#Poem

"I've triedto become someone else for a while,only to discover that he, too, was me."

"Humor, for me, is really a gate of departure. It's a way of enticing a reader into a poem so that less funny things can take place later. It really is not an end in itself, but a means to an end."

"Scientific People, unscientific mind; why are we dividing the world which could shine? Between religion and science, all what matters is human lives."

"We made love outdoors—without a roof, I like most, without stove, my favorite place, assuming the weather be fair and balmy, and the earth beneath be clean. Our souls intertwined and dripping with dew, and our love for each other was seen. Our love for the world was new."

"Come sleep with me: We won't make Love,Love will make us."

"The true poem rests between the words."

"I grew up in this town, my poetry was born between the hill and the river, it took its voice from the rain, and like the timber, it steeped itself in the forests."

"Roses are red, violets are blue, I have five fingers, the middle one is for you."

"Through the darkest hours of the nightand through the dreamers realm I seek,Far beyond the starry skyand beyond galaxies I am free.Through the grimmest memoriesand past a seasons air I cannot breathe,Far beyond this mortal worldin an afterlife we shall meet."

"I could be in the middle of a spiritual hurricane, my soul torn and tormented, but when I see you smile it's blue skies for miles. You give me a tsunami of emotions, and my heart is trying to find peace through crashing waves, but they always end up in a cyclone that never dies.-Jarod Kintz and Karen Quan"

"May be its mine bad-luck Or yours not to get me But I still have hope Of being yours"

"to live in this worldyou must be ableto do three thingsto love what is mortal;to hold itagainst your bones knowingyour own life depends on it;and, when the time comes to let it go,to let it go"

"Dreams like a podcast,Downloading truth in my ears.They tell me cool stuff.""Apollo?"I guess, because I figured nobody else could make a haiku that bad.He put his finger to his lips. "I'm incognito. Call me Fred.""A god named Fred?"

"The wind may be invisible, but it’s colored by memories of you, as you gently blew into my life, adding motion and emotion to my still-beating heart."

"the worst thing,"he told me,"is bitterness, people end up sobitter."

"The heart pumps blood, a fluid, but it also pulses love, which is as liquid as a wave, and everyone wants a refill. My goal is to be a server."

"sometimes when everything seems atits worstwhen all conspiresand gnawsand the hours, days, weeksyearsseem wasted – stretched there upon my bedin the darklooking upward at the ceilingi get what many will consider anobnoxious thought:it’s still nice to beBukowski."

"We thought everything would be forgotten, but I still remember yourclaws running down my back.I wonder if you still think about us,the way I do.How our legs would crash into each other in the middle of the night, and how we endedup creating the moon in the confines of our beds."

"I have always thought of poems as stepping stones in one's own sense of oneself. Every now and again, you write a poem that gives you self-respect and steadies your going a little bit farther out in the stream. At the same time, you have to conjure the next stepping stone because the stream, we hope, keeps flowing."

"It is when things are at worst you will get the best."