#poems

Most victims of my autobiographical verse are either far too polite, remarkably understanding unaware that I have written poems about them. ↗

— John Barton

#autobiographical #either #far #i #most

If it wasn’t for all those silver wings spread out to help you on your journey, you would’a been dead or someplace screamin’ in a nut house a long time ago. ↗

— Aberjhani

#angels #classic-quotes #divine-blessings #divinity #faith

The only difference between me and others is that they think they can change something with cute little poems, nice cards or embracing trees and being nice to little lapdogs. ↗

— Henry Rollins

#being nice #between #cards #change #cute

In a funny way, poems are suited to modern life. They're short, they're intense. Nobody has time to read a 700-page book. People read magazines, and a poem takes less time than an article. ↗

— Caroline Kennedy

#book #funny #funny way #intense #less

There's so much to think about when you're becoming an adult, and there's so many great poems about that apprehension and excitement. ↗

— Caroline Kennedy

#adult #apprehension #becoming #excitement #great

I wrote those poems for myself, as a way of being a soldier here in this country. I didn't know the poems would travel. I didn't go to Lebanon until two years ago, but people told me that many Arabs had memorized these poems and translated them into Arabic. ↗

— June Jordan

#arabic #arabs #being #country #go

Poetry is one of my guilty pleasures and I want to thank you poets for providing me with beautiful words that I can devour and selfishly indulge in any time I want. ♥-Nina Jean Slack ↗

— Nina Jean Slack

#devour #guilty #indulge #love #pleasure

anyone who has no feelings for animals has a dead heart. ↗

— Raegan Butcher

#poems #poetry #prison #love

La Puce Puces, amis, amantes même, Qu'ils sont cruels ceux qui nous aiment! Tout notre sang coule pour eux. Les bien-aimés sont malheureux. ↗

— Guillaume Apollinaire

#love #poems #love

La Courbe de tes yeux La courbe de tes yeux fait le tour de mon coeur, Un rond de danse et de douceur, Auréole du temps, berceau nocturne et sûr, Et si je ne sais plus tout ce que j'ai vécu C'est que tes yeux ne m'ont pas toujours vu. Feuilles de jour et mousse de rosée, Roseaux du vent, sourires parfumés, Ailes couvrant le monde de lumière, Bateaux chargés du ciel et de la mer, Chasseurs des bruits et sources des couleurs, Parfums éclos d'une couvée d'aurores Qui gît toujours sur la paille des astres, Comme le jour dépend de l'innocence Le monde entier dépend de tes yeux purs Et tout mon sang coule dans leurs regards. ↗

— Paul Éluard

#poems #surrealism #love