Top Poetry Quotes

We love the imperfect shapes in nature and in the works of art, look for an intentional error as a sign of the golden key and sincerity found in true mastery.

I want you to crave the crisp ocean breezeas much as I do.I want your soul to beas rain-swept as mine.

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 all have a god and a poet inside us. The poet, the human; the god, the divine.It is by the grace of our god that we can find the divine inspiration with which to wax poetic about our human experien...

To go against the grain is the secret of bravery.

She was born of space. And starlight. But she bled wrath. And vengeance.."[From Current Work In Progress]

She walks,on the streets,with a face that,doesn't belong.It smiles more than,many put together,whole day long.Her heart misfit,a little chipped.And she likes to,call it once broken,but now stitched.

Reading someone's poetry is like seeing them naked -Davis Pritchett

To leave out beautiful sunsets is the secret of good taste.

Love can be such a mysterious muse and seductress... spinning her magical web of stardust and emotional euphoria. True love sang her siren song and we wrapped that song around us like the sweetest mel...

to be a poet meansto live with a permanent wound forever susceptibleto either the shade of the skyor someone's eyes.

The greatest adventure is to have no fear for the blaze that lies ahead.

She gave me hugs that were like oxygen to a dying man and uplifted my soul!

If I stay close to the sea, I will go on well.

She was exactly right and wrong in the perfect sort of way. This kiss would be the first of many, she was the type of girl I would desperately fight for to stay.

Under the greenwood tree,Who loves to lie with meAnd tune his merry note,Unto the sweet bird's throat;Come hither, come hither, come hither.Here shall he seeNo enemyBut winter and rough weather.

I am just like you,Destined to play my part.And leave,In the nature of my departure at least,Some kind of sweet message behindIn the fathomless pattern I make.

Give a poet a pen

Now I know I'm not broken,For the stars within my soul,Have just built constellations,To keep me feeling whole.

To say more while saying less is the secret of being simple.

There is something perfect to be found in the imperfect: the law keeps balance through the juxtaposition of beauty, which gains perfection through nurtured imperfection.