What are we? Young or new? We must be something.
O hushed October morning mild, Begin the hours of this day slow, Make the day seem to us less brief... Retard the sun with gentle mist; Enchant the land with amethyst.
Keep all ur troubles in ur own pocket. But, make sure that the pocket has a hole!
Poetry is the renewal of words, setting them free, and that's what a poet is doing: loosening the words.
Poetry is a reaching out forward expression, an effort to find fulfillment
Poetry is play. I'd even rather have you think of it as a sport. For instance, like football.