Poetry & Quotes SMS Templates

Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite new a thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smoothness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh ... And eyes big love-crumbs,
and possibly i like the thrill
of under me you so quite new.

A man of my acquaintance once wrote a poem called "The Road Less Traveled", describing a journey he took through the woods along a path most travelers never used. The poet found that the road less traveled was peaceful but quite lonely...

We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
O no, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wand'ring barque,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come;
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

You might as well ask an artist to explain his art, or ask a poet to explain his poem. It defeats the purpose. The meaning is only clear thorough the search.

Break a vase, and the love that reassembles the fragments is stronger than that love which took its symmetry for granted when it was whole.

One should always be drunk. That's all that matters...But with what? With wine, with poetry, or with virtue, as you chose. But get drunk...

Ho! Ho! Ho! To the bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe
Rain may fall, and wind may blow
And many miles be still to go
But under a tall tree will I lie
And let the clouds go sailing by.

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness that is an in-dwelling nature.

This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead; I lift my eyes and all is born again.
Always be a poet, even in prose.

Watch out for intellect,
because it knows so much it knows nothing
and leaves you hanging upside down,
mouthing knowledge as your heart
falls out of your mouth.

You only live twice: Once when you're born and once when you look death in the face. Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.

She seems so cool, so focused, so quiet, yet her eyes remain fixed upon the horizon.
You think you know all there is to know about her immediately upon meeting her,
but everything you think you know is wrong. Passion flows through her like a river of blood.
She only looked away for a moment, and the mask slipped, and you fell. All your tomorrows start here.”

As it has been said:
Love and a cough
cannot be concealed.
Even a small cough.
Even a small love.

If I had my life to live over again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week.

Still round the corner there may wait.
A new road or a secret gate and though
I oft have passed them by
A day will come at last when I Shall take
the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun.”

What is that you express in your eyes? It seems to me more than all the print I have read in my life. Let our scars fall in love.

One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture, and, if it were possible, to speak a few reasonable words.