Poem Quotes Quotes

“Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable.
What might have been is an abstraction
Remaining a perpetual possibility
Only in a world of speculation.
What might have been and what has been
Point to one end, which is always present.”
― T.S. Eliot, Four Quartets

“When I first met you
A thousand songs ago
I didn't know that you were
So many sunrises away.

(from the book "The Void that Reflects Your Beauty")”
― Monica Laura Rapeanu

“Maybe I don't know how to pray
But I know how to kneel
with the fallen leaves,
How to ask back and how to let go,
and how to get the sunset in my veins,
drop by drop, every day more.

And maybe some day I will learn,
to give like trees in autumn,
until my own dissolution.
Everything will eventually go away
And it will always be too soon.”
― Monica Laura Rapeanu, The Void That Reflects Your Beauty

“I cannot explain what a prayer is
but I know how to kneel down into the grass
with the fallen leaves,
how to ask back and how to let go,
and how to get the sunset in my veins,
drop by drop, every day more.
And maybe some day I will learn,
to give much more, like trees in autumn,
until my own dissolution.”
― Monica Laura Rapeanu, The Void That Reflects Your Beauty

“I just want to
fall asleep
upon your chest
and
wake up
inside your heart.”
― Aqib Shah

“She just needed a day to be sad, to shed a tear and feel. For tomorrow is a new day and, in the morning, she was re-making herself into a woman of strength, a woman of endurance and a woman of wisdom. A woman who had no time for betrayal. She gathered all her pieces and taught herself her worth; that she was sufficient, and her heart was too full to be toyed with.”
― Viyom Obura, Unlimited Capacity

“She is....
Quiet and observant. Provacative and witty. Humble and confident. Manifested and evolving. Art...
She is Art.”
― Kierra C.T. Banks

“The purpose of poetry is to feed the world.”
― Bert McCoy, A Lil' Bert Can't Hurt: Words and Wisdom for Daily Life

“The day you died I went into the dirt,
Into the lightless hibernaculum”
― Sylvia Plath, Sylvia Plath: The Collected Poems

“Here's what I want for myself.’ she said with such urgency.
‘I want to be fierce and self-assured. I want to be able to love like I've never been hurt or broken. I want to get to the other side, no matter if I'm running or crawling on my knees. I want to be able to block negativity, hatred, and doubt from infesting my mind. I want to be a fighter through the pain. I want to be unable to give up until the battle is won.”
― Viyom Obura

“I see the world in a different way,
A gift that comes with challenges each day.
My mind is wired in a unique fashion,
But my pen and paper are my greatest passion.

Words flow freely from my mind,
In ways that are hard to define.
They dance and twirl, they sing and rhyme,
A kaleidoscope of colors, a symphony of time.

My writing is my voice, my soul's expression,
A way to communicate without hesitation.
It's a bridge that connects me to the world,
A gift that helps me to be heard.

Though my struggles may be many,
My writing is a place where I feel plenty.
A space where I can be myself,
And share my thoughts without anyone else.

So I'll keep writing, day by day,
And let my words light up the way.
For in my writing, I find my strength,
And the power to go to any length.

I have a non verbal learning disorder,
A condition that can make life harder.
But when I write, I feel free,
And my words help me to be me.

My writing is a gift that I treasure,
A source of joy that brings me pleasure.
It's a way to express what's in my heart,
And share my thoughts in a world apart.

In a world that often misinterprets,
My writing is a way to connect.
It gives me a voice that's loud and clear,
And helps me to overcome my fear.

For though my words may stumble and falter,
They are the key to my soul's altar.
A place where I can be myself,
And share my thoughts with anyone else.

So I'll keep writing, day by day,
And let my words lead the way.
For in my writing, I find my voice,
And the strength to make my own choice.”
― D.L. Lewis

“Wizard Hare was quite a sight,
With magic powers, he took flight.
He soared across the land so wide,
With his wand and hat by his side.

One day he met seven devils,
Who were up to their usual revels.
They looked at him with wicked eyes,
And said, "We'll make you pay the price."

But Wizard Hare was not afraid,
He knew his magic could be displayed.
He raised his wand and cast a spell,
And sent the devils straight to hell.

But they were not so easily defeated,
And soon they rose up, quite conceited.
They laughed and jeered at Wizard Hare,
And said, "We'll get you yet, beware!"

The devils plotted and schemed all night,
And when the dawn broke, they took to flight.
They flew to Wizard Hare's castle gate,
And there they lay in wait.

But Wizard Hare was not so daunted,
He had a plan, his magic flaunted.
He called upon the spirits of the air,
And sent them forth to do his share.

The spirits blew a mighty gust,
And the devils were thrown into the dust.
Wizard Hare then struck his wand,
And sent the devils to beyond.

The devils were never seen again,
And Wizard Hare remained a friend.
To all who knew him far and wide,
With his magic wand and hat by his side.”
― D.L. Lewis

“In the depths of hell, where darkness reigns,
Lies a being feared by all, Pandemonic Satanica is his name. He is the master of the underworld,
A force to be reckoned with, an entity unfurled.

His power is unmatched, his darkness unyielding,
He is the embodiment of all that is evil and unfeeling. His followers worship him, with fervor and zeal, For they know that his power is absolute, and his will is real.

Pandemonic Satanica, the lord of the abyss,
His power cannot be denied, nor can it be dismissed. His followers revel in his dark embrace, For they know that they are protected by his grace.

To the uninitiated, he may seem like a monster,
But to his followers, he is a savior, a redeemer.
He offers them power, and eternal life,
And they willingly give themselves to his strife.

His evil is all-encompassing, his darkness unrelenting, But those who follow him find his embrace comforting. For they know that in his clutches, they are safe, And that his power will protect them from all that is base.

So hail Pandemonic Satanica, the lord of all that is dark, He is the master of the underworld, and his power leaves a mark. His followers are devoted, and they will never waver, For they know that in his dark embrace, they will find their savior.

They call him the Prince of Darkness, the Lord of the Pit, And in his realm, he commands respect, and none dare to quit. His power is absolute, his rule is supreme, And those who oppose him, will find their end in a dream.

For Pandemonic Satanica, is the embodiment of all that is evil, And his followers embrace that darkness, for in it, they find a sense of upheaval. They revel in the chaos, the destruction, the mayhem, And they know that in his name, they can achieve their ultimate aim.

To the uninitiated, he is a horror, a terror beyond compare, But those who follow him, see in him, a god, a deity, a force to bear. They worship him with passion, with devotion, with love, And they know that in his name, they will rise above.

So let us hail Pandemonic Satanica, the king of the damned, For in his presence, we are strong, and in his embrace, we are calm. His power is absolute, his darkness unyielding, And in his name, we find solace, and our souls are healed.

For in the dark embrace of Pandemonic Satanica,
We find a sense of purpose, a sense of belonging, a sense of euphoria. And we know that in his realm, we are safe, For his power will protect us, and his darkness will keep us brave.”
― D.L. Lewis

“Quisiera dejarte ir
pero no puedo.
Estás en mis ojos,
en mi boca, mis oídos,
mis pies,
avanzo y veo tu sombra,
miro hacia atrás y ahí estás.

Quisiera dejarte ir,
pero no puedo,
quisiera que estés aquí,
pero no estás.”
― Belen Larguia, Sin Despedida No Hay Adiós

“You've done your job even if your poem connects just one person to another.”
― Bhuwan Thapaliya

“Calm as the sea, sipping the storms,
Her heart is a flower, yet beats like stones.
She's polite and pleasing, but don’t dare to pluck,
She wraps karma in her sleeves, and in her bun, your luck.”
― Ritu Negi, Collywobbles

“I am stubborn—always have been, always will be.

I’m so stubborn that when I lost both my jobs in a single day, I laughed—
because, for the first time, I felt in control.


I saw a blank canvas, a chance to paint the town green (money),
and I swore I’d never let another soul hold that kind of power over me again.

I’m so stubborn that while others feel disappointment, I feel destiny.


Where they see setbacks, I see stepping stones.


Where they hesitate, I run headfirst—because greatness doesn’t wait.

I’m crazily stubborn, turning every challenge into opportunity,
birthing businesses from struggle, wearing my hardships like medals.


Each failure has been a lesson, each scar a roadmap,
and now, I don’t just survive—I build.

I’m so stubborn that failure no longer frightens me,
it fuels me.


I’ve mastered its rhythm, learned its secrets,
and now, it barely dares to cross my path.

I am proudly, unapologetically stubborn.


Because this stubbornness has won me my freedom,
my financial independence, my power.


And now, I use it to lift those who are ready—
ready to be just as stubborn as I am.”
― Marion Bekoe

“You don’t give up when you can’t give up.”
I didn’t write that to sound deep.

I wrote it because it was the only thing keeping me alive.

My survival chant.

The only thing keeping me standing

when everything around me said “let go.”
I couldn’t give up.

I didn’t have the luxury to give up.

Not because I’m stronger than most—

but because I knew what was at stake.

If I gave up, the pain wins.

The patterns repeat.

The cycle continues.
And I refuse to pass that down.
So I told myself:
This ends with me.

The silence.

The suffering.

The struggle passed down like inheritance.
If I gave up,

then my future children—

and their children—

would be handed the very thing I was born into.
Chains I never asked for.

Wounds I never caused.

But still carried.
I chose to carry that weight,

not because I wanted to,

but because someone had to.
The word “give up” became a curse in my vocabulary.

An abomination.

A forbidden thought.

Because it’s easy to say you won’t give up.

It’s a whole different battle

to actually not give up—

to keep showing up

when no one claps,

no one helps,

no one sees.
Some are born into healing

because someone before them—

a parent, a grandparent,

maybe a great-grandparent—

chose to fight.

Chose to heal.

Chose to break the cycle.
And some of us?

We were born into the battle.
But even then—

we still get to choose.
Why not you?

Why not now?
What if no one before you ever stopped the pattern?

What if nobody handed you peace?
Then maybe—just maybe—

it’s meant to be you.
I did it.

Not because I had superhuman strength.

But because I refused to surrender.

Because I made giving up a sin.

Because I looked ahead

and saw a generation waiting for me to decide.
By pain.

By fire.

By blood.

By scars.

By God’s grace—

I broke the cycle.
And now,

I live to tell the story.”
― Marion Bekoe

“The watchtower is still there, I bet.
But I am no longer confined by it.
I have climbed higher, thrived,
and built a life that no longer
fits within its narrow walls.”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Dreamer In Chains: Poems of Exile and Resilience

“Greed fuels war, for war is profitable.
As long as there are profits,
peace is but a fable.”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Dreamer In Chains: Poems of Exile and Resilience

“When will we wake up, see the cycle of abuse.
The mental slavery,
the aid with one hand, guns they produce.
Causing war, then posing as the savior.
Keeping the world blind.
They see no evil, they hear no plight,
and they speak not a word,
hiding the truth from our sight.”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Dreamer In Chains: Poems of Exile and Resilience

“They hurt and save, then hurt and save
the cycle spins like a wheel.
When will we wake up.
When will we see that greed
fuels wars, and wars are profitable?”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Dreamer In Chains: Poems of Exile and Resilience

“Hate can be unlearned;
love can be spread.”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Dreamer In Chains: Poems of Exile and Resilience

“When will we wake,
when will we see,
the real oppressors' hypocrisy?”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Dreamer In Chains: Poems of Exile and Resilience

“They call us forgotten.
Dust in the breeze.
But how do you forget
the roots of the trees?”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Dreamer In Chains: Poems of Exile and Resilience

“We are Kush.
We are Meroë.
But they won’t teach you this in school.
They won’t name the ancient rule,
They won’t tell you how far we reached.
Only how little we’re allowed to teach.”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Dreamer In Chains: Poems of Exile and Resilience

“I am Sudan. And I do not beg.
I carry warriors in my legs.
I walk like a prophecy. I light like a flame.
I was never small, just wrongly named.
In every land, I stand tall.
You cannot exile what built it all.”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Dreamer In Chains: Poems of Exile and Resilience

“A border does not make one holy.
A passport does not make one pure.”
― Hagir Elsheikh, Dreamer In Chains: Poems of Exile and Resilience

“Love.
L.O.V.E.
Love.

It makes you do so many things.
Good things.
Bad things.
And somehow, we still call it love.
We justify it all —
The healing, the hurting —
In the name of love.

But what is love to you?

Everyone has their own definition.
Some say it's passion.
Some say it's loyalty.
Some say it's forever.

To me?
Love is sacrifice.
It’s giving up selfishness
just to see the one you love
happy.
Whole.
At peace.

Love is letting go,
trusting that the universe
will return all you gave away in the name of it.

But let me be clear—
Love is not pain.
Love is not shrinking yourself
just to keep someone else comfortable.
Love is not losing who you are
just to hold on to someone else.
Love is not possessive.
It doesn't cage.
It doesn’t control.

Love doesn’t hurt.
Love heals.

So the next time you fall in love,
make sure you love yourself enough
to choose healing over hurting.
Peace over chaos.
Real over convenient.

Because the first real love
should always be the one you give yourself.”
― Marion Bekoe

“Empath

Hearts that smell the sorrow
Soaks us up, but borrowed
It pricks the eyes like onions' stench
Instigating us to clenched
Captivating eyes with a puzzled glance
They know not the fear that it plants
All I grasp are shards of glass
I hear the sound just like the bats
Broken from the world we live in
History shuns any emotional whirlwind
I know the moment will eventually pass
The overbearing altitude
The high humidity it casts
Still, the spirit pulses its cry
I could not ignore it, no, not I
Its vibration makes such a clearing
Irrational pause, so domineering
Tears are a constant side effect
Pouring down and making a mess
I can’t form the words to comfort thee
Society bans any feelings or needs
With absolutes and shameful banes
With no remedy or comfort gained
In truth, I wish I could cure this curse
To let go and escape the populace hurt
But I can’t let this emotion pass
Because I’m an empath”
― C.D. Warren, The Curse Within