#poet

Girl in the wind blowing wide open the closed doors of my life - which way are we going? Standing against the lurid sky on the stark brink of ocean arms outstretched as if your love and hunger would embrace the world and I in my inner room playing my poetic premutations can only look and ask the unanswerable. Brave and cunning I speak to my typewriter knowing it will not answer back knowing it will not reply what I ask and do not want to hear as you with the vast sunset merge a multitude of dreams away uniquely alone and outside of me in the purity and rarity of this moment immeasurably beyond my love and my rage and with the dying call of gulls the echo resounds: Girl in the wind throwing aside the tight shutters of my life - which way are we going? ↗

— Christy Brown

#dreams

But you have to understand that I consider myself a very modest artist, or whatever, and not of importance really at all - it is quite embarrassing to me to be asked my opinion about things. I am only a wee Scottish poet on the outside of everything. ↗

— Ian Hamilton Finlay

#am #artist #asked #consider #embarrassing

To Bury A Star" "I pulled a star from the darkest corner of night and hid it within my bosom. When the Earth beneath my feet gave way, moist and fertile, I knelt to the ground and cupped the radiant treasure in my hands. In a shallow hole I buried it—layer upon layer of black dirt tossed upon the spot until it no longer glowed. This I did for you, my love. Now, come with me and see what has been born from a single wishing star. Hand in hand we walk to the same spot of dirt to find the black and fertile soil sucked dry, the color blanched as pale as desert sands. Look how a ring of white fire jumps and dances around the buried starling! We catch our breath, beholding what has sprouted from this magical seed. The illusion of twisted branches glowing in the darkness like tails of comets soaring skyward—tails of baby stars that shoot like fireworks from that ring of fire. Up, up, up they fly to light a neglected corner of the night. From a single wishing star a thousand more have been born. They are for you, my love—a thousand dreams destined to come true. ↗

— Richelle E. Goodrich

#love #poetry #richelle #richelle-goodrich #star

As for political poetry, as it's usually defined, it seems there's very little good political poetry. ↗

— Kenneth Koch

#good #little #poetry #political #seems

Poetry: the best words in the best order. ↗

— Samuel Taylor Coleridge

#best #order #words

Edie Sedgwick (1943-1971) I don't know how she did it. Fire She was shaking all over. It took her hours to put her make-up on. But she did it. Even the false eye-lashes. She ordered gin with triple limes. Then a limosine. Everyone knew she was the real heroine of Blonde on Blonde. oh it isn't fair oh it isn't fair how her ermine hair turned men around she was white on white so blonde on blonde and her long long legs how I used to beg to dance with her but I never had a chance with her oh it isn't fair how her ermine hair used to swing so nice used to cut the air how all the men used to dance with her I never got a chance with her though I really asked her down deep where you do really dream in the mind reading love I'd get inside her move and we'd turn around and she'd turn around and turn the head of everyone in town her shaking shaking glittering bones second blonde child after brian jones oh it isn't fair how I dreamed of her and she slept and she slept forever and I'll never dance with her no never she broke down like a baby like a baby girl like a lady with ermine hair oh it isn't fair and I'd like to see her rise again her white white bones with baby brian jones baby brian jones like blushing baby dolls ↗

— Patti Smith

#in-memoriam #poem #poetry #poetry-quotes #tribute

It could be yesterday when I was less in love I think For I didn’t see you in the mirror behind me while getting dressed. The way your hands couldn’t stay away and our bodies always found their ways back to each other as if they were meant to be together Close. But then it was today and I saw you again in the mirror behind me while getting dressed So I go to sleep tonight alone without actually falling asleep because I’m scared of the moment I will wake up and realise it was just a dream You’re actually gone. Now all I can do is get through to another tomorrow hoping that I will be less in love again Like yesterday But not today. I was never really well with things at all. ↗

— Charlotte Eriksson

#charlotte-eriksson #heartbreak #left #love #memories

Poetry is not only a set of words which are chosen to relate to each other; it is something which goes much further than that to provide a glimpse of our vision of the world. ↗

— Tahar Ben Jelloun

#each #further #glimpse #goes #much

Another one of the old poets, whose name has escaped my memory at present, called Truth the daughter of Time. ↗

— Aulus Gellius

#called #daughter #escaped #memory #name

The only thing that can save the world is the reclaiming of the awareness of the world. That's what poetry does. ↗

— Allen Ginsberg

#does #only #poetry #save #save the world