Poem Quotes - Page 2

I am in awe of flowers.
Not because of their colors,
but because even though they
have dirt in their roots,
they still grow.
They still bloom.

The world of light and starry grace;
within your mind I live to trace.
Your thought’s speed in thunder’s glory,
lightening my being with dream’s story.
I embrace the tree carrying your name
Your unspoken wish : the heart of fame.

My heart's scripture tastes
foreign in the mouths of
cowards and on the tongues of
those who have never breathed in
the moon and breathed out the world.

The adversary humbly cloaked in its fine smile 'eyes devoid of kindness, speaking gentle its knife secretly hidden.

I wear the universe backwards.
I imagine putting stars in my
coffee, and sugar in the sky.
I imagine going fishing in clouds,
and watching the sun hide
behind lakes. I'm too busy dancing
with my imagination to even tip toe
with reality for a second.

They say I'm going mad.
They're right.

The core of your
true self
is never lost.
Let go of all the
pretending and
the becoming
you've done just
to belong.
Curl up with your
rawness and come home.
You don't have to
find yourself;
you just have to
let yourself in.

The sky never falls with the rain.
It is never weighed down by all that
it carries. It takes all of its anchors
and turns them into stars.
Learn from this.

Take each day in your open palms and close your fists around it. This life is not done with you yet.

What is the finding of love,
but a voice answering a voice?

Life is so beautiful and so short
that anything that makes me feel
less than too much is nothing at all.

Poem
Words from the heart
Breaking, teaching, healing
The deepest, purest form of art
Feeling

it does seem
the more we drink
the better the words
go.

I feel no grief for being called something
which
I am not;
in fact, it's enthralling, somehow, like a good
back rub

Your flesh is not a reflection of your soul. So when you look in the mirror, remember that your light outshines your flaws.

Forcing the muse to let thoughts flow; equals to pushing a child, into labor.

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

We write about love like we should be bound in padded rooms.

The fly lands on the swatter.
The movie runs backwards
and catches fire in the projector.
This species apes us well
by talking only about itself

It's easy to convince men to love you, Puck. All you have to do is be a mountain they have to climb or a poem they don't understand. Something that makes them feel strong or clever. It's why they love the ocean.

Poems ought to reflect the work the poet does, and his relationships with other people, and family, and institutions, and organization.