#poe

Can knowledge be conveyed that isn't felt? But if transport's the problem - they tell me get a job and earn yourself an automobile-I'd rather collect my parts as I go: chair, desk, house and crankshaft Shakespeare. Generator boy, Paul, love is carried if it's held. ↗

— Lorine Niedecker

#love

...who would have known the dark eyes staring into mine would become our children's eyes...? ↗

— John Geddes

#dark-eyes #eyes #love #poetry #love

...if it weren't for you, mornings wouldn't be so comforting - slippers wouldn't scrape through the rooms of my heart... ↗

— John Geddes

#heart #love #mornings #poetry-quotes #rooms

...I see you as series of gestures, a palette of colors -all these tiny tiles pixelate, and then coalesce... into the idea of you... ↗

— John Geddes

#love-quotes #poetry-quotes #thoughts-of-you #love

I love the way you look at me, Your eyes so bright and blue. I love the way you kiss me, Your lips so soft and smooth. I love the way you make me so happy, And the ways you show you care. I love the way you say, "I Love You," And the way you're always there. I love the way you touch me, Always sending chills down my spine. I love that you are with me, And glad that you are mine. ↗

— - Crystal Jansen

#love

...some of the best love poems have been written by monks and nuns... ↗

— John Geddes

#monks #nuns #poems #love

Äiti rakas en jaksa kutoa olen nääntynyt ikävästä kiitos ihanan Afrotiden ↗

— Sappho

#poetry #love

I think of New York City lost in stars forgotten as a blue haired pet of childhood love Tonight the night is full; ↗

— Gregory Corso

#poet #poetry #love

How many times Can you go back to the same spot With love? I never hope to know. We work patiently at our quarrels, Starting them now like love, Deliberately but with elaborate Ease. When they catch We marvel at the blaze, Crowding in close. 'Inexhaustible!' we shout at one another, Happy for the moment. I never hope to know How many times. ↗

— Harvey Shapiro

#love

My Father Still Sleeping After Surgery In spite of himself, my father loved me. In spite of the hands that beat me, in spite of the mouth that kept silent, in spite of the face that turned cruel as a gold Chinese king, he could not control the love that came out of him. The body is monumental, a colossus through which he breathes. His hands crawl over his stomach jerkily as sand crabs on five legs; he makes a fist like the fist of a newborn. ↗

— Toi Derricotte

#love