I seriously doubt I would ever have written the first story had I not been a lawyer. I never dreamed of being a writer. I wrote only after witnessing a trial.
quote by John Grisham
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
I view myself primarily as a trial lawyer who happens to be writing, as opposed to a writer who happens to be a trial lawyer, so the audience is like a jury to me.
quote by Vincent Bugliosi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Writer's Author
GOD had written a story
in a book called 'destiny'
all things and even not-a-things are listed
and won't be missed
even Shakespeare could write the beautiful romeo n Juliet,
the story of Othello, Hamlet
or even he could made the beautifullest sonnet
GOD had written about all writer and poet
GOD is writer's author
March 2009
poem by Arif Furqan
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The Poems Became The Story Of My Inner Life
THE POEMS BECAME THE STORY OF MY INNER LIFE
The poems became the story of my inner life-
A series of confessions-
Often simple and direct
They seemed to lose their poetry-
I wrote them and I write them as I need to
I do not know if their rhythm is real
Or only prose-
I write them as poetry
Because this is what I am and have now-
Still the overwhelming anxiety I have now suggests
I always in them tell only a small part of the story
As if the feeling inside
Is always more than any poetry that pretends to express and represent it –
If I doubt the value of this poem and doubt the value of all my poetry and doubt my own value, poetry or not, and doubt and doubt-
Then certainly ‘doubt’ is one keynote of my inner life and story.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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There Was Nothing Left To Write
THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT TO WRITE
There was nothing left to write
Everything had already been written
And was being written over again and again
By thousands elsewhere-
There was nothing left to write
And nothing new to say -
And no need for anything he had to give-
It was over for him as a writer
Whether he accepted it or not-
No one would ever need or want anything he could do again-
And so when he despite all this still wrote
It seemed to many simply pathetic-
The obsessive reflex of an already lost soul-
Who wrote and wrote and wrote
Who writes and writes and writes
Who cannot stop
However senseless all he does, is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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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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I Would Like It Better If
If I wrote to be liked,
I would not be read.
And I do like that some read,
What I write!
But I would like it better,
If I was fed...
By what it is I've said that is written...
And read by those who read what I wrote!
Finding a nibble to afford,
Liked And nourishes...
To feed the reader something read,
Coming from this writer's head!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Emphatically Expressed
A writer doesn't write to attract readers.
Maybe gossip columnists do.
To sell images and ruin a few.
But a writer who is true,
Writes because that is what writers do.
I wrote years before anything I wrote was read.
It wasn't to impress.
Those issues express about me,
Have long been put to rest in my head.
If something I write is read...
I hope a connection is made from what I've said.
Some also make claims they too like to write.
And I say to myself,
'Liking and loving are different appetites.'
No one who 'is' a writer takes it 'light'.
And those who feel this way...
May stay up night after night,
After many a sleepless night.
And it isn't for fame or money.
Trust me on that.
And I thank God what I do isn't done for the glory.
That's another story.
However,
When my contributions do become discovered...
It will be 'seen' there is some depthness meant.
Something within me that seems never to be solved.
Something with content I can not just dissolve.
And there is nothing to glorify,
When someone who writes for nourishment...
To feed others,
Do not think themselves to eat or drink.
Not when a thought comes to possess their minds,
With a desire to be completed.
Coming with a sensation one should heed.
And most of the time this is the writer's deed.
Whether the one who 'writes' gets a wink of sleep,
Or blinks.
And no matter if what is written is accepted,
Or thought to be rejected and stinks!
This kind of discipline...
Does not seek to reach for that attention!
Unless,
Money becomes mentioned.
And only then,
Of course...
What I have just emphatically expressed,
You have my permission to ignore.
Since my intention will take upon another direction,
To excite my need to explore...
With a more deepened Introspection.
I do write.
But biting into a good meal,
Intrigues!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dream Operator
When you were little
You dreamed you were big
You must have been something
A real tiny kid
You wish you were me
I wish I was you
Now dont you wake up
The dream will come true
Every dream has a name
And names tell your story
This song is your dream
Youre the dream operator
Its bigger than life
You know its all me
My face is a book
But its not what it seems
Three angels above
The whole human race
They dream us to life
They dream me a face
And every dream tells it all
And this dream is your story
You dreamed me a heart
Youre the dream operator
Shake-it-up dream
Hi-di-ho dream
Fix-it-up dream
Look at me dream
Ive been waiting so long
Now I am your dream
Hard to forget
Hard to go on
When you fall asleep
Youre out on your own
Let go of your life
Grab on to my hand
Here in the clouds
Where well understand
And you dreamed it all
And this is your story
Do you know who you are?
Youre the dream operator
And you dreamed it all
And this is your story
Do you know who you are?
Youre the dream operator
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The writer probably knows what he meant when he wrote a book, but he should immediately forget what he meant when he's written it.
quote by William Golding
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kawabata
No doubt
the crazy boy thinks
he's having his mother read
some sort of record
of his memories,
something that he wrote himself-
that's what he thinks
he's listening to.
His eyes sparkle
with pride.
His mother has no idea
whether or not he understands
what she's saying,
but every time
she comes to see him
she repeats
the same story,
and she gets better
and better at telling it-
it begins to seem like
she's actually reading a story
of her son's.
She remembers things
she had forgotten.
And the son's memories grow
more beautiful.
The son is drawing
the mother's story out,
helping her,
changing the story-
there's no way
of telling
whose novel it is,
whether it's the mother's
or the son's.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I was a trial lawyer when I was elected to Congress.
quote by Geraldine Ferraro
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All These Things
Sometimes I don’t feel who I am.
I don’t feel like what I write
because I don’t want to be pigeonholed
for just one thing I do.
I think myself as a whole
and not just one object.
I call myself a writer,
not a poet,
not a novelist,
neither a songwriter
nor a short story writer be.
I am a writer
because all those things
emulate from within me.
10 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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Writer Damon Runyon
Shirley Temple launched her career,
with Littlest Miss Marker,
making her Best Star of the Year.
Damon Runyon wrote this story,
It was a drama, not very gory.
Damon wrote “Guys and Dolls”
which is a Broadway musical,
Manhattan’s Hell’s Kitchen named after him
named Runyon’s Way to this day.
He named his mobster friend Otto, Regret,
A horse player who used to bet.
now Regret is in Shirley Temple’s hit.
Later, Otto ended up getting killed,
Damon did damage control,
Damon wrote “Otto would have been effective as
a bodyguard as a child aged two year old.
Damon died at 66, he had throat
cancer the year was 1946.
History’s first telethon of the nation,
washosted Milton Berle for
Damon Runyon Cancer Research Foundation.
Damon sounds like an interesting and a sensational writer,
I will read more of his writings to become brighter.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on September 24,2011
www.christinasunrise.com www.puppetpoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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To be a writer
They say, when you have nothing to say
Do not say anything
They say when you have nothing good to say
Do not say anything
He is not convinced
He wants to be a writer and to be one he must write
What is in his mind
To be a writer he must write and write and write
Even when there is nothing to write
Even when there is nothing to say even when nobody listens
Even when the word is dead even when there is no sense at all
Even when he gets blind and deaf and mute even when his fingers are cut even when his mind is blank even when his consciousness is lost
Even when you are angry even when you say what is written is nothing
But trash, dung, cadaver, corpse, poo, pee, even when there is nothing
Anymore,
He writes because he is a writer and no one can stop him now.
he is
he is writing
he is writing always
he is writing always whatever that needs to be written
and here you are foolishly reading. thanks to you, audience of one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Trial By Fire
Treasures in the jars of clay
Let the light shine out of darkness
Fallen down but not destroyed
Its just another trial by fire
In my song Ill send a prayer
Do you know me, do you hear me
Where the will to face this shame
Its just another trial by fire
Hello mr. moon
Can I have some time with you
Trouble keep me runnin...
You can see it comin...
I know who shines down on you
Hello mr. moon
Ive come back to talk to you
All my life Im runnin...
From the love thats comin...
Saving grace please pull me through
In my doubt I cant believe
Like a wave tossed where the wind blows
Tears of faith temper my soul
Just another trial by fire
Just another trial by fire
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writer Damon Runyon
Shirley Temple launched her career,
with Littlest Miss Marker,
making her Best Star of the Year.
Damon Runyon wrote this story,
It was a drama, not very gory.
Damon wrote 'Guys and Dolls'
which is a Broadway musical,
Manhattan's Hell's Kitchen named after him
named Runyon's Way to this day.
He named his mobster friend Otto, Regret,
A horse player who used to bet.
now Regret is in Shirley Temple's hit.
Later, Otto ended up getting killed,
Damon did damage control,
Damon wrote 'Otto would have been effective as
a bodyguard as a child aged two year old.
Damon died at 66, he had throat
cancer the year was 1946.
History's first telethon of the nation,
washosted Milton Berle for
Damon Runyon Cancer Research Foundation.
Damon sounds like an interesting and a sensational writer,
I will read more of his writings to become brighter.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on September 24,2011
www.suzae.com www.puppetpoems.com
www.suzaria.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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I am a trial lawyer. ... Matilda says that at dinner on a good day I sound like an affidavit.
quote by Mario Cuomo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am a trial lawyer. Matilda says that at dinner on a good day I sound like an affidavit.
quote by Mario Cuomo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Dreamed.
I dreamed a dream and in that dream,
I dreamed that I had dreamed a dream,
Of hope and fairytales come true,
I dreamed a dream and thought of truth,
I dreamed a dream of life and love,
Of fate and angels and God above,
I dreamed a dream of good wishes and friends,
I dreamed a dream I dreaded to end,
But then I woke into my dream,
I dreamed I woke in a world obscene,
I dreamed a dream of violence and hate,
And once again I dreamed of fate,
I dreamed a dream of terror and fear,
I dreamed that each word went unheard,
And so children never spoke a word,
I dreamed a dream of demons and beasts,
I dreamed a dream that ended at last,
I woke in my bed and wondered if,
I dreamed a dream of dreams or if,
I dreamed a dream of truth that night,
And if so I wondered which was truth,
And which was merely a dream.
poem by Emma Wright
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If technique is of no interest to a writer, I doubt that the writer is an artist.
quote by Marianne Moore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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