#poem

If a poem is each time new, then it is necessarily an act of discovery, a chance taken, a chance that may lead to fulfillment or disaster. ↗

— A. R. Ammons

#chance #disaster #discovery #each #fulfillment

My secret dream is to write an epic poem. That's probably the most pretentious thing I've said. ↗

— Laurie Anderson

#epic #epic poem #i #most #poem

In all the poems I've written I've not really engaged in politics, and when I've found myself moving in that direction I've always stopped myself. ↗

— Simon Armitage

#direction #engaged #found #i #moving

The poem is sad because it wants to be yours, and cannot be. ↗

— John Ashbery

#cannot #poem #sad #wants #yours

I would kiss you in the middle of the ocean during a lightning storm cuz I'd rather be left for dead than wondering what thunder sounds like. ↗

— Andrea Gibson

#love #poem #wasabi #love

No poem is easily grasped; so why should any reader expect fast results? ↗

— John Barton

#any #easily #expect #fast #grasped

I would not say I chose to write long poems on a conscious level. The long poem has been a relative constant. ↗

— John Barton

#chose #conscious #constant #i #level

To me many short poems read and write like beginnings that simply whet my appetite; I want to get over that. ↗

— John Barton

#beginnings #get #i #like #many

In greatness, life and death merge. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#dejan-stojanovic #greatness #life #literature #literature-quotes

His brow is seamed with line and scar; His cheek is red and dark as wine; The fires as of a Northern star Beneath his cap of sable shine. His right hand, bared of leathern glove, Hangs open like an iron gin, You stoop to see his pulses move, To hear the blood sweep out and in. He looks some king, so solitary In earnest thought he seems to stand, As if across a lonely sea He gazed impatient of the land. Out of the noisy centuries The foolish and the fearful fade; Yet burn unquenched these warrior eyes, Time hath not dimmed, nor death dismayed. ↗

— Walter de La Mare

#warrior #death