#poetry

They say that I am a poet I wonder what they would say if they saw me from the inside I bottle emotions and place them into the sea for others to unbottle on distant shores I am unsure as to whether they ever reach and for that matter as to whether I ever get my point across or my love ↗

— Saul Williams

#writing #love

Admit something. Everyone you see, you say to them "Love me." Of course you do not do this out loud: Otherwise, Someone would call the cops. Still, though, think about this, This great pull in us to connect. Why not become the one Who lives with a full moon in each eye That is always saying, With that sweet moon Language What every other eye in this world Is dying to Hear? ↗

— Hafiz

#love

I will love you forever" swears the poet. I find this easy to swear too. "I will love you at 4:15 pm next Tuesday" - Is that still as easy? ↗

— W.H. Auden

#poetry #love

This fire that we call Loving is too strong for human minds. But just right for human souls. ↗

— Aberjhani

#famous-authors #famous-quotes #human-nature #love #philosophy-of-love

En qué lugar, en dónde, a qué deshoras me dirás que te amo? Esto es urgente porque la eternidad se nos acaba. ↗

— Jaime Sabines

#love

Father, R.I.P., Sums Me Up at Twenty-Three She has no head for politics, craves good jewelry, trusts too readily, marries too early. Then one by one she sends away her friends and stands apart, smug sapphire, her answer to everything a slender zero, a silent shrug--and every day still hears me say she'll never be pretty. Instead she reads novels, instead her belt matches her shoes. She is master of the condolence letter, and knows how to please a man with her mouth: Good. Nose too large, eyes too closely set, hair not glorious blonde, not her mother's red, nor the glossy black her younger sister has, the little raven I loved best. ↗

— Deborah Garrison

#love

soles occidere et redire possunt: nobis cum semel occidit breuis lux, nox est perpetua una dormienda. ↗

— Catullus

#roman #love

There is no hope for the hopeless but there is always some love for the loveless. ↗

— Santosh Kalwar

#love #poetry #romance #love

We made love outdoors—without a roof, I like most, without stove, my favorite place, assuming the weather be fair and balmy, and the earth beneath be clean. Our souls intertwined and dripping with dew, and our love for each other was seen. Our love for the world was new. ↗

— Roman Payne

#desire #green-eyes #lamb #making-love #malta

Those hours given over to basking in the glow of an imagined future, of being carried away in streams of promise by a love or a passion so strong that one felt altered forever and convinced that even the smallest particle of the surrounding world was charged with purpose of impossible grandeur; ah, yes, and one would look up into the trees and be thrilled by the wind- loosened river of pale, gold foliage cascading down and by the high, melodious singing of countless birds; those moments, so many and so long ago, still come back, but briefly, like fireflies in the perfumed heat of summer night. ↗

— Mark Strand

#nostalgia #poetry #regret #imagination