There is only one recipe for a best seller. You have to get the reader to turn over the page.
Ian Fleming in How to Write a Thriller (1962)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Will the reader turn the page?
quote by Catherine Drinker Bowen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Book Of Days
Your life is as a book
Written on the pages are the weeks
For you would give anything to take just one look
Into the next chapter, the next page
Each page is a new thought, a new dream
Sometimes it takes so long to pass that page
And sometimes nothing is as it seams
For you know you can not go ahead or back
You know you are where you are
You know you can't change that
As you read page to page, so near to fear
You write the chapters as you go, with each turn
Each turn, each move changes what's to come
And you know each moment could be the last
With this in mind you go so mumb
So numb to the touch, to the thought
You turn page after page
until you reach the 'end'
And only then, you are freed from the title
The title that has kept your thoughts bound, and tight
You turn the pages one by one
You take the pain, take the joy
Until you are done
And your story becomes another on the shelf of eternity
(1/24/2008)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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Nada Mas (only the poem)
Reader, your voice is the poem
you are the words; and
nothing more.
Reader, there is no poetry
unless you speak it.
Reader, there is no sound
you must find what it has to say.
Reader, seek the thought
rising from your soul.
Reader, look all about you, up and down
no one else has come this way.
Reader, there is no other poem
only you among the words of the word; and
nothing more.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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Heinlein never had a best-seller. Even, I think, with Stranger in a Strange Land, I don't think it was actually on the New York Times best seller list.
quote by Jerry Pournelle
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turn That Page
Turn that page...
From this rampage.
That's stirring up,
And churning with a burning...
Many hearts.
Turn that page...
From this rampage.
That's caving in,
All lifestyles and beliefs...
Crumbling apart!
Too many people,
Are throwing pity parties.
With garbage that's collected,
In push carts!
A deep recession...
Has messed with minds,
And left folks stunned...
And shocked!
With sky high profits,
Crooks now pocket!
Turn that page...
From this rampage.
That's stirring up,
And churning with a burning...
Many hearts.
Turn that page...
From this rampage.
That's caving in,
All lifestyles and beliefs...
Crumbling apart!
Turn that page...
Yeah!
Turn that page!
Yeah!
Turn that page...
From this rampage.
That's stirring up,
And churning with a burning...
Many hearts.
I said...
Too many people,
Are throwing pity parties.
With garbage that's collected,
In push carts!
I said...
A deep recession...
Has messed with minds,
And left folks stunned...
And shocked!
With sky high profits,
Crooks now pocket!
We've got to...
Turn that page!
Got to-got to.
Turn that page!
We've got to...
Turn that page.
Got to-got to.
Turn that page.
We've got to...
Turn that page!
Got to-got to.
Turn that page!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Usually, when people get to the end of a chapter, they close the book and go to sleep. I deliberately write a book so when the reader gets to the end of the chapter, he or she must turn one more page.
quote by Sidney Sheldon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Brief Statement on the Snow Leopard
Let it be known that on page 12 where the
description of the snow leopard begins, an
egregious error was made in its description.
In no way does a snow leopard resemble all
the demons of hell. It seems that a catatonic
fear set in upon seeing the snow leopard for the
first time, which results in a rather inaccurate
description. Also, on page 43 there is a long pause followed by a
blood-curdling scream. What follows is an attempt to
describe the gurgling sound of copious amounts of
splashing blood. On page 67, a certain shlick noise
is mentioned, this is the sound of a can of
cheap beer being opened, as the hunter, much later
back at the lodge, found it necessary to consume a
quantity of said beverage when it was finally discovered that
he had completely lost the rest of his hunting party in
the bush. That was a completely different adventure, which
won't be elaborated on here, but let it suffice to say
that his ill-fitting shorts were riding up
in the crotch, which probably led to his finger
grazing ever so gently the trigger of his elephant
rifle, causing him to shoot himself almost nearly in the
brain. On page 69, when the aardvark is introduced,
the reader may wish to access certain reference
books in order to reveal its unlikely habitat
in its entirety. The likelihood of sighting an aardvark
atop such a mountainous peak was merely used
to lend page 70 a certain ambiance of horror.
If the stream-of-consciousness effect
which was employed on page 78 was a hindrance to the
narrative, the reader may inser these words
in place of the aforementioned passage, ...god-
damned barnacles, wherever you go they're all over me!
Perhaps it should also be mentioned
that the incessant drumming which begins on
page 112 is not foreshadowing, but if the reader
would like, it could serve to explain the absence
of any dialogue for the rest of the following chapters.
poem by Larry Sawyer
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The House Was Quiet and The World Was Calm
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night
Was like the conscious being of the book.
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The words were spoken as if there was no book,
Except that the reader leaned above the page,
Wanted to lean, wanted much most to be
The scholar to whom his book is true, to whom
The summer night is like a perfection of thought.
The house was quiet because it had to be.
The quiet was part of the meaning, part of the mind:
The access of perfection to the page.
And the world was calm. The truth in a calm world,
In which there is no other meaning, itself
Is calm, itself is summer and night, itself
Is the reader leaning late and reading there.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Recipe Of Loser
There is no absolute recipe to become a winner
But there is a certain recipe to be a loser:
Just give up!
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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A horse and an ass
A buyer had a seller in a deal.
Each did it as that was the best.
To the buyer it was like a horse
And to the seller it was like an ass.
30.06.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A waltz of words...
Like ingredients in some magical cosmic recipe,
I pour my words onto a blank empty page,
My fingers caressing the letters on each key,
Like the instruments in an orchestra without sound,
Each sentence paints a picture in words,
An alphabet of paint I have come to know so well,
To free my words from the page all you need do is read,
For only then may they swirl through the air,
Alive with their own meaning and motion,
A waltz of words... Dancing within your synapses...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Reader or writer
If you are a reader or a writer.
You should be a positive thinker.
You are more like a scientist observer.
Try to be an exact experimenter.
Nothing is too crazy to put on paper.
If you are a reader or a writer.
The reader is a wonderful dreamer.
The writer is a sincere worker.
Its lovely that both can be each other.
If you are a reader or a writer.
You should never say never.
So don't leave behind a book marker.
Make sure you have a word sharpener.
Turn The Page
mmm yeh yeh
a special smile
a certain touch
i never had a love that i loved so much
when i look back you're everywhere
turn the page
you were there
my very best friend
my summer day
my only someone to depend on when i've lost my way
you came and answered my every prayer
turn the page
you were there
what would i do if some strange morning
i opened my eyes to find you gone
i can't imagine how i would survive that
find another reason to go on
my one sure thing
my solid ground
all i ever wanted was the love that we found
when i look back you're everywhere
turn the page
you were there
what would i do if some strange morning
i opened my eyes to find you gone
i can't imagine how i would survive that
can't imagine how i would go on
a special smile
a certain touch
i never had a love that i loved so much
when i look back you're everywhere
turn the page
you were there
you came and answered my every prayer
turn the page
you were there
song performed by by Aaliyah
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Don't Have The Heart
(studio talking)
(brackets indicate backing vocals)
9, 9
8, 8
7, 7
6, 6
(Turn the page)
Turn the page now
(its 1978 its 1978)
(your on the telephone)
shut up
sit up
? 1978
and I'm reading these books
and being a boy
I can't reach over to press play
can you pass me the ashtray
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Listen, Learn, Read On
In ages past when spells were cast
In a time of men in steel
When a man was taught no special thing
It was all done by feel
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the book of taliesyn
Hear the song of lovely joan
Her sound so sweet and clear
In the courtroom of the king
Among children and the peers
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the book of taliesyn
now hear ye the words of taliesyn,
On the foaming beach of the ocean,
In the day of trouble,
I shall be of more service to thee
Than three hundred salmon...
The hare he bounds across the page
Past castles white and fair
Past dreaming chessmen on their boards
With a fools mate as a snare
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the book of taliesyn
three times I have been born
I know this from meditation...
The bird he flies the distance
From pages two to six
Past minstrels in their boxes
To the waters of the styx
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the book of taliesyn
Dont take the pictures lightly
Listen to their sound
For from their coloured feeling
Experience is found
So listen, so learn, so read on
You gotta turn the page, read the book of taliesyn
all the sciences of the world are collected in my breast,
For I know what has been, what is now,
And what hereafter will occur...
song performed by by Deep Purple
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Thank You Reader Of This Poem
THANK YOU READER OF THIS POEM
Thank you reader of this poem
Among the billions of pages
And innumerable possibilities
For giving your time
You have given
A bit of your light
To these lines.
Thank you reader of this poem
For the kindness of your Attention.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Daily Guide
Daily guide,
A message from a tomato seller;
Daily guide,
A message from a plantain seller;
Nike, like, hike, mike, dike, bike, kike, pike!
And like the muse of sellers at 'Bosoma Market';
But there i met the products that i needed.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Recipe In Her Kitchen
she had the keys to motherhood
four times she used them for her own...
and the circles she gave a start
now ripple concentric waves
into lives she will never know
she cooked her recipe
with simple love
just the basic ingredients - well spiced with humor
and a code of behavior
covering all situations with the grace
only those who give wisdom it's awesome scope
can define
I loved her
she was me aunt - my mentor
my scale for a constant conscience
those noisy kitchen table talks
sunsets over the ocean we both loved to watch
and all such like things
so easliy shared...
I feel so empty
now that she is gone
but the recipe-
the recipe....is still cooking
poem by Judy Sheffield
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How Sublime For Poets
how sublime for poets
who spend sleepless nights
writing a poem and posting
them at dawn when even
all the dusts on the furnitures
are still all asleep, and
he never expects anything
to happen to his life, not
even the simplest thank
you from an unknown
reader, and he, who in turn
knows that a reader exists
somewhere, he too, never
has the chance of saying
you are welcome.
it's the spirit, i suppose,
that cannot stop, but goes
on and on, speaking to
itself, like the way its body
speaks to the house and
listens to the winds of the
windows and waits for
an opening of his only door.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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No Poem In Here
this is a blank space reserved for an obituary of a dead poem
prose claims a space though in another glossy page.
plese turn to the next page
those non-poets like me please transfer to another room
this place is for dead poems for those who killed living poems this page this space is reserved for all of them.
we non-poets are moving out to another empty page
about to be added, if you can wait, mr. poet...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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