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Quotes tagged “poem”
When the sparrows left
It was just another
smoggy winter morning
People drove their cars
dropped their children off
At air conditioned schools
Where they learned
Pollution is a bad thing
It was just another
smoggy winter morning
And stuck on flyovers
No one noticed
That they spent more time on roads
Than with family and friends
So the city of traders
Traded its sparrows,
And children’s lungs
for Diwali firecrackers
Pollution was good for business
And as a million bonfires
lit up in Punjab and Haryana
Delhi bought air purifiers,
masks, cough syrup
and tweeted in anger
But it all started
On a smoggy winter morning
When the last sparrow left
No one noticed,
As that ever useful smog
Hid us from our conscience”
I sometimes felt his eyes,
tried to pretend he wasn’t the thing
he claimed to be protecting me from.”
but so are the best burritos
and the best sex
while eating burritos
and running with scissors
is the only way to make danger understand”
struck by lightning yet living,
or a child lifting a two-ton sedan
to free his father pinned underneath,
or a camper fighting off a grizzly
with her bare hands until someone,
a hunter perhaps, can shoot it dead,
my thoughts turn to black people—
the hysterical strength we must
possess to survive our very existence,
which I fear many believe is, and
treat as, itself a freak occurrence.”
I am to wait—I do not doubt I am to meet you again,
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.”
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.”
and talk with me
oh yes I say
but if you are busy he said
I don't want you to feel that you
just because I'm here”
in my freckles.
I mean you ask me
not to fall in love with you
and then you go write poems
with your tongue
and draw constellations
in my freckles.”
There is something in me
cannot be healed.
There is something in me
needs breaking open.”
about what happened
how much it hurt.
There has to be a way.
To care for the wounds
without reopening them.
To name the pain
without inviting it back
Tell me why you loved them, then tell me why they loved you.
Tell me about a day in your life you wouldn’t think you’d live through.
Tell me what the word home means to you
And tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name just by the way you describe your bedroom when you were 8.
See, I wanna know the first time you felt the weight of hate and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.
Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in bellies of snow?
And if you were to build a snowman, would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms?
Or would you leave your snowman armless for the sake of being harmless to the tree?
And if you would, would you notice how the tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek?
Do you kiss your friends on the cheek?
Do you sleep besides them when they’re sad, even if that makes your lover mad?
Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?
See, I wanna know what you think of your first name.
And if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother’s joy when she spoke it for the very first time.
I want you to tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind.
Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel.
Tell me- knowing that I often picture Gandhi at ten years old beating up little boys at school.
If you were walking by a chemical plant, where smoke stacks were filling the sky with dark, black clouds, would you holler, ‘Poison! Poison! Poison!’ really loud or would you whisper, ‘That cloud looks like a fish, and that cloud looks like a fairy’?
Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin?
Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea?
And if you don’t believe in miracles, how would you explain the miracle of my life to me?
See, I wanna know if you believe in any god, or if you believe in many gods. Or better yet, what gods believe in you.
And for all the times you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself, have the prayers you’ve asked come true?
And if they didn’t did you feel denied? And if you felt denied, denied by who[m]?
I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good.
I wanna know what you see in the mirror on a day you’re feeling bad.
I wanna know the first person who ever taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a piece of lousy glass.
If you ever reach enlightenment, would you remember how to laugh?
Have you ever been a song?
Would you think less of me if I told you I have lived my entire life a little off key and I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry I just plagiarized the thoughts of the people around me who have learned the wisdom of silence.
Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence?
And if you do I want you to tell me of a meadow where my skateboard will soar.
See I wanna know more that what you do for a living.
I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving.
And if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes.
I wanna know if you bleed sometimes through other people’s wounds.”
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much”
even in the presence of love, in the presence of hunger.
And the more deeply I felt
the less able I was to respond.”
Every time I say ‘I,’ it refers to you.”
written for them even if
we have to turn this God-damn world
upside down to do it.”
When you fall in love, it is discovering the ocean
after years of puddle jumping. It is realizing you have hands.
It is reaching for the tightrope when the crowds have all gone home.
Do not spend time wondering if you are the type of woman
men will hurt. If he leaves you with a car alarm heart, you learn to sing along.
It is hard to stop loving the ocean. Even after it has left you gasping, salty.
Forgive yourself for the decisions you have made, the ones you still call
mistakes when you tuck them in at night. And know this:
Know you are the type of woman who is searching for a place to call yours.
Let the statues crumble.
You have always been the place.
You are a woman who can build it yourself.
You were born to build.”
Your silence is star-like, as distant, as true.”
About The Authors
This page was created by our editorial team. Each page is manually curated, researched, collected, and issued by our staff writers. Quotes contained on this page have been double checked for their citations, their accuracy and the impact it will have on our readers.
Kelly Peacock is an accomplished poet and social media expert based in Brooklyn, New York. Kelly has a Bachelor's degree in creative writing from Farieligh Dickinson University and has contributed to many literary and cultural publications. Kelly assists on a wide variety of quote inputting and social media functions for Quote Catalog. Visit her personal website here.
Kendra Syrdal is a writer, editor, partner, and senior publisher for The Thought & Expression Company. Over the last few years she has been personally responsible for writing, editing, and producing over 30+ million pageviews on Thought Catalog.