#poetry

It is not metres, but a metre-making argument that makes a poem,—a thought so passionate and alive that like the spirit of a plant or an animal it has an architecture of its own, and adorns nature with a new thing. The thought and the form are equal in the order of time, but in the order of genesis the thought is prior to the form. ↗

— Ralph Waldo Emerson

#creation #nature #poetry #architecture

The end of poetry is not to create a physical condition which shall give pleasure to the mind... The end of poetry is not an after-effect, not a pleasurable memory of itself, but an immediate, constant and even unpleasant insistence upon itself. ↗

— Laura Riding

#constant #create #end #even #give

I despair of ever writing excellent poetry. ↗

— Isaac Rosenberg

#ever #excellent #i #poetry #writing

Poems are like dreams: in them you put what you don't know you know. ↗

— Adrienne Rich

#poets #poets-on-poetry #women-poets #art

You see another who looks thirsty. Walking over to them, you nudge them on the back. They look at you, and you gesture toward the lake with your head. You and the other walk over there, and you are content and you are happy. You are home. ↗

— Amanda Leigh

#home

The urge to write poetry is like having an itch. When the itch becomes annoying enough, you scratch it. ↗

— Robert Penn Warren

#becomes #enough #having #itch #like

There is a deep truth in being at home enough with someone to kiss them while your lips are dry. And happiness may not be the greatest of things to hear, but it should be. ↗

— Mikl Paul

#poetry #prose-poetry #home

اعرف اننى عندما أقع في الحب سيكون الفصل شتاءاً وستسري في جسدي قشعريرة فلن أدرى أسببها البرد أم كوني معك؟ ↗

— شيرين عادل

#poetry #winter #love

The Little Boy and the Old Man Said the little boy, "Sometimes I drop my spoon." Said the old man, "I do that too." The little boy whispered, "I wet my pants." I do that too," laughed the little old man. Said the little boy, "I often cry." The old man nodded, "So do I." But worst of all," said the boy, "it seems Grown-ups don't pay attention to me." And he felt the warmth of a wrinkled old hand. I know what you mean," said the little old man. ↗

— Shel Silverstein

#old-age #poetry #youth #age

Poetry is like a bird, it ignores all frontiers. ↗

— Yevgeny Yevtushenko

#frontiers #ignores #like #poetry