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Poem Quotes

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Poem Quotes

“Hanged" I hung myself today. Hanged? Whatever, the point is I hanged myself today and I’m still hanging. I feel fine. Just bored. I keep hoping that someone will come home and cut me down but then I keep remembering that if I knew someone like that I wouldn’t be up here. Bit ironic, right? Or is that not ironic? I read somewhere that, like, anything funny is, in some way, ironic. But I don’t know if it's funny or not. I don’t think my brain owns “funny”, you know? I feel taller. I like that. I’ve never been away from my shadow for this long. It had always clung to my feet, parting momentarily for a quick dive into the swimming pool. But never for five hours. I like it. There’s three feet of space between my two and the floor. I wanted something this morning. I may be stuck. But at least I’m three feet closer to it.”

DeathPoetryPoemSuicide
Book:Egghead; or, You Can't Survive on Ideas Alone
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“Reading poetry is like undressing before a bath. You don't undress out of fear that your clothes will become wet. You undress because you want the water to touch you. You want to completely immerse yourself in the feeling of the water and to emerge anew.”

LifeWritingArtPoetryReadingFearWaterChangePoemClothesQuoteMetaphorPoetry QuotesAuthorWetReadWriteTranscendenceKamandKojouriKamand KojouriTouchPoesiaMetamorphosisReading QuotesTransformNovelistAnalogyTranscendPoetessBathEmergeAnewImmerseCreative ArtsUndressSoak
Author:Kamand Kojouri
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“darkness falls upon Humanity and faces become terrible things that wanted more than there was. all our days are marked with unexpected affronts - some disastrous, others less so but the process is wearing and continuous. attrition rules. most give way leaving empty spaces where people should be. and now as we ready to self-destruct there is very little left to kill which makes the tragedy less and more much much more.”

SelfDeathPoetryHumanityDarknessLonelinessPoemLonelyDestructionTragedyDisasterAloneEmptinessTragicKillSelf DestructionBukowskiEmpty Spaces
Book:You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
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“From her thighs, she gives you life And how you treat she who gives you life Shows how much you value the life given to you by the Creator. And from seed to dust There is ONE soul above all others -- That you must always show patience, respect, and trust And this woman is your mother. And when your soul departs your body And your deeds are weighed against the feather There is only one soul who can save yours And this woman is your mother. And when the heart of the universe Asks her hair and mind, Whether you were gentle and kind to her Her heart will be forced to remain silent And her hair will speak freely as a separate entity, Very much like the seaweed in the sea -- It will reveal all that it has heard and seen. This woman whose heart has seen yours, First before anybody else in the world, And whose womb had opened the door For your eyes to experience light and more -- Is your very own MOTHER. So, no matter whether your mother has been cruel, Manipulative, abusive, mentally sick, or simply childish How you treat her is the ultimate test. If she misguides you, forgive her and show her the right way With simple wisdom, gentleness, and kindness. And always remember, That the queen in the Creator's kingdom, Who sits on the throne of all existence, Is exactly the same as in yours. And her name is, THE DIVINE MOTHER.”

LifeMindHeartChildrenSoulMotherPoetryUniverseWomenExistenceBeautyKindnessFeminismCreationDivineHairMomBirthPoemFemaleSilentValueMotherhoodTreasureParentsDustWomanGentleTreatmentGrandmotherCherishPregnancyMothersGoddessKingdomWomanhoodSistersRoyaltyMother EarthHeartsQueenEulogyThighsMothers And DaughtersNameAbusiveMotheringSuzy KassemFertilitySeedMothers LoveSeaweedChildishDivine MotherFeatherMommyWoman PowerMatriarchMother PoemWoman RightsLoss Of MotherMothers PoemEulogy MotherMother Poetry
Book:Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem
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“I am not a finished poem, and I am not the song you’ve turned me into. I am a detached human being, making my way in a world that is constantly trying to push me aside, and you who send me letters and emails and beautiful gifts wouldn’t even recognise me if you saw me walking down the street where I live tomorrow for I am not a poem. I am tired and worn out and the eyes you would see would not be painted or inspired but empty and weary from drinking too much at all times and I am not the life of your party who sings and has glorious words to speak for I don’t speak much at all and my voice is raspy and unsteady from unhealthy living and not much sleep and I only use it when I sing and I always sing too much or not at all and never when people are around because they expect poems and symphonies and I am not a poem but an elegy at my best but unedited and uncut and not a lot of people want to work with me because there’s only so much you can do with an audio take, with the plug-ins and EQs and I was born distorted, disordered, and I’m pretty fine with that, but others are not.”

PeopleWorldLifeBeautifulPoetryArtistSongSpeakVoicePartyGrowing UpLearningFineTomorrowPoemLivingSingingHumanEmptyLettersTiredDrinkingInspiredWordsGloriousProseDisorderEyesWearyUnhealthyDetachedWorn OutAudioRecognizeStreetElegyDistortedSendEqPaintedUnsteadyDisorderedPush Aside
Book:Another Vagabond Lost To Love: Berlin Stories on Leaving & Arriving
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“as long as there are human beings about there is never going to be any peace for any individual upon this earth (or anywhere else they might escape to). all you can do is maybe grab ten lucky minutes here or maybe an hour there. something is working toward you right now, and I mean you and nobody but you.”

LoveLifeWarSoulDeathPoetryHumanityForcePeaceHuman BeingsSocietyPoemLonelyMiseryAloneBukowskiNobody
Book:You Get So Alone at Times That it Just Makes Sense
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“I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat. I don't don't know why know why, I simply know that I I I am am inclined to say to say a lot a lot this way this way- I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat. I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat. My mom my mom gets mad gets mad, it irritates my dad my dad, it drives them up a tree a tree, that's what they tell they tell me me- I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat. I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat. It gets me in a jam a jam, but that's the way I am I am, in fact I think it's neat it's neat to to to to repeat repeat- I often repeat repeat myself, I often repeat repeat.”

HumorPoetryPoemRepeat
Book:A Pizza the Size of the Sun
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“The Wholeness Sonnet Free will is not a question of willpower, It is a question of character. Civilization is not a question of etiquette, It is a question of behavior. Order is not a question of law, It is a question of accountability. Harmony is not a question of toleration, It is a question of inclusivity. Peace is not a question of diplomacy, It is a question of nonsectarianism. Progress is not a question of revenue, It is a question of collectivism. When the heart is whole all's well with society. Fragmentation fills the sky with disparity.”

CharacterProgressAcceptancePoemCivilizationToleranceWholenessSonnetGlobal HarmonyCollectivism
Book:Heart Force One: Need No Gun to Defend Society
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“Shalom Civilization (The Sonnet) Without accountability there's no civilization, For it is the line between human and animal. Without integrity there's no civilization, For it is the line between human and vegetable. Without sanctity there's no civilization, For it is the line between sanity and savagery. Without amity there's no civilization, For it is the line between humanity and machinery. Without conscience there's no civilization, For it is the line between order and upheaval. Without character there's no civilization, For it is the line between life and survival. Civilization is a small word with a universe inside. To unfold it requires a species without divide.”

CharacterAcceptanceIntegrityPoemCivilizationConscienceUnityAccountabilitySonnet
Book:Martyr Meets World: To Solve The Hard Problem of Inhumanity
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“I don’t think that I’ve been in love as such Although I liked a few folk pretty well Love must be vaster than my smiles or touch for brave men died and empires rose and fell For love, girls follow boys to foreign lands and men have followed women into hell In plays and poems someone understands there’s something makes us more than blood and bone and more than biological demands For me love’s like the wind, unseen, unknown I see the trees are bending where it’s been I know that it leaves wreckage where it’s blown I really don’t know what "I love you" means I think it means "don’t leave me here alone”

LovePoetryPoemSonnetDark Sonnet
Book:Adventures in the Dream Trade
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“A JEWELRY STORE NAMED INDIA If you hold this Dazzling emerald Up to the sky, It will shine a billion Beautiful miracles Painted from the tears Of the Most High. Plucked from the lush gardens Of a yellowish-green paradise, Look inside this hypnotic gem And a kaleidoscope of Titillating, Soul-raising Sights and colors Will tease and seduce Your eyes and mind. Tell me, sir. Have you ever heard A peacock sing? Hold your ear To this mystical stone And you will hear Sacred hymns flowing To the vibrations Of the perfumed Wind.”

SoulPoetryBeautyTearsWindPoemGardenIndiaSacredAncientIndianPerfumeMiraclesJewelryHymnsGemsColorsSuzy KassemIndian CulturePeacockKaleidoscopeStoneHypnoticEmeraldMost HighHindustanStoresacred
Book:Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem
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“The aching in my chest isn't because I miss you, it's realizing that you have become someone I no longer know, your fears, your 4 am thoughts, your achievements, are things I no longer have an equivalent to. Who we were and who we are are four different people, and the me from now doesn't relate to the me from then, let alone to the you from now. -Tanzy Sayadi and Jarod Kintz”

PeopleLoveLifeDifferentBeautifulPoetryLostRelationshipsChangeLossBeautyProgressDreamsPoetPoemAchievementNostalgiaCleverAlonePoetsDesiresAmbitionsInstaquoteRelationsWord JunkiesLit On Literature
Book:liQUID PROse QUOtes
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“TO what purpose, April, do you return again? Beauty is not enough. You can no longer quiet me with the redness Of little leaves opening stickily. I know what I know. The sun is hot on my neck as I observe The spikes of the crocus. The smell of the earth is good. It is apparent that there is no death. But what does that signify? Not only under ground are the brains of men Eaten by maggots. Life in itself Is nothing, An empty cup, a flight of uncarpeted stairs. It is not enough that yearly, down this hill, April Comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.”

LifePoetryBeautyPoemSpringSeasonsPoemsApril
Author:Edna St. Vincent Millay
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“Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached from labor in the weekday weather made banked fires blaze. No one ever thanked him. I'd wake and hear the cold splintering, breaking. When the rooms were warm, he'd call, and slowly I would rise and dress, fearing the chronic angers of that house, speaking indifferently to him, who had driven out the cold and polished my good shoes as well. What did I know, what did I know of love's austere and lonely offices?”

LoveCarePoetryFamilyPoemFamily RelationshipsFathersSonsThose Winter Sundays
Book:Collected Poems
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“THE SILENT PEOPLE Some people are so rude, Living their lives with no concern for others, Or possibly just intent on pissing other people off- Annoying everyone around them. The silent people- Want to kill them- And drive forks into their skulls- Create weapons of extreme torture- And scream from the top of their lungs- "SHUT UP." But words are not spoken- And attention is not given. Though annoyance is apparent, The annoying keep on living.”

PoetryAttentionPoemLivingTortureScreamAnnoyingShut UpRudeKillSkullsLiving Life To The FullestForksRudenessExtremeSpoken
Book:Uninhibited From Lust To Love
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“I’ve been thinking about the way, when you walk down a crowded aisle, people pull in their legs to let you by. Or how strangers still say “bless you” when someone sneezes, a leftover from the Bubonic plague. “Don’t die,” we are saying. And sometimes, when you spill lemons from your grocery bag, someone else will help you pick them up. Mostly, we don’t want to harm each other. We want to be handed our cup of coffee hot, and to say thank you to the person handing it. To smile at them and for them to smile back. For the waitress to call us honey when she sets down the bowl of clam chowder, and for the driver in the red pick-up truck to let us pass. We have so little of each other, now. So far from tribe and fire. Only these brief moments of exchange. What if they are the true dwelling of the holy, these fleeting temples we make together when we say, “Here, have my seat,” “Go ahead—you first,” “I like your hat.”

PoetryKindnessPoemGenerosityBeing NicePolitenessSmall Acts Of Kindness
Book:The Moons of August
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“The Weaver My life is but a weaving between my Lord and me; I cannot choose the colors He worketh steadily. Oft times He weaveth sorrow And I, in foolish pride, Forget He sees the upper, And I the underside. Not til the loom is silent And the shuttles cease to fly, Shall God unroll the canvas And explain the reason why. The dark threads are as needful In the Weaver's skillful hand, As the threads of gold and silver In the pattern He has planned.”

PoetryReligiousPoemPoemsReligious FaithInpsirational
Author:Benjamin Malachi Franklin
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“Maple. Maypole Catch and carry. Ash and Ember. Elderberry. Woolen. Woman. Moon at night. Willow. Window. Candlelight. Fallow farrow. Ash and oak. Bide and borrow. Chimney smoke. Barrel. Barley. Stone and stave. Wind and water. Misbehave.Maple. Maypole Catch and carry. Ash and Ember. Elderberry. Woolen. Woman. Moon at night. Willow. Window. Candlelight. Fallow farrow. Ash and oak. Bide and borrow. Chimney smoke. Barrel. Barley. Stone and stave. Wind and water. Misbehave.”

PoetryPoemFaeSpellName Of The WindKvotheBastMaple Maypole
Book:The Wise Man's Fear
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