Quotes About Poem

I consider a poem to be a kind of experiment where a number of elements are brought together under test conditions to see how they will interact to create meaning or relevance.

I find in my own writing that only fiction - and rarely, a poem - fully tests me to the kind of limits of what I know and what I feel.

The poet is in the end probably more afraid of the dogmatist who wants to extract the message from the poem and throw the poem away than he is of the sentimentalist who says, "Oh, just let me enjoy the poem."

Everything that was to happen had happened and everything that was to be seen had gone. It was now one of those moments when nothing remains but an opening in the sky and a story—and maybe something of a poem. Anyway, as you possibly remember, there are these lines in front of the story: And then he thinks he knows The hills where his life rose . . . These words are now part of the story.

The thing was, I didn't love him anymore. You can woo a girl with a poem, but you can't hold onto her with a poem. Not even with a whole poetry movement.

I had read a poem about a girl with 'silvery laughter' but Shun's sounded to me as if someone had fallen down a long flight of steps with a basket of cheap tin pans.

What makes this particularly remarkable is the link between the object and the text. The poem speaks in the first-person voice of the cross and, in this case, the actual stone cross voices its own story (albeit in carved runes).

Afterward we recited the entire poem together. The bed is lit by moonlight I think it is the light of an early winter morning Looking up, I enjoy the full moon in the night sky Bending over, I miss my hometown We all know that poem is about a scholor who is traveling and missing his home, but on that night and forever after I believed it was about us. Snow Flower was my home and I was hers.

A poem of his own in honor of the late empress formed, unbidden, in his brain. A Degtiar empress named Lisbet Trapped a satrap lord neatly in his net. Enticed into treason For all the wrong reasons, He'll soon have a crash with his kismet. He choked down a genuinely horrible impulse to bounce down to the center of the dell and declaim his poetic offering to the assembled haut multitude, just to see what would happen. Mia

Oh, she said. I wasn't going to ask, but then you never said anything about it, so I thought I'd ask. How about you? Not me, said Odette. She had a poem about marriage. It began, Marriage is the death you want to die, and in front of audiences she never read it with much conviction. Usually she swung her foot back and forth through the whole thing.

No man ever raised a monument to a cynic or wrote a poem about a man without faith.

In case you don't know, it's an old tradition among Zen masters to write a final poem on their deathbeds

Later that evening, they reconstructed Kenji's poem, but Benny never touched the magnets again or made another poem with them, and for a while, the raggedy constellation of words remained frozen. My abundant woman mother goddess love r we are symphony together I am mad for you

The madman bum and angel beat in time with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years

What Patriot wrote that shit?

Now is the time of prophecy without death as a consequence the universe will ultimately disappear Hollywood will rot on the windmills of Eternity Hollywood whose movies stick in the throat of God Yes Hollywood will get what it deserves Time Seepage of nerve-gas over the radio History will make this poem prophetic and its awful silliness a hideous spiritual music I have the moan of doves and the feather of ecstasy Man cannot long endure the hunger of the cannibal abstract

the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death, and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.

if I had one ambition it was to make my life itself into a poem.

My life has been the poem I would have writ, But I could not both live and utter it.

You are words," the fireflies said. "Your soul is the poem. The struggle to make mortal words say the infinite unsayable is the struggle that defines sentience.

There neither exists nor can exist any work more thoroughly dignified—more supremely noble than this very poem—this poem per se—this poem which is a poem and nothing more—this poem written solely for the poem's sake.

Lily O'Grady,Silly and shady,Longing to beA lazy lady.

The poem is the thing. Is it interesting? – Is it beautiful? –Is it sublime? Then it was written by nobody. It exists by itself.

It was a friar of orders grayWalked forth to tell his beads.