Top 100 Her Poetry Quotes
#1. She lends her pen,
to thoughts of him,
that flow from it,
in her solitary.
For she is his poet,
And he is her poetry.
Lang Leav
#2. If I could get that girl to publish her poetry, the world would change. (On Courtney Love)
Kurt Cobain
#3. Janice Gould is one of our best poets. The music of her poetry will delight you, and her gentle courageous accounts of tribal, family, and personal history make this book unforgettable. Doubters and Dreamers is a master-piece.
Leslie Marmon Silko
#4. Why , instead of teaching her poetry and drama and needlework, had her governesses not taught the most important lesson anyone could learn - that life was really not going to be easy after one was free of the schoolroom?
Mary Balogh
#5. Here is Lady Winchilsea, for example, I thought, taking down her poems. She was born in the year 1661; she was noble both by birth and by marriage; she was childless; she wrote poetry, and one has only to open her poetry to find her bursting out in indignation against the position of women:
Virginia Woolf
#6. Nature has not changed. The night is still unsullied, the stars still twinkle, and the wild thyme smells as sweetly now as it did then ... We may be afflicted and unhappy, but no one can take from us the sweet delight which is nature's gift to those who love her and her poetry.
George Sand
#8. ... although her mouth uttered fond words, her eyes spoke only venom.
Jasper Fforde
#9. Gotta get a tight grip, don't slip, loose lips, sank ships, it's a trip, I love the way she licks her lips.
Tupac Shakur
#10. I'm like a toy to her, a toy that someone has promised her. Maybe not her favorite, but still hers.
Nicole Gulla
#11. True poetry (inspired by the Muse and her prime symbol, the moon) even today is a survival, or intuitive re-creation, of the ancient Goddess-worship.
Robert Graves
#12. she prays to feel as powerful
as she might if God sang silent
words into her ear and answered
all the rattling questions
now
Beth Morey
#13. A few weeks later, in the wood,
I came across Miss Riding Hood.
But what a change! No cloak of red,
No silly hood upon her head.
She said, 'Hello, and do please note
My lovely furry wolfskin coat.
Roald Dahl
#14. True art
comes
from flying
with the madness
so close
you burn
your eyelashes.
Atticus Poetry
#15. She's an irritating, opinionated woman, a type Buddy can't stand. I don't think he could see her for what she is. A person, deprived, for life, of any understanding or taste for the main current of poetry that flows through things, all things.
J.D. Salinger
#16. Did the harebell loose her girdle
To the lover bee,
Would the bee the harebell hallow
Much as formerly?
Emily Dickinson
#17. From I Knew a Woman
I knew a woman, lovely in her bones,
When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them;
Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one:
The shapes a bright container can contain!
Theodore Roethke
#18. Muse [10w]
Poetry's a collaboration with your muse.
Silence!
Let her speak.
Beryl Dov
#19. She was the reason I started to write but her beauty is kept me writing.
Brandon Villasenor
#20. his abuse
makes her an anvil
without spark
Munia Khan
#21. He left her a note in her right slipper that said when I was alone yesterday I was happy, and I wanted you to know. Because look at how much you've done in me.
Mikl Paul
#22. Poetry in motion walking by my side, her lovely locomotion keeps my eyes open wide.
Johnny Tillotson
#23. We are all born free
and spend a lifetime
becoming slaves
to our own
false truths.
Atticus Poetry
#24. What is a woman that you forsake her
And the hearth fire and the home acre
To go with that old grey widow-maker?
Rudyard Kipling
#25. Oh, Youth may listen patiently,
While sad Experience tells her tale,
But Doubt sits smiling in his eye,
For ardent Hope will still prevail!
He hears how feeble Pleasure dies,
By guilt destroyed, and pain and woe;
He turns to Hope - and she replies,
Believe it not-it is not so!
Anne Bronte
#26. I could burn this place down
As many times as I'd like in my mind,
Without any sympathy
For the girl or her mother
Who live beneath me
Matthew Little
#27. Though she appeared confected of sugar and air, there was a bitter black walnut at her core.
Lauren Groff
#28. At night too, she puzzled the mystery of her desperate need of kindness. As other girls prayed for handsomeness in a lover, or for wealth, or for power, or for poetry, she had prayed fervently: let him be kind.
Anais Nin
#29. My mother asked me what I wanted for my birthday, so I said I wanted to read poetry with her.
Guy Johnson
#30. Do you believe a man can truly love a woman and constantly betray her?Never mind physically but betray her in his mind,in the very "poetry of his soul".Well,it's not easy but men do it all the time.
Mario Puzo
#31. Watch carefully
the magic that occurs
when you give a person
enough comfort
to just be themselves.
Atticus Poetry
#32. Men and women who are lonely create. Those who are gregarious rarely do ... Any poet would rather bed with a girl than write a poem about her. All art is the result of frustration. Art is energy deflected from its normal course in action.
Burton Rascoe
#33. My girl was mad and I loved her. Upon a night, she read my poetry; and kissing me madly she cried, 'You are a genius, my love!' To which I replied, 'My girl,' whispering, 'Every doctor in this land with a prescription pad is more of a genius than I.
Roman Payne
#34. Her touch is like doing simple math
When she sleeps in the bed, subtracting clothes
There is a red ink, like a sparkling red wine, adding colors
Dividing body, remembering gods, without multiplying
Santosh Kalwar
#35. The moment Aunt March took her nap, or was busy with company, Jo hurried to this quiet place, and curling herself up in the easy chair, devoured poetry, romance, history, travels, and pictures like a regular bookworm.
Louisa May Alcott
#36. In 'A Poetics of Optics,' Equi writes that 'all images bank on alchemy.' This idea captures her fundamental sense of poetry as turning common material into something rare and valuable.
Floyd Skloot
#37. She cries,
I laugh,
She becomes numb,
I become filled with joy,
She slowly crumbles,
I feel on top of the world,
Yet somehow in the end,
Out of the ashes,
She rose like a Phoenix,
As if nothing had ever touched her
Tanzy Sayadi
#38. ]sing to us
the one with violets in her lap
]mostly
]goes astray
Sappho
#39. The function of poetry is religious invocation of the muse; its use is the experience of mixed exaltation and horror that her presence excites.
Robert Graves
#40. When these idiot rightwingers start complaining about poetry being political, I'm fond of reciting Sappho to them, who excluded men from her world. Why does she exclude them? Mostly because of their warmongering.
Sam Hamill
#41. I hid my love when young till I
Couldn't bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my life to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light:
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where'er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love good-bye.
John Clare
#42. He feeds upon her face by day and night,
And she with true kind eyes looks back on him,
Fair as the moon and joyful as the light:
Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.
Christina Rossetti
#43. Adios
Her pretty picture
lying on the
ground was like
the toppling
of some
fascist
regime
And burning
the photograph,
was the
celebration
Phil Volatile
#45. There's no poetry in me, Reginleit. No fine words." He stared down at her, his gaze seeming to consume her. "I come to you as a man unfinished.
Kresley Cole
#46. LIFE IS
A JOURNEY
TO FIND
THE
PEOPLE
WEIRD
LIKE YOU.
- ATTICUS
Atticus Poetry
#48. What is Music? How do you define it? Music is a calm moonlit night, the rustle of leaves in Summer. Music is the far off peal of bells at dusk! Music comes straight from the heart and talks only to the heart: it is Love! Music is the Sister of Poetry and her Mother is sorrow!
Sergei Rachmaninoff
#49. I thought a bit of poetry might be interesting - I even write a few lines myself. I composed a short poem for my mum's 70th birthday recently. When I recited it I saw the glint of a tear in her eye ... although I guess it wasn't the quality of the poetry was that making her cry!
Iain Dowie
#50. I was in Paris at an English-language bookstore. I picked up a volume of Dickinson's poetry. I came back to my hotel, read 2,000 of her poems and immediately began composing in my head. I wrote down the melodies even before I got to a piano.
Gordon Getty
#51. Just like you, my country cannot hear me:
She's made of bronze
and I
can no longer reach her heart
(from Thoughts on the Statue of Talaat Harb)
Najwan Darwish
#53. When a woman's face is wrinkled
And her hairs are sprinkled,
With gray, Lackaday!
Aside she's cast,
No one respect will pay;
Remember, Lasses, remember.
And while the sun shines make hay:
You must not expect in December,
The flowers you gathered in May.
Ann Rinaldi
#55. Depression is being colorblind and constantly told how colorful the world is.
Atticus Poetry
#56. Lying in wait, set to pounce on the blank page,
are letters up to no good,
clutches of clauses so subordinate
they'll never let her get away.
From, The Joy of Writing, Wislawa Szymborska
Wislawa Szymborska
#57. The sea waves stirred before me
they dashed against the rocks
Like a mermaid rising from its depths
curled white sea foam were her locks ...
Giselle V. Steele
#58. My mother carried on and supported us; her ambition had been to write poetry and songs.
Philip Levine
#59. Every rose has poetry in her heart and is eager to tell you when you are in love.
Debasish Mridha
#60. Beneath her thinnest skin and light, a fuse leads way to dynamite.
Mie Hansson
#61. We humans
are so tortured
by not properly guessing
what will make us happy.
Atticus Poetry
#62. Her lips write silent poetry upon mine.
B.L. Berry
#63. She was so beautiful it made her teeth ache.
He made a mental note not to attempt poetry.
Julia Quinn
#64. Poetry is the flower of life. It blooms to fill life with her fragrance of inner beauty.
Debasish Mridha
#65. He wanted to know her. Intimate secrets: Why poetry? Why so sad? Why that grayness in her eyes? Why so alone? Not lonely, just alone - riding her bike across campus or sitting off by herself in the cafeteria - even dancing, she danced alone - and it was the aloneness that filled him with love
Tim O'Brien
#66. They don't know I only speak in runaway train stations
and everybody is always a few minutes too late to the platform.
No one has ever gotten the chance to get too close
because it is never romantic to fuck the girl who makes love to her own sadness every single night.
Katelin Wagner
#68. The faint hints of color in her complexion, her tawny blond hair, her extraordinary thinness, all spoke of that unearthly grace modern poets find in the medieval statues. Had she been happy, she'd have been ravishing: happiness constitutes pure poetry, for women.
Honore De Balzac
#69. Gazing from the moon, we see one earth, without borders, Mother Earth, her embrace encircling one people, humankind.
Frederick Glaysher
#70. I told her it takes
a lot of solitude to write a poem.
She told me it takes a lot of solitude
to die.
Ronald Baatz
#71. She asked me the definition of beauty. So I told her name in my reply!
Avijeet Das
#72. I have a Gumbie Cat in mind, her name is Jennyanydots;Her coat is one of the tabby kind,with tiger stripes and lepard spots.
T. S. Eliot
#73. You want to hear a riddle, you say? I know a very good one. It begins, why is a raven like a writing desk?'
She lifted her chin. 'Have you gone mad, Hatta? I can't seem to tell.'
'They are both so full of poetry, you see. Darkness and whimsy, nightmares and song.
Marissa Meyer
#74. My fist is her flag still furled. Take the cannoli and leave the tuxedo - This is my jackleg opera to the world.
B.J. Ward
#75. ... the fisherman's daughter grinding serenity in her coffee grinder.
Yiannis Ritsos
#76. Her breast is fit for pearls,
But I was not a "Diver" -
Her brow is fit for thrones
But I have not a crest,
Her heart is fit for home-
I- a Sparrow- build there
Sweet of twigs and twine
My perennial nest.
Emily Dickinson
#77. I loved a woman whose beauty Like the moon moved all the humming heavens to music till the stars with their tiny teeth burst into song and I fell on the ground before her while the sky hardened and she laughed and turned me down softly, I was so young.
Peter Meinke
#79. Maybe she will be broken forever. but if it is so, she will adorn it with radiant elegance; and all that man will ever discern is her effortless grace and the softness of her smile.
Terry A. O'Neal
#80. Power within
A wiser woman kin
I cannot give her
The proper word
She is worth so much more
She is the one that should be adored
Maddy Kobar
#81. Sometimes
I want a quiet life
other times
I want to go
a little bit
fucking Gatsby.
Atticus Poetry
#82. Deb and I were married on a snowy night - wind cross-wove a veil of snow for her then threw confetti at us as we left the lighted church ...
John Geddes
#83. Once, I compared poetry to mothers in my book called To Write as a Woman, because my mother is someone who captures me in her body and gave birth to me out of her desire but washed her hands of me after giving birth to me as a poet.
Kim Hyesoon
#84. Stop blaming people for not helping you. No matter how your teacher teaches you to recite a poem, you can't wear her smiling face to the platform. You've got to put that smile on your own face.
Israelmore Ayivor
#85. See, indeed, that your daughter is thoroughly grounded and experienced in household duties; but take care, through religion and poetry, to keep her heart open to heaven.
Jean Paul
#86. When President Franklin Delano Roosevelt died, First Lady Eleanor Roosevelt was comforted by a piece of poetry given to her by a friend: They are not dead who live in lives they leave behind: In those whom they have blessed they live a life again.2
Mark Batterson
#87. You deserve to be the person you were meant to be.
Atticus Poetry
#89. She would remain forever young, forever noble, forever his blessedness, and not all the poetry in the world could express his devotion to her.
Sylvain Reynard
#90. These bits of poetry that stick to her like burrs.
Jenny Offill
#91. The surge of his ardour swept through him in climatic release, filling her womb with his final, mortal sowing.
Georgina Anne Taylor
#92. Nothing Stay Forever"
"Nature's first green is gold,
"Her hardest hue to hold.
"Her early leaf's a flower;
"But only so an hour.
"Then leaf subsides to leaf.
"So Eden sank to grief,
"So dawn goes down today.
"Nothing gold can stay.
Robert Frost
S.E. Hinton
#93. She sat in her perfect house,
with her perfect husband,
wishing that her perfect life
would end.
Atticus Poetry
#94. LOVE
COULD
BE
LABLED
POISON
AND WE'D
DRINK
IT
ANYWAYS.
Atticus Poetry
#95. Pierre, who knew she was very stupid, sometimes attended, with a strange feeling of perplexity and fear, her evenings and dinner parties, where politics, poetry, and philosophy were discussed. At
Leo Tolstoy
#97. She was another broken doll dreaming of a boy with glue.
Atticus Poetry
#98. The color of her eyes was mossy gold. It make me want to write crap poetry and hire a skywriter. Quinn Sullivan
Penny Reid
#99. I could write novels about her forever. Maybe when I die I will end up in the poem with her writing more poems about our times together.' The Diary
Jeremy Limn
#100. He will one day meet his true love ... A fellow traveler on the road ... Her eyes will be his ocean ... In her ocean he will sail forever ...
Kem
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