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Ode Quotes

Browse 29 quotes about Ode.

Ode Quotes

“This is an ode to life. The anthem of the world. For as there are billions of different stars that make up the sky so, too, are there billions of different humans that make up the Earth. Some shine brighter but all are made of the same cosmic dust. O the joy of being in life with all these people! I speak of differences because they are there. Like the different organs that make up our bodies. Earth, itself, is one large body. Listen to how it howls when one human is in misery. When one kills another, the Earth feels the pang in its chest. When one orgasms, the Earth craves a cigarette. Look carefully, these animals are beauty spots that make the Earth’s face lovelier and more loveable. These oceans are the Earth’s limpid eyes. These trees, its hair. This is an ode to life. The anthem of the world. I will no longer speak of differences, for the similarities are larger. Look even closer. There may be distances between our limbs but there are no spaces between our hearts. We long to be one. We long to be in nature and to run wild with its wildlife. Let us celebrate life and living, for it is sacrilegious to be ungrateful. Let us play and be playful, for it is sacrilegious to be serious. Let us celebrate imperfections and make existence proud of us, for tomorrow is death, and this is an ode to life. The anthem of the world.”

PeopleWorldLoveLifeHumansCountryPlayBodyTodayEarthBeautifulSpiritualDeathJoySufferingHumanitySpiritualityStarsPeaceNatureDifferencesSpaceUnitedExistenceBeautySkySeriousHairProudTomorrowLivingAppreciateHarmonyGratefulDistanceMiseryUnityDustCelebrateOnenessBelovedLiveCosmicAnimalsEyesOrgansPresentCigaretteLoverAnguishTreesPersonLimbsTogethernessCitySeriousnessNationWildlifeKamandKojouriKillKamand KojouriListenNowWildUngratefulHowlShineLookUnionAnthemSufferOrgasmPeacefulnessBodiesImperfectionsOceansOne WorldPlayfulChestSacrilegeSacrilegiousCloserBillionOdeSimilaritiesSeasLife PoemsSpotUnappreciativeLoveablePangLovelierCelebration Poems
Author:Kamand Kojouri
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“The scent of sunlight peers through apexes of mountains and a compost of water hyacinths. A name for each peak, an unfolding in each summit. As you lay awake, dreaming for a hundred years, history speaks back to you: the living tissue in a tree stump, musky wildflowers, open mouths of river-streams in full force, a dab of attar from chandan trees on your wrist.”

FamilyHistoryMountainsAncestorsOdeEcopoetryAncestralAn Inheritance Of LightResponsible Mountaineering
Author:Sneha Subramanian Kanta
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“والآن‎ في فصل الحنينِ وحين يعرى حزن أيلول ‎ لأنسام الشتاءْ ‎ ينتابني وجعٌ وأسئلةٌ لماذا الحزن مع عين السماءْ؟ ‎ ولأيّ قلبٍ كلّما انهمرت سماءٌ ‎ فوق أرضٍ ‎أشتهي حبّاً مضى... ‎ وتفوحُ رائحةُ النساءْ…”

Mahdi MansourBalladEpic PoetryOdeSonnetsGhazalVillanelleClassic PoetryRondel
Author:Mahdi Mansour
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“أجمل تجليات الله، قلوب العاشقين… وأجمل تجليات العشق، عيون المؤمنين… هنا حيث العشق إيمان، والحجر كالشجر، والكلام كالسلام، يجد الشعر الضوء ليخرج بانسيابية من بين أنامل الأطفال وكسور الأفئدة…”

Mahdi MansourBalladEpic PoetryOdeGhazalVillanelleRondelPoetry AnthologyTerza RimaTriolet
Author:Mahdi Mansour
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“لَكِ فُسْحَةٌ كُبْرى بِذاكِرَتي ‎فَتَحَفَّظي, أَرْجوكِ سَيّدَتي ‎لا تاجَ عِنْدي...لا قصور معي... ‎حَتّى تَكوني أَنْتِ مَمْلَكَتي ‎لا تُجْهِدي عَيْنَيْكِ بي فَأَنا ‎رَجُلٌ جِراحاتُ الهَوى لُغَتي ‎أُشْفى مِنِ امْرَأَةٍ بِإِمْرَأَةٍ ‎فَأَحُلُّ مُشْكِلَتي بِمُشْكِلَةِ…”

Mahdi MansourBalladEpic PoetryOdeGhazalVillanelleRondelPoetry AnthologyPoetry Collections
Author:Mahdi Mansour
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“The Christmas Child by Stewart Stafford O this world’s resplendent beauty, Halting breath of sheer mortal me, Words in my throat pause freely, My eyes overflow involuntarily. Salted joy’s bittersweet reign. Sculptors can your looks ne’er feign, The greatest reward gifted to me, Wrenched away in coldest larceny. Death shall hold no fear, I say, With your sweet face to light my way, At precipice edge, a smitten retinue, My beloved, restored, so we continue. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.”

HopeMortalityHope And DespairGrief And HopeBeauty Of NatureOdeChristmas PoemLove And Loss PoemsWhat A Wonderful WorldEternal Hope
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“Pay to go inside Neruda's home A body lies there with no dome. But right there in the front hall Lean a fairy against the icy wall. Oh Endless enigmas had the bard! Nice and large and calm backyard Ends In the middle of a rare room Rare portrait of revelishing gloom. Up climbing at the weird snail stair Does make you grasp for some air. And there's a room with bric-a-brac: Old and precious books all in a pack. Dare saying what I liked most of all? Enjoyed seeing visitors having a ball!”

PeopleLoveArtPoetryHouseWomenPoetPoemAncientOddGuestsVisitingOldTourismLyricsVisitorsPrecious ThingsPreciousWallsRarityRareMuseumVisitRhymesOdeTourBardPablo NerudaNerudaArt CollectionArt CollectorOld PieceRhymedAcrostiLa ChasconaPablo Neruda OdePablo Neruda Poetry PopulismPreciosity
Book:ACross Tic
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“Ode To A Spider's Web by Stewart Stafford O to dwell in the skeletal palace, Of the spider's ceiling cobweb and, Spy on all as none can spy on you, An arachnid deity astride the world. Even with many eyes to see things, It's blind to those monstrous features, Nimble, lean legs, as wicked fingers, Weave a webbed masterpiece home. Outdone by his garden cousin's web, With backlit, bejewelled beads of dew, Undulating in a tepid, animating breeze, The house spider is a satisfied squatter. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved”

NatureSpidersSpiderOdeCobwebNature PoemNature Poems Irish PoetAnimal PoemsArachnidSpiders Web
Author:Stewart Stafford
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“My Love wakes in a puddle of sunlight. Her hands asleep beside her. Her hair draped on the lawn like a mantle of cloth. I give her my life for our love is whole I sing her beauty in my soul.”

SoulPoetryMorningLovelyLove StoryWakingSunlightLove PoetrySoul MatePoetry LoveRoman PayneWaking UpWaking LifeWanderessLove SongOdeLove SongsBeauty In LiteraturePastoralPoemeOde To JoySerenadeSoliloquyMorning Song PoetryPastoralePastoralistSoliloquiesBeauty Song
Author:Roman Payne
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“An Ode to The Occupants of The Titan Sub In the depths where everything is dark, Nothing exists and one tends to lose every mark, Of the reality that lies above, And the memories of the ones you love, Appear to float by like voluptuous sirens, And you think of the benevolent Titans, Then as the pressure mounts you hear a creaking sound, Slowly building up inside the hollow chamber where now only fear does abound, Then as your heart races and it does frantically pound, You feel you are to an unknown and impending doom bound, And you summon all your Gods in the form of your fears, And you gauge the ferocity of all the snares, Building from above, bottom, left and right, It is then you hold your equally fearful companion’s hand tight, And you remember all that you loved and those you still love, But they are far up and above, and you are here in the abyss now, Where darkness spreads endlessly and the creaking sound becomes louder, And all of a sudden you feel you are hit by a titanic sized aqueous boulder, Everything implodes, but only your heart and your memories explode, As they surface on the horizon of perception and your loved ones rush to the abode, Of the Gods where castles of prayers are erected, Prayers rising from the heart that gods have not defected, There they rush, and implore, But the Titans become quieter and they think Gods too ignore, The cries of the lamenting and remorseful heart, But little do they know praying is not an art, It is a feeling sublime and serene that arises from within, And when expressed with sincerity in the universe its resonance does deepen, And then Gods respond with care, And they always say, “darling, there is nothing to fear.” This sounds assuaging for many reasons, known and unknown, And your kin and kith experience the familiarity in these consolations offered by the unknown, And to the five departed adventurers of the deep sea, I hope in their Heavenward journey, now they shall new wonders see, And be the part of a greater adventure, That I call the God’s enterprising venture, As for the wonder of the abyss, There shall always be someone who for its thrill would miss, Anything and everything else, Because if he/she doesn't, then he/she will be someone else, That is why they dare to take on the Gods of the dark and deep, Because human passion is something that into the soul does seep, And unless tasted and confronted, this adventurer residing within the soul does not let him/her to sleep, So let me wish the 5 adventurers all the best on their new journey, Where there is no need for submersibles for in that world one attains natural buoyancy, and this too is one hell of a journey! As for those woe struck loved ones still residing in the realm of gravity, I hope they find assuaging moments in their thoughtful proclivity, Where they notice the universe flowing through their departed and loved one, Because every adventure is an expression of belief in love for someone, That someone who does not fear the abyss, That someone who dares to be the one, and never miss, The adventures that await him/her in those unknown realms, Where even the Titans sometimes bear signs of qualms, There let us go and seek the knowledge that awaits to reveal itself, Only if the adventurer believes in himself/herself, And I think that is where all 5 adventurers can always be found, In the realm of the Titans where knowledge does abound, where knowledge does abound!”

ObituaryOdeTitanic SinkingTitan SubTitan SubmarineTitan SubmersibleTitanic Sub
Book:They Loved in 2075!
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“The Ballad of Philippe Petit —for the world's greatest rope dancer Philippe Petit hangs his high wire in the third eye of God, fills the dull air with blue fire, all alone on the big city street, Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Philippe Petit, high priest of daring, feels wind pulse in his feet, flying high on his mystical string, between tall towers above the street. Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Little Phillip by the Golden Fleece, making Seventh Avenue sing. He draws a magic circle of chalk, rides his cycle around in a ring, Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Little Phillip, clown gargoyle, spewing light on the grey street, rope dances twirling sticks of fire, bright sparkle of the dark street, Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Philippe Petit juggles fire and balls, winks at Zeus, laughs at Mars, pulls Newton's beard, sups with God, cycling his way from heaven to street. Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Little Phillip, when we get there, you'll surely be on high, juggling molecules for your maker on the wide streets of the sky, Little Phillip, Philippe Petit. Philippe Petit, The King of Heaven has a brilliant little fool juggling fire at his footstool. A light on the dark city street, A light, a light, Philippe Petit.”

AdmirationNew York CityDaringClownDaredevilOdeBalladeTightrope WalkingPhilippe PetitStreet Performer
Author:Daniela Gioseffi
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