“Poetry runs through tired veins reviving once sleeping souls.”

Growth is no longer seeking acceptance from those who cannot give it to themselves.

If you want to see the world as it should be, read poetry.

I fell for you dissolved like sugar in tea – completely.

I was quiet, yes but I heard all you never said, your silence read.

When I met my darkness clouds | swirled the night sky | refracted light danced in the wild eyes | freedom came for me.

I don’t want the world but I want you in mine.

I will remain soft in a world marked by hardness.

You were waiting for the sunset while I was longing for the moonrise.

If hearts are our homes, why do we let others break windows and throw stones?

Whole, loved and worthy just as you are.

From each scar today bloom the flowers of a kinder tomorrow.

You are already more than enough.

Don’t reorient yourself to fit in to an upside down world.

Let’s get perfectly lost recklessly joyful, let’s rest a while in this sweet reverie.

Love me as a storm would rage full force or not at all.

You keep planting sympathy in rows meant for empathy and I’m here picking weeds with tears in my eyes.

I will always be the one who made you into poetry.

Come oh come ye tea-thirsty restless ones -the kettle boils, bubbles and sings, musically.

The arts are not just a nice thing to have or to do if there is free time or if one can afford it. Rather, paintings and poetry, music and fashion, design and dialogue, they all define who we are as a people and provide an account of our history for the next generation.

Poetry is a verdict, not an occupation.

Deprivation is the mother of poetry.

A man should hear a little music, read a little poetry, and see a fine picture every day of his life, in order that worldly cares may not obliterate the sense of the beautiful which God has implanted in the human soul.

Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.

Painting is silent poetry.