Poetry is an echo, asking a shadow to dance.
In its use of words poetry is just the reverse of science. Very definite thoughts do occur, but not because the words are so chosen as logically to bar out all possibilities save one.
I hate my verses, every line, every word. Oh pale and brittle pencils ever to try One grass-blade's curve, or the throat of one bird That clings to twig, ruffled against white sky. Oh cracked and twilight mirrors ever to catch One color, one glinting flash, of the splendor of things.
These days, if you happen to be a poet you have to sing your words to get your ideas out.
Our earliest poets were shamans. Today, as in the earliest times, true shamans are poets of consciousness who know the power of song and story to teach and to heal.
How do you define a poet? It's very simple. Anyone declaring that he is a poet, is a poet.
It ["The Ancient Mariner"] is marvellous in its mastery over that delightfully fortuitous inconsequence that is the adamantine logic of dreamland.
Never did Poesy appear So full of heaven to me, as when I saw how it would pierce through pride and fear To the lives of coarsest men.
A comic matter cannot be expressed in tragic verse. [Lat., Versibus exponi tragicis res comica non vult.]
All things can tempt me from this craft of verse: One time it was a woman's face, or worse-- The seeming needs of my fool-driven land; Now nothing but comes readier to the hand Than this accustomed toil.
Lives there the man with soul so dead as to disown the wish to merit the people's applause, and having uttered words worthy to be kept in cedar oil to latest times, to leave behind him rhymes that dread neither herrings nor frankincense.
Confined to common life thy numbers flow, And neither soar too high nor sink too low; There strength and ease in graceful union meet, Though polished, subtle, and though poignant, sweet; Yet powerful to abash the from of crime And crimson error's cheek with sportive rhyme. [Lat., Verba togae sequeris, junctura callidus acri, Ore teres modico, pallentes radere mores Doctus, et ingenuo culpam defigere ludo.]
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never know.
We must never underestimate our power to be wrong when talking about God, when thinking about God, when imagining God, whether in prose or in poetry. A generous orthodoxy, in contrast to the tense, narrow, or controlling orthodoxies of so much of Christian history, doesn't take itself too seriously. It is humble. It doesn't claim too much. It admits it walks with a limp.
The only true aristocracy is that of consciousness.
I could no more define poetry than a terrier can define a rat.
All poetry is misrepresentation.
Poets are mysterious, but a poet when all is said is not much more mysterious than a banker.
My life has been the poem I would have writ, But I could not both live and utter it.
You speak As one who fed on poetry.
Most painters have painted themselves. So have most poets: not so palpably indeed, but more assiduously. Some have done nothing else.
I am looking for a poem that says Everything so I don't have to write anymore.
The true poet is all the time a visionary and whether with friends or not, as much alone as a man on his death bed.
Poetry is a search for ways of communication; it must be conducted with openness, flexibility, and a constant readiness to listen.
It is the lava of the imagination whose eruption prevents an earthquake.
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