Quotes About Poem

Quotes tagged as "poem" (showing 121-150 of 1,867)
Charles Wright
“What makes us leave what we love best?
What is it inside us that keeps erasing itself
When we need it most,
That sends us into uncertainty for its own sake
And holds us flush there
until we begin to love it
And have to begin again?
What is it within our own lives we decline to live
Whenever we find it,
making our days unendurable,
And nights almost visionless?
I still don't know yet, but I do it.”
Charles Wright, Littlefoot: A Poem

“...like that star of the waning summer who beyond all stars rises bathed in the ocean stream to glitter in brilliance.”
Homer, The Iliad

Munia Khan
“All shadows of clouds the sun cannot hide
like the moon cannot stop oceanic tide;
but a hidden star can still be smiling
at night's black spell on darkness, beguiling”
Munia Khan

E.E. Cummings
picker of buttercups
And the big bullying daisies
through the field wonderful
with eyes a little sorry
Another comes
also picking flowers”
E.E. Cummings, Poems, 1905 1962

Rachel Carson
“We stand now where two roads diverge. But unlike the roads in Robert Frost's familiar poem, they are not equally fair. The road we have long been traveling is deceptively easy, a smooth superhighway on which we progress with great speed, but at its end lies disaster. The other fork of the road — the one less traveled by — offers our last, our only chance to reach a destination that assures the preservation of the earth.”
Rachel Carson, Silent Spring

Charles Bukowski
“sometimes when everything seems at
its worst
when all conspires
and gnaws
and the hours, days, weeks
seem wasted –
stretched there upon my bed
in the dark
looking upward at the ceiling
i get what many will consider an
obnoxious thought:
it’s still nice to be
Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense

Jim Carroll
“You're growing up. And rain sort of remains on the branches of a tree that will someday rule the Earth. And it's good that there is rain. It clears the month of your sorry rainbow expressions, and it clears the streets of the silent armies... so we can dance.”
Jim Carroll
tags: poem

Leonard Cohen
“I heard of a man
who says words so beautifully
that if he only speaks their name
women give themselves to him.

If I am dumb beside your body
while silence blossoms like tumors on our lips
it is because I hear a man climb stairs
and clear his throat outside our door.”
Leonard Cohen

W.B. Yeats
“An Irish Airman foresees his Death

I Know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere among the clouds above;
Those that I fight I do not hate
Those that I guard I do not love,
My country is Kiltartan Cross,
My countrymen Kiltartan’s poor,
No likely end could bring them loss
Or leave them happier than before.
Nor law, nor duty bade me fight,
Nor public man, nor cheering crowds,
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove to this tumult in the clouds;
I balanced all, brought all to mind,
The years to come seemed waste of breath,
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this death.”
W.B. Yeats, The Wild Swans at Coole

فروغ فرخزاد
پري كوچك غمگيني را
مي شناسم كه در اقيانوسي مسكن دارد
و دلش را در يك ني لبك چوبين
مي نوازد آرام،آرام
پري كوچك غمگيني
كه شب از يك بوسه مي ميرد
و سحرگاه از يك بوسه به دنيا خواهد آمد”
فروغ فرخزاد
tags: poem

Mary Oliver

It is possible, I suppose that sometime
we will learn everything
there is to learn: what the world is, for example,
and what it means. I think this as I am crossing
from one field to another, in summer, and the
mockingbird is mocking me, as one who either
knows enough already or knows enough to be
perfectly content not knowing. Song being born
of quest he knows this: he must turn silent
were he suddenly assaulted with answers. Instead

oh hear his wild, caustic, tender warbling ceaselessly
unanswered. At my feet the white-petalled daisies display
the small suns of their center piece, their -- if you don't
mind my saying so -- their hearts. Of course
I could be wrong, perhaps their hearts are pale and
narrow and hidden in the roots. What do I know?
But this: it is heaven itself to take what is given,
to see what is plain; what the sun lights up willingly;
for example -- I think this
as I reach down, not to pick but merely to touch --
the suitability of the field for the daisies, and the
daisies for the field.”
Mary Oliver, Why I Wake Early
tags: poem

فروغ فرخزاد
“آه …
سهم من اينست
سهم من اينست
سهم من ،
آسمانيست كه آويختن پرده اي آن را از من مي گيرد
سهم من پايين رفتن ا ز يك پله ي متروكست
و به چيزي در پوسيدگي و غربت واصل گشتن
سهم من گردش حزن آلودي در باغ خاطره هاست
و در اندوه صدايي جان دادن كه به من مي گويد :
“دست هايت را
دوست مي دارم ”
دست هايم را در باغچه مي كارم
سبز خواهم شد ،مي دانم ،مي دانم،مي دانم
و پرستوها در گودي انگشتان جوهريم
تخم خواهند گذاشت”
فروغ فرخزاد
tags: poem

Charles Bukowski
“as long as there are
human beings about
there is never going to be
any peace
for any individual
upon this earth (or
anywhere else
they might
escape to).

all you can do
is maybe grab
ten lucky minutes
or maybe an hour

is working toward you
right now, and
I mean you
and nobody but
Charles Bukowski, You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense

“حالم چو دلیری است که از بخت بد خویش
در لشکر دشمن پسری داشته باشد”
حسین جنتی, ن
tags: man, pain, poem

Jean Cocteau
“Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. How much blood, how many tears in exchange for these axes, these muzzles, these unicorns, these torches, these towers, these martlets, these seedlings of stars and these fields of blue!”
Jean Cocteau

Edwin Arnold
“Sweetest smile is made saddest tear-drop!”
Edwin Arnold

“اشک رازیست
لبخند رازیست
عشق رازیست

اشک آن شب لبخند عشقم بود

قصه نیستم که بگویی
نغمه نیستم که بخوانی
صدا نیستم که بشنوی
یا چیزی چنان که ببینی
یا چیزی که چنان بدانی...

من درد مشترکم
مرا فریاد کن.”
tags: poem

Hasil Paudyal
“May be its mine bad-luck
Or yours not to get me
But I still have hope
Of being yours”
Hasil Paudyal, Blended Words

Vanna Bonta
“The true poem rests between the words.”
Vanna Bonta, Shades Of The World

Oscar Wilde
“tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play— I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend.”
Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

Santosh Kalwar
“Sickness awakens sadness sleeps- Moments of aloneness results into peace.”
Santosh Kalwar, A Very First Book Of Poems: Heartbreak

Diane Wakoski
“Sour Milk

You can't make it
turn sweet
it was an innocent color
like the flowers of wild strawberries,
and its texture was simple
would pass through a clean cheesecloth,
its taste was fresh.
And now
with nothing more guilty that the passage of time
to chide it with,
the same substance
has turned sour and lumpy.

The sour milk
makes interesting & delicious doughs,
can be carried to a further state of bacterial action
to create new foods,
can in its own right
be considered complicated and more interesting in texture
to one who studies it closely,
like a map of the world.

to most of us:
it is spoiled.
We throw it out,
down the drain-not in the backyard-
careful not to spill any
because the smell is strong.
A good cook
would be shocked
with the waste.
But we do not live in a world of good cooks.

I am the milk.
Time passes.
You cannot make it
turn sweet
I sit guiltily on the refrigerator shelf
trembling with hope for a cook
who dreams of waffles,
biscuits, dumplings
and other delicious breads
fearing the modern housewife
who will lift me off the shelf and with one deft twist
of a wrist...
you know the rest.

You are the milk.
When it is your turn
there is nothing more than the passage of time
we can chide you with.”
Diane Wakoski, Emerald Ice: Selected Poems, 1962 1987
tags: poem

Mark Strand
“Sometimes he did not know if he slept or just thought about sleep.”
Mark Strand

P.C. Cast
“The dividing line forms-fashioned from:
Dragon's tears
Missed years
Overcome fears
The fire and ice paradox
Seen with True Sight
Darkness does not always equate to evil
Light does not always bring good”
P.C. Cast, Destined

“I had forgotten. Disgust shadows desire.
Another life is never safely envied.”
Robert Wells

Santosh Kalwar
“Darkness all around, smoke in between my fingers, all you have given me dear, sorrow and sadness to sing here.”
Santosh Kalwar, A Very First Book Of Poems: Heartbreak

Charlotte Eriksson
“I am not a finished poem, and I am not the song you’ve turned me into. I am a detached human being, making my way in a world that is constantly trying to push me aside, and you who send me letters and emails and beautiful gifts wouldn’t even recognise me if you saw me walking down the street where I live tomorrow
for I am not a poem.
I am tired and worn out and the eyes you would see would not be painted or inspired
but empty and weary
from drinking too much
at all times
and I am not the life of your party who sings and has glorious words to speak
for I don’t speak much
at all
and my voice is raspy and unsteady from unhealthy living and not much sleep and I only use it when I sing and I always sing too much
or not at all
and never when people are around because they expect poems and symphonies and I am not
a poem
but an elegy
at my best
but unedited and uncut and not a lot of people want to work with me because there’s only so much you can do with an audio take, with the plug-ins and EQs and I was born distorted, disordered, and I’m pretty fine with that,
but others are not.”
Charlotte Eriksson, Another Vagabond Lost To Love: Berlin Stories on Leaving & Arriving

Santosh Kalwar
“A foolish man question: “what is love?” A madman answer: “Love is an omnipresent attribute of human life. Our appetite will always be unfulfilled for love. It is better for us because without it, earth will not rotate, seasons will not change, birds will not sing and life will not exit.” What do you think?”
Santosh Kalwar

Mary Howitt
“And now dear little children, who may this story read,
To idle, silly flattering words, I pray you ne'er give heed:
Unto an evil counsellor, close heart and ear and eye,
And take a lesson from this tale, of the Spider and the Fly.”
Mary Howitt, The Spider and the Fly

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