Poets Quotes - Page 3

There are no winners in real games.

A poet's fantasy: Hiring a rapper to rap his rhymes.

Every notary carries about inside him the debris of a poet.

Keep a journal, and don't assume that your work has to accomplish anything worthy: artists and peace-workers are in it for the long haul, and not to be judged by immediate results.

It isn't possible to love and part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal.

Absolute equals nothingness.

It is ferocious, life, but it must eat . . .

I have tried to live very quietly, so I could be happy.

I'm sick of the images trapped in my headI'm sick of being preoccupied with the dead

Let your writing liberate you. Write with passion to allow your feelings to breathe and enjoy the journey across blank pages.

This dwarf still observes the world from his own self-imposed height.

And stay, my dearstay...forever, as my quiet song,in my lilac dawn.

Nobility is not only in forgiveness.

Language is the mother, not the handmaiden, of thought; words will tell you things you never thought or felt before.

He did not waste time in a vain search for a place in history.

I used to know Brian Howard well -- a dazzling young man to my innocent eyes. In later life he became very dangerous -- constantly attacking people with his fists in public places -- so I kept clear of him. He was consumptive but the immediate cause of his death was a broken heart.

. . . Orpheus struck dumb with hindsight.

A poem in the heart is worthmore than a million dollarsin the bank account.

Whatever others may say, they say it to deceive and comfort themselves, not help you.

Poetry is the opening and closing of a door leaving those who look through to guess what is seen during a moment.

A good poem is a contribution to reality. The world is never the same once a good poem has been added to it. A good poem helps to change the shape and significance of the universe helps to extend everyone's knowledge of himself and the world around him.

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.

The poet's mind is ... a receptacle for seizing and storing up numberless feelings phrases images which remain there until all the particles which can unite to form a new compound are present together.

Say No! Accept the burdens of revenge.

Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them.

Tell me something only you know and make a new friend.

The poets carry feelings, delivering desires and dispatching dreams. Even if sometimes they need pack some sorrows, distill several disappointments and filter strange nightmares.

With dark raven paper and twinkling white ink, I wrote my heart in the night’s sky.

Writing free verse is like playing tennis with the net down.

you came in slowly like the fog and consumed me.

& love is an evil word. Turn it backwards/see, see what I mean? An evol word.

You ask me to write you a poem,I pen you an empty ocean,You run away.You ask me who I am,I paint you a breaking sky,You weep in the rain.

By adherence to a special set of rules, the child of the shabby-genteel can sometimes leap across the time which has passed by his family and function in the real world without doing violence to the hopes his mother held out for him. But those who cannot live within this pattern are the freaks and poets, and they travel a different road to peace.

Poets create gods, philosophers destroy them.

May our twilights mix togetherlike breath and breathlessness.

A poem that is itself a name does not yearn for the name of its creator, but shines from its name alone.

The light teaches you to convert life into a festive promenade.

When a poet's mind is perfectly equipped for its work it is constantly amalgamating disparate experiences.

To fall in love with someone's thoughts - the most intimate, splendid romance.

They have the guns, we have the poets. Therefore, we will win.

Is it possible to write a poem or are these words just screams of outlaws exiled to the desert?

A change of style is a change of meaning.

I had never known any man to die while speaking in terza-rima

It is the poet and philosopher who provide the community of objectives in which the artist participates. Their chief preoccupation, like the artist, is the expression in concrete form of their notions of reality. Like him, they deal with the verities of time and space, life and death, and the heights of exaltation as well as the depths of despair. The preoccupation with these eternal problems creates a common ground which transcends the disparity in the means used to achieve them.

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

Poetry is a storm asking peace to dance with her.

A poem is a meteor.

How does one say something new and not retell?

. . .criticism is to poetry as air is to a noise: it allows it to be heard; and even if we can't see it or feel it, it is there, shaping how we hear.

Your words... I hold them deeplike ancient skinshold wrinkles.

Without space, there is no time.

Don't bow down to critics who have not themselves written great masterpieces.

Get close to grass and you’ll see a star.

Traps!" he said. "Never in the world! Don't think it! Why, Gower is just a necessary olf bore. Nobody's supposed to know much about him--except instructors and their hapless students.

when i write of you, my deari am holding youin the most exquisiteways.

And there he would lie all day long on the lawn brooding presumably over his poetry, till he reminded one of a cat watching birds, when he had found the word, and her husband said, "Poor old Augustus--he's a true poet," which was high praise from her husband.

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.

Just look what happens to poets," I used to tell my honors class on the first day of school. "Half the time they go mad. And you know why I think that happens? Too much truth distilled to its essence, all surrounding evidence ignored or discarded. And I'm not faulting them for that.

A poet is a verb that blossoms light in gardens of dawn, or sometimes midnight.

i am changingand i am loving change.