All bad poetry springs from genuine feeling.
Poetry is for me Eucharistic. You take someone else's suffering into your body, their passion comes into your body, and in doing that you commune, you take communion, you make a community with others.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.
He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.
Verses which do not teach men new and moving truths do not deserve to be read.
To see the Summer Sky Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie— True Poems flee—
I think that were beginning to remember that the first poets didn't come out of a classroom, that poetry began when somebody walked off of a savanna or out of a cave and looked up at the sky with wonder and said, "Ahhh." That was the first poem.
Poetry is a packsack of invisible keepsakes.
You can't write poetry on the computer.
The writing of a poem is like a child throwing stones into a mineshaft. You compose first, then you listen for the reverberation.
Great poetry is always written by somebody straining to go beyond what he can do.
The poet may be used as a barometer, but let us not forget that he is also part of the weather.
I have written some poetry that I don't understand myself.
The poet sees things as they look. Is this having a faculty the less? or a sense the more?
The poet in prose or verse - the creator - can only stamp his images forcibly on the page in proportion as he has forcibly felt, ardently nursed, and long brooded over them.
The grand stye arises in poetry, when a noble nature, poetically gifted, treats with simplicity or with severity a serious subject.
There is no heroic poem in the world but is at bottom a biography, the life of a man.
Poetry is the only life got, the only work done, the only pure product and free labor of man, performed only when he has put all the world under his feet, and conquered the last of his foes.
The poet's mind is in fact a receptacle for seizing and storing up numberless feelings, phrases, images, which remain there until all the particles which can unite to form a new compound are present together.
We tend to be so bombarded with information, and we move so quickly, that there's a tendency to treat everything on the surface level and process things quickly. This is antithetical to the kind of openness and perception you have to have to be receptive to poetry.poetry seems to exist in a parallel universe outside daily life in America.
Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.
Poetry is the key to the hieroglyphics of nature.
One will never again look at a birch tree, after the Robert Frost poem, in exactly the same way.
The novel is born of disillusionment; the poem, of despair.
It seems to me a purely lyric poet gives himself, right down to his sex, to his mood, utterly and abandonedly, whirls himself roundtill he spontaneously combusts into verse. He has nothing that goes on, no passion, only a few intense moods, separate like odd stars, and when each has burned away, he must die.
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