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"Lastly, his tomb shall list and founder in the troughs of grass. And none shall speak his name."
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"I love writing poetry because it's pretty. I love writing pretty."
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Personal Development

"A poet is not an inventor. A poet is a player that plays with words on the field of human imagination to excite a reader's mind with the colors of emotion."
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"Old wives keep in memory word of things that once were needful for the wise to know."
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"Amore is loveconfessed to you in haiku.Do you love me too?"
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"The lamp hummed:'Regard the moon,La lune ne garde aucune rancune,She winks a feeble eye,She smiles into corners.She smoothes the hair of the grass.The moon has lost her memory.A washed-out smallpox cracks her face,Her hand twists a paper rose,That smells of dust and old Cologne,She is aloneWith all the old nocturnal smellsThat cross and cross across her brain."The reminiscence comesOf sunless dry geraniumsAnd dust in crevices,Smells of chestnuts in the streets,And female smells in shuttered rooms,And cigarettes in corridorsAnd cocktail smells in bars."
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"Poets are shameless with their experiences: they exploit them."
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"It is strange how a scrap of poetry works in the mind and makes the legs move in time to it along the road."
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"In a real poem a sound does not swallow a letter, but a letter swallows a sound."
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"Poetry is a mug's game."
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"Poetry involves the mysteries of the irrational perceived through rational words."
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"The good poet sticks to his real loves, those within the realm of possibility. He never tries to hold hands with God or the human race."
God


"But with exquisite breathing you smile, with satisfaction of love, And I touch you again as you tick in the silence and settle in sleep."
Love


"Already old, the question Who shall die? Becomes unspoken Who is innocent?"
Old


"Poetry is innocent, not wise. It does not learn from experience, because each poetic experience is unique."
Experience


"The doctor punched my vein, the captain called me Cain, upon my belly sat the sow of fear."
Fear


"The body, what is it, Father, but a sign To love the force that grows us, to give back What in Thy palm is senselessness and mud?"
Love


"Lastly, his tomb shall list and founder in the troughs of grass. And none shall speak his name."
Poetry


"Laughter and grief join hands. Always the heart Clumps in the breast with heavy stride; The face grows lined and wrinkled like a chart, The eyes bloodshot with tears and tide. Let the wind blow, for many a man shall die."
Heart


"My soul is now her day, my day her night, So I lie down, and so I rise."
Lie


"To make the child in your own image is a capital crime, for your image is not worth repeating. The child knows this and you know it. Consequently you hate each other."
Crime
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