#poetry

I love Sufism as I love beautiful poetry, but it is not the answer. Sufism is like a mirage in the desert. It says to you, come and sit, relax and enjoy yourself for a while. ↗

— Naguib Mahfouz

#beautiful #come #desert #enjoy #i

Publishing a volume of verse is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo. ↗

— Don Marquis

#canyon #down #dropping #echo #grand

Writing a book of poetry is like dropping a rose petal down the Grand Canyon and waiting for the echo. ↗

— Don Marquis

#canyon #down #dropping #echo #grand

Poetry is what Milton saw when he went blind. ↗

— Don Marquis

#milton #poetry #saw #went

One does not become a poet by uttering beautiful words. One becomes a poet by pouring their soul as wine into the Cup of Love. ↗

— Subhan Zein

#philosophy #philosophy-literature #poet #poetry #beauty

We left you there, lonely, Beauty your power, Wisdom your watchman, To hold the clay tower. from 'The Tale of the Tiger Tree ↗

— Vachel Lindsay

#beauty

Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything; it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through anyone that suits you. ↗

— Jim Morrison

#anything #doors #just #listen #off

I wanted to reimagine the role, in a way that was respectful of its traditional responsibilities but made them part of a wider pattern of poetry about national incidents, events, preoccupations; and to spend a great deal of time going to schools trying to demystify poetry. ↗

— Andrew Motion

#deal #events #going #great #great deal

I'm not precisely saying that a really good board meeting at the MLA (Museums, Libraries and Archives Coucil) makes me want to go and write poetry, but there is a pleasure in doing that sort of thing well. ↗

— Andrew Motion

#board #doing #go #good #i

Un soir qu'ils étaient couchés l'un près de l'autre, comme elle lui demandait d'inventer un poème qui commencerait par je connais un beau pays, il s'exécuta sur-le-champ. Je connais un beau pays Il est de l'or et d'églantine Tout le monde s'y sourit Ah quelle aventure fine Les tigres y sont poltrons Les agneaux ont fière mine À tous les vieux vagabonds Ariane donne des tartines. Alors, elle lui baisa le la main, et il eut honte de cette admiration. ↗

— Albert Cohen

#poetry #romantic #romantic