Prosepoetry Quotes

“..Breaking yet budding,
dying yet living - standing
amongst ruins and rage,
reaching for possibilities
playing hard to get.”
― Meraaqi, Divine Trouble

“The verse is about slippage, fall, reversal of fortune, the casting down of the great by the great: around the throne thunder rolls, circa regna tonat; even as he sits under his canopy of estate, the king hears it, he feels it shudder in the stone flags, he feels its reverberation in the bone. He pictures the bolts, hurled by the gods, falling through the crystal spheres where angels sit and pick the fleas from their wings: hurtling, spinning and plunging till, with a roar of white flame, they crash down on Whitehall and fire the roofs; tills they rattle the skeleton teeth of the abbey's dead, melt the glass in the workshops of Southwark, and fry the fish in the Thames.”
― Hilary Mantel, The Mirror & the Light

“You wear poetry in your eyes.”
― Laraib Zakir, Chaos in Utter Silence

“Their spacesuits thumped down on the incline, the tethers umbilical around each other, kin and kin like twins through time entwined, clinging to the skin of a ship haunted by exoghosts.”
― Indrapramit Das

“But here, as the dawn sneaks up on the last day of summer, and as a man with tired hands watches a young couple dance in the carpark of his restaurant, there are only these: sparkling eyes, smudged lipstick, fading starlight, the crunching of feet on gravel, laughter and a slow walk home.”
― Jon McGregor, If Nobody Speaks Of Remarkable Things

“Sung sirens, sliding through the streets, streaking blue light from distress to distress, the slow wail weaving urgency through the darkest of the dark hours, a lament lifted high, held above the rooftops and fading away, lifted high, flashing past, fading away.”
― Jon McGregor, If Nobody Speaks Of Remarkable Things

“يهمنّي عاد لي، ما هم كم غابا
… فالبعد لا يجعل العشاق أغرابا
وتبت عن حبه؟ إني جننت به
… ذنب الذي تاب يومًا أنه تابا
أحبه حين يأتي وهو مرتبكٌ
وحين يشرح كالأطفال أسبابا
وحين يقسم أني بيت غربته
وحين يشعلني شمعًا ومحرابا
وكلما خاب ظني فيه يغمرني
حتى يسامحه قلبي الذي ذابا”
― Mahdi Mansour

“Hatching is not the end of what lies inside the egg, only the end of the shell around it. There’s no flight without the shatter, and no flock without the flight. What we’re made of will go on. A fledgling in some other place and time will look up for guidance and maybe see the path we leave behind, even when all of this as it is”—she flutters her free hand at the darkened desert —“dries and blows away. Change is comforting, in that way.”
― Brooke Bolander, No Flight Without the Shatter