#poetry

Tho' you're tired and weary, still journey on, Till you come to your happy abode, Where all the love you've been dreaming of, Will be there at the end of the road. ↗

— Harry Lauder

#dreams

Foggy nights bring some comfort. He can get lost in the mist and there is no one to stare or question. ↗

— Susie Clevenger

#comfort #fear #freedom #lost #poetry

Always learn poems by heart. They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they'll make your soul impervious to the world's soft decay. ↗

— Janet Fitch

#poetry #water

Tis true my garments threadbare are, And sorry poor I seem; But inly I am richer far Than any poet's dream. For I've a hidden life no one Can ever hope to see; A sacred sanctuary none May share with me. Aloof I stand from out the strife, Within my heart a song; By virtue of my inner life I to myself belong. Against man-ruling I rebel, Yet do not fear defeat, For to my secret citadel I may retreat. Oh you who have an inner life Beyond this dismal day With wars and evil rumours rife, Go blessedly your way. Your refuge hold inviolate; Unto yourself be true, And shield serene from sordid fate The Real You. ↗

— Robert W. Service

#poetry #refuge #strength #dreams

See--two who dreamed that dream, and you were one. ↗

— Caris Brooke

#poetry #dreams

you told me once about how they used to build whole city states out of poems how everything you see here is made out of the bones of dreams how having a stiff drink with lorca meant you had to write everything down right away lately the words just won’t come ↗

— John Dorsey

#dreams

Why covet a knowledge of new facts? Day and night, house and garden, a few books, a few actions, serve us as well as would all trades and all spectacles. We are far from having exhausted the significance of the few symbols we use. We can come to use them yet with a terrible simplicity. ↗

— Ralph Waldo Emerson

#knowledge #language #poetry #education

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well That, for all they care, I can go to hell, But on earth indifference is the least We have to dread from man or beast. How should we like it were stars to burn With a passion for us we could not return? If equal affection cannot be, Let the more loving one be me. Admirer as I think I am Of stars that do not give a damn, I cannot, now I see them, say I missed one terribly all day. Were all stars to disappear or die, I should learn to look at an empty sky And feel its total dark sublime, Though this might take me a little time. ↗

— W.H. Auden

#love #poetry #skies #sky #stars

In the boundaryless forests, there’re dancers of nude. Yet in the confines of pasture, there’s promise of food. On which is your side? Ô, but tarry and bide, ere you decide, in both do confide. ↗

— Roman Payne

#growing-up #life #poems #poetry #rhymes

What everyone forgets is that passion is not merely a heightened sensual fusion, but a way of life which produces, as in the mystics, an ecstatic awareness of the whole of life, that it is in this way that poetry becomes the greatest truth, by intensification, condensation of experience. While poetry is considered by most as illusion or delusion, it is the only reality, the moment when we are completely alive. ↗

— Anais Nin

#mystics #passion #poetry #truth #experience