Poetry?"..."No, just thoughts, glimpses, things running through my head. — Mary E. Pearson
Poetry?"..."No, just thoughts, glimpses, things running through my head. — Mary E. Pearson
Poetry?"..."No, just thoughts, glimpses, things running through my head. — Mary E. Pearson
Poetry?"..."No, just thoughts, glimpses, things running through my head. — Mary E. Pearson
Poetry?"..."No, just thoughts, glimpses, things running through my head. — Mary E. Pearson
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Poetry?"..."No, just thoughts, glimpses, things running through my head.

— Mary E. Pearson
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More “Poetry” Quotes

She always walked under the arches of nightsAnd everywhere she wentShe leftThe mark of broken things. — Paul Éluard, Capital of Pain
Rejoice with glitters of ashes tonightSparkling for moon's spiced silver biteUpon skin of darkness, loving night moreSto — Munia Khan
I have found so much beauty in the dark,as I have found a lot of horror in the light. — Azereth Skivel
Darkness is the womb from which a poet is born. — Ged Thompson Liverpool Poet
Saturated Arrogance...she rebuked those about herin darkness did she dwella pathetic historyall mortal man would tell.. — Muse, Enigmatic Evolution
Black was the without eyeBlack the within tongueBlack was the heartBlack the liver, black the lungsUnable to suck in lig — Ted Hughes, Crow: From the Life and Songs of the Crow
And in the ocean I will fly to the bottomless pit of darkness — ellena fedora
When Darkness surrounds you, look for the stars. When Jealousy whispers, kill it with laughter. When Hate hurts you, lov — M.J. Abraham
Darkness moves like a pack of wild dogs.The wind moves like a wounded animal.The ground must be full of teeth by now. — Cecilia Llompart, The Wingless
I sing to use the waiting, My bonnet but to tie, And shut the door unto my house; No more to do have I, Till, his best — Emily Dickinson, The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson
Leaning into the afternoons I cast my sad netstowards your oceanic eyes.There in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens — Pablo Neruda
Its snaky acids kiss.It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults That kill, that kill, that kill. — Sylvia Plath, Ariel