#poems

Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine Et nos amours Faut-il qu'il m'en souvienne La joie venait toujours après la peine Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure Les jours s'en vont je demeure Les mains dans les mains restons face à face Tandis que sous Le pont de nos bras passe des éternels regards l'onde si lasse Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure Les jours s'en vont je demeure l'amour s'en va comme cette eau courante L'amour s'en va Comme la vie est lente Et comme l'Espérance est violente Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure Les jours s'en vont je demeure Passent les jours et passent les semaines Ni temps passé Ni les amours reviennent Sous le pont Mirabeau coule la Seine Vienne la nuit sonne l'heure Les jours s'en vont je demeure ↗

— Guillaume Apollinaire

#men

I think that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree. A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed Against the earth's sweet flowing breast; A tree that looks at God all day And lifts her leafy arms to pray; A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair; Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain. Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. ↗

— Joyce Kilmer

#inspirational #poem #poems #rain #tree

These are the woes of Slaves;/They glare from the abyss;/They cry, from unknown graves,/"We are the Witnesses! ↗

— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

#henry #henry-wadsworth-longfellow #inspirational #longfellow #poems

think think think until you blink ↗

— ganeshsaidheeraj

#love #men-rights #poems #science #women

My poems were just kind of all over the place. They had no focus, no location, nothing. Kind of a series of images that could have been set anywhere. A lot of the poems were just exercises for myself. ↗

— James Welch

#been #could #exercises #focus #had

Each poem in becoming generates the laws by which it is generated: extensions of the laws to other poems never completely take. ↗

— A. R. Ammons

#completely #each #extensions #generated #generates

I sometimes like to tinker with poems that have failed, ones that I have sent aside. Even years afterward, I will revisit them if there is something about them that I cannot give up on. ↗

— John Barton

#aside #cannot #even #failed #give

Why does one always ask a writer why they stopped? I am sure everyone finds in any drawer a few dear poems. ↗

— Peter Bichsel

#am #any #ask #dear #does

What I'm fighting for now in my work... for an expression relevant to all manner of blacks, poems I could take into a tavern, into the street, into the halls of a housing project. ↗

— Gwendolyn Brooks

#could #expression #fighting #halls #housing

Eight years ago, I was drawn into Keats's world by Andrew Motion's biography. Soon I was reading back and forth between Keats's letters and his poems. The letters were fresh, intimate and irreverent, as though he were present and speaking. The Keats spell went very deep for me. ↗

— Jane Campion

#andrew #back #between #biography #deep