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Poems Quotes

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Poems Quotes

“A Song I wish you were here, dear, I wish you were here. I wish you sat on the sofa and I sat near. The handkerchief could be yours, the tear could be mine, chin-bound. Though it could be, of course, the other way around. I wish you were here, dear, I wish you were here. I wish we were in my car and you'd shift the gear. We'd find ourselves elsewhere, on an unknown shore. Or else we'd repair to where we've been before. I wish you were here, dear, I wish you were here. I wish I knew no astronomy when stars appear, when the moon skims the water that sighs and shifts in its slumber. I wish it were still a quarter to dial your number. I wish you were here, dear, in this hemisphere, as I sit on the porch sipping a beer. It's evening, the sun is setting; boys shout and gulls are crying. What's the point of forgetting if it's followed by dying?”

“Les roses de Saadi J'ai voulu ce matin te rapporter des roses ; Mais j'en avais tant pris dans mes ceintures closes Que les noeuds trop serrés n'ont pu les contenir. Les noeuds ont éclaté. Les roses envolées Dans le vent, à la mer s'en sont toutes allées. Elles ont suivi l'eau pour ne plus revenir ; La vague en a paru rouge et comme enflammée. Ce soir, ma robe encore en est tout embaumée... Respires-en sur moi l'odorant souvenir.”

“Does poetry have its issues? One hundred percent. Does poetry have its limitations? One hundred percent. It’s not going to cure disease or feed the hungry, but it might help us to understand someone else's experience just a little bit better. Or maybe it’ll make us mad and then we’ll have to interrogate why we’re mad, or implicated, or why we feel left out. Like many of the arts, poetry can be the way of recognizing our own beauty and our own flaws.”

“The Day: Wondering if I’m mental Wondering if you are Stretching my spine Masturbating then hating it Falling in love on aisle 12 Acting tough in public Singing in the shower Lotioning my untouched body Fretting about my skin Missing her again And when I’m about to sleep, I wish I could just fast forward To wondering if I’m mental.”

“There you are. Standing right here. I miss you. Standing here, talking strange words. I miss you. Strange words, telling me plans. I miss you. You speak of dreams and dream of things that go a million ways. There you are. But where is you? The you, I know you are. There you are. Standing right here. Talking strange words. I miss you. Strange words, telling me plans. You speak of dreams and dream of things that go a million ways. There you are. But where is you? The you, I know you are. The other you, the different one. The one that makes two ONE.”

“I want to be held, and the things that hold me down do half a job. Some days, I can't even fix it. Some days, I rot on the inside and refuse to cut myself down. Some days, my fruits hit pavement, explode with seeds meant for soil; and only I understand what a wreckage my smile is. Joy is a weight. It's heavy. Can't you carry it for me while I dance around the void, run my nails down its spine? Put a hand on each hip, square your shoulders, grip tightly. The future is trying to take me. Hold me back. Hold me down. Hold on until you're done and forget that I've drifted away before you reach for your pants. Because you knew, didn't you? A blindfold knows its job. And at the end of the day, the most selfish thing is trying to help another person.”

“Le serpent qui danse Que j'aime voir, chère indolente, De ton corps si beau, Comme une étoffe vacillante, Miroiter la peau! Sur ta chevelure profonde Aux acres parfums, Mer odorante et vagabonde Aux flots bleus et bruns, Comme un navire qui s'éveille Au vent du matin, Mon âme rêveuse appareille Pour un ciel lointain. Tes yeux où rien ne se révèle De doux ni d'amer, Sont deux bijoux froids où se mêlent L’or avec le fer. A te voir marcher en cadence, Belle d'abandon, On dirait un serpent qui danse Au bout d'un bâton. Sous le fardeau de ta paresse Ta tête d'enfant Se balance avec la mollesse D’un jeune éléphant, Et ton corps se penche et s'allonge Comme un fin vaisseau Qui roule bord sur bord et plonge Ses vergues dans l'eau. Comme un flot grossi par la fonte Des glaciers grondants, Quand l'eau de ta bouche remonte Au bord de tes dents, Je crois boire un vin de bohême, Amer et vainqueur, Un ciel liquide qui parsème D’étoiles mon coeur!”

“All is as if the world did cease to exist. The city's monuments go unseen, its past unheard, and its culture slowly fading in the dismal sea.”

“Her beauty must have been exhausting and not to mention troublesome. Glitter swiftly made its way into the vibrant strands that graced her lavish eyelashes. Each blink, each pressing moment, time seemed to have stopped and I felt as if her charm could fill an entire room and with every set of eyes locked onto her, somehow the glare of her shimmering wet lipgloss could take care of everyones problems, at least for one evening. That as soon as her heavenly music flowed through their wine glasses, that they too were apart of something such bigger, much grander. I believed, when I stood beside her, I became more handsome.”

“O My Stars by Stewart Stafford Sweet stars of my youth I have aged, but you have not As a child, you were the wondrous dreams I aspired to In later life, you were still so bitterly distant Yet always mesmeric in your beauty With awe and gratitude for your companionship If there is another side, you shall be the celestial shore I walk upon With earthly depths beneath Where others see and dream and reach up for you. © Stewart Stafford, 2020. All rights reserved.”

“If I were to sit on the ocean floor and look toward the sky, I might see a whale or electric eel or octopus pass by. And if I decided to jump straight up and reach with open arms, I might feel the pleasure of ocean flight propel me ’mid their swarms. But if I were seated upon the shore and looking toward the stars, I might see a comet or falling star near Mercury or Mars. Then if I decided to jump straight up and reach with open hands, I might feel despair when my feet refused to leave the shoreline sand. And so I return to the ocean depths where swimming creatures fly, For there I can soar with the whales and fish that daily touch the sky.”

“They ask of me only to weep repentance for a sin that does not concern me and I shall get in return an alien freedom I don’t understand: to be drubbed in one thin, wounding water after another of their philosophy - and confidently they would hang their washing in the heavens.”

“The library is dangerous— Don’t go in. If you do You know what will happen. It’s like a pet store or a bakery— Every single time you’ll come out of there Holding something in your arms. Those novels with their big eyes. And those no-nonsense, all muscle Greyhounds and Dobermans, All non-fiction and business, Cuddly when they’re young, But then the first page is turned. The doughnut scent of it all, knowledge, The aroma of coffee being made In all those books, something for everyone, The deli offerings of civilization itself. The library is the book of books, Its concrete and wood and glass covers Keeping within them the very big, Very long story of everything. The library is dangerous, full Of answers. If you go inside, You may not come out The same person who went in.”

“This year has taught me the simple craft of belief. I believe in the things I’ve nurtured and built this year. Slowly but carefully. Such as understanding, knowledge, passion, strength; the hundreds of songs I’ve written, the 365 poems, the books I’ve read and the miles I’ve run. The resolution to breathe, to meditate, to not harm my mind or body even when I’ve felt like it.”

“Words I ONCE HEARD A MAN SAY OR WAS IT SOMEWHERE I READ, OR MAYBE SOMETHING I WROTE A THOUSAND TIMES IN MY MIND. YOU GOT TO FIND YOUR OWN MEANING IN THIS WORLD. NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU CHANGED, YOU STILL HAVE TO PAY THE PRICE FOR THE THINGS YOU HAVE DONE. AS I CONTINUE ON MY JOURNEY OR WHAT SOME CALL THE LONG ROAD OF LIFE I KNOW I WILL REMEMBER THAT SPECIAL YOU. KNOWING I WILL SEE YOU FOREVER IN MY DREAMS IN THIS WORLD OR THE NEXT.”