2,705 Quotes About Poem

Art is non-essential, until it is not.

Here is a list of terrible things,The jaws of sharks, a vultures wingsThe rabid bite of the dogs of war,The voice of one who went before,But most of all the mirror's gaze,Which counts us out our numbered days.

ArtistI don't mindbeing the non-essential. Even a child takes its mother for granted. It does not run backto its mother until it's hurt. Nobody first thinks of water when they arrive at an exquisite dinner party,until they are choking. I don't mind being the non-essential knowing you will come lookingwhen things are broken and nothing else works. Art is non-essential Until it is not.

ArtistI don't mindbeing the non-essential.Even a child takesits mother for granted.It does not run backto its mother until it's hurt.Nobody first thinks of waterwhen they arriveat an exquisite dinner party,until they are choking.I don't mindbeing the non-essentialknowing you will come lookingwhen things are brokenand nothing else works.Art is non-essentialUntil it is not.― Madhu Raghavendra

Does your body belong to you?Does it do what you tell it to?If the man comes over and through,Does your body belong to you?

Here's another poem,like all others before and after,dedicated to you.There isn't anything left to be saidbut I will spend my lifetrying to put you into words.You who is every goodness,every optimismand hope.Your love is a better fate for methan anything I could wish for.If you are a part of me, then you’re the best part.And if you're separate from me, then you are my destination.But I’ve become a weary traveller,so please,let us never be apart.

There are no lungs like the ones that breathe poetry.

to live in this worldyou must be ableto do three thingsto love what is mortal;to hold itagainst your bones knowingyour own life depends on it;and, when the time comes to let it go,to let it go

In those years, people will say, we lost trackof the meaning of we, of youwe found ourselvesreduced to Iand the whole thing becamesilly, ironic, terrible:we were trying to live a personal lifeand yes, that was the only lifewe could bear witness to But the great dark birds of history screamed and plungedinto our personal weatherThey were headed somewhere else but their beaks and pinions drovealong the shore, through the rags of fogwhere we stood, saying I