#poe

The poetry of love is the greatest gift God gave us. ↗

— Sorin Cerin

#wisdom-inspirational #inspirational

Não estatize meus sentimentos. Pra seu governo, o meu estado é independente. ↗

— Renato Russo

#love #poetry #love

...fine love poetry tends to be written when the object of one's affection is at a safe distance; also, it often reflects a love of words more than a love of women... ↗

— Kate Fox

#poetry #love

You and those shot-glass eyes, deep swirling pools of 80-proof firewater, with the depth and profundity of Saturn’s spinning pulsars… ↗

— Brandi L. Bates

#love #poetry #shakespeare #women #love

For the blind poor, Rx: bleed. For yourself; Rx: love nothing. Sow rows of onions only. Plant turnips in the dark of the moon. ↗

— T.R. Hummer

#love

For the error bred in the bone Of each woman and each man Craves what it cannot have, Not universal love But to be loved alone. ↗

— W.H. Auden

#love

Thy's bleeding heart confides in the With one's thoughts and troubles Let the kiss thy's lips To ease thou's pain Thy am thou's comfort Lie thou's head on mine pillow Of soft consolation And let the drown Thou's sorrow Away ↗

— Solange nicole

#emotional #poetry-love #love

Ariel Gordon is superbly, supremely, a poet of the body. She finds words for the physicality of the forest, of the garden, of pregnancy. Hump speaks the erotics of being alive and being in love with being alive. ↗

— Robert Kroetsch

#love

& love is an evil word. Turn it backwards/see, see what I mean? An evol word. ↗

— Amiri Baraka

#love #poems #poets #love

I beg for a moment of peace in this flicker, a moment of stopping, one moment of stillness. I beg not to feel these butterflies, not to see their color, not to hear their rustle, I beg not to feel. I beg not to not want them, nor to want – let them be, as they are, let me be, as I am. That I would not love them, for a moment I would not love them, for a moment they would blur for me, disappear and I would stay all alone. I beg for a single moment, to stay all alone – surrounded by butterflies, free without butterflies. Oh, I train my eyesight, so I wouldn’t see. I wake my ears, so I wouldn’t hear. And I beg for a name, that wouldn’t be called in a name. Say that I have silenced. Say that you have silenced. Say that it’s silent. ↗

— Imants Ziedonis

#love