Quotes About Poetry

Of all the trees that grow so fair Old England to adorn, Greater are none beneath the Sun Than Oak, and Ash and Thorn.

Though my verse but roam the air And murmur in the trees, You may discern a purpose there, As in music of the bees.

I sit in my tree I sing like the birds My beak is my pen My songs are my poems.

If my Valentine you won't be, I'll hang myself on your Christmas tree.

Tree limbs rise and fall like the ecstatic arms of those who have submitted to the mystical life. Leaf sounds talk together like poets making fresh metaphors.

John Clare, in his poem To a Fallen Elm, makes the tree a selfmark as well as a landmark.

A Poem does not grow by jerks. As trees in Spring produce a new ring of tissue, so does every poet put forth a fresh outlay of stuff at the same season.

The trees are coming into leaf Like something almost being said.

The Poplar grows up straight and tall, The Pear-tree spreads along the wall

Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verde ramas. Green I love you green. Green Wind. Green branches.

In a drear-nighted December, Too happy, happy tree, Thy branches ne'er remember Their green felicity.

The other day, when my 4-year-old saw a flowering tree and said, "Daddy, it's raining petals," that was poetry that just melted my heart into a mushy, yummy Fudgsicle.

Spring rain conveyed under the trees in drops.

As the poet said, 'Only God can make a tree, ' probably because it's so hard to figure out how to get the bark on.

Poems are made by fools like me But only God can make a tree.

The world needs poetry now more than ever. It's the only thing that can keep music from copying itself and sounding the same.

'Tis true 'tis pity And pity 'tis 'tis true.

Sometimes the truth don't rhyme

The Bible has noble poetry in it... and some good morals and a wealth of obscenity, and upwards of a thousand lies.

Have you contracted that special illness of the ear — verse?

You know, people speak in poetry all the time. They just don't realize it.

Poetry = Anger x Imagination

There was a kind of poetry I was seeking in my prose, word to be laid against word in just a certain way, a kind of word color, a march of words and sentences, the color to be squeezed out of simple words, simple sentence construction.

It is my own language, limited as it is. I will have to learn to work with it. There was a kind of poetry I was seeking in my prose, word to be laid against word in just a certain way, a kind of word color, a march of words and sentences, the color to be squeezed out of simple words, simple sentence construction.