What Is A Poem Quotes

When I feel lonely you are here beside me with your loving and caring touch.

In times of need I call unto you Abba Father and you answer.

Everything I do you are here to give me an assurance that I will succeed. What an awesome Father you are.

My heart is crushed, my knees are weakened. My tears drench my pillow, my tears flood my bed every night. Do you know how much I miss you father of my children.

Did we not look out together upon the dark waters of the lakeAnd behold there the constellationsOf both hemispheres at once?-Love Songs of the Cinnamon Wastes

I love your round head, the brilliant green, the watching blue, these letters, this world, you.I am very, very hungry.

Her touch is like doing simple mathWhen she sleeps in the bed, subtracting clothesThere is a red ink, like a sparkling red wine, adding colorsDividing body, remembering gods, without multiplying

They tell me to be quietWhen I’d rather cause a riotAnd have everyone screamingOut their eccentric meaning.

A poet is somebody who has written a poem.

Write it as easy as you think about the difficulty

A poem isn't selfish. It speaks to people.

We are only allowed to livedue to some colossal misunderstanding.

she wanted because art

Many CastlesOn My Travels i have been A guest in Many castles Yet the Monument Which i Find Divine Is the oasis Where the heart And the silence Intertwine.

Must always try to be out thereGetting everything out thereTake what is inside yourselfAnd place it out there.

Furthermore, he had beautiful eyes.

O youcan’t tell someone just how lonely he is

...when the petals fallSay it is beautiful and good, say it is well

It is time I came back to my real lifeAfter this voyage to an island with no name, Where I lay down at sunrise drunk with light.

I can tell you that solitudeIs not all exaltation, inner spaceWhere the soul breaths and work can be done.Solitude exposes the nerve, Raises up ghosts.The past, never at rest, flows through it.

you want to be angry but you can’t stop looking and when you look you love and when you love the entire world unfolds around you

Shut lips, sleeping faces, Every stopped machine, The dumb and littered placesWhere crowds have been:.All silences rejoice, Weep (loudly or low), Speak-but with the voiceOf whom, I do not know.

I chase the wind and get lost in the clouds. I'm sweep into darkness in my search for the light.

Do not go gentle into that good night, rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Stay away from the underground lake I implore, The Siren will see you are heard of no more.

He offered his love ... she could not bother, She gives her love to the other! The other!

Yet, beauty cannot be forgotten, Eternal Wisdom can never die ...

The Scorpion?The Grasshopper?Which way will she go?

If Erik existed and lived life in despair, We wish him to know we are here and we care.

Has father from HeavenSent the Angel to me?

Have they known scorn like youFive cellars down?

No more can this Angel teach her, Yet, this guiding wing shall not forsake ...

Now Leroux, what think youOf this twist to the story?

She reminded me that I could write stories, /could be struck by lightning & live.

Pity that child who was born near Rouen, His only crime, to arrive deformed.

Music helps to forgetThis forsaken tomb, That is my abodeCellars downFar belowUnder the ground, ...

Monsieur, you must be mad!Box Five can never be hadFor money, love or the world ...

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.

Four simple chambers.A thousand complicated doors.One of them is yours.

Random thoughts that fly away. Where words has no place to stay. Let it be right where they are. Let the work of art preserve its life.

You smile and draw me near and whisper, "Do as dreamers do."I lean to you and whisper in your ear, "I cannot dream tonight my Dear. For it is you.

Often I Wish I Werea potato.Eyes openedin all directions.Unafraid of the cold earth.The differencebetween life and deathfor somebody.

SHE Is A Wonderful Romantic Poem With Billions of Lines. Even If I Could, I Wouldn't Finish Reading HER In My Entire Life....

Give me the purple smoke, rising higher and higher into my brain until I dance with the purple butterflies.” -Girl with the violet eyes.

my subconscious so full it must spill over

Death stings so harshly, no escape and hiding zone from it.

Timetick tocksays the clockwhirrling bynever shyquietly passlayer upon grassuntil time has gone.than you die.

All I know, all I can comprehend of the mathematics of a life, are the times your hand is inside my hand, and the times it is not.

I'd rather play tennis than go to the dentist. I'd rather play soccer than go to the doctor.I'd rather play Hurk than go to work.Hurk? Hurk? What's Hurk?I don't know, but it must be better than work.

And life goes on like this, an uncomplete poem.