Top Poetry Quotes

Dance to inspire, dance to freedom, life is about experiences so dance and let yourself become free.

The seasonal urge is strong in poets. Milton wrote chiefly in winter. Keats looked for spring to wake him up (as it did in the miraculous months of April and May, 1819). Burns chose autumn. Longfellow...

Poetry Definition

(n.) The art of apprehending and interpreting ideas by the faculty of imagination; the art of idealizing in thought and in expression.

(n.) Imaginative language or composition, whether expressed rhythmically or in prose. Specifically: Metrical composition; verse; rhyme; poems collectively; as, heroic poetry; dramatic poetry; lyric or Pindaric poetry.

We too can repair our cracks with goldAnd glow again.Crazed by life,More beautiful than ever before.

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

Shadow is the blue patch where the light doesn’t hit. It is mystery itself, and mystery is the ancients’ ultima Thule, the modern explorer’s Point of Relative Inaccessibility, that boreal point most d...

To storm, a mind, it must be balanced,by what can't be it must be challenged...

Come back to me.Where have you gone?And why so long?I miss the star below your lip,the constellation on your chest.I miss your ways,how you net butter-flying words and release themfor others to enjoy....

It is growing cold. Winter is putting footsteps in the meadow. What whiteness boasts that sun that comes into this wood! One would say milk-colored maidens are dancing on the petals of orchids. How co...

a flower knows, when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon,when I don't know, if you will ever come back.

I'm pretty lost in becoming all this frost. Bitter, like Winter. Strung-out like a string of pearls.

If you write then you are reborn because by writing about the moment, you can relive it for a second time.

Depression is like waking up and opening the blinds because your plants need sunlight, but it's 8p.m. It's always 8p.m and you keep apologizing for it.

I write our names on the page.What of it, if the paper will be burned?I write our names in the sand.What of it, if the shore will be washed by waves?I write our names on trees that will be cutand benc...

...as we are endowed. ...with rhetorics. ...none will deny. ...of innocence. ...towards scribbling. ...of love lines. ...and of lust. ...to what seems like male. ...to what seems like female. ...in th...

Don't shrink your standards, link yourself with those who think and ink like you.

Reading poetry is like undressing before a bath. You don't undress out of fear that your clothes will become wet. You undress because you want the water to touch you. You want to completely immerse yo...

Each timewe bow to thefeet of anythingwe find riveting,the mind rises tobe surprised withnew crowningdiamonds ofcreativity.

I'm falling apart, one part after another. Falling down on the world like snow. Half of me is already on the ground, watching from below.

Knowing you,I became mindless.Having wasted previous wishes,I'm riddled with regretsFeeling you,I became hopeless.Adrift in chasms,I surrender to a caress.Loving you,I became love.My universe became l...

MotherHushed and sacred silencefills the dawning skyI ponder in this momentof our journey which is nigh...