

CAMPBELL: All poets. Poetry is a metaphorical language. MOYERS: A metaphor suggests potential. CAMPBELL: Yes, but it also suggests the actuality that hides behind the visible aspect. The metaphor is the mask of God through which eternity is to be experienced. ~ Joseph Campbell

Heart; I named my lass sweetly;
She danced to the mundane tunes of daftness;
By nature she was midsummer madness;
Or rather a reckless, careless, devil-may-care colleen.

I pampered all her hefty desires;
Brain; my friend said treat her with caution;
For she is a child; doesn't ruminate her action;
You are mother, with deep devotion.

And one fine day came the tempest darling;
She named him love, besotted and infatuated;
Enchanted by his charms, smelled the roses;
Failed to see the thorns that pricked.

And drip-drip-drip, the blood it dripped;
When her beloved tossed and crushed her core;
She knew not how to stand up straight;
I opened my eyes and the driblets fell.

Don't nurse her; said my friend; my brain;
For she is a demented lass not worth the pain;
She will go away when her wounds are dried;
To her unmoved brutal hero, Love.

A mother cannot be unmoved, I cried;
For all this time, I held her high;
I knocked at your door, you flinty villain;
Not to hear, all that you said.

Call me a demon or a dragon;
For all I will say is don't nurse the brat;
Let her bleed and cry for some more time;
She will get up; for she is your child.

All he said was unerred truth;
She bled and nursed her own wounds;
She drove me to her hero's place; And said,

"This is where my poem stays. ~ Ranjani Ramachandran

She was everything real in a world of make-believe. ~ Atticus Poetry

[T]here is no goodness that is not bodily and realistic and local. ~ Rowan Williams

Wake up, wake up!' He said to me
'No, I'm still sleepy,
do not disturb me'
Wake up me child, see the beauty

Don't cry, wipe your tears, He said to me
'No, I'm so lonely,
Nobody understands me'
Don't cry my child, embrace the beauty

Don't panic, be calm, He said to me
'No, you don't understand,
I need to earn money'
Don't struggle my child, connect to the beauty

Don't blame or attach, He said to me
'How can I be loving,
When they hurt me?'
Don't retaliate my child, show them the beauty

Don't withhold your love, He said to me
'How can I give Father
When they only take from me?'
Don't fear my child, I replenish the beauty ~ Elise Icten

There's a lamentation in the flutter of your lash. ~ Laura A. Lord

A more realistic perception of our relation to others, in particular our similarities to them, injects a little humility into our self-serving biases. Admitting that we are disposable and irrelevant in the grander scheme of things may not be for everyone, but I find nothing more empowering. It should drown out your anxieties rather than inhibit your passions. Accepting your imperfections and limitations allows you to stop dwelling on past mistakes, and pushes you to enjoy making the most of every moment moving forward. ~ Erman Misirlisoy

They glided past, they glided fast,
Like travellers through a mist:
They mocked the moon in a rigadoon
Of delicate turn and twist,
And with formal pace and loathsome grace
The phantoms kept their tryst ~ Oscar Wilde

A nation established under God
A nation that will only win
if we stand together ~ April Nichole

I know my breasts, small
as plums, would win no blue ribbons.
But in your hands they tremble and fill
with song like plump, white birds. ~ Cecilia Llompart

Look deeper through the telescope
and do not be afraid when the stars
collide towards the darkness,
because sometimes the most beautiful
things begin in chaos. ~ Robert M. Drake

She rests in peace somewhere in heaven, As I am still counting the years, it has been seven, Of what made her happy back then is now hurting me much, As I delve through her memories here on earth, Dear Lord this love should never have taken birth. Of what made her happy back then is now hurting me much. ~ Piyush Rohankar

There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask "What if I fall?"
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly? ~ Erin Hanson