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#poetry

Read through the most famous quotes by topic #poetry




Poetry is an intimate act. It's about bringing forth something that's inside you--whether it is a memory, a philosophical idea, a deep love for another person or for the world, or an apprehension of the spiritual. It's about making something, in language, which can be transmitted to others--not as information, or polemic, but as irreducible art.


Dorianne Laux


#art

...these vignettes I sketch for you - what are they? watercolors ..yes and dreams blurred with tears ...


John Geddes


#love-loss #poetry #sketches #tears #vignettes

I am a butterfly poet birthed from pain flying with the freedom of my verses.


Susie Clevenger


#dreams #journey #life #poetry #dreams

...in my dream the shadings of your soul are the dark tincture of rain...


John Geddes


#poetry #rain #sadness #soul #dreams

What happens to a dream deferred?


Langston Hughes


#dreams #poem #poetry #dreams

Every poet has his dream reader: mine keeps a look out for curious prosodic fauna like bacchics and choriambs.


W.H. Auden


#poetry #prosody #dreams

There seems to be no unexpressed self in animals, as if they are as fully themselves in flesh as possible, with no lag of consciousness to fill up, while we keep trying to grow into something else.


Jane Roberts


#poetry #seth #dreams

If you wish to know me, just ask.


Susie Clevenger


#dreams

SPRING POEM It is spring, my decision, the earth ferments like rising bread or refuse, we are burning last year's weeds, the smoke flares from the road, the clumped stalks glow like sluggish phoenixes / it wasn't only my fault / birdsongs burst from the feathered pods of their bodies, dandelions whirl their blades upwards, from beneath this decaying board a snake sidewinds, chained hide smelling of reptile sex / the hens roll in the dust, squinting with bliss, frogbodies bloat like bladders, contract, string the pond with living jelly eyes, can I be this ruthless? I plunge my hands and arms into the dirt, swim among stones and cutworms, come up rank as a fox, restless. Nights, while seedlings dig near my head I dream of reconciliations with those I have hurt unbearably, we move still touching over the greening fields, the future wounds folded like seeds in our tender fingers, days I go for vicious walks past the charred roadbed over the bashed stubble admiring the view, avoiding those I have not hurt yet, apocalypse coiled in my tongue, it is spring, I am searching for the word: finished finished so I can begin over again, some year I will take this word too far.


Margaret Atwood


#dreams

I have been used to consider poetry as "the food of love" said Darcy. "Of a fine, stout, healthy love it may. Everything nourishes what is strong already. But if it be only a slight, thin sort of inclination, I am convinced that one good sonnet will starve it entirely away.


Jane Austen


#banter #courtship #poetry #food






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