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and discussion search Home My Books Groups Recommendations genres listopia giveaways popular goodreads voice ebooks fun trivia quizzes quotes community creative writing people events Explore quote Quotes About Poetry Quotes tagged as "poetry" (showing 1,561-1,590 of 3,000) Jens Peter Jacobsen He was weary of himself, of cold ideas and brain dreams. Life a poem? Not when yo u went about forever poetizing about your own life instead of living it. How inn ocuous it all was, and empty, empty, empty! This chasing after yourself, craftil y observing your own tracks--in a circle, of course. This sham diving into the stream of life while all the time you sat angling afte r yourself, fishing yourself up in one curious disguise or another! If he could only be overwhelmed by something--life, love, passion--so that he could no longe r shape it into poems, but had to let it shape him! ? Jens Peter Jacobsen, Niels Lyhne tags: life, living, passion, poetry 23 likes Like John Cage There is poetry as soon as we realize that we possess nothing. ? John Cage tags: poetry 15 likes Like William Carlos Williams For the beginning is assuredly the end- since we know nothing, pure and simple, beyond our own complexities. ? William Carlos Williams tags: poetry 12 likes Like Czeslaw Milosz The purpose of poetry is to remind us / how difficult it is to remain just one pe rson... ? Czeslaw Milosz tags: poetry 12 likes Like Robert Burns

Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes, Flow gently, I'll sing thee a song in thy praise; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dream. Thou stock dove whose echo resounds thro' the glen, Ye wild whistly blackbirds in yon thorny den, Thou green crested lapwing thy screaming forbear, I charge you, disturb not my slumbering fair. How lofty, sweet Afton, thy neighboring hills, Far mark'd with the courses of clear winding rills; There daily I wander as noon rises high, My flocks and my Mary's sweet cot in my eye. How pleasant thy banks and green valleys below, Where, wild in the woodlands, the primroses blow; There oft, as mild evening weeps over the lea, The sweet-scented birk shades my Mary and me. Thy crystal stream, Afton, how lovely it glides, And winds by the cot where my Mary resides; How wanton thy waters her snowy feet lave, As, gathering sweet flowerets, she stems thy clear wave. Flow gently, sweet Afton, amang thy green braes, Flow gently, sweet river, the theme of my lays; My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, Flow gently, sweet Afton, disturb not her dreams. ? Robert Burns tags: love, nature, poetry 12 likes Like Amado Nervo Am, fu amado, el sol acarici mi faz. Vida, nada me debes! Vida, estamos en paz! I loved, I was loved, the sun stroked my face. Life, you owe me nothing! Life, we are at peace!

? Amado Nervo tags: life, love, poetry 11 likes Like Jimmy Santiago Baca And so I pray I am today as honest with myself, with life all around me and below and above me, with all who I encounter. ? Jimmy Santiago Baca, Winter Poems Along the Rio Grande tags: ethics, poetry, writing 10 likes Like John Donne At the round earth's imagined corners blow Your trumpets, angels, and arise, arise From death, you numberless infinities Of souls, and to your scattered bodies go ; All whom the flood did, and fire shall o'erthrow, All whom war, dea[r]th, age, agues, tyrannies, Despair, law, chance hath slain, and you, whose eyes Shall behold God, and never taste death's woe. But let them sleep, Lord, and me mourn a space ; For, if above all these my sins abound, 'Tis late to ask abundance of Thy grace, When we are there. Here on this lowly ground, Teach me how to repent, for that's as good As if Thou hadst seal'd my pardon with Thy blood. ? John Donne tags: apocalypse, poetry, religion 8 likes Like Charles Baudelaire If rape or arson, poison or the knife Has wove no pleasing patterns in the stuff Of this drab canvas we accept as life It is because we are not bold enough! ? Charles Baudelaire tags: charles-baudelaire, debauchery, decadence, poetry 8 likes Like George Gordon Byron When people say, "I've told you fifty times," / They mean to scold, and very ofte n do; / When poets say, "I've written fifty rhymes," / They make you dread that they 'II recite them too; In gangs of fifty, thieves commit their crimes; / At fifty love for love is rare , 't is true, / But then, no doubt, it equally as true is, / A good deal may be bought for fifty Louis. ? George Gordon Byron tags: don-juan, poetry 8 likes Like I heard a bird congratulating itself all day for being a jay. Nobody cared. But it was glad all over again, and said so, again. ? William Stafford tags: poetry 8 likes Like Jean Anouilh Talent is a faucet. When it is on, one must write. Inspiration is a farce that po ets have invented to give themselves importance. ? Jean Anouilh tags: inspiration, poetry, writing 8 likes Like Siegfried Sassoon Mute in that golden silence hung with green, Come down from heaven and bring me in your eyes Remembrance of all beauty that has been, And stillness from the pools of Paradise. ? Siegfried Sassoon, Counter-Attack and Other Poems

tags: great-war, poetry, sassoon, world-war-one, wwi 6 likes Like William Edgar Stafford This dream the world is having about itself includes a trace on the plains of the Oregon trail, a groove in the grass my father showed us all one day while meadowlarks were trying to tell something better about to happen. ? William Edgar Stafford, The Way It Is: New and Selected Poems tags: poetry, poets 6 likes Like Stephen Dunn Bring to me, it said, continual proof / you've been alive. ? Stephen Dunn tags: poetry 6 likes Like Robert Penn Warren The poem is a little myth of man's capacity of making life meaningful. ? Robert Penn Warren tags: poetry 6 likes Like Sarah Vowell 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 nev er read Jack Kerouac's horrendous poems, I never would have had the guts to writ e horrendous poems myself. I never would have signed up for Mrs. Safford's poetr y class the spring of junior year, which led me to poetry readings, which introd uced me to bad red wine, and after that it's all just one big blurry condemned p ath to journalism and San Francisco. ? Sarah Vowell, Take the Cannoli tags: 49, kerouac, poetry, writing 6 likes Like Anne Carson [Short Talk on the Sensation of Airplane Takeoff] Well you know I wonder, it coul d be love running toward my life with its arms up yelling let s buy it what a barg ain! ? Anne Carson, Short Talks tags: airplanes, essay, love, poetry, shopping 6 likes Like Charles Simic Poetry is an orphan of silence. ? Charles Simic tags: poetry 6 likes Like THIS IS WHY He will never be given to wonder much if he was the mouth for some cruel force that said it. But if he were (this will comfort her) less than one moment out of millions had he meant it. So many years and so many turns they had swerved around the subject. And he will swear for many more the kitchen and everything in it vanished -the oak table, their guests, the refrigerator door he had been surely propped against-all changed to rusted ironwork and ash except in the center in her linen caftan: she was not touched. He remembers the silence before he spoke and her nodding a little, as if in the meat of this gray waste here was the signal

for him to speak what they had long agreed, what somewhere they had prepared together. And this one moment in the desert of ash stretches into forever. They had been having a dinner party. She had been lonely. A friend asked her almost joking if she had ever felt really crazy, and when she started to unwind her answer in long, lovely sentences like scarves within her he saw this was the way they could no longer talk together. And that is when he said it, in front of the guests, because he couldn't bear to hear her. And this is why the guests have left and she screams as he comes near her. ? Michael Ryan, God Hunger tags: connections, crazy, desperation, poetry 6 likes Like Joseph Joubert Everything has its poetry. 94 ? Joseph Joubert, The Notebooks of Joseph Joubert tags: poetry, writing 5 likes Like Ben Lerner Laser technology has fulfilled our people's ancient dream of a blade so fine that the person it cuts remains standing and alive until he moves and cleaves. Until we move, none of us can be sure that we have not already been cut in half, or i n many pieces, by a blade of light. It is safest to assume that our throats have already been slit, that the slightest alteration in our postures will cause the painless severance of our heads. ? Ben Lerner tags: poetry 5 likes Like Ibrahim Nasrallah Maybe when water yearned for fire / it invented waves / so one day they might bec ome flames ? Ibrahim Nasrallah tags: poetry 5 likes Like W.B. Yeats I said: 'A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, Our stitching and unstitching has been naught. ? W.B. Yeats tags: poetry 4 likes Like Lawrence Ferlinghetti Don't patronize the chain bookstores. Every time I see some author scheduled to r ead and sign his books at a chain bookstore, I feel like telling him he's stabbi ng the independent bookstores in the back. ? Lawrence Ferlinghetti tags: art, bookstores, literature, poetry 4 likes Like What happens to a society when mystery is labeled as evil? it yields an ever connected chain of false labels and misinterpretations. ? Saul Williams Said the Shotgun to the head tags: poetry 3 likes Like Always be a poet, even in prose. ? Baudelaire

tags: poetry 3 likes Like You have shown me a love that cannot be given or taken let us back in the fullness of ourselves a simple kiss now blood and breath both awakened a balanced diet to sustain life and health. ? Saul Williams Said the Shotgun to the head tags: poetry 3 likes Like Lucia Perillo It is ferocious, life, but it must eat . . . ? Lucia Perillo, Luck Is Luck: Poems tags: poetry, poets 3 likes Like Santosh Kalwar My art unkind, my energy all gone blind;The limbs uneven, the face shallower,Beca use those who I see are not seen,Those who see me are rude indeed. So blow, blow dear winter, just blow along me! ? Santosh Kalwar, Happening:Poems tags: poetry 3 likes Like previous 1 2 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 All Quotes | My Quotes | Add A Quote

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