The writer wants to be understood much more than he wants to be respected or praised or even loved. And that perhaps, is what makes him different from others.
quote by Leo Rosten
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
A writer writes not because he is educated but because he is driven by the need to communicate. Behind the need to communicate is the need to share. Behind the need to share is the need to be understood. The writer wants to be understood much more than he wants to be respected or praised or even loved. And that perhaps, is what makes him different from others.
quote by Leo C. Rosten
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Paperback Writer
(LennonMcCartney)
Paperback writer
Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It's based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
It's the dirty story of a dirty man
And his clinging wife doesn't understand
His son is working for the Daily Mail
It's a steady job but he wants to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer
It's a thousand pages, give or take a few
I'll be writing more in a week or two
I can make it longer if you like the style
I can change it round and I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
If you really like it you can have the rights
It could make a million for you overnight
If you must return it, you can send it here
But I need a break and I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer (fade out)
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Writer's Dream
A writer's dream
You keep trying
Never denying to one day achieve
Despite what most believe
A writer's dream
You never give up
Regardless of what others may say
But wait patiently until that day
A writer's dream
Although it's been a while
It made you smile
To see your dream coming through
No matter how long it seemed to you
A writer's dream
You always believed in yourself
That's why your time has come
To be a successful writer
With the privilege of making much income
A writer's dream
You're happy to finally get this far
The world knows just who you are
Now this new sudden fame
Makes you feel like a star
poem by Donielle Smith
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Writer's Ink
I am the writer's ink,
So just write with me without any fear;
I will move more than expected,
I will write more than expected,
I am the writer's ink.
Use me slowly or even faster,
I will talk more than expected;
I do have the message to teach everyone.
Of the beauty of communication,
I am used by everyone;
I am the writer's ink,
I do make people sad or glad;
My ink makes rulers sad,
My ink makes personalities sad,
My ink makes the common man sad,
The way i am used matters.
I am the writer's ink,
I am not expensive;
Buy me and use me always.
How can a country like Ghana be poor? !
Ghana has gold, oil, cocoa and timber;
There are also diamond, bauxite and other minerals;
How then can Ghana be poor? !
The writer's ink should tell us more.
Mismanagement is the food in the country,
Ghana has really more than it needs;
This country shouldn't be poor.
What the leaders say on air is not,
What we see on the ground;
I am the talkative ready to talk.
I am the writer's ink,
I will always speak the truth!
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Home
Where you can truly
Be safe
Respected
Comfortable
Worriless
Cong ratulated
To be loved
A place you could be who you are
To be free
That’s the wish we all want is it not
Many people don’t have homes
All they have is a house
It’s where your not
Safe
Respected
Comfortable
Worril ess
Congratulated
Or even loved
It’s just where you live not where you belong
Or where you fit in it’s what you hate
If you’ve ever had a home then it’s worse
Then you know what you’re missing
Well I had a home
Then we moved away
And everything ran down hill from there
poem by Mrs. Cynosure
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fragments Of Solid Stone
Assumptions understood,
Hampers an understanding one demands.
Clarity misted in foggy speech...
Makes less sense,
When passed from first
To second hand.
How to keep integrity protected,
When it is infected with flaws?
How can statements be respected...
When truth is kept behind shut jaws?
Not a shred of honesty seeps,
When one seeks to appease...
With a purpose to awe!
Assumptions understood,
Hampers an understanding one demands.
Clarity misted in foggy speech...
Makes less sense,
When passed from first
To second hand.
And taking a stand,
To reveal realities be known...
May be tossed about like pieces of plastic,
To convince distractions of the masses,
These are fragments of solid stone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writer- a must?
Out of what does a writer write?
Out of hatred or perversion;
Out of denial or deprivation.
Why does a writer write?
To vent his anger or hatred.
To cry out from pain or lust.
How does a writer write?
By borrowing or distorting.
By modeling or duping.
For what does a writer write?
For an applause and a place.
It alone suits him, an idler.
What is the use of a writer?
For him to flaunt his skill.
For readers to idle away
Does the society need a writer?
Does a woman need cosmetics?
Writer is a part of civilization
16.05.2007.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That Shouldn't Even Be A Guess
You want to know 'if'
And just how much you are respected?
Pretend to forget,
Someone's routine...
Who could care less what you do,
How you do it and when you are done...
How you feel.
About anything!
Pretend...
Not to have 'this' ego,
Top ten on your agenda.
Your insensitivities,
Will find themselves known...
On someone's ear.
That's how much you are 'endeared'.
You want to know 'if'
And just how much you are respected?
Try forgetting.
Or interrupting their mile a minute conversations,
They have about themselves!
You want to know 'if'
And just how much you are respected?
That shouldn't even be a guess by now!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A parable about a real woman
There were six men in her life
And they all loved her, but...
Their love was so different.
The first one was very rich.
He loved her because she was beautiful.
He just wanted to have a doll,
To demonstrate her to everyone
And listen to everyones' saying:
'Wow! What a beauty you've got! '
So, she had left him.
The second one loved her because he loved sex
And all the time in bed he repeated:
'Oh, you behave like a whore!
I want you more and more.'
She was fed up with him and left him too.
The third one wanted her to give birth to 11 boys
As he wanted to make his own football team.
She wouldn't say that she didn't like football or children
But....11 boys! She just imagined their noise.
The forth man was a famous sculptor.
She was a muse for him, his Goddess.
He even made a pedestal for her.
But she also had to leave him
As she didn't want to be a secret object.
The fifth one liked the way she cooked.
But he was always hungry, so she understood:
If one day she wouldn't have enough food for him
He would eat her leaving only the bones.
There were six men in her life
And they all loved her but....
Their love was so different.
When the sixth man came into her life
He proclaimed: 'I love you because you are a REAL WOMAN! '
He loved her when she was smiling,
He loved her when she was crying,
He loved her when she was capricious or angry.
But her food was so delicious.
He loved her when she was sometimes foolish
Or sometimes very smart.
He loved her when she was sometimes lazy
And didn't feel like cooking.
He loved her because she was just a woman,
A woman with a womanly soul.
And she had to be understood.
She loved him because he discovered her soul.
She loved him because he was just a man.
When he looked at her or just touched her
Her soul was coming to light.
He had brought her life to delight.
She loved him because he was a REAL MAN.
There were six men in her life, but...
May be there were not six but seven or eight?
Who knows?
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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The Hands Of A Teacher
Optimism,
Optimism perished from the face of my earth
And then you came along, came along and swept me away,
She kissed me, as we stood on the edge,
The night made the day as we made for the bridge
It started raining hard, and I saw we may live to regret
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
Pessimism,
Pessimism perished from the face of my earth,
And then you came along, came along and swept me away,
Did you miss me? did you miss me as we walked
Through the pain, attached the chain so you could
See me again
I started asking myself, did I teach you right?
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
Understood why...
You came to me, you broke the bonds,
You set me free
And then the love that you promised me
Came a tumblin tumblin tumblin down
Into my hands...
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
So teacher teach me...
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Is All That Matters
I don't have expectations to be loved.
I don't dwell on the reception of it!
I have have it.
I give it.
And it is there to share.
I don't have expectations to be loved.
I do expect to be respected.
I don't accept disrespect at all.
That is one thing,
I don't have.
To give.
And it is not here as a thought either.
I don't have expectations to be loved.
If it is returned as it is given...
That's it.
I have no other preferences,
With requirements.
Nor do I sit,
To question love one bit!
I know it!
And that is all that matters!
With or without,
Someone to share it with.
It will be there...
Inside and recognized!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I would rather be loved by somebody who respected me.
quote by Jennifer Tilly
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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What is the Color of love?
Written by: Wilfred C. Mellers Monday, February 12,2007
I have dated different people before and the one thing that I have found out is that we all want the same thing. To love and be loved, to be understood and appreciated, to be valued as a human being, and to be respected as a couple.
It doesn’t matter who you are or where you come from.
What matters the most is what is on the inside.
Trust doesn’t come with a color
Honesty doesn’t come with a color
Commitment doesn’t come with a color
Hope doesn’t come with a color
Sharing doesn’t come with a color
Faith doesn’t come with a color
Sacrifice doesn’t come with a color
Wanting doesn’t come with a color
Despair and loneliness doesn’t come with a color
Unfaithfulness doesn’t come with a color
Longevity doesn’t come with a color
Caring doesn’t come with a color
Wanting to be with someone doesn’t come with a color
Spending your life with someone doesn’t come with a color
Giving oneself doesn’t come with a color
Sharing values doesn’t come with a color
If all these things don’t come with a color, then why do we look at the superficial than the substance of love? It doesn’t matter who you are with but that you are with someone that loves and cares for you. That someone that will be there for you in your darkest hour of need is what that is important. We train our kids to look at the differences that we have than look at the content of ones character. We all belong to the human family and this is what makes us the same. We are all like flowers blooming in a great garden we call earth. We come in many different colors, shades, and styles. What makes us different is what makes us the same. A bee doesn’t care about the color of the flower only that the nectar is sweet.
You my friend are sweet nectar that blooms only for awhile just to disappear till time again to bloom. Cherish the differences that make us all human. A color is nothing more than just that; a color.
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Who Is God, That God Needs To Be Praised?
WHO IS GOD THAT GOD NEEDS TO BE PRAISED?
Who is God that God needs to be praised?
Who are we that we are worthy of praising God?
Isn’t this Praise a form of flattery?
And how can God possibly want or need it?
We may need to praise-
Out of Gratitude
We may need to thank God
For all our blessings,
But does God want us to be flatterers
Who think to be rewarded for our praise?
I need to thank God
In that need is the Praise
But Praise alone
Makes both God and me
Seem unworthy.
I thank God
For having given me
This Poem.
If it is a poem.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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How Conformity Is Achieved
Take an abnormal way of life,
And hype it as accepted.
Ensure every aspect of it...
Is praised for its ways and acclaimed.
Take those who do not fit,
This picture of twisted mental bliss...
And defame them as misfits.
With an announcement made of this.
And that's how conformity is achieved.
With a maddening insanity,
Increasingly projected.
Respected and received.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I don't think I have been loved by my troops, but I think I have been respected.
quote by William Westmoreland
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We shall never be understood or respected by the English until we carry our individuality to extremes, and by asserting our independence, become of sufficient consequence in their eyes to merit a closer study than they have hitherto accorded us.
quote by Henry Lawson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Affairs Of The Heart
Written by stevie nicks.
One set of doors was the color of honey
One set of doors was pink and grey
Well I wonder which set is mine, said she
As she walked down the long hallway
Well I wonder which set of rooms are mine
For in these rooms she would live and die
Well its better to have loved and lost
(ah but its better not to lose)
Then to never have loved at all
(never have loved, never have loved at all)
Well its better to have loved and lost
(ah but its better not to lose)
Then to always be alone
(always be alone)
In your heart
I thought that there was more involved
Through all that time and all these months
I stopped many times to question you
Well I told you that it was the right thing to do
Well its better to have loved and lost
(ah but its better not to lose)
Then to never have loved at all
(never have loved, never have loved at all)
Well its better to have loved and lost
(ah but its better not to lose)
Then to always be alone
(always be alone)
In your heart
But I knew that this was just for now
And the time would take its toll upon us all
Well it would break our hearts
Tear it apart
But no one understood
The affairs of the heart
Well its better to have loved and lost
Then to never have loved at all
(never have loved, never have loved at all)
Well itll break your heart
Tear it apart
But no one understands
(no one understands)
The affairs of the heart
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Losing Life to Fear
In fear of being heard,
In fear of being understood,
In fear of not being heard,
In fear of not being understood,
In fear of being misheard,
In fear of being misunderstood,
In fear of hearing too much,
In fear of understanding too much,
In fear of saying too much,
In fear of saying too little,
In fear of being too enlightened,
In fear of not being factually correct,
In fear of being too bright,
In fear of being too ignorant,
In fear of being praised,
In fear of being bullied,
In fear of not being like others,
In fear of loosing my individuality,
In fear of being ostracized,
In fear of being camouflaged,
In fear of being the attraction,
In fear of being ignored,
In fear of being too different,
In fear of being too common,
In fear of following others,
In fear of disobeying others,
In fear of being too gullible,
In fear of being too stubborn,
In fear of being used,
In fear of being misused,
In fear of rewards,
In fear of punishments,
In fear of responsibility,
In fear of expectations,
In fear of being trusted,
In fear of being mistrusted,
In fear of your lack of response,
In fear of your over-reaction,
In fear of eternal silence,
In fear of noisy communication,
In fear of your acceptance,
In fear of your rejection,
In fear of exciting you,
In fear of upsetting you,
In fear of loving you,
In fear of hating you,
In fear of your love,
In fear of your hatred,
In fear of being loved,
In fear of being hated,
In fear of thinking,
In fear of existing,
In fear of living,
In fear of dying,
In fear of being myself,
In fear of being another,
In fear of knowing myself,
In fear of neglecting myself,
I lost my voice;
I lost my identity;
I lost my self.
I lost this life;
I lost my life;
I lost life's life.
poem by Suraj Samtani
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A serious writer is not to be confounded with a solemn writer. A serious writer may be a hawk or a buzzard or even a popinjay, but a solemn writer is always a bloody owl.
quote by Ernest Hemingway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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