all my lifei have looked for poemsto elope with.
A Poet never denies creativity entrance.
Books have power to bring you glory or doom, it all depends on perception.
We will go far away, to nowhere, to conquer, to fertilize until we become tired. Then we will stop and there will be our home.
I love the way he says my name. With the elegance and utmost respect of a King, just before he bows to his Queen.
My heart's scripture tastes foreign in the mouths of cowards and on the tongues of those who have never breathed inthe moon and breathed out the world.
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...
PeterSwirling dreamsDragons knewTouching life to winDeep inside many other worldsWhere should we begin?
A book is a place where my reality, escapism, hope, despair, love and death lie.
These poems are cupsthat I pour my love into.Here, Drink!
Poems are soft kitten furs. smoothing out the rough edges of my world.
Every moment of the nightForever changing placesAnd they put out the star-lightWith the breath from their pale faces
November comesAnd November goes,With the last red berriesAnd the first white snows.With night coming early,And dawn coming late,And ice in the bucketAnd frost by the gate.The fires burnAnd the kettles...
Said the Sun to the Moon-'When you are but a lonely white crone,And I, a dead King in my golden armour somewhere in a dark wood,Remember only this of our hopeless loveThat never till Time is doneWill...
If I knew where poems came from, I'd go there.
...in that rich earth a richer dust concealed.(I'm flogging a dead horse w/ this one but this is the 1st time I've even seen this quotes feature! I just wanted to post something.)
I am a master wordsmith. I have the ability to bend words at will and invoke feelings with the stroke of my pen. But I'm yet to master the art of finding the right words to describe what happens in my...
I'll gladly settle for amnesia if I had to live in a world where I couldn't remember how much you mean to me.
Reckless of my mortality,Strengthen me to behold a face,To know the spirit of a beloved oneYet to endure, yet to dare!
Following dark winter's strife, a warm air rises, teemed with life. Birth, rebirth, as the waiting die. Old love, new love sprouts wings to fly.
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