Quotes About Transformation

Poetry had breathed over and sanctified the land.

Poetry will absorb and transmute, as it always has done, and glorify, all that we can know.

This, in the end, might be the greatest social good of poetry: to get us to live differently, with a different sort of thinking and concentration, even if it's just for a few moments.

I see the progress typical in some of my poems as starting with something simple and moving into something more demanding. This is certainly the pattern of weird poetry.

the stars began to burnthrough the sheets of clouds, and there was a new voicewhich you slowlyrecognized as your own

Over the inter glaciers, I see the summer glow, And, through the wild-piled snowdrift, The warm rosebuds below.

How do poems grow? They begin deep down in the pit of the soul as a seedling of a thought …

The first year was like icing. Then the cake started to show through …

You keep playing with what broke you, then wonder why you don't heal.Leave the wound alone, throw away the poison, and watch the magic of recovery.Your wings of wisdom are ready for flight.

My life was a blank paper, until you came to rhyme with words & make it a poetry book. ? ?

PartingOne is strong, a child now grownThe other weak, a parent aged-The strong once feebleThe weak once mighty-Time, the infinityhas marked them...

When you become a raindrop in your mind Thunder is the closest friend you may find Wind lashed trees, dark clouds, lightning or the dust Everything you will bear once you adjust

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

Swift waters parted by the jagged rocks are joined at river's end. / ????? ?????? ??? ?????? ???????

You crawled inside myribs to die. Giant becomes squirrelbecomes a dirt-wet girlfeverishly alive.

Unlike the bough that shook off her dead leaves violentlylike a wet terrier, unlike the beating of the butterfly, her wings, against the cocoon, some dreams never made a move.

Her kiss dissolves the universe. In that moment, I am unmade and then reborn.

You were, arecactus tourism. meeting you: granularfractals borrowed from oceans.

Following dark winter's strife, a warm air rises, teemed with life. Birth, rebirth, as the waiting die. Old love, new love sprouts wings to fly.

The heart doth recognise thee, Alone, alone! The heart doth smell thee sweet, Doth view thee fair, doth judge thee most complete, —-Though seeing now those changes that disguise thee.

A badly written novel can always be shortened to a poem.

The machines are too dull when weare lion-poems that move & breathe.

Concrete breathes sun's heat.

A change is brought about because ordinary people do extraordinary things.