Poem Quotes - Page 2

Sometimes what’s dead must be burned away to make room for new life. Sometimes you just have to step back and let the brittle bits ignite - but once those flames begin to dance their caustic dance, don’t you dare look the other way. Don’t close your eyes. Watch closely and let that image seer itself forever on your mind. Remember what it looked like in the midst of the soot, the smoke, and the haze. Remember, so you don’t repeat the same conditions that required such a blaze.

See mirror, every time you will miss me and look deeper into your eyes till you will find me.

You whom my body longs for,where are you?In the stars, in the river, over the rainbow?Perhaps you hide in the shadows of the mountains,whistling in the wind through mighty peaksJust maybe you are in every corner of my beingawaiting invocationÔ Manna Breathfill my life with your infinite power

In every possibility of a mind May you travel, yet not blind. As a head filled with imagination, Goes a heart full of gold creation, It's never late to have a dream. Nor is it so far away as it seems, And, like a rearview mirror reveals, Thus a fantasy soon becomes real. It may be closer than it appears. Or at least it will show up clear. Never give up a dream for fear!

For the wanderer astray, the hermit seeking the lost booksTo him the bitter path of knowledge is truly germaneAnd to gaze at the grand canvas of depravity, the deified crooksAll the depth of duplicity of the celestial rulers most profane.

Have they known scorn like youFive cellars down?

Rise AgainOne goal goes by the waysideSome watch sneering arms foldedLaughing at you until the endUntil you have the last laughYou've courage you're no riffraffAnother will lend you a handYou're apparently not left for deadYou rise again and all is fineDefeat no matter how crushingThat seemingly final act they consingIs speckle of dust to you the leaningMajestic Tower of Pisa still standingHow dissapointed they must beThinking they have the master keyMore bogus then a midnight sunYet you stand on a solid foundationYour destiny is beyond what anyoneOr anything can give or take from youDangling hope strings attached rescueInstead rise and face the morning dewYou the sun reclaiming your denFrom the frost,beams of hope chasingYou are alone but alive againShining the sheen of your greenYou rise again free no one's lienYou are alive because you alaoneCan decide the meaning of the dustIf they had meaning to begin withKaleb Kilton (c) 2016

I slay dragons at night while you sleep. I see by the way your face contorts how they exist in your dreams. Willing a magic sword, I plunge into your deepest nightmares and swing at the beasts with all my might, dodging flames exhaled by monsters that would eat me alive to go on torturing the fair one I love. I see your face relax, eyes still drowsily closed, when the mighty dragon is slain. It may be that my fingers rub soft circles on your forehead as I imagine my brave fight as a knight reclaiming your dreams. You smile under the spell of my touch, and I am rewarded. And so, my love, as I await the dawn, I stand ready to slay dragons while you sleep.

The storms inside uncoilinto sky held calm by far seeing eyesMemories dressed in the translucenttrickery of the mind,so as to wear life upon themselves,give up their tired dance and runinto free frequency

I tossed a stone into the Sea To see what it would do for me And the ripples went out And became ocean waves To return to the Sea inside of me

He was her reason for existence,She was his ultimate risk.

I'll keep looking- till that watery reflection of mine in your eye, rolls down as a tear. I'll keep looking till we finally look away like our lives never met. Let's cheat destiny as if we never knew each other. Let's do this last thing together.

Give me a moment I am preparing to drawback to screamLouder than a train overhead below a railroad bridge

Dreaming of another time,Dreaming of clasping your hands so tight,Dreaming of another time,Dreaming of the shipwreck that is in my heart would end

Mathematics is a wonderful common sense,To understand the harmony in nature magnificent; The wondrous language, & popular in terms of @ financeIts’ unique, and abundantly rich in terms of substance,

I’ve learned a hundred secrets,a thousand mysteriesand a million more.But of all the lessons I learned,the greatest is love.

Ah dearest heart if you will but waitI'll become the ideal soulmatenevermore causing you a moment's troubleand I but a mere ectoplasmic bubbleswaying above your gorgeous headgruff and garrulous and safely dead.

Butterfly KissesAged imperfectionsstitched upon my faceyears and years of wisdomearned by His holy grace.Quiet solitude in a humble homeall the family scattered nowlike nomads do they roam.Then a giftsent from abovea memorypure and tangiblewrapped in innocence andunquestioning love.A butterfly kisslands gently upon my cheekfrom an unseen childa kiss most sweet.Heaven grants graceand tears followas youth revisitsthis empty hollow.

TEDDY DAY POEM:A bear hug for you,and I would make you forget your sorrows!I’ll be there with you forever,in your today and all tomorrows!!..The moment I am not there..Close your eyes and you'll see me..You're there in my heart, and yours, I always would be;so just be fine!..O girl, O girl, O.. O.. girl.. you be mine..You're my buddy and I am your teddy..O sweety, you be my.. Valentine...Just be mine.. O O.. be my Valentine!!!

Let’s appreciate and welcome the arrival of a new prophet The one who can be Reasonable and rational Realistic and democratThe one who respects the rights of women and childrenAnd does not make everyone slave of his nationLet’s do not whip some virgin pregnant womenThey may have Christ in their belly Let’s arrange a new miracle That can be little rationale and less awkward Maybe an application (software) or a gadget That can make us smile Or let’s build a green park that children could play and be happy And let’s bring a little educated prophetNot like the old one Illiterate! Marrying 10 to 12 women and waging warMaybe someone who does not blind the world by his Eye to eye policy and manifestation A little kind and a little rational

All day long you sit and sew,Stitch life down for fear it grow,Stitch life down for fear we guessAt the hidden ugliness.Dusty voice that throbs with heat,Hoping with your steel-thin beatTo put stitches in my mind,Make it tidy, make it kind,You shall not: I'll keep it freeThough you turn earth, sky and seaTo a patchwork quilt to keepYour mind snug and warm in sleep!

Broken MelodyBroken melody — tear sparkling in the eyeOf a woman loved…Please past,Jewel lost,A trampled dreamLips unkissedIn the broken melody.With silent sobs the naked shoulders shake,Their whiteness dazzling…Stabbed, stabbed with remorseFor the moments of mindlessness,For her ruined fate,For the happiness lostIn the broken melody.Face hidden in her hands in shame,Remorsefully the woman weeps,With heart despairing(A broken guitar,A voice stifledOn lips kissed by painIn the broken melody).Silent he stands beside the woman weepingScolding tears of shameThat dim her eyes.Some money on the table quickly laysAnd goes away,Leaving the woman lostIn the broken melody.But when another comes, lust mounts again,The heated bloodPounds furiously through the veins,Benumbing mind… and only gaspsAnd grants are heardIn the horrid melody.(Translated by R.Elsie)

having nothing to struggleagainstthey have nothing to strugglefor.

Another day without no rain, is another day of sorrow.And if it doesn't rain today, I hope it rains tomorrow.

It's easy to convince men to love you, Puck. All you have to do is be a mountain they have to climb or a poem they don't understand. Something that makes them feel strong or clever. It's why they love the ocean.

Every new dayOur children's joy is as fresh as roses,Even the birds chatter at dawn.

She reminded me that I could write stories,/could be struck by lightning & live.

Music helps to forgetThis forsaken tomb,That is my abodeCellars downFar belowUnder the ground, ...

We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.

Anyone who claims good or evil isn't one or either, they're just a liar... the worst kind of liar... the liar that doesn't even know they're lying. We're human. We're good during the day and evil at night, half the time those roles are reversed, that's what it's all about.

When the music note grows tired we will land on the wings of a guardian - One already accustomed to my attempts to fly One aware of my weakness for a beautiful try

THE THREE LAWS OF ALLYou are never to worship a living soul,Except for three entities:Three - YOUR FATHERTwo - YOUR MOTHERAnd one - HE WHO IS ALL.To begin to study All Things,You must start with only three things:Man,Nature,And the universe.All three are a reflection of each other.So simply study one,To understand the other.All of creation started with JUST three things,And no living thing was created without them:Water,Light,And dust.Know these three basic laws.And you will come to knowHe Who Is All.Forever big, yet sometimes small,He is found in the heartOf everything.Suzy Kassem Poetry, Truth is Crying

I will meet you on the nape of your neck one day, on the surface of intention, word becoming act.We will breathe into each other the high mountain tales, where the snows come from, where the waters begin.”-In the yellow time of pollen

I am that which unloves me and loves; I am stricken, and I am the blow.

We have all seen them circling pastures, have looked up from the mouth of a barn, a pine clearing, the fences of our own backyards, and have stood amazed by the one slow wing beat, the endless dihedral drift. But I had never seen so many so close, every limb of the dead oak feathered black; and I cut the engine let the river grab the jon boat and pull it toward the tree... Then as I passed under their dream, I saw for the first time its soft countenance the raw fleshy jowls, wrinkled and generous like the faces of the very old who have grown to empathize with everything. And I drifted away from them, reluctant, looking back at their roost, calling them what they are- transfiguring angels who pray over the leaf graves of the anonymous lost with mercy enough to consume us all and give us wings.

Hanged"I hung myself today. Hanged? Whatever,the point is I hanged myself today and I’m stillhanging.I feel fine. Just bored. I keep hoping thatsomeone will come home and cut me downbut then I keep remembering that if I knewsomeone like that I wouldn’t be up here. Bitironic, right? Or is that not ironic? I readsomewhere that, like, anything funny is,in some way, ironic. But I don’t know if it'sfunny or not. I don’t think my brain owns“funny”, you know?I feel taller. I like that.I’ve never been away from my shadow forthis long. It had always clung to my feet,parting momentarily for a quick dive intothe swimming pool. But never for fivehours. I like it. There’s three feet of spacebetween my two and the floor.I wanted something this morning. I may bestuck. But at least I’m three feet closer to it.

The color of the flower has faded, while I lost myself in idle thought in this long rain / 花の色は うつりにけりな いたづらに わが身世にふる ながめせし間に

That's old Twoflower, Rincewind thought. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate beauty, he just appreciates it in his own way. I mean, if a poet sees a daffodil he stares at it and writes a long poem about it, but Twoflower wanders off to find a book on botany. He just looks at things, but nothing he looks at is ever the same again. Including me, I suspect.

And was it his destined part / Only one moment in his life / To be close to your heart?

SHE Is A Wonderful Romantic Poem With Billions of Lines. Even If I Could, I Wouldn't Finish Reading HER In My Entire Life....

When sighs are hypnotized by sorrowHappy moments you need to borrowFrom a little child or from a birdWho has the wild freedom of soul: stirred!

Let my silence grow with noise as pregnant mothers grow with life. Let my silence permeate these walls as sunlight permeates a home. Let the silence rise from unwatered graves and craters left by bombs. Let the silence rise from empty bellies and surge from broken hearts. The silence of the hidden and forgotten. The silence of the abused and tortured. The silence of the persecuted and imprisoned. The silence of the hanged and massacred. Loud as all the sounds can be, let my silence be loud so the hungry may eat my words and the poor may wear my words. Loud as all the sounds can be, let my silence be loud so I may resurrect the dead and give voice to the oppressed. My silence speaks.

The Earth Turned to Bring us Closerby: Eugenio MontejoThe earth turned to bring us closerit turned on itself and within usuntil it finally brought us together in this dreamas written in the Symposium.Nights passed by, snowfalls and solsticestime passed in minutes and millennia.An ox cart that was on its way to Nineveharrived in Nebraska.A rooster was singing some distance from the world,in one of the thousand pre-lives of our fathers.The earth was spinning with its musiccarrying us on board;it didn't stop turning a single momentas if so much love,so much that is beautifulwas only an adagio written long agoin the Symposium's score.

Your thoughts were deeper than your mind, your little eyes pierced through the heart of your nation.

Even in the broken state, my mind find waysto connect with you.

I think I feel it The nimble, fleeting emotion That novels and authors desperately Try to convey in ink and heart blood Whose shadow festers in the loins Of teenagers and their insatiability The hidden thing none of us can see Yet we all disagree what it looks like If only it were love... simple, infinite love But this was more, this was bloodshot madness.

Walking with my doggy is so much fun! And she makes me laugh, she makes me run. Licking she likes to make some good new friends, Kindly enough with cyclists who spin with no end.

pada akhirnya yang pergi akan kembali,entah pada pelukan, atau pada masing-masing kenangan

Please be SILENT and LISTEN.I am the SCHOOLMASTERand you are in the CLASSROOM.Just like ELEVEN PLUS TWO equalsTWELVE PLUS ONE,And even a FUNERAL can be REAL FUN,You will find my DICTIONARYis quite INDICATORY.If you want to read my story, just look...THEN UNREAD.

...4-5-6: when time escapes the day in its most beautiful way. She starves for that beauty, she longs to quench her limitless thirst, but those moments are so fleeting and their limit is her unrest. Her bones are hollow and heavy as she takes a single step, and in that instant she is gone, blinded by the flash of a stray ray of light, her eyes close in that moment and stars flood her night. She falls forward slow, counting the half seconds of her descent. Her eyes stay closed, her thoughts are spent.

O, weary angels, don’t look at me with those eyes.If that is your state then what of our cries?What can I tell you of goodness that you don’t already know?What can I tell you of faith,of hope and lovethat you yourselves bestow?O, angels, don’t pluck another feather,this isn’t the sky, it’s just the weather.Please, angels, try.We are one all together.Look up and listen, I’ll say it once and then put down my pen:We are sorry for our ignoranceand even though we are worldly,it might happen again.We are sorry for your wearinessand even though you aren’t worldly,we are no more than human.

be the kiss in my hairthat no one seesmove, when i movesigh, when i sigh...be that line from a poemthat i hold in my eyes.

Imitating others, I failed to find myself. I looked inside and discovered I only knew my name. When I stepped outside I found my real Self. ~Rumi

My heart and my soul are best of friends.And their friendship startedthe day you and I first met.

With people you can never tell, Will they have changed when next we meet? But here in my dear old home at least, The plums still smell as sweet. / 人はいさ 心も知らず ふるさとは 花ぞ昔の 香ににほひける

What do you think of when you think of mourning?' Jenny asks.The question snaps me back to attention. I answer without really thinking. "I guess 'Funeral Blues' by W.H. Auden. I think it was Auden. I suppose that's not very original.''I don't know it.''It's a poem.''I gathered.''I'm just clarifying. It's not a blues album.'Jenny ignores my swipe at her intelligence.'Does your response need to be original? Isn't that what poetry is for, for the poet to express something so personal that it ultimately is universal?'I shrug. Who is Jenny, even new Jenny, to say what poetry is for? Who am I for that matter?'Why do you thin of that poem in particular?'"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.' I learned the poem in college and it stuck.

beware women grownoldwho were neveranything butyoung

Death an absolute mystery. No one knows the day and the time, no one knows where and how. Death is an absolute mystery.

Look for mein sleepless nights,among the stars,I’ll be your guiding star...Look for mein the moments of happiness,on a green field,I’ll be your joy....

She was small. Her shadow moved in the dance of chaos before her as the inferno blazed behind her and licked the sky with its many tongues. She clutched an indistinguishable toy with both arms tightly. Her face was serene. Her eyes shone with courage more immense than the surrounding flames. She was small, but at that moment, I've never seen a bigger person.