Poems On Life Quotes

Quotes tagged as "poems-on-life" (showing 1-30 of 50)
“some people are so deep
you fall into them
and you never stop falling.”
AVA, This Is How You Know I Want You.

Charles Bukowski
“the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
much
and nobody finds the
one
but keep
looking
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than
flesh.”
Charles Bukowski

Jacqueline Simon Gunn
“She wasn’t broken.
She was made up of a thousand tiny little cracks.
She was always trying to keep herself glued together.
But it was hard, she felt too much.
No matter what she did, her emotions seeped through,
sometimes in drips, other times in floods,
She felt everything,
the heaviness of the clouds right before rain,
the rush of the subway cars as they left the station,
the feeling of goodbye as she watched someone walk away,
wondering if it was the last time she would see them,
the feeling of a kiss lingering on her cheek for hours.
She felt the loneliness of the sun as it hung in the sky,
shedding light on the day,
without companion.

And she longed to give as much as the sun.
If she could brighten someone’s day,
bestow warmth were there was cold,
make someone smile, give someone hope,
then for a minute, an hour, maybe even a day,
the cracks would fill with love
and the pain would become only a voice,
reminding her that her pain was important.
She knew how fragile life was, how hard,
and how precious.

She wanted to feel it all.”
Jacqueline Simon Gunn

“I love

how grown children
will still
name

their mothers
the
most
beautiful.

It is
as though,

their eyes
have met
the cascading
curves

and golden
silhouettes
of every
woman.

Yet
their souls
still
drum

to the beat 
of their
mother's
warmth
and care.”
A Starry Eyed April

“Cold feet under a warm blanket, steam over an empty mug--rain splatters on dry window pane--open journals of closed memories... tears of laughter and joy of pain... schmaltz of diametric morning.”
Val Uchendu

“Poetry comes to me like breathing. I inhale and breathe in the fragrances, flavors, emotions, sentiments, and feelings of people and places and breathe out poetry.”
Avijeet Das

Angela Colleen Prendergast
“In a world muddled with madness, I made a conscious effort to stay sane.”
Angela Colleen Prendergast, Overthought Thoughts of a 21-Year-Old

Nithin Purple
“The day arrived,when myriad teary rivers flow and the muted wind faintly died in his tears—an altar for the beloved one's departure,for sister-hood is no more,for her to adore!while pangs the beating world in a lamenting voice;their remembering loss of the 'one' they embrace most and when the crepuscule came like a phantom,the mournful,gathered birds swiftly flew in gloom.”
Nithin Purple, Venus and Crepuscule: Beauty and Violence on Me Thrown

Munia Khan
“I'm two days away
from day after tomorrow
Counting the hours
to my upcoming sorrow
Suddenly I look
into the eyes of my child
Then all sadness gone
as I smile the way she smiled”
Munia Khan

“Just knowing that you are there and you would be thinking about me while I am thinking about you makes my heart feel serene and contented.”
Avijeet Das

Alexandre Schoedler
“Nothing is impossible : just a mind's spark !”
Alexandre Schoedler

Jacqueline Simon Gunn
“Her thoughts were like the moon eclipsing the sun.”
Jacqueline Simon Gunn

Ralitsa Ivanova Tsanova
“Бе истина, а лъжа е.
Бе щастие, а сега се учим от плача си.
Бе смисъл, а безумие цари.
Бе приказка, бе магия,
а сега - ЖИВОТ Е.”
Ралица Цанова, Промени в тишината

“Outside, the meadows - dewy and golden
are cloaked in summer blooms.
My heart, scorching and desolate
sighs and sings sad songs of despair

And while I gather hundreds of
broken pieces of my heart
Outside, the meadows - dewy and golden
are cloaked in summer blooms.”
Neena H Brar

“MY FATHER
If I have to write a poem about my father
it has to be about integrity
and kindness —
the selfless kind of kindness
that is so very rare
I am sure there will be many people
living somewhere who must be as kind as him
but what I mean to say is
I have not met one yet

and when it comes to helping others
he always helps too much
and as the saying goes —
help someone, you earn a friend.
help someone too much,
you make an enemy. —
so you know the gist of what
I’m trying to say here

anyways I was talking about the
poem about my father
it has to be about
passion
and hard work
because you see
you cannot separate these
things from him
they are part of him as his two eyes and
two hands and his heart and his soul
and his whole being
and you cannot separate
wind and waves
or living and the universe
or earth and heavens
and although he never got any
award from bureaucracy
the students he taught ages ago
still touch his feet and some
of them are the people
you have to make
an appointment to meet even if
it is for two minutes of their time
and that’s a reward for him
bigger than any other that
some of his colleagues got
for their flattery

and also I have to write about
reliability as well
because you see
as the sun always rises
and the snowflakes are always six-folds
and the spring always comes
and the petals of a sunflower and every flower
follows the golden ratio of symmetry
my father never fails to
keep his promise

I have to mention the rage as well
that he always carries inside him
like a burning fire
for wrongdoings
for injustice

and now
he carries a bitterness too
for people
who used him good
and discarded
as it always happens with every good man
in our world of humans

and you must be thinking he has
learned his lessons well
you go to him —
it does not matter who you are
if he knows you
or you are a stranger from
other side of the world —
and ask for his help
he will be happy to do so

as you must know
people
never change
not their soul in any case.”
Neena H Brar

Lisa M. Cronkhite
“I'd rather watch the grass grow than listen to gossip.”
Lisa M. Cronkhite, Disconnected

“The Burial of Sir John Moore after Corunna"

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
As his corse to the rampart we hurried;
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot
O’er the grave where our hero we buried.

We buried him darkly at dead of night,
The sods with our bayonets turning;
By the struggling moonbeam’s misty light
And the lantern dimly burning.

No useless coffin enclosed his breast,
Nor in sheet nor in shroud we wound him,
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest
With his martial cloak around him.

Few and short were the prayers we said,
And we spoke not a word of sorrow;
But we steadfastly gazed on the face that was dead,
And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

We thought, as we hollowed his narrow bed
And smoothed down his lonely pillow,
That the foe and the stranger would tread o’er his head,
And we far away on the billow!

Lightly they’ll talk of the spirit that’s gone
And o’er his cold ashes upbraid him,
But little he’ll reck, if they let him sleep on
In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

But half of our heavy task was done
When the clock struck the hour for retiring;
And we heard the distant and random gun
That the foe was sullenly firing.

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,
From the field of his fame fresh and gory;
We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,
But left him alone with his glory.”
Charles Wolfe, The Burial of Sir John Moore and Other Poems

J.R. Ortiz
“I painted for the eyes, and wrote prose for the ears… Between those senses lay the mind and soul… I enjoyed connecting with people’s deepest thoughts, their hopes and dreams… My pen and brush were tools to achieve my artistic desired effects.”
J. R. Ortiz, FUEGO

“Scent of old books a mystery; a secret port of the dreamers.”
China Cancio, Poems:

Shreya Naik
“Unmask that face
Let me see what lies beneath
Unmask that face
Let me see what’s not on the surface

I no longer believe the smile on that face
Hidden motives is all I see
I no longer believe the sweetness of words
A backstabber is all I see

Dare to show your real face
As coward is that masked face
Dare to flaunt the inner you
As respect, you might get

Sharpen your knife
Stab me in the chest
I will admire you
For not stabbing me in the back
Unmask that face
Let me see what lies beneath
Unmask that face
Let me see what’s not on the surface”
Shreya Naik

Shreya Naik
“God is..
Not in the Himalayas
He is residing
In the slums,
On the borders,
In the beggar’s bread
In the Cancer patient’s strength
Do not go in search of him
In the temples, churches
Or mosques
Gone are the days
When he could peacefully
Sit on his throne
Listen to your prayers
Wipe your tears
And attend your fears
Go after him
If you want to be blessed
Give the hungry
His share of bread
Add life to the life of
Who is already half dead
Spend that extra penny
Not on your luxury
But the comfort of
The child shivering
On the road
Seek God
Not on his throne
Gone are the days
When he was not begging on the road”
Shreya Naik, The Blacks The Whites And The Colors of Life

Milan Kundera
“terrible are the wounds
of a murdered dream”
Milan Kundera, Life is Elsewhere

Neelam Saxena Chandra
“From the life’s pen
My ink flows and my feelings pour
Some call it poetry
I call it my boat’s oar…”
Neelam Saxena Chandra

Alesia Carter
“the pain was too much to bear
my only choice was to write out
the voices in my head”
Alesia Carter, Love Me Like The Stars

“The dark clouds and the silver linings Iridescence of the shallow evenings

Show them
They are beautiful.
Just a little effort
And astonishing
Are the thunders.”
Twinkle Sharma

“Do you remember the very beginning?
When the dream was all that mattered...
You may have come so far, honey...
But remember the routes of the beginning...
Where the dream all began.”
Chinonye J. Chidolue

Lity Munshi
“Impossible Wishes are
big flower garden
you make me
larger than garden
I am unfit
into any
basket”
Lity Munshi, Conversation With My Life

“The night still bold
The cold singing by
The crickets on their turbo
Ushering in a celestial night in beautiful robe
For tonight he will wonder into a glorious quest of the night
As he lay down his head, will the Angels guard him
Good night and sweet dreams”
Perpetua Ukakogu

“Happiness o Happiness
where have you gone now?
Life's been tough, thing's been hard.
people deceived me, forgive them all,
hypocrites stabbed me, yet i laughed.
innocents beheaded me, but it was not painful at all.

losing her, like losing my calm.
i said love, she called Lust.
i have deserted many memories.
unforgettable, unfortunate memories.

happiness o happiness
where have you gone now?”
Adam Sam

J. AnnRey
“I breathe therefore I write…”
J. AnnRey

« previous 1