Secure in his flight
Rider on the constant winds
Hawk flies through his days
Looks then to the east
Prompted by fate’s gentle breeze
Changes his intent
Fate’s gentle breezes
Move the mighty heart to change
Destiny remade
Tags: inspirational poetry poem haiku
Trăm năm là ngắn, một ngày dài ghê
Nguyễn Huy Thiệpsad is the poem i will never write
jeet how romenticTags: poem
...feel the fierce way desire
tourniquets itself around you and
clings
Clubland South of Market tweak-
chic trannies powder their noses from
bullet-shaped compacts and flick their forked
tongues like switchblades as they burn the night
down bleed day to night to day to
Mission sidewalks where pythons hide
twenty dollar balloons beneath their tongues which
get bartered in smiles quicker than a coke buzz and
tossed out through the cracks
Cottonmouth kisses
camouflage emotions and
strike with a vengeance
when he
wants and she
wants and they
want and I
won't
Genet was right, I suppose
when he wrote "The only way
to avoid the horror of horror is
to give in to it"
it's
the nature of
the economy of the
business it's the
nature of
things...
Tags: poetry poem excerpt poetry-quotes
kau bukan gula-gula kapas,
yang bagiku cuma lembut,
kau terlahir sebagai popkon,
yang rangup dan manis,
yang aku nikmati dalam gelap,
menghadap pelbagai genre,
dilayar panggung.
That’s the thing about love
It can take you up to the mountaintop and can drop you
And the impact will either kill you or make you a new person
Tags: life inspirational happiness love poetry people philosophy joy hope relationships poem spirituality joy-of-life klosophy
We both believe, and disbelieve a hundred times an hour, which keeps believing nimble.
Emily DickinsonTags: doubt poetry belief faith poem believe poet believing poetry-quotes
मेरी कविता क्या है!
सच्चाई के दो मोती हैं;
एक खुशी की परछाईं का
एक दर्द की गहराई का
--
विकास प्रताप सिंह 'हितैषी
Tags: truth poetry poem quotes kavi
So Lightning says to Mud,
“What would happen if I struck your blood?”
And Mud says, “Brother,
It would hurt,
And make me the mother
Of every living thing.
But, Fire Boy, you ain’t lifting my grass skirt
Until you burn me a ring.
Tags: poetry poem lightning sherman-alexie native-american-poetry native-american-poet
About your easy heads my prayers
I said with syllables of clay.
What gift, I asked, shall I bring now
Before I weep and walk away?
Take, they replied, the oak and laurel.
Take our fortune of tears and live
Like a spendthrift lover. All we ask
Is the one gift you cannot give.
« first previous
Page 39 of 50.
next last »
Data privacy
Imprint
Contact
Diese Website verwendet Cookies, um Ihnen die bestmögliche Funktionalität bieten zu können.