Ten censure wrong, for one that writes amiss.
Alexander Pope in Essay on Criticism
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reflections 101
he writes not because
he wants to be read and
be understood
got him wrong really
he writes because he likes
to live
life writes upon himself
and so he writes upon life too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Must
She writes as if there’s not much time.
She writes to pain, to happiness,
She writes to every remote detailed thought.
She writes to the departed,
to the extant,
to poverty,
to wealth.
She writes to mourn, and grief.
She writes to the wind, the rain,
forest, the desert, and mountains.
She writes to her pouring tears,
to her grateful moments,
She writes because really what she has is time.
She has no little ones to feed, or bathe,
nor a husband to make happy. To write is
to escape- to her. Time is not a problem, time
is just a killing system, she needs to kill in many words.
She writes as if there’s not much time.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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To A Husband
This is to the crown and blessing of my life,
The much loved husband of a happy wife;
To him whose constant passion found the art
To win a stubborn and ungrateful heart,
And to the world by tenderest proof discovers
They err, who say that husbands can't be lovers.
With such return of passion, as is due,
Daphnis I love, Daphinis my thoughts pursue;
Daphnis, my hopes and joys are bounded all in you.
Even I, for Daphnis' and my promise' sake,
What I in woman censure, undertake.
But this from love, not vanity proceeds;
You know who writes, and I who 'tis that reads.
Judge not my passion by my want of skill:
Many love well, though they express it ill;
And I your censure could with pleasure bear,
Would you but soon return, and speak it here.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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A Letter To Dafnis April: 2d 1685
This to the Crown, and blessing of my life,
The much lov'd husband, of a happy wife.
To him, whose constant passion found the art
To win a stubborn, and ungratefull heart;
And to the World, by tend'rest proof discovers
They err, who say that husbands can't be lovers.
With such return of passion, as is due,
Daphnis I love, Daphnis my thoughts persue,
Daphnis, my hopes, my joys, are bounded all in you:
Ev'n I, for Daphnis, and my promise sake,
What I in women censure, undertake.
But this from love, not vanity, proceeds;
You know who writes; and I who 'tis that reads.
Judge not my passion, by my want of skill,
Many love well, though they express itt ill;
And I your censure cou'd with pleasure bear,
Wou'd you but soon return, and speak itt here.
poem by Anne Kingsmill Finch
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Kiasu, what a hindrance
something is amiss
something is amiss
it is a piece of his brain
this kiasu society
is a hindrance to
growth of the most important kind
and steals the peace a little
he says what is not
from his heart
but where the masses run
not that they are wrong
but he is ignoring the light
the voice that is the
essence of the man
(kiasu - a malaysian word
about people who always
fear losing to the extent
that they follow the masses.)
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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He who would acquire fame must not show himself afraid of censure. The dread of censure is the death of genius.
quote by William Gilmore Simms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Book Of Suleika - The Loving One Again
WRITES he in Neski,
Faithfully speaks he;
Writes he in Tali,
Joy to give, seeks he:
Writes he in either,
Good!--for he loves!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Censure is a limp noodle across the wrist of the president. I think the way we vote on the articles will express the way we feel stronger than any censure vote.
quote by Larry Craig
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written in Black Ink
Upon
The tear-stained
Paper
She writes
Writes,
Her story
Her experiences
Her life
Written in
Black ink
Upon
The tear-stained
Paper
She writes
Writes,
Her sorrows
People she lost
People who are gone
Written in
Black ink
She writes for
Days and
Days
Until
At last
Her masterpiece
Is finished
Her eyes Begin to
Close and
Oblivion Takes hold
And when she
Awakens
Her story will be written
Written in black ink
poem by Autumn Winds
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I Am Sound
For have I
Built a castle
Upon believing
Before I doubt
I have suffered
But my friends say
I have learned from it
And for have I
Believed the snow could
Not be freezing
Upon the ground
Now my ass
Is blue and black but
I am sound
And for have I
Belonged to no one
More than fleetingly and in doubt
I have had what
Now is gone but
Still I've known them
And for have I
I have absolved my-
Self of demons
I must confess
Having known them
Growing old then
I will rehehehest
But where are the songs
For me to sing along
When I am hoping
Someone writes one
For me
And sings me something sweetly
For I promise to sing along
And then we'll both know nothing's wrong
Singing na nana na
For have I
Delivered comfort
To the aching
And for the tired
With these words
Of comic wisdom
I have triahahaid
So where are the songs
For me to sing along
When I am hoping
Someone writes one
For me
And sings me something sweetly
For I promise to sing along
And then we'll both know nothing's wrong
Singing na
Nana na
song performed by by Dandy Warhols
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I do not say a proverb is amiss when aptly and reasonably applied, but to be forever discharging them, right or wrong, hit or miss, renders conversation insipid and vulgar.
quote by Miguel de Cervantes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writes
He seems to be
Doing drugs and
Drinks...
As whatever
He writes
Doesn't
Make
Much
Sense
To me.
Maybe,
Whenever he
Writes...
He's so very
Intoxicated
On a high,
That his
Sanity
Bids him
Goodbye,
And the
Utter
Nonsense
That he
Writes...
Doesn't
Make
Much
Sense
To me ;)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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An Old Man Waits For a Poem To Come
AN OLD MAN WAITS FOR A POEM TO COME
An old man waits for a poem to come
How many poems will come
Before he’s done?
An old man writes and writes and writes
He will write
To the end of his life.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poem about Poetry - I know how God writes his poem
i know how god writes his poem
it is in the delicate, artistic and
defining lines of every flower
petals, pistil, stamen, pollens,
fragrant and scents that fill the air
i know how god writes his poem
it is in the ray of the sun
that reveals their metaphors
and rhymes in the rain
an arc over the clear blue sky
i know how god writes his poem
it is in your eyes, two lakes of honey
that sail me into your warm saccharine world
dilating and constricting to let them
speak more volume to my my lovelorn heart
i know how god writes his poem
it is in the dazzling lines of the sea
that shows the sky how many ways
it can define and redefine itself
it is in the breeze that pulls off a dancer
twirling towards me in every direction
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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My Heart Writes
Unending words flow through me
like streams of water-
My heart writes not to tell
the world Im broken,
that he should shed some tears for me.
But it writes to tell
the world my failures...
and that somehow
he would learn from them.
Broken words that know forever
flow through me like streams of water-
My heart writes not to show
the world I need him,
and that he should praise me more.
But it writes to tell
the world the lessons
I wish I knew before.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Happy New Year To You 2011
Kee writes to you,
My dearest,
Happy new year for you to be blessed,
you writes the best
really blessed if writes from the heart....
You penned few lines on my our book
The harvest of god and prayer words on dreams
Somewhere, you keep my heart and its burns
a kiss of your words....
To see no further than ……
And now our psalm
And a smell of fiery word in this poem
your writes little is the best....
I love our greatness in its charm..
happy new year to you dearest
Sincerely wish you happy new year,
you loves our poems on god
Kee thampi
poem by Thampi KEE
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Their Kind Of Books
You are somebody's wife and now,
Somebody's husband is using you;
But, is this what you call love? !
You are somebody's husband and now,
Somebody's wife is sleeping with you;
But, is this what you call love? !
What kind of world is this?
Is this the kind of love or lust that you want?
What kind of garden of Eden is this?
Is this what you call lust or love?
Oh, what a shame! ! !
A lady sleeps with a president and writes a book about it,
A man kills a woman ans writes a book about it,
A thief robs a bank and writes a book about it,
A man sleeps with somebody's wife and writes a book about it,
A flirt sleeps with different people and writes a book about it,
A kidnapper is very successful with his or her acts and writes a book about it,
A woman kills a man and writes a book about it,
And so on and so forth as we seen in this world;
But, sin is like enjoyment to these people in this Garden of Eden!
And now, thier kind of books are all over the stores in this world for sale.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A good journalist is not the one that writes what people say, but the one that writes what he is supposed to write.
quote by Todor Zhivkov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The offender writes in dust, the offended writes in marble.