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Poetic Prose Quotes

Browse 65 quotes about Poetic Prose.

Poetic Prose Quotes

“purple threaded evening. a torn goddess laying on the roof. milk sky. lavender hued moan against hot asphalt. the thickness of evening presses into your throat. polaroids taped to the ceiling. ivy pouring out of the cracks in the wall. i found my courage buried beneath molding books and forgot to lock the door behind me. the old house never forgets. opened my mouth and a dandelion fell out. reached behind my wisdom teeth and found sopping wet seeds. pulled all of my teeth out just to say i could. he drowned himself in a pill bottle and the orange really brought out his demise. lay me down on a bed of ground spices. there’s a song there, i know it. amethyst geode eyes. cracked open. no one saw it coming. october never loved you. the moon still doesn’t understand that.”

PoetryImaginationMoving ForwardNonfictionOctoberNovemberPoetic ProseThe Moon
Book:calloused: a field journal
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“कविता उन में विलीन हो रही है, वह कविता में और शेष है सिर्फ असीम अखंडित आनंद जो एक अखंड शून्य की भाँति अगणित भागों में खण्डित हो रहा, किन्तु प्रत्येक भाग वही पूर्ण शून्य है।”

PhilosophySpiritualityConsciousnessExistentialismMysticismMetaphysicsAdvaitaPoetic ProseIndian PhilosophyShunyata
Book:त्रिकूट: धर्म का चक्रव्यूह
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“Was that—did she just grin at me? To me? A moment of stillness in this moment of pause. Without speaking, we let our gazes wander slow, groping to confirm relief in the other. There's a subdued excitement for the oncoming sharing of whatever's waiting for us behind that heavy iron door, exclusive—two solitary embers, isolated in their separate pits, far away but fanned by the same wind, the same night, alone with the night, their respective camps all gone to sleep, flaring softly cradled calling, out against the great dark backdrop of the great unknown.”

RomanceRomanticRomantic QuotesPoetic ProsePoetic Fiction
Author:Patrick Bryant
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“He doesn’t lock the door anymore—not out of courage, but quiet desperation. Each night, he lies there, hollowed and waiting, hoping a stranger might cross the threshold and finish the story he can’t bring himself to end. It isn’t bravery. It’s surrender in disguise. He doesn’t wish for peace, not even sleep—just an ending that isn’t authored by his own hand. A final act. A random mercy. That’s all he asks.”

DespairTraumaSurrenderMental IllnessVulnerabilityHopelessnessPoetic ProseExistential DreadSuicidal IdeationJonathan Harnisch
Book:Sex, Drugs, and Schizophrenia
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“When we are disconnected from our deep healing, introspective power of our Wild Woman, our Knowing Self, and by default, our Divine Power, we become empty. We develop a spiritual hole where our Divine Self used to reside.”

PhilosophySpiritualityPersonal GrowthMythologyDivinityMidlife CrisisDivine FeminineArchetypesPoetic ProseSelf Help For Women
Book:When She Wakes, She Will Move Mountains - 5 Steps to Reconnecting With Your Wild Authentic Inner Queen
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“I knelt and locked the door. I locked the door locking the world and time outside. I stretched my body across the mattress and Saskia drew in close to me and placed her open hand on my chest, her mouth near my shoulder; her breath, my breath blew out the candle, and I held my lost Wanderess with tenderness until sweet sleep overcame us.”

LoveCoupleLoversKissingLipsLove StoryInnocentInnocencePrivacyPoeticCandleTendernessLoverTimelessSweetnessBrothers And SistersCouplesFirst KissChildren LoveFriendship And LoveBodiesLovemakingTenderPoetic ProseCuddlingWanderessLovers Love StoryThe WanderessPoetic FictionQuotes From BooksBrother And SisterInnocence LostInnocence And ExperienceCuddleInnocentsSleeping TogetherPoetic NarrativeQuotes From Modern WritersQuotes From NovelsSaskiaSaulChild LoveInnocent JoyQuotes From Romance BooksHolding SomeoneInnocently
Book:The Wanderess
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“Unlike essayists whom write primarily to understand complex situations or convince other people of the righteousness of their opinions, poets strive to stir memories, provoke feelings, and evoke emotions. Poets do not write to reach that exalted perch where logic replaces feelings. Poets write about the connective tissue that makes us human, the poignant remembrances, hopes, fears, and emotions of humankind. It is not our ability to think standing alone that makes us human, but a mélange of incongruous feelings, emotional tidings that are virtually inexpressible.”

PoetryPoetry QuotesPoeticPoetsPoets And PoetryPoetic ProsePoetic TruthPoeticsPoetic NarrativePoetical
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“The ability to perceive and feel, along with the intricacies of family relations unites us as a species. Poets collect succulent physical sense impressions and heartfelt feelings with equal enthusiasm. Poets have the alacrity to see and feel what most of us fail to perceive or otherwise ignore, take for granted, or attempt to forget. Similar to the art of Ukiyo-e (a genre of Japanese woodblock prints and paintings depicting traditional Japanese scenes), poets make the nothingness of our lives come alive. Poets design their sun-filled salvations out of the minutia of nature and the seemingly ordinary happenings of life. Although essayist can also explore the liminal spaces of daily life by probing the avenues of common experiences, essayists are more interested in testing ideas and principles than in invoking memories, sharing feelings, or eliciting emotions.”

NarrativePoeticPoetsMemoir WritingWriting MemoirPoets And PoetryEssayistPoetic ProseNarrative WritingPoetical
Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“Dawn arrived far too soon, dragging its light into the world with a cold, indifferent certainty. It slipped through the Shopping District, touching rooftops and shopfronts with soft, hesitant kisses of silver. The light crept across the trees, brushing their branches with a delicate touch, so gentle it felt like a lover's touch no one was meant to see. It didn’t explode or dazzle; it crept, shy and subtle, casting pale lines through the thinning branches, reaching for something just out of sight. The light hinted at promises not quite made, golden edges of a dawn still hidden beneath the horizon, teasing what might be. The world breathed with it, spaces between the leaves coming alive with shifting patterns, like it was painting possibilities across the ground. It was the kind of light that made you think of the road ahead—paths waiting to be walked, choices waiting to be made.”

BeautifulPoetic Prose
Book:Terra Mythica: Volumes 1 & 2
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“As dawn leaks into the sky it edits out the stars like excess punctuation marks, deleting asterisks and periods, commas, and semi-colons, leaving only unhinged thoughts rotating and pivoting, and unsecured words.”

NatureSkyMetaphorDawnImageryConstellationsNight SkyNational ParksGrand CanyonPoetic ProseNature WritingCanyonSunrsie
Book:Downcanyon: A Naturalist Explores the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon
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“The Big Dipper wheels on its bowl. In years hence it will have stopped looking like a saucepan and will resemble a sugar scoop as the earth continues to wobble and the dipper’s seven stars speed in different directions.”

AstronomyCosmosCosmologyConstellationsNaturalistPoetic ProseNature WritingCanyonDeep TimeGrand Canyonn
Book:Downcanyon: A Naturalist Explores the Colorado River through the Grand Canyon
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“I was bathed in the beauty of my wholeness, tears flowed freely down my cheeks. I heard the words, ‘Dear wandering soul, return to yourself with gratitude and love.”

PhilosophyInspirational QuotesSpiritualityFeminismSelf HelpSelf Love QuotesAcceptance Of OneselfPoetic ProseWomens InspirationalNon Fiction Books Inspirational
Book:When She Wakes, She Will Move Mountains - 5 Steps to Reconnecting With Your Wild Authentic Inner Queen
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“On that day the goosebumps on our skin will read the braille of glory in God's presence. Slander and persecution will remember our names no more, and we will sing with our whole bodies a right now praise because we once gave the truth to a dying world.”

GodTruthPoetryFaithHopeChristianityJesus ChristGlory Of GodPoetic Prose
Book:How to Tell the Truth: The Story of How God Saved Me to Win Hearts--Not Just Arguments
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“Someone asked me the other day, do I like to write prose better or poetry? To which I can only say - both are fundamental to my works. In fact, I started out with prose, as you might remember - and my most invigorating ideas came to this world in the form of prose. Along the way, I felt a craving for poetry, so quite on a whim I wrote the first sonnet. Suddenly an entire new horizon opened up to me. Eventually prose and poetry became equally potent carrier of my ideas - they became complimentary to each other - they became supplementary to each other. However, I do admit, as I grow older, I'm getting more and more drawn towards poetry as my primary vessel.”

PoetryProseExistentialismPoeticHumanitarian PoetryPoets And PoetryPoetic ProseProse PoetryHumanistic PsychologyHumanitarian Literature
Book:Iman Insaniyat, Mazhab Muhabbat: Pani, Agua, Water, It's All One
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“Time held no meaning as my mind darted in and out of memories. Past and present collided to create a full-sensory collage out of my life: playing hide-n-seek with my best friends Luke—who always cheated by walking through walls when he was about to be caught—and Lucy; Mr. Caldrin critiquing my sketches and offering ideas to make them more realistic; targets changing faces, blending into the same person, their thoughts rippling through my mind like waves. Through it all, a demon stalked me from the shadows of my memories, never quite showing its face, but crouching, waiting. And then I dreamed....”

Poetic ProseMind Reading
Book:Forbidden Fire
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“Poetry is the mightiest vessel for philosophy, Poetry is the mightiest vessel for science. Though I started out with prose, I went through the poetic morph. Now all my science is poetry, all my poetry is philosophy.”

ExistentialismHumanistPhilosophy Of ScienceHumanitarian ScientistPoetic ProsePoetic CognitionPoetic TruthScientist PoetPhilosophy Of PoetryScientific Philosophy
Book:Either Right or Human: 300 Limericks of Inclusion
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