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Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.
Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal.
Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess what is seen during read more
Poetry is the opening and closing of a door, leaving those who look through to guess what is seen during a moment.
CONSIDERING THE VOID
When I behold the charm
of evening skies, their lulling endurance;
the patterns of stars with read more
CONSIDERING THE VOID
When I behold the charm
of evening skies, their lulling endurance;
the patterns of stars with names
of bears and dogs, a swan, a virgin;
other planets that the Voyager showed
were like and so unlike our own,
with all their diverse moons,
bright discs, weird rings, and cratered faces;
comets with their streaming tails
bent by pressure from our sun;
the skyscape of our Milky Way
holding in its shimmering disc
an infinity of suns
(or say a thousand billion);
knowing there are holes of darkness
gulping mass and even light,
knowing that this galaxy of ours
is one of multitudes
in what we call the heavens,
it troubles me. It troubles me.
-President Jimmy Carter- (he has written a volume of poetry as well as a novel, The Hornet's Nest,
about the Revolutionary War).
The finest poetry was first experience.
The finest poetry was first experience.
The job of the poet is to render the world--to see it and report it without loss, without perversion. No read more
The job of the poet is to render the world--to see it and report it without loss, without perversion. No poet ever talks about feelings. Only sentimental people do.
Of our conflicts with others we make rhetoric; of our conflicts with ourselves we make poetry.
Of our conflicts with others we make rhetoric; of our conflicts with ourselves we make poetry.
Doeg, though without knowing how or why,
Made a still a blundering kind of melody;
Spurr'd boldly read more
Doeg, though without knowing how or why,
Made a still a blundering kind of melody;
Spurr'd boldly on, and dash'd through thick and thin,
Through sense and nonsense, never out nor in;
Free from all meaning whether good or bad,
And in one word, heroically mad.
A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed read more
A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret sufferings, but whose lips are so strangely formed that when the sighs and the cries escape them, they sound like beautiful music... and then people crowd about the poet and say to him: "Sing for us soon again;" that is as much as to say, "May new sufferings torment your soul.".
