Poem Quotes - Page 10

she wanted because art

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.

I am sad, like the hot dust on the streets
And the music of fresh fallen leaves
Caught in a sliding summer breeze.

Bitter and Frail, young and weak.
Smiles are useless, talk is cheap,
Give thou venom, fangs like slime,
Ugly freak for all of time.
An empty gift just from me,
Give it now, so mote it be!

Your personality should be described in poem not in paragraph.

The longer a life, the challenge is not the distance between destinations, but the difficulty of travelling light. My soul’s a portmanteau packed full, one half filled with what was, the other with what is, what should be.

At sunset, on the river ban, Krishna
Loved her for the last time and left. . .

That night in her husband's arms, Radha felt
So dead that he asked, What is wrong,
Do you mind my kisses, love? And she said,
Not not at all, but thought, What is
It to the corpse if the maggots nip?

Things are always terrible
for some people. The question
is the ratio of the palpable hurt
to the general session

of life in an era.

Pain will humble ones soul,my pain was necessary as it humbled me beyond my limitations,I do not rush what is meant to be slow,patience".

the star that I was wishing
the light that I was kissing
sitting back and reminiscing
that night, it was missing.

Our lives can be compared to beautiful streams, which are destined to flow, grow in majesty to create wonderful features such as cascading waterfalls, and give nourishment and life to those in its path. The Hidden Path

the flames are silent,
Peace is violent,
Tears are frozen
’cause massacre was chosen.

~~ 26/11– Mumbai terror attack memories

I've no need for a limited chimney when am feeling the warmth of the motherly sun.

she wasn't very
interesting
but few people
are.

the price of creation
is never
too high.

the price of living
with other people
always
is.

And the pebbles fight each other as rocks/And my father bends among them/Two hands outstretching up to me/Not that I can hear.

My tears of joy
hear the raindrops crying,
as the rain never wants to pour
down on my cloudy days
when I make
our love-dreams
for the sun to dream
only for you....

(From the poem "Only For You" By Munia Khan)

My life is filled with buckets of tears; thousands of people shouting in my ears; the humming and chirping of hundreds of Himalayan birds, which are irresistible to hear.

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.

Music helps to forget
This forsaken tomb,
That is my abode
Cellars down
Far below
Under the ground, ...