#poet

Everything on earth has happened before, nothing is new, but woe to the lovers who fail to discover a fresh blossom in every future kiss. ↗

— Jaroslav Seifert

#love #poetry #love

Amor é um fogo que arde sem se ver, é ferida que dói, e não se sente; é um contentamento descontente, é dor que desatina sem doer. É um não querer mais que bem querer; é um andar solitário entre a gente; é nunca contentar se de contente; é um cuidar que ganha em se perder. É querer estar preso por vontade; é servir a quem vence, o vencedor; é ter com quem nos mata, lealdade. Mas como causar pode seu favor nos corações humanos amizade, se tão contrário a si é o mesmo Amor? ↗

— Luís Vaz de Camões

#poetry #love

Поетът може би познава любовта откъм единствената страна, която истински я разкрива и осветява: неосъщественост. Поетът върви унесен. Може би една от формите на споделена любов е поезията. ↗

— Blaga Dimitrova

#poetry #love

I will Basquiat the canvas of your body like a Broadway Junction wall…and Gordon Parks you for those dark midnights when your scent fades. ↗

— Brandi L. Bates

#brandi-bates #gordon-parks #love #new-york #poetry

When you can love yourself, then your heart is open to give and receive love. ↗

— Daveda Gruber

#poetrywithpassion-com #love

...does it seem strange in the loneliness of the present time, that I run to you?... ↗

— John Geddes

#poetry #run-to-you #love

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully! Smoothed by long fingers, Asleep … tired … or it malingers, Stretched on on the floor, here beside you and me. Should I, after tea and cakes and ices, Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis? But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed, Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter, I am no prophet—and here’s no great matter; I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker, And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker, And in short, I was afraid. ↗

— T.S. Eliot

#love

What stirs lyrical poets to their finest flights is neither the delight of the senses nor the fruitful contentment of the settled couple; not the satisfaction of love, but its passion. And passion means suffering. ↗

— Denis de Rougemont

#passion #poets #suffering #love

But the detail of the poem shows power akin to genius, and reveals to us that much neglected law of literary history -- that potential genius can never become actual unless it finds or makes the Form which it requires. ↗

— C.S. Lewis

#love

Calla, calla, princesa —dice el hada madrina—; en caballo, con alas, hacia acá se encamina, en el cinto la espada y en la mano el azor, el feliz caballero que te adora sin verte, y que llega de lejos, vencedor de la Muerte, a encenderte los labios con un beso de amor ↗

— Rubén Darío

#poetry #love