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Poetry Quotes

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Poetry Quotes

“Poetry is a river; many voices travel in it; poem after poem moves along in the exciting crests and falls of the river waves. None is timeless; each arrives in an historical context; almost everything, in the end, passes. But the desire to make a poem, and the world's willingness to receive it--indeed the world's need of it--these never pass.”

WorldNeedsEndsMovingDesirePoetryFallVoiceRiversExcitingHistoricalWavePoetry IsWillingnessTimelessHistorical Context
Book:A Poetry Handbook
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“Poetry is one of the ancient arts, and it began, as did all the fine arts, within the original wilderness of the earth. Also, it began through the process of seeing, and feeling, and hearing, and smelling, and touching, and then remembering--I mean remembering in words--what these perceptual experiences were like, while trying to describe the endless invisible fears and desires of our inner lives.”

TryingMeanArtFeelingsEarthRememberDesirePoetryProcessSeeingFineOriginalsAncientHearingEndlessInvisibleWildernessPoetry IsTouchingInner LifeFine ArtsAncient Art
Book:A Poetry Handbook
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“One day while studying a Yeats poem I decided to write poetry the rest of my life. I recognized that a single short poem has room for history, music, psychology, religious thought, mood, occult speculation, character, and events of one's own life. I still feel surprised that such various substances can find shelter and nourishment in a poem. A poem in fact may be a sort of nourishing liquid, such as one uses to keep an amoeba alive. If prepared right, a poem can keep an image or a thought or insights on history or the psyche alive for years, as well as our desires and airy impulses.”

IfsFeelsWritingYearsWellsMayStillsCharacterFactsUseDesirePoetryReligiousRoomsStudyPsychologyAliveEventsOne DayDecidedPreparedVariousInsightMoodImpulseSubstanceShelterSpeculationLiquidNourishmentOccultAiryYeatsAmoeba
Author:Robert Bly
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“Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.”

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Book:The Love of Europa: Limited Time Edition
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“Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent. When she came to my bed and begged me with sighs not to tempt her towards passion nor actions unwise, I told her I’d spare her and kissed her closed eyes, then unbraided her body of its clothing disguise. While our bodies were nude bathed in candlelight fine I devoured her mouth, tender lips divine; and I drank through her thighs her feminine wine. Ô, the wine of a woman from heaven is sent, more perfect than all that a man can invent.”

LoveLifeWisdomRunningBeautifulHappinessDesirePoetryMotivationTimeGirlPassionLiteratureWomenGoalImaginationFreedomPowerRiskDreamsFeminismStrengthInspireSweetLife PhilosophyLoversTravelLivingRomanticFemaleEmpowermentSacredWineMemoryPassionateGoalsSurrenderWanderSensualityKissSensualWomanGentleGirlsFeminineHidingBedroomMaking LoveFirst LoveLovingWomanhoodFemininityGirl PowerFemale EmpowermentHeartsSeductiveWomen S LiberationDriveWomen S InspirationalFemale CharactersWomen S StrengthRomanWanderlustWildnessAllegoryWanderingWandererSecretiveFemmePrettyFemalesWoman S StrengthRoamingKidRoman PayneFemale BeautyGirl QuotesWoman S CharacterPayneFemale HeroWanderessMapFemale LiberationThe WanderessPoetessExpatriateEnjoyingAdventuressDreameressWayfaringFillesJeune Fille
Author:Roman Payne
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“Well in no particular order... I love you, I need you, I want you, I go to sleep thinking about you and wake up with your voice winding through my head, I look at you and I can't focus, the whole world shimmers, I'm ashamed, I'm angry, I'm in love, I'm mad, I'm happy, I'm dead, I'm alive, I'm stupid, I'm tongue-tied, I'm writing you letters, I'm tearing them up, I'm writing you letters again, I'm idealising you, I'm humiliating you, I'm undressing you, I'm looking into your eyes, I'm kissing your eyes, I'm pressing you against a wall, you're pushing back, your body wants mine, you kiss my mouth, you bite my lip, you draw blood, you're on fire, you're on fire, your eyes are flame, your hair is flame, the whole world shimmers and I burn and I burn with love -- the whole world shimmers - and the night - and the sky - and your voice shimmers - I've no wit, I've no mind, I've no brake, I've no self-control, I've no shame, I've no authority over myself, I can wait hours for just one glimpse of you then not speak to you at all, how can I speak, how can I speak to you, I can't speak, I can't stop speaking, I can't stop looking, I can't look, I make you an object, I desire you, I write to you, I write for you, I tear up everything I have ever written for you or about you, I burn myself alive for you, I worship you, I strip you, I clothe you, I do up the tiniest buttons at your sleeve, I embrace your wrist, I embrace your neck, I kiss the back of your neck, I embrace your wrist, I'm speechless, speechless, all I can say is I want - I want - I want - there is no poetry - there is no structure that can make any sense of this - only I want - I want - I want - I want you, Roxanne.”

LoveDesirePoetryFeelingCyrano
Book:Cyrano de Bergerac: in a free adaptation
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“To Take Back a Life First, you must learn desire. Hold its fruit in your hands. Unmarry it from the hunger to be held, to be wanted, to be called from the streets like the family dog. You are not a 'good girl.' You are not somebody's otherness. This is not a dress rehearsal before a better kind of life. Pick up your heavy burdens and leave them at the gate. I will hold the door for you.”

DesirePoetry
Book:What Kind of Woman: Poems
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“Ode to My Desire I have always been hungry; fingers dipped in sugar, salt across my lips. Four children have passed through my body and still here I am, asking for your hands on my hips, voice in my ear. For melon and honey cream. For you to not make love to me. Take me— but wait until I plead. There is nothing like the impatient thrum of wanting. All legs and foaming mouth. In hallways I play a game called 'kissing,' imagining every woman as a lover, every man with his mouth on mine. How different they must look when they are in heat.”

DesirePoetry
Book:What Kind of Woman: Poems
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“Late October Carefully the leaves of autumn sprinkle down the tinny sound of little dyings and skies sated of ruddy sunsets of roseate dawns roil ceaselessly in cobweb greys and turn to black for comfort. Only lovers see the fall a signal end to endings a gruffish gesture alerting those who will not be alarmed that we begin to stop in order to begin again.”

LoveDesirePoetryRelationshipsBeginningEndingCycleMaya Angelou
Book:The Poetry of Maya Angelou
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“When I in dreams behold thy fairest shade Whose shade in dreams doth wake the sleeping morn The daytime shadow of my love betray’d Lends hideous night to dreaming’s faded form Were painted frowns to gild mere false rebuff Then shoulds’t my heart be patient as the sands For nature’s smile is ornament enough When thy gold lips unloose their drooping bands As clouds occlude the globe’s enshrouded fears Which can by no astron’my be assail’d Thus, thyne appearance tears in atmospheres No fond perceptions nor no gaze unveils Disperse the clouds which banish light from thee For no tears be true, until we truly see”

LoveDesirePoetryBetrayalRejection
Author:SwiftKey
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“Out of infinite desires rise finite deeds like weak fountains that fall back in early trembling arcs. But those, which otherwise in us keep hidden, our happy strengths — they come forth in these dancing tears. (Aus unendlichen Sehnsüchten steigen endliche Taten wie schwache Fontänen, die sich zeitig und zitternd neigen. Aber, die sich uns sonst verschweigen, unsere fröhlichen kräfte — zeigen sich in diesen tanzenden Tränen.)”

ActionDesirePoetryDreamsRegretLongingRilkeInteriority
Book:The Book of Images
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“The tumult in the heart keeps asking questions. And then it stops and undertakes to answer in the same tone of voice. No one could tell the difference. Uninnocent, these conversations start, and then engage the senses, only half-meaning to. And then there is no choice, and then there is no sense; until a name and all its connotation are the same.”

LoveDesirePoetryRelationshipsCommunicationThoughtIntrospection
Book:The Complete Poems 1927-1979
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“Poetry is a satisfying of the desire for resemblance. As the mere satisfying of a desire, it is pleasurable. But poetry if it did nothing but satisfy a desire would not rise above the level of many lesser things. Its singularity is that in the act of satisfying the desire for resemblance it touches the sense of reality, it enhances the sense of reality, heightens it, intensifies it.”

DesirePoetrySatisfactionResemblancePoeticsSense Of RealityHeightens
Book:The Necessary Angel: Essays on Reality and the Imagination
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