#poet

In the television age, the key distinction is between the candidate who can speak poetry and the one who can only speak prose. ↗

— Richard M. Nixon

#between #candidate #distinction #key #only

Only in dreams, in poetry, in play do we sometimes arrive at what we were before we were this thing that, who knows, we are. ↗

— Julio Cortazar

#before #dreams #knows #only #play

It is written on the arched sky; it looks out from every star. It is the poetry of Nature; it is that which uplifts the spirit within us. ↗

— John Ruskin

#arched #every #looks #out #poetry

As to London we must console ourselves with the thought that if life outside is less poetic than it was in the days of old, inwardly its poetry is much deeper. ↗

— Goldwin Smith

#days #deeper #inwardly #less #life

When I was younger, I felt it was my duty to wake people up. I thought poetry was asleep. I thought rock 'n' roll was asleep. ↗

— Patti Smith

#duty #felt #i #people #poetry

A poem conveys not a message so much as the provenance of a message, an advent of sense. ↗

— Thomas Harrison

#advent #conveys #message #much #poem

Life goes on in the same manner, evil wins and peace is slaughtered. Change the channel, change the view, tired of the same reruns on the evening news. ↗

— Susie Clevenger

#modern-society #news #poetry #change

They flee from me that sometime did me seek With naked foot, stalking in my chamber. I have seen them gentle, tame, and meek, That now are wild and do not remember That sometime they put themself in danger To take bread at my hand; and now they range, Busily seeking with a continual change. ↗

— Thomas Wyatt

#poetry #change

The strings in her mind grew flatter, calmer. The shapes in the hologrid had changed. She heard the man's words, and yet she didn't; the words were not what was really important. And wasn't that right? Words had never been important, only strings, and the strings had shapes like - but not like -the ones around the man. Only the man had disappeared, too, and that was alright, because she, Miri, Miranda Serena Sharifi, was disappearing, was sliding down a steep long chute and each meter she traveled she became smaller and smaller until she had disappeared and was invisible, a weightless transparent ghost that neither twitched nor stammered, in the corner of a room she had never seen before. ↗

— Nancy Kress

#change

I use rock and jazz and blues rhythms because I love that music. I hope my poetry has a relationship with good-time rock'n roll. ↗

— Adrian Mitchell

#blues #hope #i #i love #jazz