On Poetry Quotes
Open wide the mind's cage-door, She'll dart forth, and cloudward soar.
Remembrance and reflection how allied!What thin partitions Sense from Thought divide!
With slouch and swing around the ringWe trod the Fools’ Parade!We did not care: we knew we wereThe Devils’ Own Brigade:And shaven head and feet of leadMake a merry masquerade.
the price of creationis nevertoo high.the price of livingwith other peoplealwaysis.
Ideas must work through the brains and arms of men, or they are no better than dreams
A drainless shower of light is poesy 'tis the supreme of power 'tis might half slumb'ring on its own right arm.
the stars began to burnthrough the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voicewhich you slowlyrecognized as your own
she wasn't veryinterestingbut few peopleare.
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable, I sound my barbaric yawp over the roofs of the world.
A life without books is a thirsty life, and one without poetry is...like a life without pictures.
it does seemthe more we drinkthe better the wordsgo.
the world is better withoutthem.only the plants and the animals aretrue comrades.I drink to them and withthem.
Next o'er his books his eyes began to roll, In pleasing memory of all he stole.
Colour which is the poet's wealth is so expensive that most take to mere outline sketches and become men of science.
All that we call sacred history attests that the birth of a poet is the principal event in chronology.
Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry.
When a poet's mind is perfectly equipped for its work it is constantly amalgamating disparate experiences.
I remember yoursaying: "make itor break it."neither happened anditwon't.
Looks like what drives me crazyDon't have no effect on you--But I'm gonna keep on at itTill it drives you crazy, too.
It got so bad that Al thoughtmaybe it washimso he went to a shrinkand askedand the shrink said, "you're one of the sanest menI've ever met."poor Al.that made him feelworse than ever.
The way a crowShook down on meThe dust of snowFrom a hemlock treeHas given my heartA change of moodAnd saved some partOf a day I had rued.
I felt for the tormented whirlwindsDamned for their carnal sinsCommitted when they let their passions rule their reason.
... paint in blue and black...sometimes gray - the colors of night - occasionally I surprise you with a mustard yellow, but then, I am a poet ...
I want to show my sins withinTo help make me sinless, once again"What I Want
And when I feelthe masks beneathcrumble and fade withtime I build new onesto replace the old."Masks"- Sins Within
so quiet now my dearest knightyour armor shines white stillfor my lips shall not say the wordsthat make you flee with fear"White Knight
I can no longer trust in this loveIt has fallen like the saints aboveAll because of your sweet liesYou sang them like a lullaby"Phoenix
Failures of nerve and energy are not permitted. That's what it means to be an object.
I fancied you'd return the way you said, But I grow old and I forget your name. --From the poem "Mad Girl's Love Song
...my dreams are tangled in images of stars and clouds and firelight - we go camping at night - it's my lucid dream of being with you...
The important thing in life is to be.
...freshly cut Christmas trees smelling of stars and snow and pine resin - inhale deeply and fill your soul with wintry night...
...if it weren't for you, mornings wouldn't be so comforting - slippers wouldn't scrape through the rooms of my heart...
Poetry, to me, is a type of shamanistic chant capable of chasing away the darkness within us.
Blessed are you who circled desire with a blade, and the garden with fiery swords, and heaven and earth with a word.