The thirst for light often cuts short the wings of the moth.
aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
When It Cuts
cannot justify your envy
But I will be understanding when you stay
Then I will satisfy you in every (way)
But I'm not feeling coherent when you say
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I die again
Again
Though I'm right, I don't think I'll win this fight
But I'm trying though it's ripping me inside
Just in case that I'm taking up your space
I'll be feeling too, whatever's left inside
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I die again
I can't go on
I'm not that strong
I'm so alone
You just gotta set me free
I'm still living day, no way
I don't care what you say
Your eyes dispise my lies
Just say goodbye
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I die again
Again, again
Waste your breath
song performed by by Ill NiO
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
When It Cuts
cannot justify your envy
But I will be understanding when you stay
Then I will satisfy you in every (way)
But I'm not feeling coherent when you say
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I die again
Again
Though I'm right, I don't think I'll win this fight
But I'm trying though it's ripping me inside
Just in case that I'm taking up your space
I'll be feeling too, whatever's left inside
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I die again
I can't go on
I'm not that strong
I'm so alone
You just gotta set me free
I'm still living day, no way
I don't care what you say
Your eyes dispise my lies
Just say goodbye
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I
When it cuts, it cuts, it cuts hard
And I die again
Again, again
Waste your breath
song performed by by Ill NiO
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Moonlight Moth
When moonlight lit
Moth's light wings
It shone bit by bit
In deep silver strings
At moth's demise
Many moon lit swings
In well come improvise
It inverted things
It turned to grit
Silver wind disguise
And made moon a twilit
In its shining arise
poem by Pedro Cescon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No Short-Cuts To Success
The righteous shall prosper
By sweat of their brows and prowess,
There are no short cuts to success!
Equal opportunities for one and all,
And to develop the intellect,
Should at all times be stressed;
Without seeking short cuts to success!
The third class compartments in our trains
Got re-christened as second class,
But the status of our masses,
Got even worse!
Such gimmicks and eye wash
Can no longer hold,
For there are no shot cuts to success
You have always been told!
Let the deserving prosper,
With the right man for the right job,
We are not handicapped or retarded,
No concessions or quotas are required
To get things started!
For the country to prosper, go down
To the grass roots; genuinely uplifting
The status of the masses, as our single
Holy mission,
Since our forefathers have made adequate
Provisions in our Constitution..
But we have failed to implement or redress,
So now seek short cuts to success! !
Incandescent Moth (For Celeste)
the incandescent moth,
born flying with maddened joy
towards the light...
heart purified by weeping,
healed by childlike wonder.
mind searching every crevice
for every dram of truth.
soul bearing the marks of the whip,
childlike hands that dare to touch.
a river bent on giving,
the moth, closer and closer still,
till wings become the dust of angels,
spread at the feet of beginning and end!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The moth hound
Of a coon hound
you have heard
there's plenty around
i have found
a very strange dog
who's nothing, but a moth hound
when ever, you see
he sees a moth near by
the moth trys to flee,
it isn't no match
as my dog goes after the moth,
and makes a wonderful catch
he eats it all the way
and chews and swallows
he looks at me, now he wants to play
Fire-Caught
The gold moth did not love him
So, gorgeous, she flew away.
But the gray moth circled the flame
Until the break of day.
And then, with wings like a dead desire,
She fell, fire-caught, into the flame.
poem by Langston Hughes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Japan
Today I pass the time reading
a favorite haiku,
saying the few words over and over.
It feels like eating
the same small, perfect grape
again and again.
I walk through the house reciting it
and leave its letters falling
through the air of every room.
I stand by the big silence of the piano and say it.
I say it in front of a painting of the sea.
I tap out its rhythm on an empty shelf.
I listen to myself saying it,
then I say it without listening,
then I hear it without saying it.
And when the dog looks up at me,
I kneel down on the floor
and whisper it into each of his long white ears.
It's the one about the one-ton temple bell
with the moth sleeping on its surface,
and every time I say it, I feel the excruciating
pressure of the moth
on the surface of the iron bell.
When I say it at the window,
the bell is the world
and I am the moth resting there.
When I say it at the mirror,
I am the heavy bell
and the moth is life with its papery wings.
And later, when I say it to you in the dark,
you are the bell,
and I am the tongue of the bell, ringing you,
and the moth has flown
from its line
and moves like a hinge in the air above our bed.
poem by Billy Collins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Moth
The Moth
Goes near it
To seek some light
In its world of darkness
To seek some respite
In its desolate life
To seek some warmth
In its search for love,
Care and belongingness…
The Moth goes near it
Hoping to find
Some acceptance
Some reciprocation
Of its burning desire
For that source of light
But try as he might
He fails, he fails
And he miserably fails…
Every time he goes to it
He comes back
With less of warmth
And a lot less care…
Burns and Scalds
On its bruised body
Because of the Light
That hardly cares
To share its luminance
To shower its radiance
On this hapless victim
Of its crude ignorance…
And yet the Moth
Madly in love
Dedicated to its light
That source of “delight”
Which it hopes
Would be for him
One day –
And pine for him
As he does for her…
He would win over it,
Come what may…
Goes seeking her
Night after night
And every night
He returns back
Burned and scalded
As ever before…
So with all these scalds
And scars of burns
Which he accepts
As the kind
Give-aways
Of his beloved light,
Tired yet devoted
With wings so torn
He can hardly fly…
He still makes
One last attempt
To appease his Beloved -
That luminous light
On one last night.
And he burns and burns
And he so badly burns
His body in ashes…
All over his Beloved’s
Flame of Light.
And in that moment
Of despair and death
Not just the night
Mourns this grave loss
Of love and longing…
The candle-light
Burning bright
For all these nights
Realises the depth
Of the Moth’s
Eternal love for her…
And in a sense of shock
Gives up itself
To the world of
Darkness and Death.
So now the burnt-out,
Withered Wick
Remains the stoic witness
To tell this tragic tale
Of the Moth and the Light
How they met every night
Yet there was no love
Lost nor gained,
Neither realised
Nor reciprocated.
And yet when they couldn’t
Unite in life…
Death found a way out
Heralding their sacred union
In the after-life.
Amen!
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Expectation
I fear that I have lost you
not from things you say,
just from the things you leave unsaid
on too many a day.
But should I not have known, my love
that things would end like this?
For too many years have passed us by
since that long ago cherished kiss.
The constant living that was separate from me
is the magnet I can't fight.
I can understand that attraction
like the moth that's drawn to the light.
I cannot dowse the light I fear
nor capture the moth I see.
And so the loss is my heartache
that came expectedly.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Best Way to Comb the Blonde Hair
Years is the worst unforgivable hairstylist
He cuts my hair short;
shorter than our short story..
He cuts my hair off;
off the last relationship..
Now it's 4 sharp in the afternoon,
i, wooden, seize the comb, wooden.
Mirror does not tell lies
age can only climb high.
the comb runs through my hair
my hair flows through somewhere
more strands of hair are gone..
more worries are born
I forget how I combed hair
back in those years..
A young blonde is coming..
and i gonna ask her this question.
poem by Garland Jodie Jeen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
There was a moth in there, and it still had its wings crumpled up, and it was just starting to pump its wings up. Life continues in lots of places, and life is a magical thing.
quote by Laurel Clark
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Cuts Both Ways
It cuts both ways
Our love is like knife
That cuts both ways
Its driven deep into my heart each time
That I realize
How it cuts both ways
Cant be together
Cannot live apart
Were heading straight into a broken heart
But I cant stop
(bridge)
cause I feel too much to let you go
Im hurting you and its hard I know
To stay and fight for what weve got
Knowing itll never be good enough
cause you and I are dangerous
We want too much and life aint that way
Dont ask for more
Dont be a fool
Havent we already broken every rule
It cuts both ways, were in too deep for sorry alibis
Cant have regrets or even question why
We cant say goodbye
Because it cuts both ways
No more illusions of the love we make
No sacrifice would ever be too great
If you would just stay
(bridge)
Cuts both ways
Our love is like a knife that cuts both ways
Its drivin deep into my heart each time I see we livin the lie
And it cuts both ways
It cuts both ways, mmm
Cuts both ways
Cuts both ways
song performed by by Gloria Estefan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
On the Second Day
On the second day,
The moth still sat, inert,
In the bowl of the urinal—
Still wedged between
The plastic of grating
Of the puck cover,
Still caressing
The deodorizing cake
That bakes in the warmth
Of several daily golden fountains:
In something personal.
By this time,
It had wings like wet,
Waxy tissue paper,
Folded to its body,
Which shribbled in
The humid, faux-sterile
Air.
The moth looked a paler shade,
Its skin warping to a half-way
Transparent wrinkle,
To a putrefied fold
Of dissolving empty space.
The poor moth.
I felt bad for it.
I tried to flush it again
To no avail,
So what else could I do?
I had to aim at the target
And take it down,
Sinking it momentarily
In the warmth of whatever
Left me,
Whatever traces of yerba mate
And morning shake might've
Percolated out
At 11: 14.
No offense to you, dear insect.
poem by Tim Stensloff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cuts
It's a tied rope
Life flips
Someone else
have found the mood
Break to another world
I got to tell them
I was the one before
and it's not my fault
I'm what you adore
Take my flesh I am real
What you gonna do
if I let you feel
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
The time is up
fighting against the miserables
When I step into your room
I know what's on your mind
So shut your mouth
I was the one before
I got your time
I'm what you ignore
It is true I'm healed
so what you gonna do with
if I let you feel
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Say it I know you can't
Follow cause I'm to fast
Say it I know you can't
Lay with me
Say it I know you can
Follow cause I'm to fast
Say it, say it again
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Cuts
I'm not a maniac
Say it, say it again
song performed by by Guano Apes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Thirst cuts toasts.
aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Pot And Kettle
Come close to me, dear Annie, while I bind a lover's knot.
A tale of burning love between a kettle and a pot.
The pot was stalwart iron and the kettle trusty tin,
And though their sides were black with smoke they bubbled love within.
Forget that kettle, Jamie, and that pot of boiling broth,
I know a dismal story of a candle and a moth.
For while your pot is boiling and while your kettle sings
My moth makes love to candle flame and burns away his wings.
Your moth, I envy, Annie, that died by candle flame,
But here are two more lovers, unto no damage came.
There was a cuckoo loved a clock and found her always true.
For every hour they told their hearts, 'Ring! ting! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!'
As the pot boiled for the kettle, as the kettle for the pot,
So boils my love within me till my breast is glowing hot.
As the moth died for the candle, so could I die for you.
And my fond heart beats time with yours and cries, 'Cuckoo! Cuckoo!'
poem by Robert Graves
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Cuts Both Ways
It cuts both ways
Our love is like a knife
That cuts both ways
It's driven deep into my heart each time
That I realize
How t cuts both ways
Can't be together
Cannot live apart
We're heading straight into a broken heart
Bu I can' stop
BRIDGE:
'Cause I feel too muc to let you go
I'm hurting you and it's hard I know
To stay and fight for what we've got
Knowing it'll never be good enogh
'Cause you and I are dangerous
We want too much and life ain't that way
Don't ask me for more
Don't be a fool
Haven't we already broken ever rule
It cuts both ways
song performed by by Gloria Estefan and Miami Sound Machine from Cuts Both Ways
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
A Moth Slow Dancing In Flames
After dark
a solitary moth
clad in lackluster
traipsed across the humid air
circumnavigating dismal filigrees
like an ominous message
conveying the petrichor
It weathered the tedium
of its own gust
crumbling slivered dusts
and tread the astray thread
of light and warmth
to find a candle
weep floridly bright
Like hands reaching out -
hands shaped into
a house with an open hearth
it melted and undressed
while its sartorial flame
remain unscathed
The moth basked
in this unprecedented heraldry,
this munificent beauty
like how the wine
feign resplendence under
the moon's gentle bliss
and the moth spewed
the colours it eschewed
The saudade warmth
embraced the moth's cape
of shame and pride
and became its asylum
and gilded heaven
Slowly dancing in flames
because to burn out
is better than to fade away
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whispers [Şoapte]
In the sad night that keeps us now apart
Maybe you hear around some sighs bizarre
And fluttering of wings, words from the heart...
It is my longing coming from afar
And tired, next to you to sleep has flown,
As if it were a moth avoiding light,
Which at your head reposes with delight
On a small book closed quickly on its own
For sleep will keep us separate tonight...
poem by George Topîrceanu, translated by Octavian Cocoş
Submitted by anonym
Vote! | Copy!