#poetry

Being in prison for seven years was like being in an army that never drilled, never deployed, and only fought itself. ↗

— Raegan Butcher

#poetry #prison #social-commentary #sociology #sociology

What an incredible amount of poetry, of novels, of sociological solutions to the ills of the world! One supposes that poetry is written to enrich the spirit; that novels have been conceived at the very least, to entertain us; and even, optimistically, that sociological solutions are a guide to solving something. Viewing the situation calmly, I realized that the first (poetry) was capable of impoverishing the richest spirit, the second of boring the most joyful, the third of confusing the most lucid. ↗

— Augusto Monterroso

#sociology

Crystal ball and candle light, I want your dance tonight. Show me the power of love as we stand together in the middle of the night. ↗

— Santosh Kalwar

#love #poetry #funny

I imagined I was God for a millisecond And became speechless for a long time. ↗

— Dejan Stojanovic

#god #imagination #literature #literature-quotes #poetry

... You can't be with God and be neutral. / True contemplation is resistance. And poetry, / gazing at clouds is resistance I found out in jail. ↗

— Ernesto Cardenal

#marxism #poetry #catholicism

I GO DOWN TO THE SHORE I go down to the shore in the morning and depending on the hour the waves are rolling in or moving out, and I say, oh, I am miserable, what shall— what should I do? And the sea says in its lovely voice: Excuse me, I have work to do. ↗

— Mary Oliver

#poetry #love

Books are carefully folded forests/void of autumn/bound from the sun ↗

— Saul Williams

#autumn

GATHERING LEAVES Spades take up leaves No better than spoons, And bags full of leaves Are light as balloons. I make a great noise Of rustling all day Like rabbit and deer Running away. But the mountains I raise Elude my embrace, Flowing over my arms And into my face. I may load and unload Again and again Till I fill the whole shed, And what have I then? Next to nothing for weight, And since they grew duller From contact with earth, Next to nothing for color. Next to nothing for use. But a crop is a crop, And who's to say where The harvest shall stop? ↗

— Robert Frost

#poetry #autumn

Hasta luego, hasta que me olvides! Me voy porque no tengo tiempo De hacer más preguntas al viento. ↗

— Pablo Neruda "Soliloquio en Tinieblas"

#poem #poetry #solilquio-en-tinieblas #poetry-quotes

Eggshells become hard to break after walking on them for so long. ↗

— Mia Castile

#poetry-quotes