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Poetry is an enumeration of birds, bees, babies, butterflies, bugs, bambinos, babayagas, and bipeds, beating their way up bewildering bastions.

Carl Sandburg

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Carl Sandburg
Age: 89 †
Born: 1878
Born: January 6
Died: 1967
Died: July 22
Biographer
Historian
Journalist
Musicologist
Novelist
Poet
Screenwriter
Trade Unionist
Writer
Galesburg
Illinois
Carl August Sandburg
Birds
Bastions
Bird
Bewildering
Poetry
Butterflies
Baby
Bugs
Way
Beating
Bees
Babies
Enumeration
Butterfly
Bipeds

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Newspapers tell beforehand what is going to happen - maybe.
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Poetry is a tracing of the trajectories of a finite sound to the infinite points of its echoes.
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Nearly all the best things that came to me in life have been unexpected, unplanned by me.
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For we know when a nation goes down and never comes back, when a society or a civilization perishes, one condition may always be found. They forgot where they came from. They lost sight of what brought them along.
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There are dreams stronger than death. Men and women die holding these dreams.
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Rest is not a word of free people. Rest is a monarchical word.
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An ambition is a little creeper that creeps and creeps in your heart night and day, singing a little song, Come and find me, come and find me.
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Poetry is the report of a nuance between two moments, when people say, 'Listen!' and 'Did you see it?' 'Did you hear it? What was it?'
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The woman named Tomorrow sits with a hairpin in her teeth and takes her time
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Strange things blow in through my window on the wings of the night wind and I don't worry about my destiny.
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Let a joy keep you. Reach out your hands and take it when it runs by.
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I've written some poetry I don't understand myself.
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POETRY: A sliver of the moon lost in the belly of a golden frog.
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Time is the coin of your life. It is the only coin you have, and only you can determine how it will be spent. Be careful lest you let other people spend it for you.
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When I was writing pretty poor poetry, this girl with midnight black hair told me to go on.
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Men of ideas vanish when freedom vanishes.
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Poetry is a projection across silence of cadences arranged to break that silence with definite intentions of echoes, syllables, wave lengths.
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There are some people who can receive a truth by no other way than to have their understanding shocked and insulted.
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a women is like a tea bag.it's only when she is in hot water that you realize how strong she is.
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The peace of great books be for you, Stains of pressed clover leaves on pages, Bleach of the light of years held in leather.
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