All Quotes By Tag: Poetry

“Poetry isn’t like any writing I’ve ever heard before. I don’t understand all of it, just bits of images, sentences that appear half-finished, all fluttering together like brightly colored ribbons in the wind.”

“If I bet on humanity, I’d never cash a ticket.”

“The future says:Dear mortals;I know you are busy with your colourful lives;I have no wish to waste the little time that remainsOn arguments and heated debates;But before I can appearPlease, close your eyes, sit stillAnd listen carefullyTo what I am about to say;I haven’t happened yet, but I will.I can’t pretend it’s going to beBusiness as usual.Things are going to change.I’m going to be unrecognisable.Please, don’t open your eyes, not yet.I’m not trying to frighten you.All I ask is that you think of meNot as a wish or a nightmare, but as a storyYou have to tell yourselves -Not with an endingIn which everyone lives happily ever after,Or a B-movie apocalypse,But maybe starting with the line’To be continued…’And see what happens next.Remember this; I am notWritten in stoneBut in time – So please don’t shrug and sayWhat can we do?It’s too late, etc, etc, etc.Dear mortals,You are such strange creaturesWith your greed and your kindness,And your hearts like broken toys;You carry fear with you everywhereLike a tiny godIn its box of shadows.You love festivals and musicAnd good food.You lie to yourselvesBecause you’re afraid of the dark.But the truth is: you are in my handsAnd I am in yours.We are in this together,Face to face and eye to eye;We’re made for each other.Now those of you who are still here;Open your eyes and tell me what you see.”

“ان الابتسامات فواصل ونقاط انقطاع وقليل من الناس أولئك الذين ما زالوا يتقنون وضع الفواصل والنقط في كلامهم”

“Weary of myself, and sick of asking What I am, and what I ought to be, At this vessel’s prow I stand, which bears me Forwards, forwards, o’er the starlit sea.”

“UtteranceSitting over wordsVery late I have heard a kind of whispered sighingNot farLike a night wind in pines or like the sea in the darkThe echo of everything that has everBeen spokenStill spinning its one syllableBetween the earth and silence”

“I bleed myself to be your drink:Is not the blood of poets—ink?”

“Il était tard; ainsi qu’une médaille neuveLa pleine lune s’étalait,Et la solennité de la nuit, comme un fleuveSur Paris dormant ruisselait.”

“O Earth, lie heavily upon her eyes;Seal her sweet eyes weary of watching Earth;Lie close around her; leave no room for mirthWith its harsh laughter, nor for sound of sighs.She hath no questions, she hath no replies.”

“Maybe if we re-invent whatever our lives give us we find poems.”

“পৃথক পাহাড়আমি আর কতোটুকু পারি ?কতোটুকু দিলে বলো মনে হবে দিয়েছি তোমায়,আপাতত তাই নাও যতোটুকু তোমাকে মানায়।ওইটুকু নিয়ে তুমি বড় হও,বড় হতে হতে কিছু নত হওনত হতে হতে হবে পৃথক পাহাড়,মাটি ও মানুষ পাবে, পেয়ে যাবে ধ্রুপদী আকাশ।আমি আর কতোটুকু পারি ?এর বেশি পারেনি মানুষ।”

“The AwakeningI dreamed that I was a roseThat grew beside a lonely way,Close by a path none ever chose,And there I lingered day by day.Beneath the sunshine and the show’rI grew and waited there apart,Gathering perfume hour by hour,And storing it within my heart,Yet, never knew,Just why I waited there and grew.I dreamed that you were a beeThat one day gaily flew along,You came across the hedge to me,And sang a soft, love-burdened song.You brushed my petals with a kiss,I woke to gladness with a start,And yielded up to you in blissThe treasured fragrance of my heart;And then I knewThat I had waited there for you.”

“I wait on my fix:I am a poetry junkie.”

“Know that I loved you and that I belonged to you. And I wouldn’t have had it any other way.”

“The MoonAnd, like a dying lady lean and pale,Who totters forth, wrapp’d in a gauzy veil,Out of her chamber, led by the insaneAnd feeble wanderings of her fading brain,The moon arose up in the murky eastA white and shapeless mass.Art thou pale for wearinessOf climbing heaven and gazing on the earth,Wandering companionlessAmong the stars that have a different birth,And ever changing, like a joyless eyeThat finds no object worth its constancy?”