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I cannot speak for more than an hour exclusively about poetry. At that point, life itself takes over again.

Wislawa Szymborska

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Myself Poetry Point Talk

Bagwalas

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Marilyn Monroe Paulo Coelho Abraham Lincoln C. S. Lewis Khalil Gibran Charlie Chaplin Gautama Buddha Isaac Newton

Sometimes I write quickly, sometimes I spend several weeks on a single poem. I would really love for readers not to be able to guess which of the poems took so much work!
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Myself Poem Quick Reading Time Work Writing
It’s just not easy to explain to someone else what you don’t understand yourself.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Easy Explanation Understand Yourself
When it comes, you’ll be dreaming that you don’t need to breathe; that breathless silence is the music of the dark and it’s part of the rhythm to vanish like a spark.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Breathe Darkness Dreams Music Need Rhythm Spark
No day copies yesterday, no two nights will teach what bliss is in precisely the same way, with precisely the same kisses.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Bliss Kiss Past Teaching Time Way
I am who I am. A coincidence no less unthinkable than any other.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Myself Personality Thinking
Dying – you can’t do that to a cat.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Animal Cat Death Yourself
I’m drowning in papers.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Drown Myself One Liner Paper Poet
Keep up the good work, if only for a while, if only for the twinkling of a tiny galaxy.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Galaxy Goodness Work
Poets yearn, of course, to be published, read, and understood, but they do little, if anything, to set themselves above the common herd and the daily grind.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Common Poet Publish Reading Understand
Let the people who never find true love keep saying that there’s no such thing. Their faith will make it easier for them to live and die.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Death Easy Finding Live Love People True
There’s simply too much fuss about myself.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Confusion Mess Myself Simplicity
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems to the absurdity of not writing poems.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Absurd Myself Poem Preference Writing
No one in my family has ever died of love. What happened, happened, but nothing myth-inspiring.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Death Family Love Mythical
All is mine but nothing owned, nothing owned for memory, and mine only while I look.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Memories Myself Search
I’m one-time-only to the marrow of my bones.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Bone Myself Time
No one feels good at four in the morning. If ants feel good at four in the morning —three cheers for the ants.
WISLAWA SZYMBORSKA

Feeling Good Morning Oneself

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