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Quotes tagged as "poetry" (showing 751-780 of 3,000)Adrienne Rich�No one has imagined us. We want to live like trees,sycamores blazing through the sulfuric air,dappled with scars, still exuberantly budding,our animal passion rooted in the city.� ? Adrienne Rich, The Dream of a Common Languagetags: lesbian, love, poetry 67 likes LikeOctavio Paz�...because two bodies, naked and entwined,leap over time, they are invulnerable,nothing can touch them, they return to the source.There is no you, no I, no tomorrow,no yesterday, no names, the truth of twoin a single body, a single soul,oh total being...� ? Octavio Paz, Sunstonetags: love, poetry 58 likes LikeDenise Levertov�In the dark I rest,unready for the light which dawnsday after day,eager to be shared.Black silk, shelter me.I needmore of the night before I openeyes and heartto illumination. I must stillgrow in the dark like a rootnot ready, not ready at all.� ? Denise Levertov

tags: night, poetry 49 likes LikeRobert Burns�Some hae meat and canna eat,And some wad eat that want it,But we hae meat and we can eat,And sae the Lord be thankit.� ? Robert Burnstags: food, meat, poetry, robert-burns 40 likes LikeRobert Louis Stevenson�Under the wide and starry skyDig the grave and let me lie:Glad did I live and gladly die,And I laid me down with a will.

This be the verse you grave for me:Here he lies where he long'd to be;Home is the sailor, home from the sea,And the hunter home from the hill.� ? Robert Louis Stevensontags: death, poetry 38 likes LikeWalt Whitman�Sometimes with one I love, I fill myself with rage, for fear I effuse unreturn'd love; But now I think there is no unreturn'd love�the pay is certain, one way or another; (I loved a certain person ardently, and my love was not return'd; Yet out of that, I have written these songs.) � ? Walt Whitmantags: poetry 36 likes LikeEdgar Allan Poe�I saw thee once - only once - years ago:I must not say how many - but not many.It was a July midnight; and from outA full-orbed moon, that, like thine own soul, soaring,Sought a precipitate pathway up through heaven,There fell a silvery-silken veil of light,With quietude, and sultriness, and slumber,Upon the upturn'd faces of a thousandRoses that grew in an enchanted garden,Where no wind dared stir, unless on tiptoe -Fell on the upturn'd faces of these rosesThat gave out, in return for the love-light,Their odorous souls in an ecstatic death -Fell on the upturn'd faces of these rosesThat smiled and died in the parterre, enchantedBy thee, and by the poetry of thy presence.

Clad all in white, upon a violet bankI saw thee half reclining; while the moonFell upon the upturn'd faces of the roses,And on thine own, upturn'd - alas, in sorrow!

Was it not Fate, that, on this July midnight -Was it not Fate, (whose name is also Sorrow,)That bade me pause before that garden-gate,To breathe the incense of those slumbering roses?No footsteps stirred: the hated world all slept,Save only thee and me. (Oh, Heaven! - oh, G**!How my heart beats in coupling those two words!)

Save only thee and me. I paused - I looked -And in an instant all things disappeared.(Ah, bear in mind the garden was enchanted!)The pearly lustre of the moon went out:The mossy banks and the meandering paths,The happy flowers and the repining trees,Were seen no more: the very roses' odorsDied in the arms of the adoring airs.All - all expired save thee - save less than thou:Save only divine light in thine eyes -Save but the soul in thine uplifted eyes.I saw but them - they were the world to me.I saw but them - saw only them for hours -Saw only them until the moon went down.What wild heart-histories seemed to lie enwrittenUpon those crystalline, celestial spheres!How dark a wo! yet how sublime a hope!How silently serene a sea of pride!How daring an ambition! yet how deep -How fathomless a capacity for love!But now, at length, dear Dian sank from sight,Into a western couch of thunder-cloud;And thou, a ghost, amid the entombing treesDidst glide away. Only thine eyes remained.They would not go - they never yet have gone.Lighting my lonely pathway home that night,They have not left me (as my hopes have) since.They follow me - they lead me through the years.They are my ministers - yet I their slave.Their office is to illumine and enkindle -My duty, to be saved by their bright fire,And purified in their electric fire,And sanctified in their elysian fire.They fill my soul with Beauty (which is Hope,)And are far up in Heaven - the stars I kneel toIn the sad, silent watches of my night;While even in the meridian glare of dayI see them still - two sweetly scintillantVenuses, unextinguished by the sun!� ? Edgar Allan Poe, The Raven and Other Poemstags: edgar-allan-poe, helen, poetry, whitman 34 likes LikeMilan Kundera�The characters in my novels are my own unrealised possibilities. That is why I am equally fond of them all and equally horrified by them. Each one has crossed a border that I myself have circumvented.� ? Milan Kunderatags: characters, poetic, poetry, prose, writers 29 likes LikeLucille Clifton�won't you celebrate with mewhat i have shaped intoa kind of life? i had no model.born in babylonboth nonwhite and womanwhat did i see to be except myself?i made it uphere on this bridge betweenstarshine and clay,my one hand holding tightmy other hand; come celebratewith me that everyday

something has tried to kill meand has failed.� ? Lucille Cliftontags: african-american-poets, inspiration, life, national-poetry-month, poem-in-your-pocket-day, poetry, positive-motivation 29 likes LikeT.S. Eliot�My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me.'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak.'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?'I never know what you are thinking. Think.� ? T.S. Eliot, The Waste Landtags: poetry 29 likes LikeDylan Thomas�I sang in my chains like the sea� ? Dylan Thomastags: poetry 28 likes LikeChristina Rossetti�In the bleak midwinter Frosty wind made moan, Earth stood hard as iron, Water like a stone; Snow had fallen, Snow on snow, Snow on snow, In the bleak midwinter, Long ago. � ? Christina Rossetti, The Poetical Works of Christina Georgina Rossettitags: hymn, poetry 27 likes LikeJane Austen�she thought it was the misfortune of poetry, to be seldom safely enjoyed by those who enjoyed it completely; and that the strong feelings which alone could estimate it truly, were the very feelings which ought to taste it but sparingly.� ? Jane Austen, Persuasiontags: poetry 26 likes LikeShel Silverstein�Birds are flyin' south for winter.Here's the Weird-Bird headin' north,Wings a-flappin', beak a-chatterin',Cold head bobbin' back 'n' forth.He says, "It's not that I like iceOr freezin' winds and snowy ground.It's just sometimes it's kind of niceTo be the only bird in town.� ? Shel Silversteintags: poetry 24 likes LikeAdrienne Rich�Love, our subject:we've trained it like ivy to our walls.� ? Adrienne Richtags: poetry 24 likes LikeMargaret Atwood�Where do the words gowhen we have said them?� ? Margaret Atwoodtags: poetry, words 21 likes LikeAdrienne Rich�the phantom of the man-who-would-understand,the lost brother, the twin ---

for him did we leave our mothers,

deny our sisters, over and over?

did we invent him, conjure himover the charring log,

nights, late, in the snowbound cabindid we dream or scry his face

in the liquid embers,the man-who-would-dare-to-know-us?

It was never the rapist:it was the brother, lost,

the comrade/twin whose palmwould bear a lifeline like our own:

decisive, arrowy,forked-lightning of insatiate desire

It was never the crude pestle, the blindramrod we were after:

merely a fellow-creaturewith natural resources equal to our own.� ? Adrienne Rich, The Dream of a Common Languagetags: feminism, love, mankind, poetry 21 likes LikeEmily Dickinson�The bustle in a houseThe morning after deathIs solemnest of industriesEnacted upon earth,--The sweeping up the heart,And putting love awayWe shall not want to use againUntil eternity� ? Emily Dickinsontags: death, poetry 19 likes LikeGertrude Stein�A FEATHER.

A feather is trimmed, it is trimmed by the light and the bug and the post, it is trimmed by little leaning and by all sorts of mounted reserves and loud volumes. It is surely cohesive.� ? Gertrude Stein, Tender Buttonstags: cohesiveness, feathers, poetry 19 likes LikeDee Dee M. Scott�Love me in actions, not in words.� ? Dee Dee M. Scott, Joy Cometh In The Morningtags: love, poetry 19 likes LikeOctavio Paz�Mineral cactai,quicksilver lizards in the adobe walls,the bird that punctures space,thirst, tedium, clouds of dust, impalpable epiphanies of wind.The pines taught me to talk to myself.In that garden I learnedto send myself off.Later there were no gardens. � ? Octavio Paz, A Draft of Shadows and Other Poems

tags: mexico, octavio-paz, poetry 18 likes LikeFrank O'Hara�I have been to lots of partiesand acted perfectly disgracefulbut I never actually collapsedoh Lana Turner we love you get up� ? Frank O'Haratags: excellence, fame, fashion, poetry 18 likes LikeDaphne Gottlieb�All the black leathershe needs

is the E-Z boy reclinerwhere her love is parked

with one of his hands wrapped around a remote,the other, a bottle of beer.

She's right. It's kinky.The way he doesn't look away

from the TV,as her head bobs

in his laplike a fisherman's float

on a nature program,hectic

with the pacehis breath sets.

His crotch swellsunder her mouth's

prowess. He's sucha sweetheart

he waitsuntil the

commercialsto come.� ? Daphne Gottlieb, Why Things Burntags: poetry, relationships 16 likes LikeEmily Dickinson�Mine Enemy is growing old --I have at last Revenge --The Palate of the Hate departs --If any would avenge

Let him be quick -- the Viand flits --It is a faded Meat --Anger as soon as fed is dead --'Tis starving makes it fat� ? Emily Dickinson, I'm Nobody! Who Are You?tags: friendship, poetry, relationships, rivalry 16 likes LikeMahmoud Darwish�Far away, our dreams have nothing to do with what we do. The wind carries the nig

ht, and passes on, aimless.� ? Mahmoud Darwish, Absent Presencetags: poetry 16 likes LikeMary Howitt�Will you walk into my parlour?" said the Spider to the Fly� ? Mary Howitt, Spider and the Flytags: humor, lessons, poetry 16 likes LikePablo Neruda�Our love was bornoutside the walls,in the wind,in the night,in the earth,and that's why the clay and the flower,the mud and the rootsknow your name.� ? Pablo Nerudatags: earth, love, nature, pablo-neruda, poetry 15 likes LikeEmily Dickinson�This is the Hour of Lead-Remembered, if outlived,As freezing persons, recollect the Snow-First-Chill-then Stupor-then the letting go---� ? Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinsontags: poetry 14 likes LikeMadeleine L'Engle�How long your closet held a whiff of you,Long after hangers hung austere and bare.I would walk in and suddenly the trueSharp sweet sweat scent controlled the airAnd life was in that small still living breath.Where are you? since so much of you is here,Your unique odour quite ignoring death.My hands reach out to touch, to hold what's dearAnd vital in my longing empty arms.But other clothes fill up the space, your space,And scent on scent send out strange false alarms.Not of your odour there is not a trace.But something unexpected still breaks throughThe goneness to the presentness of you.� ? Madeleine L'Engle, The Ordering of Love: The New and Collected Poems of Madeleine L'Engletags: poetry 14 likes LikeMaurice Sendak�Each month is gay,Each season nice,When eatingChicken soupWith rice� ? Maurice Sendak, Chicken Soup With Rice: A Book of Monthstags: childhood, children, poetry 13 likes Like« previous 1 2 � 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 � 99 100 next »All Quotes | My Quotes | Add A Quote

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