The fear of poetry is an indication that we are cut off from our own reality.
Muriel RukeyserMots clés poetry
American poetry has been part of a culture in conflict....We are a people tending toward democracy at the level of hope; at another level, the economy of the nation, the empire of business within the republic, both include in their basic premise the idea of perpetual warfare
Muriel RukeyserMots clés poetry
breathe in experience breathe out poetry
Muriel RukeyserI hear the singing of the lives of women. The clear mystery, the offering, and the pride.
Muriel RukeyserMots clés women
The universe is made up of stories, not atoms.
Muriel RukeyserMots clés inspiration
What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life?
The world would split open.
Mots clés truth honesty women lies stories
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The universe is not made of atoms; it's made of stories.
Muriel RukeyserThe acute scenes were still on our eyes, immediate and clear in the passion; and there were moments, too, in which we were outsiders and could draw away, as if we were in a plane and rose far, to a high focus above that coast, those cities, and this sea, with sight and feelings sharper than before
Muriel RukeyserHe said he would be back and we'd drink wine together
He said that everything would be better than before
He said we were on the edge of a new relation
He said he would never again cringe before his father
He said that he was going to invent full-time
He said he loved me that going into me
He said was going into the world and the sky
He said all the buckles were very firm
He said the wax was the best wax
He said Wait for me here on the beach
He said Just don't cry
I remember the gulls and the waves
I remember the islands going dark on the sea
I remember the girls laughing
I remember they said he only wanted to get away from me
I remember mother saying : Inventors are like poets, a trashy lot
I remember she told me those who try out inventions are worse
I remember she added : Women who love such are the worst of all
I have been waiting all day, or perhaps longer.
I would have liked to try those wings myself.
It would have been better than this.
What three things can never be done?
Forget. Keep silent. Stand alone.
The hill of glass, the fatal brilliant plain.
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