Voltar

a flower knows, when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon,when I don't know, if you will ever come back.

Sanober Khan
hurt poetry sadness poets goodbyes goodbye separation butterflies moon flowers love-quotes poems hurting butterfly poetry-quotes sad-love verses

sometimes i don't know, which momentwhich cool gust of wind will come,and enchant metousling my hairand my heart, stirring...that familiar ache of poetry, which drop will kissthe old wrench in my soulreminding me, all over againi miss you better in the rain.

Sanober Khan , em A Thousand Flamingos
poetry pain missing missing-you love-quotes rain wind poetry-quotes breeze enchantment verses wrench

your smile.is the ultimategolden dream.all the poemsin the worldare waking up from.

Sanober Khan
dreams poetry smile poets magic falling-in-love dream world dreaming poetry-quotes golden verses

You write poems with your fingertipsAnd I keep listening to the songs written on my skinBy some distant dream, similar wordsBut the verses never meet...

Sanhita Baruah , em The Farewell and other poems
life love dreams poetry relationships romantic art poets sad words lovers body poems broken apart songs singing write skin meet distant written verses fingertips first-meetings broken-dreams separate-writers

I could simply kill you now, get it over with, who would know the difference? I could easily kick you in, stove you under, for all those times, mean on gin, you rammed words into my belly. (p. 52)

Barbara Blatner
life love hate poetry death dying letting-go grief grieving healing poem daughters mother death-and-dying death-of-a-loved-one poems memoirs son soul-searching cancer memoir verse conflict mountains alcoholism death-and-love dying-at-home verses new-york love-and-hate death-and-sickness grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother barbara-blatner colon-cancer death-and-daughters death-and-son new-york-quarterly verse-memoir

oh. she heard it too-no waters coursing, canyon empty, sun soundless- and the beast your life nowhere hiding (p. 103)

Barbara Blatner , em The Still Position: A Verse Memoir of My Mother's Death
life love hate poetry death dying letting-go grief grieving healing poem daughters mother death-and-dying death-of-a-loved-one poems memoirs son soul-searching cancer memoir verse conflict mountains alcoholism death-and-love dying-at-home verses new-york love-and-hate death-and-sickness grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother barbara-blatner colon-cancer death-and-daughters death-and-son new-york-quarterly verse-memoir

...gripping the rim of the sink you claw your way to stand and cling there, quaking with will, on heron legs, and still the hot muck pours out of you. (p. 27)

Barbara Blatner , em The Still Position: A Verse Memoir of My Mother's Death
life love hate poetry death dying grief grieving healing poem daughters mother death-and-dying death-of-a-loved-one poems memoirs son cancer memoir verse conflict mountains alcoholism death-and-love dying-at-home verses new-york death-and-sickness grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother barbara-blatner colon-cancer death-and-daughters death-and-son new-york-quarterly verse-memoir

blue-gold sky, fresh cloud, emerald-black mountain, trees on rocky ledges, on the summit, the tiny pin of a telephone tower-all brilliantly clear, in shadow and out. and on and through everything everywhere the sun shines without reservation (p. 97)

Barbara Blatner , em The Still Position: A Verse Memoir of My Mother's Death
love hate poetry death dying grief healing poem daughters mother death-and-dying death-of-a-loved-one poems memoirs son cancer verse conflict death-and-love verses alchoholism death-and-sickness grieving-the-loss-of-a-mother barbara-blatner colon-cancer death-and-son new-york-quarterly grievindeath-and-daughters

The magic fades too fastthe scent of summer never lasts the nights turn hollow and vast but nothing remains...nothing lasts.

Sanober Khan
poetry magic summer poetry-quotes scent vastness vast nights fleeting-life fleeting verses hollow nothing-lasts-forever

I'd rather make my crib a house of God and pray directly to God verses, than listening to this hypocritical leaders/priest experiencing too much failure!!!

Napz Cherub Pellazo
failure god-s-love too-much reality-quotes napz-cherub-pellazo verses than hypocritical experiencing a-house-of-god-and-pray directly-to-god i-d-rather leaders-priest listening-to-this make-my-crib

Sitting makes us think of standingOur current stance keeps on demanding We wish to fly without the wings Puppets move before pulling the strings

Munia Khan
poetry poem wish poems fly wings verse string makes sitting move demand demanding puppet verses current sit strings stance puppets wings-and-flying puppet-show

Approaching the Start of Civil ExamsPerhaps I was once a young Chinese scholarapproaching the start of civil exams,my mind grown weary and sad from seclusionwith books on syntax and poetic style.All that I knew were the mist-covered mountainsand sweet white blossoms of mountain applesthat grew in the valleys of my province.But I had been gone over six yearsbusy with studies in the Heavenly Cityempty and thin despite my work.I showed my verses to an older poetwho told me a truth I longed to believe:all knowledge is futile and barrenwhich does not open the love of your friends.

Jim Chapson
love truth friendship knowledge work busy sad books sweet poet blossoms style chinese poetic mountains scholar seclusion futile weary verses barren mist syntax

You touched my heart...ever so softlyand I realizedtears had never been...merely saltand the rainOh the Rain!had never been merely water.

Sanober Khan , em A touch, a tear, a tempest
poetry poets tears love-quotes metaphors poetry-quotes indian-authors verses

Training is an active, dynamic process lived out daily in all areas of life- not a rote exercise in memorizing verses and going to church every week.

Craig Groeschel , em Weird: Because Normal Isn't Working
life church an week training daily is exercise active to in every all not process going and of verses out lived areas dynamic a-rote memorizing

At one time I was weary of verse writing, and wanted to give it up. At another time I was determined to be a poet until I could establish a proud name over others. The alternatives battled in my mind and made my life restless.

Bashō Matsuo
poetry poet tired verses alternatives