Forget You Poems Quotes & Sayings

Poems are a hotline to our hearts, and we forget this emotional power at our peril — Andrew Motion

I have to make myself write, sometimes. In the space between poems, you somehow forget how to do it, where to begin. It was good to be task - based for a while. I just came downstairs each day, picked the one I was going to do that day, and wrote. — Simon Armitage

I've had journals ever since I was really little. Sometimes I write poems and stuff, but for the most part I write down what happens to me during the day that I don't want to forget. So I have books filled with little things like that. — Miranda Cosgrove

If I were brave enough to say so, I'd like to think that I had written some poems that people are not going to forget. — Peter Davison

New friends may be poems but old friends are alphabets. Don't forget the alphabets because you will need them to read the poems. — William Shakespeare

Our Cross
Our little circle hides in the mind,
It's difficult to miss but hard to find,
It goes unspoken but yet it speaks,
From backward years to forward weeks,
We can't forget but why even try,
Two of a kind doesn't know goodbye,
It's a silent question that God won't share,
A breeze we feel but seems unfair,
Distant, rare but only madness can see,
It's something deeper than any infinity,
Because we walk this parallel path up and down,
There is no circle to hold us circus clowns,
So let's give it a symbol and label it a loss,
We will remember it always as we carry our cross. — Shannon L. Alder

He will forget me. He will leave my letters lying about among guns and dogs unanswered. I shall send him poems and he will perhaps reply with a picture post card. But it is for that that I love him. I shall propose meeting - under a clock, by some Cross; and shall wait, and he will not come. It is for that that I love him. Oblivious, almost entirely ignorant, he will pass from my life. And I shall pass, incredible as it seems, into other lives; this is only an escapade perhaps, a prelude only. — Virginia Woolf

Oh happy day! A day to make a hay! And when it is mid-day, think about the day! And when you think about the day, don't forget the hay! Oh happy day! A day to make a hay! — Ernest Agyemang Yeboah

3. Learn the Will Skill. Many people believe that fitness and exercise are all about willpower - whether you have it or not. Will is important, but people forget that willpower is a skill with its own rules and tricks to practice. For example, recent research shows that if people can distract their attention for just a few minutes, they can suppress negative urges and make better decisions.8 Sharman W. used this idea to help her avoid cheating on her diet. She listed the ten reasons she wanted to lose weight and created the following rule: She could cheat on her diet, but only after reading her list and calling her sister. This extra step introduced a delay and brought in social support from her sister. Other strategies our Changers use include taking short walks, repeating poems they have memorized, and drinking a glass of water. The key is to be aware of the impulse and to focus on something different until the impulse goes away. — Kerry Patterson

It is too simple
to pet a stray dog
then watch it run under a car
and say it wasn't mine

It is too simple
to admire a rose
then pick it and forget
to put water in the vase

It is too simple
to use a person
for loving without love
then leave him standing alone
and say I don't know him
anymore

It is too simple
to know one's flaws
then live them at great cost to others
and say that's just the way I am

It is too simple
the way we sometimes live our lives
for after all life simply is
a serious matter — Margot Bickel

The Weaver
My life is but a weaving
between my Lord and me;
I cannot choose the colors
He worketh steadily.
Oft times He weaveth sorrow
And I, in foolish pride,
Forget He sees the upper,
And I the underside.
Not til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly,
Shall God unroll the canvas
And explain the reason why.
The dark threads are as needful
In the Weaver's skillful hand,
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned. — Benjamin Malachi Franklin

You never forget the books you loved as a kid. You never forget the poems you memorized, the first book you read until the cover fell off, the book you read hidden from your mother. What an honor to hold hands with a child's imagination in this way. — Meg Medina

Poem for Liu Ya-tzu I cannot forget how in Canton we drank tea and in Chungking went over our poems when leaves were yellowing. Thirty-one years ago and now we come back at last to the ancient capital Peking. In this season of falling flowers I read your beautiful poems. Be careful not to be torn inside. Open your vision to the world. Don't say that waters of Kumming Lake are too shallow. We can watch fish better here than in the Fuchun River in the south. — Mao Zedong

Sometimes you completely forget your own works, your own poems, and your own words, but others remember them line by line, word for word! That is the greatest present you can ever have for your works! — Mehmet Murat Ildan

We dance, we dance. You hold the thread of my soul. You spin, you spin. And you unravel the part from the whole. We laugh, we laugh. I'm so far from where I began. I fall, I fall. And I forget that I am.-from Golden Tongue:The Poems of Steven Slaughter — Maggie Stiefvater

As we joined the line of people getting off at the last stop before Sofia, I looked once more at the little boy, whom I felt I would never forget, though maybe it wasn't exactly him I would remember, I thought, but the use I would make of him. I had my notes, I knew I would write a poem about him, and then it would be the poem I remembered, which would be both true and false at once, the image I made replacing the real image. Making poems was a way of loving things, I had always thought, of preserving them, of living moments twice; or more than that, it was a way of living more fully, of bestowing on experience a richer meaning. But that wasn't what it felt like when I looked back at the boy, wanting a last glimpse of him; it felt like a loss. Whatever I could make of him would diminish him, and I wondered whether I wasn't really turning my back on things in making them into poems, whether instead of preserving the world I was taking refuge from it. — Garth Greenwell

We are about to part," said Neville. "Here are the boxes; here are the cabs. There is Percival in his billycock hat. He will forget me. He will leave my letters lying about among guns and dogs unaswered. I shall send him poems and he will perhaps reply with a picture post card. But it is for that that I love him. I shall propose a meeting - under a clock, by some Cross; and shall wait and he will not come. It is for that that I love him. — Virginia Woolf