In crime and enmity they lie Who sin and tell us love can die, Who say to us in slander's breath That love belongs to sin and death.
Devil’s Wish A bowl of spells Swirls a mix Smoke and bubbles Seek the fix Young boy's eye And fever few Witches grass Some mandrake root
Laugh, and the world laughs with you; Weep, and you weep alone; For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough of its own.
To forget would mean the things we never knew had never waited to be known, never waited to be forgotten, had never been; waiting beneath the long dead stars in time. . .
For if the darkness and corruption leave A vestige of the thoughts that once I had, Better by far you should forget and smile Than that you should remember and be sad.
There is no fiercer enemy than a word. A word that can be written down in pages and punctuated by quotation marks and commas and spelled out in contracts and poems and sighs, in old whispers and song lyrics, in promises and vows.
just a little bit longer, sing: like rain, like sand, like wind in the night, prickling" from the poem - STAY from the book "Riding the Escalator
She's right. We would compose poems about love and tell stories that have been heard in some form before. But it would be our first time feeling and telling.
September 11, 2001: Citizens of the U.S., besieged by terror’s sting, rose up, weeping glory, as if on eagles’ wings.--from the poem Angel of Remembrance: Candles for September 11, 2001
I saw a white toilet, with no plumbing, alone in a field of snow. Well, almost alone. There were two naked albinos and a polar bear sitting on it, and I felt inspired to write a love poem.
My love is heavy with ink, so I took it and transformed it into a poem for you. I would give it to you, but Grandma took it because I left it on the counter, and she mistook it for the grocery list.
there are some poems that we leave behind some that leave us behind while some just live silently in the heart crumble, sometimes dwindle disappear die and are reborn when you smile again.
They had to call and call And pick the worms off me like sticky pearls. --From the poem "Lady Lazarus", written 23-29 October 1962
I have learned and dismantled all the words in order to draw from them a single word: Home.
Now we wake up with our memory and fix our gazes on that which was; whispering sweetness, which once coursed through us, sits silently beside us with loosened hair
One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.
Reading about the response of people in stories, plays, poems, helps us to respond more courageously and openly at our own moments of turning.
Most people are much better at saying things in letters than in conversation, and some people can write artistic, inventive letters, but when they try a poem or story or novel they become pretentious.
Always learn poems by heart,' she said. 'They have to become the marrow in your bones. Like fluoride in the water, they'll make your soul impervious to the world's soft decay.
Romantic haste in drama brings tears and sighs when the hero dies but the curtain fall is final when in life we take the tragic way The sunset too is a glorious thing but with it ends the day.
Every word I write is a seed that I may nurture into a small, beautiful poem or a tall, soaring tree.
