“When Great Trees Fall

When great trees fall,
rocks on distant hills shudder,
lions hunker down
in tall grasses,
and even elephants
lumber after safety.

When great trees fall
in forests,
small things recoil into silence,
their senses
eroded beyond fear.

When great souls die,
the air around us becomes
light, rare, sterile.
We breathe, briefly.
Our eyes, briefly,
see with
a hurtful clarity.
Our memory, suddenly sharpened,
examines,
gnaws on kind words
unsaid,
promised walks
never taken.

Great souls die and
our reality, bound to
them, takes leave of us.
Our souls,
dependent upon their
nurture,
now shrink, wizened.
Our minds, formed
and informed by their
radiance,
fall away.
We are not so much maddened
as reduced to the unutterable ignorance
of dark, cold
caves.

And when great souls die,
after a period peace blooms,
slowly and always
irregularly. Spaces fill
with a kind of
soothing electric vibration.
Our senses, restored, never
to be the same, whisper to us.
They existed. They existed.
We can be. Be and be
better. For they existed.”
― Maya Angelou

“Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
Though wise men at their end know dark is right,
Because their words had forked no lightning they
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright
Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,
And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,
Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight
Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay,
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,
Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears, I pray.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”
― Dylan Thomas, Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

“You remember too much,
my mother said to me recently.
Why hold onto all that? And I said,
Where can I put it down?”
― Anne Carson, Glass, Irony and God

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.”
― Elizabeth Barrett Browning, Sonnets from the Portuguese

“How happy is the little stone
That rambles in the road alone,
And doesn't care about careers,
And exigencies never fears;
Whose coat of elemental brown
A passing universe put on;
And independent as the sun,
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute decree
In casual simplicity.”
― Emily Dickinson

“She was a beautiful dreamer. The kind of girl, who kept her head in the clouds, loved above the stars and left regret beneath the earth she walked on.”
― robert m drake

“We are made of all those who have built and broken us.”
― Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild

“She conquered her demons and wore her scars like wings. ”
― Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild

“a flower knows, when its butterfly will return,
and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand;
but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon,
when I don't know, if you will ever come back.”
― Sanober Khan

“Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.”
― Khalil Gibran, Sand and Foam

“Maybe you could be mine / or maybe we’ll be entwined / aimless in this sexless foreplay.”
― Jess C Scott, EyeLeash: A Blog Novel

“Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.”
― William Butler Yeats, The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats

“Death is the easy part, the hard part is living and knowing you could be so much more then you’re willing to be.”
― robert m drake

“Watch carefully
the magic that occurs
when you give a person
enough comfort
to just be themselves.”
― Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild

“Every moment of the night
Forever changing places
And they put out the star-light
With the breath from their pale faces”
― Edgar Allen Poe

“I think it’s beautiful
the way you sparkle
when you talk about
the things you love.”
― Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild

“She winced and covered her ears as Eric,onstage, wrestled with his microphone.

"Sorry about that, guys!" he yelled. "All right. I'm Eric, and this is my homeboy Matt on the drums. My first poem is called 'Untitled.'" He screwed up his face as if in pain, and wailed into the mike. "Come my faux juggernaut, my nefarious loins! Slather every protuberance with arid zeal!"

Simon slid down in his seat. "Please don't tell anyone I know him."

Clary giggled. "Who uses the word 'loins'?"

"Eric," Simon said grimly. "All his poems have loins in them."

'Turgid is my torment!" Eric wailed. "Agony swells within!"

"You bet it does," Clary said.”
― Cassandra Clare, City of Bones

“I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is pressed
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,
But only God can make a tree.”
― Joyce Kilmer, Trees & Other Poems

“I am the shore and the ocean, awaiting myself on both sides.”
― Dejan Stojanovic, The Shape

“It was her chaos that made her beautiful. ”
― Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild

“Sometimes to self-discover you must self-destruct.”
― robert m drake

“Was not writing poetry a secret transaction, a voice answering a voice?”
― Virginia Woolf, Orlando

“There is nothing
prettier in the
whole wide world
than a girl
in love
with every breath she takes.”
― Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild

“Somewhere along the way we all go a bit mad. So burn, let go and dive into the horror, because maybe it’s the chaos which helps us find where we belong.”
― robert m drake

“She was afraid of heights
but she was
much more afraid
of never flying.”
― Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild

“A tamed woman will never leave her mark in the world.”
― robert m drake

“I worry there is something broken in our generation,
there are too many sad eyes on happy faces.”
― Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild

“Depression is being colorblind and constantly told how colorful the world is.”
― Atticus Poetry, Love Her Wild

“I'm making a list
I'm making a list of things I must say
For politeness,
And goodness and kindness and gentleness
Sweetness and rightness:
Hello
Pardon me
How are you?
Excuse me
Bless you
May I?
Thank you
Goodbye
If you know some that I've forgot,
Please stick them in you eye!”
― Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

“The best kind of humans are the ones who stay.”
― robert m drake