When I no longer have your heartI will not request your bodyyour presenceor even your polite conversation.I will go away to a far countryseparated from you by the sea— on which I cannot walk —and refr...
When once we are buried you think we are gone. But behold me immortal!
Books have power to bring you glory or doom, it all depends on perception.
He is wearing an old overcoat from the Salvation Army in Easton, Pennsylvania. It cost five bucks ten years ago, Louise remembers. Henry is not interested so much in the bargain, he wants ghosts in hi...
But I have seen the best of you and the worst of you, and I choose both
There is no poetry without want. Desperate want.
everything that is scatteredcomes together in wordseverything that is lostcomes back in poetry.
A Poet never denies creativity entrance.
You hid in my ink and guided my hand. You stained the pages with your silence as God wrote the words, "Be still." Yet, my heart's blindness could only write in loud hues of red, "I love you.
In a dark placein a dark timestart with black.Stop. Soak up its energy.Remember the circlehowever bent and broken.Prize balance. Seek Pleasure.Allow surprise. Let musicguide your every impulse.Support...
He thought of trying to explain something he had recently noticed about himself: that if anyone insulted him, or one of his friends, he didn't really mind--or not much, anyway. Whereas if anyone insul...
How happy is the little stoneThat rambles in the road alone,And doesn't care about careers,And exigencies never fears;Whose coat of elemental brownA passing universe put on;And independent as the sun,...
Where the mind is without pain Where knowledge is gain; With you, life is not vain Where hate is a burdenFaith in humanity is not entwine The traces of you is meI am you and you are me Where dreams ar...
I write poems. I'm often laughed at for doing so. My friends and foes, who were born in 1980's or even later aren't savvy with this concept of the reading and writing poems. They're probably not at fa...
I've been writing poems since I was sixteen. Back then, poems were an obvious release for all the frustrations and anxieties associated with adolescence. Mostly, they were a way for me to impress girl...
We may know who we are or we may not. We may be Muslims, Jews or Christians but until our hearts become the mould for every heart we will see only our differences.
She The voices of your whisperThe images of your memoryThe Music of your LaughThe Portrait of your SmileAre dancing on my MindThe Love The Warmth of your BreathThe Sensation of your TouchThe Presence...
It is so hard to stay afloat in a world that just wants to drown you.
There is something about a bureaucrat that does not like a poem.
Robert Frost didn’t like to explain his poems—and for good reason: to explain a poem is to suck the air from its lungs. This does not mean, however, that poets shouldn’t talk about their poetry, or th...