Blind men walk this earth
Bumping into sound waves and cliff notes
Getting themselves tangled up in white noise
Casually stepping into general feelings of uselessness
They rage in the confines of molded darkness
Hunting remnants of possibilities floating on stale air
Regarding change as a broken manifest
They climb into the night like bats
Scrounging for noise to break the blackness
They commit to the lack of color with diligence
With rapt attention, with amorous belief
That something can come out of nothing
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Being lost, being crazy maybe, is not so bad, if you can be that way undisturbed.
A prose writer gets tired of writing prose, and wants to be a poet. So he begins every line with a capital letter, and keeps on writing prose. ~Samuel McChord Crothers
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I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests. ~Pablo Neruda
Happiness is sharing a bowl of cherries and a book of poetry with a shade tree. He doesn't eat much and doesn't read much, but listens well and is a most gracious host. ~Astrid Alauda
Perhaps no person can be a poet, or can even enjoy poetry, without a certain unsoundness of mind. ~Thomas Babington Macaulay
Most painters have painted themselves. So have most poets: not so palpably indeed, but more assiduously. Some have done nothing else. ~Augustus William Hare
Poetry is man's rebellion against being what he is. ~James Branch Cabell
Poetry is the journal of the sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air. Poetry is a search for syllables to shoot at the barriers of the unknown and the unknowable. Poetry is a phantom script telling how rainbows are made and why they go away. ~Carl Sandburg
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
~Mark Strand, "Eating Poetry"
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
~Mark Strand, "Eating Poetry"
Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. _Leonard Cohen
Like a piece of ice on a hot stove the poem must ride on its own melting. ~Robert Frost
I would as soon write free verse as play tennis with the net down. ~Robert Frost
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Copyright 2009
One for poetry's sake.
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