We live in such a digital age. Paper is going out of our lives. A poem on paper is tangible. — Peleg Top Copy Share Image
When I am lost, I know you are there You never leave me in times of trouble and despair When I feel… — Curly Girl Copy Share Image
“[ The Old Astronomer to His Pupil ] Reach me down my Tycho Brahe , I would know him when we meet,… — Sarah Williams Copy Share Image
“So Lightning says to Mud, “What would happen if I struck your blood?” And Mud says, “Brother, It would hurt, And make… — Sherman Alexie Copy Share Image
“I love you, Mom. ___I love you more. I love you to the moon! ___I love you to my core.” — Richelle E. Goodrich Copy Share Image
“I am 15 and you are 51, I know you are the best, to be loved by, everyone.” — Santosh Kalwar Copy Share Image
“when Whitman wrote, “I sing the body electric” I know what he meant I know what he wanted: to be completely alive… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“How Beautiful is the rain! After the dust and heat, In the broad and fiery street, In the narrow lane, How beautiful… — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow Copy Share Image
“Everything is temporary, almost like a passing fase, some of laughter Some of pain. What we would do, If we had the… — Nikki Rowe Copy Share Image
“Damask roses and white picket fences, a childhood ripe with an array of senses. Forest black against starry skies, Pink clouds dusting… — A.Y. Greyson Copy Share Image
“[...] the body is what we lean toward, tensing as it darts, dancing away. but it's the voice that enters us. even… — Tracy K. Smith Copy Share Image
“We are all born as storytellers. Our inner voice tells the first story we ever hear.” — Kamand Kojouri Copy Share Image
I was in juvenile detention center, and I was in Rikers Island. And there was an anthology written by the inmates called… — Lemon Andersen Copy Share Image
“Poetry is jealous of you tonight, for as soon as I come to pen a few words, your perfume attacks me in… — Kamand Kojouri Copy Share Image
“The Winter Miles The roads of solitude grow whiter, And stones beneath us paler, While the green fades completely — Ahead of us. Grey is… — Laura Chouette Copy Share Image
“I want to make of your life a monument For the days you lingered in sadness With high towers and wide gardens… — Emmanuelle Soni-Dessaigne Copy Share Image
“I wrought me a lyric of fire and fear, And called on the world to heed — Till strong men blenched at… — Kenneth Rand Copy Share Image
“girls please give your bodies and your lives to the young men who deserve them besides there is no way I would… — Charles Bukowski Copy Share Image
“The Final Word by Stewart Stafford On the wall of a prominent jacks, Came anonymous, scurrilous attacks, Innuendo and defamatory jibes, Scrawled… — Stewart Stafford Copy Share Image
One reason to write a poem is to flush from the deep thickets of the self some thought, feeling, comprehension, question, music,… — Jane Hirshfield Copy Share Image
“Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines he wrote a poem And he called it "Chops" because that was… — Stephen Chbosky Copy Share Image
“It is essential that we always repeat: we the people, we the people, we the people.” — Sonia Sanchez Copy Share Image
“this is where the poets will interject / they will say: show, dont tell / but that assumes most people can see” — Marwa Helal Copy Share Image
