September 11, 2001: Citizens of the U.S., besieged by terror’s sting, rose up, weeping glory, as if on eagles’ wings.–from the poem Angel of Remembrance: Candles for September 11, 2001
ABERJHANILike a Passover Poet gliding from house to house and from trembling soul to trembling soul the wind scribbled sonnets of first time love and weeping haikus of last hours on earth.
More Aberjhani Quotes
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Poetry, like jazz, is one of those dazzling diamonds of creative industry that help human beings make sense out of the comedies and tragedies that contextualize our lives.
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President Obama appears to me to have elevated and implemented the artist-activist concept to the role of empowered servant-leader.
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Know yourself fearlessly (even quietly) for all the things you are.
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Complications generally begin long before the fated soul carries its dubious light into whatever womb has been kind enough to volunteer
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Looking at certain illuminated corners of or cracks within the mirror, the author can see fragments of an objective reality that comprise the physical universe, social communities, political dynamics,
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Many people can rightfully claim, as much as anyone can rightfully claim anything, that much of their lives have been spent stumbling through a cloud of cluelessness.
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Happy World Poetry Day: ‘The American identity has never been a singular one and the voices of poets invariably sing, in addition to their own, the voices of those around them.
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The same hot lightning that burns your blood with passion–– cools your fears with peace.
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Friendship fails, Intelligence fails, Humanity: fails.
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A world without poetry and art would be too much like one without birds or flowers: bearable but a lot less enjoyable.
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Searching for a mind long lost I found it shaping colors and history near the cliffs of your heart.
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The intricate machinery of its blood and prayers and muscles for a gestation period much longer than nine months or even nine years.
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That good gardener, who wept thorns plowing his fields – harvests grace with joy.
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Horror tore this world asunder. While inside the bleeding smoke and beyond the shredded weeping flesh we memorized tales of infinite good. -from The History Lesson
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The dancing vortex of a sacred metaphor clashes horns and halos to make wounded music set to the tempo of a new era in brilliant labor.
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