#poetry

Keep Moving... Move forward Let go Give in Decide and just Do Progress every day And make one step forward no matter what's in your way Keep moving, till one day you wake up and you're there. ↗

— Emma Daley

#poem #poetry #poetry-life #poetry-quotes #life

From the time I began to read, as a child, I loved to feel their heft in my hand and the warm spot caused by their intimate weight in my lap; I loved the crisp whisper of a page turning, the musky odor of old paper and the sharp inky whiff of new pages. Leather bindings sent me into ecstasy. I even loved to gaze at a closed book and daydream about the possibilities inside. ↗

— Rita Dove

#poetry #writing #love

I’ll always deny that I kissed her. I was just whispering into her mouth. ↗

— Stephen Dunn

#love #poetry #love

I said to the night, "If you are in love with the moon, it is because you never stay for long." The night turned to me and said, "It is not my fault. I never see the Sun, how can I know that love is endless? ↗

— Rumi

#love #rumi #rumi-poetry #love

In this universe there are no time machines or keys that can turn hearts back around. ↗

— Sarah Tregay

#poetry #love

And wonder, dread and war have lingered in that land where loss and love in turn have held the upper hand. ↗

— Simon Armitage

#poetry #tragedy #love

I can’t help but notice that you keep writing love poetry to my wife. Well, you see, I married her, which makes her my wife. You know what you might want to try? Writing some poems about the sunset. The sunset isn’t fucking married. ↗

— A.J. Jacobs

#marriage #poetry #humor

Eros, again now, the loosener of limbs troubles me, Bittersweet, sly, uncontrollable creature…. ↗

— Sappho

#eros #lesbian #love #poetry #sappho

come back so i can say yes this time do it again now that i know what to call what you did this time i'll be ready i like it rough now and i'm done with romance i never met another man who loved me so much at first sight he had to hurt me to do it ↗

— Daphne Gottlieb

#rape #love

Love is a fire that burns unseen, a wound that aches yet isn’t felt, an always discontent contentment, a pain that rages without hurting, a longing for nothing but to long, a loneliness in the midst of people, a never feeling pleased when pleased, a passion that gains when lost in thought. It’s being enslaved of your own free will; it’s counting your defeat a victory; it’s staying loyal to your killer. But if it’s so self-contradictory, how can Love, when Love chooses, bring human hearts into sympathy? ↗

— Luís Vaz de Camões

#pain #poetry #wound #love