A poem begins in delight and ends in wisdom.
Robert Frost
A poet is, before anything else, a person who is passionately in love with language.
W. H. Auden
Always be a poet, even in prose.
Charles Baudelaire
Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood.
T. S. Eliot
Painting is silent poetry, and poetry is painting that speaks.
Plutarch
St. Sebastian in Ecstasy with Apollo
I Shall Not Leap Off Cliffs Anymore
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1 response so far ↓
arnaud // 7 February, 2009 at 8:40 am |
poetry, poetry… here is one:
Gabriel
I stare at my palm
At this thin serpentine line
That we
Children
Once crossed fearlessly
I surrender
To this ancient god
To this prince of thieves
Who seized
Again
That inconspicuous part of me
Meager herds struggling in cloudy waters
The sudden scream of a newborn man
Your streamlined fingertips on my chest
Your intonation
I envy the sun
Drying your crescent lips
Blood
Receding
Gabriel
That morning
You made me half
A moon we can’t conquer
With these fingertips
You parted my flesh
And I am still searching for
Suture