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Poetic Quotes

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Poetic Quotes

“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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“Would you rather I was poetic about how I'm charmed by your beauty, even though I can only see half your face? Which, by the way, from what I can see is pleasing. Would you rather I tell you I'm captivated by your eyes? They are a pretty shade of green from what I can tell.' I started to frown. 'Well, no. I don't want you to lie.' 'None of those things were a lie.' He tugged on the bow as he dipped his head, brushing his lips over mine. The soft contact sent a wave of awareness through me. 'I told you the truth, Princess. I'm intrigued by you, and it's fairly rare anyone intrigues me.”

PoeticJennifer L ArmentroutPoppyIntriguedPoppy BalfourFrom Blood And AshHawkeHawke FlynnCaptivatedNot Lying
Book:From Blood and Ash
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“It had not rained, here on these north-facing slopes. Snow-fields stretched down from the pass into the valleys of moraine. We stowed the wheels, uncapped the sledge-runners, put on our skis, and took off—down, north, onward, into that silent vastness of fire and ice that said in enormous letters of black and white DEATH, DEATH, written right across a continent. The sledge pulled like a feather, and we laughed with joy.”

TaoismPoeticTao Te ChingFire And IceUrsula K Le GuinThe Left Hand Of Darkness
Book:The Left Hand of Darkness
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“As an artist, i live in fantasy and flirt with reality. I'm an emotional magician of sorts. I paint my feelings onto the abstract canvas of a waking dream. I suspend my concepts in the ether's of otherworldly realms. This is the way my existence has always been. I am untethered, a traveler between worlds. I sinuously slip in and out of the real and surreal, until, they are one and the same. I do not like being shackled or chained, to the physical plane.”

FeelingsRealityFantasyPoeticBeing An ArtistJaeda DewaltUntetheredTraveler Between WorldsEmotional MagicianOtherworldly Realms
Author:Jaeda DeWalt
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“Our life story is a reflection of our internal poetry in motion, a poem which lyrical lines croons life as a groping accident, a playful roughness, a throbbing ordeal. Life’s posy permutations jell together to create a brawly emotional ambiguity. An interlacement of untidy paradoxes, fastened by a tincture of pyretic hopelessness, sounds the charming pitch of life.”

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Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“What is Poetry (My Sonnet, My Rules) Any gargoyle can google the definition of a sonnet, Any robot can write and rhyme 14 lines of a sonnet. Number of lines don't make sonnet, Impeccable rhyme don't make poetry. Critics, police and gatekeepers are usually least capable of originality. It's okay if it's few lines extra, It's okay if it's couple lines less. It's okay if it doesn't rhyme at all, It's the soul that matters, not vessels. You're welcome to your dead laws of poetry, while I bring poetry to life, shaping society.”

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Book:World War Human: 100 New Earthling Sonnets
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“Julguei que ia morrer. Queria morrer. E julguei que se fosse morrer ia morrer contigo. Rapazes como tu, jovens como eu…vi morrer tantos ao pé de mim durante o ano passado! Não tive medo nenhum. Não foi coragem o que ainda agora me fez ficar aqui. Pensei com os meus botões: "Temos esta cama, esta erva, devíamos ter-nos deitado juntados, abraçados, antes de morrer". Apeteceu-me tocar-te nesse osso do pescoço, a clavícula, que parece uma asa pequena e dura debaixo da pele. Apeteceu-me afagá-la com os dedos. Sempre gostei de corpos da cor dos rios e das pedras, da cor do olho castanho de uma susana, conheces essa flor? Já viste alguma? Estou tão cansada Kip, só me apetece dormir. Apetece-me dormir debaixo desta árvore, de cara encostada à tua clavícula, apetece-me fechar os olhos, sem pensar em mais ninguém, encontrar um nicho de árvore, trepar lá para dentro e dormir. Que espírito meticuloso! Saber que fio hás de cortar. Como é que soubeste? Foste dizendo não sei, não sei, mas sabias. Não foi? Não tremas, tens de ser uma cama sossegada para mim, deixa-me aninhar-me, abraçar-te como se fosses um avozinho, adiro a palavra "aninhar", tão lenta, não se pode apressá-la.”

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Book:The English Patient
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“It is, without a doubt, the most delicious orange I've ever eaten. Notes of raspberry give it a tartness and complexity that leave the classic supermarket navel orange in the dust. "It's sunshine. It's bittersweet. It's perfect. My god," I say, gasping. "I think I just fell in love. I'm going to have a civil partnership with an orange." Leo, who has been fairly quiet for the last half hour, leans forward onto his elbows. "They're not for everyone," he says, taking a segment. "Very fleshy, delicately juicy, and not obscenely sweet." "Fleshy?" Luca says, tipping his glass toward us, playing with his mustache. "Delicately juicy?" I say, raising an eyebrow. I expect Leo to feel embarrassed, but instead he shoots Luca a cheeky grin, eyes buzzing with mischief. "Seriously, Olive," Luca says. "For me, the orange is so special to Sicily. We juice it, we ice it, we bake it, we zest it. It's an aperitif, a pasta dish, a dessert. It's the color of sunset on the outside, and a bleeding heart inside.”

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Book:Just One Taste
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“Driving down deserted early morning roads. Round and round. Round downtown. Through naked streets. Lips pursed on two litre bottles of beer, but pursuing the lips of freedom's night. Swapping cars. Winding up at karaoke bars or Bolsi- the best place in town. For the food. For the folk. For the service. For the crema de papaya. And for that late night dawn's whiskey coffee.”

PartyTravelAlcoholBeerProsePoeticTravel WritingTravelingTravellingKaraokeBeatPartiesBeatnikParaguay1111Backpacker1111 Phenomenon11 11 PhenomenonCervezaAsuncion
Book:Route Number 11: Argentina, Angels & Alcohol
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“Elles ont le corps pulpeux là où le regard mâle cherche du rebondi, quelque chose de ferme, doux et chaud pour remplir une paume rêche, rarement propre à cause des travaux manuels qui ne sont pas le lot des maîtres au village. Le type usé cherche un corps jeune pour essuyer ses mains crottées d'homme vaillant, un corps-torchon qui sent bon la vanille importée, la mauvaise gousse taillée, puis frottée entre les seins et à l'attache des bras qui n'a pas connu le fil du couteau sur la veine la plus apparente, celle qui pisserait rouge si on la tranchait dans le sens de la mort.”

PoeticBittersweetTragical
Book:Malabourg
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“A distinctive poetic atmosphere surrounds our autobiographical being. The culmination of our personal experiences projects an expressive emotional prism upon our faces, a self-projected limelight casting us with an aura-like quality that other people readily perceive and interpret. Each person’s life consists of nurturing his or her poetic seedlings. Introspection is the first and foremost means that people rely upon to grasp the referential nature of their essential personal experiences. Reflective moments allow us to enrich our understanding of life’s nuisances that imbue even our most rouge experiences with a personalized ambiance. The juxtaposition of life’s prosodic fragments with unanticipated moments of exhilaration provides the tension that composes the contrapuntal language driving the meter of our life’s story. The sweeping arch of our hand-tooled stories designates our chosen path and serves to remind us that even persons injured while attempting to discern the pathway to bliss can use their own brand of resourcefulness to rescue themselves.”

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Book:Dead Toad Scrolls
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“A loner by nature and an introvert... i am a twinkling star, burning bright amidst a cloudless night. As such, i tend to fade in and out of people's lives. This aspect of me is often misunderstood as rejection or a lack of love and caring. In reality, the only way i can survive as an introvert, is to drop from the sky, from time-to-time, recharging within the energizing landscape of my inner-universe. To love me, is to let me me have the space i need to illuminate the sky. I can't be taken hostage or held captive. Inner-light is what gives my star its twinkle.”

InspirationalWisdomPoetryPoeticInsightfulInner LightJaeda DewaltBeing An IntrovertTwinkling StarBeing A Loner
Author:Jaeda DeWalt
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“It is in the more muddled moments of my life, that i become painfully aware of my issues. When nothing is going right, when life gets away from me. When i feel like life is living me, instead of me, living life. It's a difficult place be, but it's also where the seeds of change, often take root. And from those roots, a wellspring of hope and positive transformation, blooms.”

PoetryPoeticJaeda DewaltLearning From Our StrugglesSeeds Of ChangePositive TransformationDealing With Life Stress
Author:Jaeda DeWalt
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