Poem Composed Of Quotes & Sayings

Attempts to put my poems to music have had disastrous results in all cases. And the poem, if it's written with the ear, already has been set to its own verbal music as it was composed. — Billy Collins

I just sit where I'm put, composed
of stone and wishful thinking:
that the deity who kills for pleasure
will also heal,
that in the midst of your nightmare,
the final one, a kind lion
will come with bandages in her mouth
and the soft body of a woman,
and lick you clean of fever,
and pick your soul up gently by the nape of the neck
and caress you into darkness and paradise. — Louise Penny

I thought a bit of poetry might be interesting - I even write a few lines myself. I composed a short poem for my mum's 70th birthday recently. When I recited it I saw the glint of a tear in her eye ... although I guess it wasn't the quality of the poetry was that making her cry! — Iain Dowie

Land sakes, I can't make a speech," she said. "Tell you what: I'll recite a poem I composed while in jail." And she began. "Although in jail in Centerboro, I do not fret or stew or worro. And confidently I confront The judge, because I'm innosunt. Tho I'm a cow, I am no coward I have not flinched when thunder rowered. When lightning flashed I've merely giggled Like one whose funnybone is tiggled. And I shall never give up hoping That soon the jail front door will oping And I'll once more enjoy my freedom On Bean's green fields. When last I seed 'em They were a fair and lovely vision And so for my return I'm wishun. I hope that Bismuth will get his'n And spend a good long time in prison. — Walter R. Brooks

The fact that Saigyo composed a poem that begins, "I shall be unhappy without loneliness," shows that he made loneliness his master. — Matsuo Basho

Shonin: I have composed a poem. Kokushi: Let's hear it. Shonin: When I chant, Both Buddha and self Cease to exist. There is only the voice that says, Namu Amida Butsu. Kokushi: Something's wrong with the last couple of lines, don't you think? (after a lapse of time) Shonin: This is how I've written it: When I chant, Both Buddha and self Cease to exist. Namu Amida Butsu. Kokushi: There! You got it! — Takuan Soho

When I composed those verses I was preoccupied less with music than with an experience - an experience in which that beautiful musical allegory had shown its moral side, had become an awakening and a summons to a life vocation. The imperative form of the poem which specially displeases you is not the expression of a command and a will to teach but a command and warning directed towards myself. Even if you were not fully aware of this, my friend, you could have read it in the closing lines. I experienced an insight, you see, a realization and an inner vision, and wished to impress and hammer the moral of this vision into myself. That is the reason why this poem has remained in my memory. Whether the verses are good or bad they have achieved their aim, for the warning has lived on within me and has not been forgotten. It rings anew for me again to-day, and that is a wonderful little experience which your scorn cannot take away from me. — Hermann Hesse

When Wilde composed his works he surrounded himself with books. A friend remembered him writing a poem 'with a botanical work in front of him from which he . . . [selected] the names of flowers most pleasing to the ear to plant in his garden of verse'.5 Aubrey Beardsley's caricature of Wilde, 'Oscar Wilde at Work', shows the author at his desk surrounded by mountains of books. — Thomas Wright

You are the greatest poem ever written.
You are the greatest song ever sung.
You are the greatest portrait ever painted.
You are the greatest symphony ever composed.
You are the greatest act ever performed.
You are the greatest masterpiece ever created. — Matshona Dhliwayo

True poetry is composed of metaphors and symbols which are born in the heart, rise like clouds, and assume a celestial form; verses formed otherwise are not poetry, but only artificial words, each of which contradicts the feelings inside. The utterances and words that have not been formed in a person's soul as the voice of conscience are all hollow, no matter how embellished they are or how dazzling they seem to be. — M. Fethullah Gulen

Life

Life is a 'stage'
Every day is a book's new page.
The most of life you should make,
Every difficulty, as an opportunity,
you must take.

What you make out of life: gain or loss,
The choice is finally yours.
Always be in the NOW
For everything in life, be in WOW!

Life's a precious gift from God to you,
One good deed every day, you should do.
Perform your duties and your work,
and you shall surely invite Lady Luck.
Stay positive and have loads of fun
Have a cheerful life in the long run!
Be like the trees, and shine like the Sun
Help everyone, expecting nothing in return.

Life is a gift, make the most out of it
Stay happy, healthy, kind and fit
So that your 'play' is remembered
Reminisced as a 'Hit'!
(Poem Composed by Sangeet Pandey) — Sanchita Pandey

In January 1821, Thomas Jefferson wrote John Adams to "encourage a hope that the human mind will some day get back to the freedom it enjoyed 2000 years ago." This wish for a return to the era of philosophy would put Jefferson in the same period as Titus Lucretius Carus, thanks to whose six-volume poem De Rerum Naturum (On the Nature of Things) we have a distillation of the work of the first true materialists: Leucippus, Democritus, and Epicurus. These men concluded that the world was composed of atoms in perpetual motion, and Epicurus, in particular, went on to argue that the gods, if they existed, played no part in human affairs. It followed that events like thunderstorms were natural and not supernatural, that ceremonies of worship and propitiation were a waste of time, and that there was nothing to be feared in death. — Christopher Hitchens

Forever - is composed of Nows - / 'Tis not a different time - / Except for Infiniteness - / And Latitude of Home - / From this - experienced Here - / Remove the Dates - to These - / Let Months dissolve in further Months - / And Years - exhale in Years - — Emily Dickinson