poet

The Scribe"Under the wingsOf the feathered Goddess,And in the middleOf the three dancing women,The scribe comes aliveTo reveal mysteries hiddenThrough divine gifts givenThe scribe is drivenOn his sacred missionTo wake upAll the universe'sMen, women andHeavenly children.Under the seven rays of Aten,And from the age of just ten,The scribe comes aliveWith the fertile inkOf his luminous pen.Below the spectacle of the moon,And in the smile of the sun,The scribe is here to show usHow we are all one.

I see the life with your sight,O" the love; you're my light.

I will not stop singingthe Muses who set me dancing.

As a poet there is something about joy I find hard to express, whereas every other emotion is rather simple. For instance, you never feel so bad that you can't describe how bad you feel, but joy on the other hand is far too divine for human language.

In the hours waking,when we're still all still,and you can hear the floorboards creaking,and you can feel the shades blow in,the night we slept with,we'll never kiss like that again.Our lips, will sever, our memories, will dissipate,and our shadows will be swallowed by the sky.

...After you have done everything to please a man and he's taken his pleasure with you, all you are for him is a whore, and a whore's daughter.

THREE BASIC TRUTHSThree things have a limited threshold: Time, pain, and death.While truth, love, and knowledge __re boundless.Three things are needed For humanity to co-exist:Truth, peace and basic needs.Everything else -Is irrelevant.

Superior poets say what they really feel. Mediocre poets say what they decide to feel. Inferior poets say what they think they should feel.

The trouble with poetry is it's often written to the sound of a drum only the poet may hear; nonetheless, blessed are those poets who always manage to find unshakeable pleasure in their own works.

A Coy Aversion...a fluttertoo shyto be seen...

There are no lungs like the ones that breathe poetry.

Aspirations don__ make poets, perseverance does. Flow with the emotions, let your imagination soar, find what ignites the fire within and let it go wild.

My biggest fear is forgetting why I fell in love with writing. My biggest dream is never allowing that to happen.

Ah. That is the price of love, I'm afraid__he pain one suffers from its loss. I'm not convinced it's worth it. Perhaps if one must love, one should do so in moderation.""Moderation in love," she mused aloud. "It's not something that would inspire a poet, is it?""A poet's view of the world would make for an uncomfortable life, wouldn't it? Everyone at the mercy of his or her passions, all of us tearing our hair out for the sake of love...

Winning is a matter of endurance. As long as you don't quit, you will win!

I think that at the bottom of all art lies the impulse to preserve.

I wear the universe backwards. I imagine putting stars in my coffee, and sugar in the sky. I imagine going fishing in clouds, and watching the sun hide behind lakes. I'm too busy dancing with my imagination to even tip toe with reality for a second. They say I'm going mad. They're right.

our love likestepping on to a planesitting down in a carwalking on unknown land will either take us to where we belongor throw us into darkness