Poem Quotes

“You are an Universe of Universes and your soul a source of songs.”
― Ruben Darío

“It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road.”
― Virginia Woolf, A Room of One's Own

“MISERABLE

Release the toxic and infectious-
Spreaders of misery,
Souls destroying souls-
And poisonous liars.

Awaken from the hallucinations-
And take back your heart.
Reclaim your self-esteem-
And leave the toxic be.”
― Giorge Leedy, Uninhibited From Lust To Love

“I couldn’t have dreamed you into existence because I didn’t even know I needed you. You must have been sent to me.”
― Kamand Kojouri

“The whole idea of it makes me feel
like I'm coming down with something,
something worse than any stomach ache
or the headaches I get from reading in bad light--
a kind of measles of the spirit,
a mumps of the psyche,
a disfiguring chicken pox of the soul.

You tell me it is too early to be looking back,
but that is because you have forgotten
the perfect simplicity of being one
and the beautiful complexity introduced by two.
But I can lie on my bed and remember every digit.
At four I was an Arabian wizard.
I could make myself invisible
by drinking a glass of milk a certain way.
At seven I was a soldier, at nine a prince.

But now I am mostly at the window
watching the late afternoon light.
Back then it never fell so solemnly
against the side of my tree house,
and my bicycle never leaned against the garage
as it does today,
all the dark blue speed drained out of it.

This is the beginning of sadness, I say to myself,
as I walk through the universe in my sneakers.
It is time to say good-bye to my imaginary friends,
time to turn the first big number.

It seems only yesterday I used to believe
there was nothing under my skin but light.
If you cut me I could shine.
But now when I fall upon the sidewalks of life,
I skin my knees. I bleed.”
― Billy Collins

“The aching in my chest
isn't because I miss you,
it's realizing that you have
become someone I no longer know,
your fears, your 4 am thoughts,
your achievements,
are things I no longer have an equivalent to.
Who we were and who we are
are four different people,
and the me from now
doesn't relate to the me from then,
let alone to the you from now.
-Tanzy Sayadi and Jarod Kintz”
― Tanzy Sayadi, liQUID PROse QUOtes

“TO what purpose, April, do you return again?
Beauty is not enough.
You can no longer quiet me with the redness
Of little leaves opening stickily.
I know what I know.
The sun is hot on my neck as I observe
The spikes of the crocus.
The smell of the earth is good.
It is apparent that there is no death.
But what does that signify?
Not only under ground are the brains of men
Eaten by maggots.
Life in itself
Is nothing,
An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs.
It is not enough that yearly, down this hill,
April
Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.”
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

“I once broke up with a boy because he wrote me an awful poem.”
― Karen Joy Fowler, The Jane Austen Book Club

“We are never alone
We are all wolves
Howling to the same moon.”
― Atticus Poetry, Atticus

“My father's love was always strongMy mother's glamour lives on and on.Yet still inside I felt alone, for reasones unknow to me.”
― lana del rey

“ví dù người có phụ ta
thì ta chỉ nguyện thành ra con bò
con bò rất ít so đo
yêu ai chỉ biết lò dò đi theo
dù cho đứa đó lật kèo”
― Nguyễn Thiên Ngân, Mình Phải Sống Như Mùa Hè Năm Ấy

“می تراود مهتاب


می تراود مهتاب
می درخشد شب تاب
نیست یک دم شکند خواب به چشم کس ولیک
غم این خفته ی چند
خواب در چشم ترم می شکند
نگران با من استاده سحر
صبح می خواهد از من
کز مبارک دم او آورم این قوم به جان باخته را
در جگر لیکن خاری
از ره این سفرم می شکند
نازک آرای تن ساق گلی
که به جانش کشتم
و به جان دادمش آب
ای دریغا به برم می شکند
دست ها می سایم
تا دری بگشایم
��ر عبث می پایم
که به در کس آید
در و دیوار به هم ریخته شان
بر سرم می شکند

***

می تراود مهتاب
می درخشد شب تاب
مانده پای آبله از راه دراز
بر دم دهکده مردی تنها
کوله بارش بر دوش
دست او بر در، می گوید با خود:
غم این خفته چند
خواب در چشم ترم می شکند
”
― Nima Yushij

“Sundays too my father got up early
and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold,
then with cracked hands that ached
from labor in the weekday weather made
banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him.

I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking.
When the rooms were warm, he'd call,
and slowly I would rise and dress,
fearing the chronic angers of that house,

speaking indifferently to him,
who had driven out the cold
and polished my good shoes as well.
What did I know, what did I know
of love's austere and lonely offices?”
― Robert Hayden, Collected Poems

“آنکه می گوید دوست ات می دارم
خنیاگر غمگینی ست
که آوازش را از دست داده است.

ای کاش عشق را
زبان سخن بود

هزار کاکلی شاد
در چشمان توست
هزار قناری خاموش
در گلوی من.

عشق را
ای کاش زبان سخن بود”
― شاملو

“Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.”
― Edna St. Vincent Millay

“True love. Is it normal
is it serious, is it practical?
What does the world get from two people
who exist in a world of their own?”
― Wisława Szymborska, View with a Grain of Sand: Selected Poems

“THE SILENT PEOPLE

Some people are so rude,
Living their lives with no concern for others,
Or possibly just intent on pissing other people off-
Annoying everyone around them.

The silent people-
Want to kill them-
And drive forks into their skulls-
Create weapons of extreme torture-
And scream from the top of their lungs-
"SHUT UP."

But words are not spoken-
And attention is not given.
Though annoyance is apparent,
The annoying keep on living.”
― Giorge Leedy, Uninhibited From Lust To Love

“If I were dead, I wouldn't be sad, and I wouldn't be glad, because I wouldn't be.”
― Marcus Sedgwick

“কতো দেহ এলো,- গেল,- হাত ছুঁয়ে-ছুঁয়ে
দিয়াছি ফিরায়ে সব,- সমুদ্রের জলে দেহ ধুয়ে
নক্ষত্রের তলে
বসে আছি,- সমুদ্রের জলে
দেহ ধুয়ে নিয়া
তুমি কি আসিবে কাছে”
― Jibanananda Das, ধূসর পাণ্ডুলিপি

“Some say an army of horsemen
some an army on foot
others say ships laden for war
are the fairest things on earth.

But I say the fairest sight
on this dark earth
is the face of the one you love.

Nor is it hard to understand:
love has humbled the hearts
of the proudest queens.

And I would rather see you now
stepping over my threshold
than any soldier greaved in gold
or any iron-beaked ship.”
― Alison Croggon, The Singing

“Every poem is a coat of arms. It must be deciphered. How much blood, how many tears in exchange for these axes, these muzzles, these unicorns, these torches, these towers, these martlets, these seedlings of stars and these fields of blue!”
― Jean Cocteau

“Don't be afraid to be afraid.
Have fear, and then conquer the
shit out of it.”
― D. Antoinette Foy

“The Garden

En robe de parade.
- Samain


Like a skein of loose silk blown against a wall
She walks by the railing of a path in Kensington Gardens,
And she is dying piece-meal
of a sort of emotional anaemia.

And round about there is a rabble
Of the filthy, sturdy, unkillable infants of the very poor.
They shall inherit the earth.

In her is the end of breeding.
Her boredom is exquisite and excessive.
She would like some one to speak to her,
And is almost afraid that I
will commit that indiscretion.”
― Ezra Pound

“tone of colour in a room or a morning sky, a particular perfume that you had once loved and that brings subtle memories with it, a line from a forgotten poem that you had come across again, a cadence from a piece of music that you had ceased to play— I tell you, Dorian, that it is on things like these that our lives depend.”
― Oscar Wilde, The Picture of Dorian Gray

“Larry’s such a liar---
He tells outrageous lies.
He says he’s ninety-nine years old
Instead of only five.
He says he lives up on the moon,
He says that he once flew.
He says he’s really six feet four
Instead of three feet two.
He says he has a billion dollars
‘Stead of just a dime.
He says he rode a dinosaur
Back in some distant time.
He says his mother is the moon
Who taught him magic spells.
He says his father is the wind
That rings the morning bells.
He says he can take stones and rocks
And turn them into gold.
He says he can take burnin’ fire
And turn it freezin’ cold.
He said he’d send me seven elves
To help me with my chores.
But Larry’s such a liar---
He only sent me four.”
― Shel Silverstein

“She had blue skin. And so did he. He kept it hid, And so did she. They searched for blue Their whole life through, Then passed right by - And never knew.”
― Shel Silverstein

“i am really colored & really sad sometimes & you hurt me
more than i ever danced outta/ i am ready to die like a lily in the
desert/ & i cdnt let you in on it cuz i didnt know/ here
is what i have/ poems/ big thighs/ lil tits/ &
so much love/ will you take it from me this one time/
please this is for you”
― Ntozake Shange, For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf

“The Weaver

My life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.

Oft times He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the underside.

Not til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful
In the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.”
― Benjamin Malachi Franklin

“Such a small, pure object a poem could be, made of nothing but air a tiny string of letters, maybe small enough to fit in the palm of your hand. But it could blow everybody's head off.”
― Mary Karr, Lit

“My heart's in the Highlands, my heart is not here;
My heart's in the Highlands a-chasing the deer;
A-chasing the wild-deer, and following the roe,
My heart's in the Highlands wherever I go.”
― Robert Burns