Ideas are elusive, slippery things. Best to keep a pad of paper and a pencil at your bedside, so you can stab them during the night before they get away.
quote by Earl Nightingale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When you write down your ideas you automatically focus your full attention on them. Few if any of us can write one thought and think another at the same time. Thus a pencil and paper make excellent concentration tools.
quote by Michael LeBoeuf
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On occasion I have drawn as a release from painting. The economy in using paper, pencil, charcoal and crayon can help towards a greater gamble and higher rewards. I also find that drawing can generate ideas more rapidly than painting.
quote by William Scott
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You draw beautifully with your pencil
You draw beautifully with your pencil,
sketches of almost any flower and plant,
things that are alive and some things that are dead
even a woman giving birth
on the beach.
You draw beautifully with your pencil
on a table are slices of bread
with a hungry dog on the other side;
things that are alive and some things that are dead,
there are children that are wasting away from starvation
and a woman’s hand with a wedding band.
You draw beautifully with your pencil,
a sounding level going down a well
being held by a strong male hand.
Things that are alive and some things that are dead,
you sketch and sometimes it’s any thing valuable;
even people in love on a tropical island
and you draw beautifully with your pencil
things that are alive and some things that are dead.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Elusive Dreams
by Curly Putman and Billy Sherrill
(added 10/25/97, thanks to Pauline Buchanan)
You followed me to Texas, you followed me to Utah,
We didn't find it there so we moved on.
Then you went with me to A-la-bam',
Things looked good in Birmingham,
We didn't find it there so we moved on.
I know you're tired of fol-low-ing
My elusive dreams and schemes
For they're only fleeting things,
My elusive dreams.
You had my child in Memphis then I heard of work in Nashville,
But we didn't find it there so we moved on.
To a small farm in Nebraska, to a gold mine in Alaska,
We didn't find it there so we moved on.
I know you're tired of fol-low-ing
My elusive dreams and schemes
For they're only fleeting things,
My elusive dreams.
Now we've left A-las-ka because thewas no gold mine,
But this time only two of us moved on.
And now all we have is each other and a little memory
To cling to and still you won't let me go on alone.
I know you're tired of following
My elusive dreams and schemes
For they're only fleeting things,
My elusive dreams.
song performed by by Tom Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Middle of Madness
I can hear every tick of the clock.
My body is showered from nervous sweat.
Oh no my pencil tip broke,
and I must stop to sharpen it;
all the while losing time.
My mind has gone as blank
as the paper which I’m writing on.
Tick – Tock goes the clock as time moves on.
Times up the voice shots;
My hand goes limp and my pencil falls to
rest upon the edge of the paper.
I let out a big sigh of relief, for the madness has subside,
For my mid-terms are done.
The worst thing you can do is censor yourself as the pencil hits the paper. You must not edit until you get it all on paper. If you can put everything down, stream-of-consciousness, you'll do yourself a service.
quote by Stephen Sondheim
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Between Going and Coming
Between going and staying
the day wavers,
in love with its own transparency.
The circular afternoon is now a bay
where the world in stillness rocks.
All is visible and all elusive,
all is near and can’t be touched.
Paper, book, pencil, glass,
rest in the shade of their names.
Time throbbing in my temples repeats
the same unchanging syllable of blood.
The light turns the indifferent wall
into a ghostly theater of reflections.
I find myself in the middle of an eye,
watching myself in its blank stare.
The moment scatters. Motionless,
I stay and go: I am a pause.
poem by Octavio Paz
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode to Pencils
Pencil o pencil
What would i use to trace the stencil
Possibly crayon, marker, or a pen
Unfortunately they are back in the den
Could i use a pencil with color
They might be much taller
So thanks for the pencil to be born
It is easier to draw when there aren't torn
That is my ode
I hope you thought it flowed
poem by Kristi Miller
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paradigm Shift Pen
murmuring brain capsulated the ideas of fine ink,
where the bright ideas poise for a golden pen, yet
tremble of the angry and joy knight of the hand
that goes to the unwilling end
why have it gone to the ink, even good ideas
landed with spoiled things, what when wrong for
only the threshold pen receives the pain; published
in an awesome paper as it tell the whole world has
gone forever until when
laughter burst, as tears fall down to the ground
and the face looks like a murmuring pin in the
middle of the night and I heard a voice of cried
sings, wondering where to go as it leaves in vain
tell now of my misery, whom I kept it long
before you came on my penny, just as what you
say I pick it up in my ink, wishing all the happening
be on the way
find my wish and spray the best, the ink is ready
to say that you are willingly Free …..
poem by Antonio Liao
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Elusive Dreams
You followed me to Texas.
You followed me to Utah.
We didn't find it there,
So we moved on.
You went with me to Alabam,
And things looked good in Birmingham.
We didn't find it there,
So, we moved on.
I know you're tired of following
My elusive dreams and schemes!
For they're only fleeting things'
My elusive dreams.
You had my child in Memphis.
Then I heard of work in Nashville.
But we didn't find it there,
So we moved on'
To a small farm in Nebraska'
To a gold mine in Alaska'
We didn't find it there,
So we moved on.
Now we've left Alaska,
'cause there was no gold there.
But this time,
Only two of us moved on.
Now all we have is each other,
And a little memory to cling to.
Still, you won't let me go'
Go on alone.
I know you're tired of following
My elusive dreams and schemes!
For they're only fleeting things'
My elusive dreams
song performed by by Charlie Rich, lyrics by Billy Sherrill & Curly Putman from The Silver Fox (July 1974)
Submitted by Varmint Tracks
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Pencil Rain
The possible dream
Finale of seem
The moment that some call eternal that some call insane
Now helmets on each head awaiting the first lead
The pageant is named the pencil rain
The infantry stands
And holds out its hands
The marshals binoculars focus and skyward they train
Theyre searching the yonder blue
They look out for number two
The heraldry of the pencil rain
And now hear the roar that none can ignore
The thunderous clatter of splintering wood and lives that are claimed
And none who have witnessed all
Can think of a nobler cause than perishing in the pencil rain
The pencil rain
The pencil rain
The pencil rain
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ideas For Walls
So many things in my head, Ive always had them before
No reason to be upset, theyre just ideas for walls
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing, demanding that the nightlife be called the right life
Like putting paint on my feet & walking sideways in rows
My walls could be so complete, complete with patterns of toes
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing the left side, right side, which is the right side
Now-ideas
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
A little m for the mirror, a double u for the wall
To make things perfectly clear, a great big h in the hall
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing, demanding that the nightlife be called the right life
Is everybody confused? (no) Im making no sense at all
You want a room with a view you need ideas for walls
Now Im standing inside, outside, which is the right side
Im standing inside, outside, outside, right side
Inside, outside, which is the right side
Now -- ideas
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas
Theyre just ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
Ideas for walls
song performed by by Men Without Hats
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If this country can’t find its way to a human path, if it can’t inform conduct with a deep sense of life, then all of us, black
as well as white, are going down the same drain… I picked up a pencil and held it over a sheet of white paper, but my feelings stood in the way of my words. Well, I would wait, day and night, until I knew what to say. Humbly now, with no vaulting dream of achieving a vast unity, I wanted to try to build a bridge of words between me and that world outside, that world which was so distant and elusive that it seemed unreal. I would hurl words into this darkness and wait for an echo, and if an echo sounded, no matter how faintly, I would send other words to tell, to march, to fight, to create a sense of the hunger for life that
gnaws in us all, to keep alive in our hearts a sense of the inexpressibly human.
quote by Richard Wright
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Until film is just as easily accessible as a pen or pencil, then it's not completely an art form. In painting you can just pick up a piece of chalk, a stick or whatever. In sculpture you can get a rock. Writing you just need a pencil and paper. Film has been a very elitist medium. It costs so much money. It doesn't allow everyone who wants to tell stories tell stories. The great storytellers however are going to rise to the top, no matter what.
quote by Forest Whitaker
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Some Music Can Inspire
It is strange how some music
can inspire more than others
and make you write and write.
Give you ideas, which
you quickly put down on paper
and turn into beautiful things.
Sometimes it is a whole collection,
sometimes it is a single tune.
Whatever it is the more it is played
the more ideas that come to you.
It is a love affair
that can go on forever
whenever that music is played.
1 November 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Camera vs, Pencil
Exactly same and true
Picture of objects wonderful
The magical instrument
Captures the real image
But real things become still
Logics, camera can't fill
Images, camera only captures
Pencil gives birth to a picture
The sketches drawn by pencil
Speak and make you feel
Not only liveliness of the object
But compels one too, to interpret
Camera can't take image of soul
Pencil draws sketch of in and out
camera and pencil's combination
can fetch reality, feel and imagination
poem by S.D. Tiwari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Elusive Butterfly
Breeze blowing across my face
even the wind leaves a trace
gazing at wavering trees
petals floating in the breeze
For a brief moment in time
I thought maybe you'd be mine
but they were only dreams
and dreams are never what they seem
Love the elusive butterfly
always seems to pass me by
love the elusive butterfly
fly, fly fly, my elusive butterfly
Raindrops falling at my feet
why does love taste bittersweet?
butterfly's dancing in the trees
and then float off in the breeze
Love the elusive butterfly
always seems to pass me by
love the elusive butterfly
fly, fly fly, my elusive butterfly
poem by Jonny Soze
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poet's Heart
A poem is like a wild rose
Your ideas bloom into something as it grows
Some your ideas flow clear and beautiful like a song
And sometimes those thoughts turn into sadness about things that go wrong
But the most important things to remember is where those ideas start.
And that is from a Poet's Heart
poem by Frank Pulver
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Number 2 Pencil
We used to use a number2 pencil
to write down words we knew.
Then we advanced to pen with ink
to write and when we were through
we'd look at what we wrote with pride
and lay the pen aside.
Now we e-mail people and chat.
Pencil and pen have died.
Kids still use a pencil in school
to practice penmanship.
But slowly as they leave that scene
they start to lose that grip.
They text each other with a frenzy.
It never seems to end.
They've lost touch with a number2 pencil
and rarely use a pen.
poem by Edwina Reizer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stars, Stripes and Paper Dolls
Stars, stripes and paper dolls
Sometimes most prominent inside
My troubled mind,
That sordid spirit had
Locked the door to humanity-
I was none but a child-
Too many dreams
Snakes at my bedside-
My delusional world
Alive last night,
This morning and at
Noon, every night-
Walking the tightrope day by day
Some child lashing out at me, spit in my face-
None but a child myself-it frightened me-
I became a prisoner inside the world of my dreams-
Locked inside with a platinum key-
Fell one day down the elevator slats-
Closed the door on humanity, I did-
Stars, stripes and paper dolls-
Each had a name-
Intruders from a different galaxy, or perhaps
Some other universe-
I never saw that child again- I had shut the whole world out-
A snake wrapped about my mother’s severed hand-
It hardly mattered; she was close by, protecting me-
Locked inside a world I had
Fabricated for my self alone-
Sitting cross legged on the carpet, staring at the ceiling-
They threatened to take me away last night-
Today, tomorrow, noon and at night-
Stars, stripes and paper dolls-
I played as a child of fourteen-
It didn’t matter- they knew the truth, but I didn’t, so
I cried no tears- I hear rain falling outside my window-
My door is unlocked momentarily-
I ride my proud stallion into the night-
Losing insight and finding my dreams-
Stars, stripes and paper dolls- always there for me-
Today, tomorrow and at night- and
I never found the key.
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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