Quotes from John Geddes

love is suffering - that's the happy ending...

the answer is not in the damn blank page - it's in the days or years before and you have to dredge it up - exhume the past again ...

I remember your profile in darkness outlined by stars ...

I can't grasp the stars, but I love them – in the same way, I love you...

Other women I can flatter and praise – but to you, I must tell the truth...

Mankind is not a race of noble savages - but primitive monsters hide inside us, elusive as Sasquatch...

when you look at the stars, you should tremble - only dullards have become callous to this frisson ...

ambition or contentment? This simple question led me back to a more balanced view of life and put me in touch with the Me I used to know...

the real junk food is what Frank Lloyd Wright called light entertainment - bubblegum for the eye ...

time begins when we awaken and ends when we fall asleep...

you are not what you seem - you're a Sylph - you leave and the air retains your image - you haunt me...

thinking about laughing with 2 yr old Findlay today - Dostoyevsky was right, "The soul is healed by being with children." ...

I looked in the window, wanting to stay - it rained, yet I remained...because you were so lovely...

that icy glass reduces your beauty - dims your fire - let me be your mirror...

you cross the field in the snow leaving tracks in perfect whiteness ...disturbing my placid universe...marking the landscape within me ...

yes I speak a different language - the dark fire of poetry - it flutters and gutters in tune with the mood ...

it's merely writing, but you have to adjust your ear – I speak quietly – I sob – I whisper ...

at dawn, the grains of sleep turn to floating black spots, then out of focus the world tilts, and the cat scratches at the door...

you ask me why I compare you to stars - it's simple - that's where your goddess has fled...

you fantasize about me reading my poems to you - it doesn't work that way - I write down everything later - living is not an after-thought...

I didn't want you flawless - I have a bare wall at home that's flawless - I wanted your character trapped in the amber of your skin...

these vignettes I sketch for you - what are they? watercolors ..yes and dreams blurred with tears ...

writing with ferocity is a gift, provided that ferocity is a monomaniacal devotion to pursuing the truth ...

the most beautiful things don't always make you happy - often they make you weep...