poetry-quotes

Your children are not your children.They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.They come through you but not from you,And though they are with you, yet they belong not to you.You may give them your love but not your thoughts,For they have their own thoughts.You may house their bodies but not their souls,For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,Which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.

I am more than good enoughTo accomplish everything I can be,I will wake up todayThe history could have been different.But I am here now.

Our lips were for each other and our eyes were full of dreams. We knew nothing of travel and we knew nothing of loss. Ours was a world of eternal spring, until the summer came.

_, Muse of the Heart__ Passion,let me relive my Love__ memory,to remember her body, so brave and so free,and the sound of my Dreameress singing to me,and the scent of my Dreameress sleeping by me,_, sing, sweet Muse, my soliloquy!

our feet are grape-squashed in memoriesour skins are still flushedfrom the touch of summer__ lips.

Breezy daysdeserve the unionof two old friends.

If I__ not around I hope you__l remember me and together we will hold on to our favorite song.

Poetry can take you places that were once only traveled by your imagination.

Life is like facing two mirrors at each other: There is no beginning... no end.Just the beauty within the reflected infinity

Back BurnerPut the stress on the back burnerIt only burns its way backPut your thoughts on the futureand it becomes the past..."excerpt from my poem Back Burner from The Poetic Diary of Love and Change - Volume 1©Clarissa O. Clemens

Life is like facing two mirrors at each other: There is no beginning, no end. Just the beauty within the reflected infinity

The parts of me that hurt the worst want me to write something for them, but I can't. I don't know what to say. I'm lost in all this sadness, and so are they.

In past wars only homes burnt, but this timeDon't be surprised if even loneliness ignites.In past wars only bodys burnt, but this timeDon't be surprised if even shadows ignite.

Do not trap yourself into an owl's hooting soundwhere sad nights linger through the blackness of a hound

There is somethingmystically sadand beautifulabouthowi will neversee youagainbut meet youagain and againin poetry.

Only tears can hear the sound of pain when warm blood reddens discolored stain

And did with sighs their fate deplore,Since I must shelter them no more;And if before my joys were such,In having heard, and seen too much,My grief must be as great and high,When all abandoned I shall be,Doomed to a silent destiny.

Sometimesthe things that make you cryare more beautifulthan the thingsthat make you laugh.