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Poetry Quotes

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Poetry Quotes

“I hate my verses, every line, every word. Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky. Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.”

Trying Poetry Hate Lines White Sky Color Bird I Hate Mirrors Grass Throat Twilight Flash Pale Verses Curves Pencils Blades Splendor Cracked Twigs

Book:The Collected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers: 1928-1938

Source: The Collected Poetry of Robinson Jeffers: 1928-1938

“The white light of truth, in traversing the many sided transparent soul of the poet, is refracted into iris-hued poetry.”

Soul Light Poetry White Poet Transparent White Light Irises

Book:Essays: Moral, Political and Aesthetic

Source: Essays: Moral, Political and Aesthetic

“I was only sitting here in my white study with the awful black words pushing me around.”

Poetry Black White Study Poet Sitting Awful Pushing

Author:Anne Sexton

“I invented the colors of the vowels!--A black, E white, I red, O blue, U green--I made rules for the form and movement of each consonant, and, and with instinctive rhythms, I flattered myself that I had created a poetic language accessible, some day, to all the senses.”

Made Form Poetry Language Black White Movement Color Poet Red Blue Green Senses Rhythm Poetic Flattered Vowels Consonants

Author:Arthur Rimbaud

“the only truth is face to face, the poem whose words become your mouth and dying in black and white we fight for what we love, not are”

Truth Faces Poetry Fighting Black White Dying Poet Truth Is Racism Mouths Black And White Face To Face

Book:Odes

Source: Odes

“Black Poets should live--not leap From steel bridges, like the white boys do.”

Should Poetry Black White Boys Poet Bridges Leap Steel

Book:Belly song and other poems

Source: Belly song and other poems

“Girl with the burning golden eyes, And red-bird song, and snowy throat: I bring you gold and silver moons, And diamond stars, and mists that float. I bring you moons and snowy clouds, I bring you prarie skies to-night To feebly praise your golden eyes And red-bird song, and throat so white. ~Vachel Lindsay "To Gloriana" God wrote His loveliest poem on the day He made the first silver poplar tree, And set it high upon a pale-gold hill For all the new enchanted earth to see.”

“Peitaho Heavy rains fall on Yuyen, the northland kingdom of swallows. White pages of rain envelop the sky, and fishing boats off the Island of the Emperor Chin disappear on the ocean. Which way have they gone? More than a thousand years ago the mighty emperor Tsao Tsao cracked his whip and drove his army against the Tartars. He left us a poem: "Let us move east to the Stone Mountains." Today we still shiver in the autumn gale, in desolate winds, yet another man is in the world.”

“The poet is born with the capacity of arranging words in such a way that something of the quality of the graces and inspirations he has received can make itself felt to other human beings in the white spaces, so to speak, between the lines of his verse. This is a great and precious gift; but if the poet remains content with his gift, if he persists in worshipping the beauty in art and nature without going on to make himself capable, through selflessness, of apprehending Beauty as it is in the divine Ground, then he is only an idolater.”

“If Painting be Poetry's sister, she can only be a sister Anne, who will see nothing but a flock of sheep, while the other bodies forth a troop of dragoons with drawn sabres and white-plumed helmets.”

Ifs Body Poetry White Painting Sheep Flocks Helmet

Book:Guesses at Truth

Source: Guesses at Truth

“THE CONSCIOUS HUMAN You are not just white, but a rainbow of colors. You are not just black, but golden. You are not just a nationality, but a citizen of the world. You are not just for the right or left, but for what is right over the wrong. You are not just rich or poor, but always wealthy in the mind and heart. You are not perfect, but flawed. You are flawed, but you are just. You may just be conscious human, but you are also a magnificent reflection of God. Suzy Kassem “The Conscious Human” Poetry by Suzy Kassem”

Source: Rise Up and Salute the Sun: The Writings of Suzy Kassem

“He sank back into his black-and-white world, his immobile world of inanimate drawings that had been granted the secret of motion, his death-world with its hidden gift of life. But that life was a deeply ambiguous life, a conjurer's trick, a crafty illusion based on an accidental property of the retina, which retained an image for a fraction of a second after the image was no longer present. On this frail fact was erected the entire structure of the cinema, that colossal confidence game. The animated cartoon was a far more honest expression of the cinematic illusion than the so-called realistic film, because the cartoon reveled in its own illusory nature, exulted in the impossible--indeed it claimed the impossible as its own, exalted it as its own highest end, found in impossibility, in the negation of the actual, its profoundest reason for being. The animated cartoon was nothing but the poetry of the impossible--therein lay its exhilaration and its secret melancholy. For this willful violation of the actual, while it was an intoxicating release from the constriction of things, was at the same time nothing but a delusion, an attempt to outwit mortality. As such it was doomed to failure. And yet it was desperately important to smash through the constriction of the actual, to unhinge the universe and let the impossible stream in, because otherwise--well, otherwise the world was nothing but an editorial cartoon.”

Source: Little Kingdoms