“In your coldness, I found my fire”
“Love knows not from where you came, what religion you are, or even your name. Discover it and you will be whole, for when you do you have found your soul.”
“when I finally begin to drift into sleep your memory is the...first and the moonlight the last, to kiss my face.”
“In Damascus: poems become diaphanous They’re neither sensual nor intellectual they are what echo says to echo . . .”
“Lorelei It is no night to drown in: A full moon, river lapsing Black beneath bland mirror-sheen, The blue water-mists dropping Scrim after scrim like fishnets Though fishermen are sleeping, The massive castle turrets Doubling themselves in a glass All stillness. Yet these shapes float Up toward me, troubling the face Of quiet. From the nadir They rise, their limbs ponderous With richness, hair heavier Than sculptured marble. They sing Of a world more full and clear Than can be. Sisters, your song Bears a burden too weighty For the whorled ear s listening Here, in a well-steered country, Under a balanced ruler. Deranging by harmony Beyond the mundane order, Your voices lay siege. You lodge On the pitched reefs of nightmare, Promising sure harborage; By day, descant from borders Of hebetude, from the ledge Also of high windows. Worse Even than your maddening Song, your silence. At the source Of your ice-hearted calling- Drunkenness of the great depths. O river, I see drifting Deep in your flux of silver Those great goddesses of peace. Stone, stone, ferry me down there.”
“I put my faith in something unknown, beyond the moon, sun, and stars, one day I will own. I put my faith in something, renew. Beyond the rivers, deserts, mountains and valleys.One day it shall become new. I cannot renounce the struggle But yes, it’s what this destiny holds The pain is worst. My heart is whole and will not burst.I live on sweet nothing.I am tired of hope, when this dream is not in the scope. I told the pope, he told me to hold on to life and use the rope.I put my faith in you, this is too good to be true.”
“The shadow of a character is defined by its maker...while a heroine is personified by its actions and relatability. So writers can create a world with a heroine that has impact and finish with everessence lights at the dims of its shadows”
“In the hours waking, when we re still all still, and you can hear the floorboards creaking, and you can feel the shades blow in, the night we slept with, we ll never kiss like that again. Our lips, will sever, our memories, will dissipate, and our shadows will be swallowed by the sky.”
“I belong to clever words and bedtime stories even a good riddle or two I belong to the sound of music and dance to my own rhythm I belong to the sunlight on a chilly autumn day when the world awaits a new beginning I belong by the shore under a star-filled sky with the ocean caressing my feet I belong everywhere. And anyway I please.”
“hough we travel the whole over to find the perfect match,we must carry it with us a light or it s playing hard to catch.”
“Άσε με να έρθω σαν μια υπόσχεση.”
“Non parlavo mai - se non sollecitata. In quei casi - brevemente - a voce bassa. Non mi riusciva di vivere nella confusione. Mi vergognavo del chiasso.”
“I started writing poetry and philosophy when I was 17 years old and my mind so was wild. Now I m 56 and I often want to write like a child.”
“She was resilient A brave soldier when life tested her It didn t matter that she did strange things like stand tall under the rain letting the drops kiss her skin thinking the storm was romantic It was hard to quiet her not that you would want to when she spoke, it was captivating Her heart was like a candle warm and delicate just what you needed during darkness Sometimes, she d go off and explore the world test her limits laugh too much cry when humans were cruel It wasn t hard to see why people envied her You d come to realize she was a lion and she could not be tamed.”
“Birthing hope from the madness that perches on the fence of our once perfect dreams.”
“my poetry is merely a body. you are the soul in my words.”
“It does not need that a poem should be long. Every word was once a poem.”