Writing and telling are almost the same, the way I do it.
quote by Daniel Pinkwater
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
I Come Alive In Writing
I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -
I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-
I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I don't know much about creative writing programs. But they're not telling the truth if they don't teach, one, that writing is hard work, and, two, that you have to give up a great deal of life, your personal life, to be a writer.
quote by Doris Lessing
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Seem to be telling this, but really telling that. Three-dimensional writing, like three-dimensional chess. Nabokov was the other master of that. You could learn something from Nabokov on every page he ever wrote.
quote by Donald E. Westlake
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Afternoon Musings 6
(the time is 6: 02 pm
Philippine time)
imagine myself situate yourself
in my own place
i am writing a poem on the ground floor of this house
the brown curtain is laced and tied to a window
that opens beyond this red painted wrought iron fence
outside the mango trees are full of leaves
and the grasses are running wild
on mud where the earthworms are thriving
the sky is turning gray and the horizon turns
pale orange as the sun finally descends to
hand this total darkness on this land of mine
you hear the sound of the strong wind from the
sea moving towards the big mountains that i
see from where i am sitting and writing
i am telling you again, the sound is howling
and i am telling you again, i am just alone staring
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whos Been Writing On The Wall Again
Someone keeps on telling me how much he loves me so
Writes it on the wall outside so I will always know
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori, I love you , lori, I love you
Evry evening I come home , its waiting there for me
Three little words, one little voice , someone I cant see
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Is he tall or is he small
I wonder what his game is
I wish hes write it on the wall
And tell me what his name is
I dont know if his hair is blonde or if his eyes are blue
But I know that when I meet him ,Im gonna love him too
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Is he tall or is he small
I wonder what his game is
I wish hed write it on the wall
And tell me what his name is
I dont know if his hair is blonde or if his eyes are blue
But I know that when meet him , Im gonna love him too
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again
Lori , I love you , lori , I love you
Whos been writing on the wall again
Whos been writing on the wall again (fade)
song performed by by Bee Gees
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
And I'm writing
The purpose of writing poem
Is not known and I'm writing.
Excuse me, I'm writing
And writing
And writing is natural
As natural as wind
As natural as light
And I'm writing
Writing and pervading
Everywhere.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A love poem to a poem
for there’s what you planned to write about,
and what you find yourself
writing about; perhaps
find yourself, while writing about..
and there’s the poem itself; did you
consult it about what
its plans were? and when
it’s got itself written,
gone where it wanted to,
said what it wanted to say,
become what it wanted to become,
do you really know
what it’s finally and really about?
is it telling you more about
you than you knew yourself?
is the poem writing you?
did we, as with the unicorn,
feel the unspoken need for it,
and it became?
in some other world,
did two grains of dust change places?
did a new sort of light
shine on a new sort of place
in some new sort of time?
poems are like cats:
we think we own them;
they allow us certain rights,
but they own us.
this is a love poem
to a poem
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
And What Is Your Wife Doing?
well, she is in the music room
singing the Anne Murray songs
as i make my poems for the day
writing about Anne Murray
and why do you ask? oh i know
it is true we are not talking, precisely
because she is singing and i am into
this poetry writing and yes, i ask you
why do you keep on reading?
every poem that i write, oh my, why?
alright, friends forever there shall be
no denying, and too truth telling, see?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Planning to write is not writing. Outlining, researching, talking to people about what you're doing, none of that is writing. Writing is writing.
quote by E.L. Doctorow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Writing The Words
I’m writing this at your funeral.
As I watch all the people in tears.
I wish I could join them,
But I know I have to be strong.
I’m writing this on my hand,
No paper to get it down on.
I want to remember your funeral,
So I’m writing this to honour you.
I’m writing the thoughts that pop into my head,
Making sure they are only the best.
I have to remember,
Because I couldn’t live with myself if I ever forgot.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
As people dropp flowers onto your coffin.
I stand up to dropp my own,
Blue, unlike the others, because I know it’s your favourite.
I’m writing this through the ceremony,
Because if I listen to the words I’ll cry.
And I know I can’t, for you,
I have to keep it together.
I’m writing the words I want to say,
To make people remember how much love you gave.
Because I want them to know,
How much of it you gave to me.
So, I’m writing this at your funeral,
To stop myself from shedding a tear.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
So that I never ever forget you.
poem by Rachel Brewer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On Writing
is talking aloud to myself
i'm the first recipient of my communication,
first translator of my emotion into words.
first witness to the subtle unfolding within
writing is my strength.
writing is my weakness too
to me writing is meditation.
writing is prayer!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
When I'm writing about reality, I'm writing about death. When I'm writing fiction, I'm writing about life.
quote by Ralph Peters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I enjoy writing, sometimes; I think that most writers will tell you about the agony of writing more than the joy of writing, but writing is what I was meant to do.
Mirror Mirror
Mirror, mirror
Up on the wall in the back of the room
As I walk down the hall in the house where I stayed
Tell me something about what I saw in the face of a man
Who once felt it all but feels nothing today
Knock knock
Who's there
I don't know, I can't say
Ask me tomorrow
I'll tell you the same
Ooh, I'm telling you now
I'm telling you now
Ooh, I'm telling you now
I'm telling you now
Trouble trouble
Down in my hood where it's well understood
They love when you're bad
And they hate when you're good
Tell me something about who we are at the end of our days
When our souls become one but our lives separate
Knock knock
Who's there
I don't know I can't say
Ask me tomorrow
I'll tell you the same
Ooh, I'm telling you now
I'm telling you now (It's bound to make you smile)
Ooh, I'm telling you now
I'm telling you now (It's bound to make you smile)
It's bound to make you smile
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Mirror Mirror
Mirror, mirror
Up on the wall in the back of the room
As I walk down the hall in the house where I stayed
Tell me something about what I saw in the face of a man
Who once felt it all but feels nothing today
Knock knock
Who's there
I don't know, I can't say
Ask me tomorrow
I'll tell you the same
Ooh, I'm telling you now
I'm telling you now
Ooh, I'm telling you now
I'm telling you now
Trouble trouble
Down in my hood where it's well understood
They love when you're bad
And they hate when you're good
Tell me something about who we are at the end of our days
When our souls become one but our lives separate
Knock knock
Who's there
I don't know I can't say
Ask me tomorrow
I'll tell you the same
Ooh, I'm telling you now
I'm telling you now (It's bound to make you smile)
Ooh, I'm telling you now
I'm telling you now (It's bound to make you smile)
It's bound to make you smile
song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
And So I'm Writing...
I'm hard-pressed for time,
yet I do have the heart
And so I'm writing
Know not what to pen down,
have a paper to write on
And so I'm writing
May be I'll write about 'you and me'
Or may be of 'us and them'
Feel like playing with words
And so I'm writing
May be that starving beggar's hungry looks
Or that homeless Child's beckoning eyes
Are making me scribble these lines to you
And so I'm writing
May be you'll find my words vague
Or you might decipher a meaning
Intend to leave you in the oblivion
And so I'm writing
Whatever might be the impression I create
Wish to see its reflection on your soul
And leave an imprint on your mind
And so I'm writing
May be you and I've become immune
To the pathos of mankind
Or may be there's still
A dropp of humanity flowing deep within us
Wish to arouse 'The Human Being' in you
And so I'm writing...
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Voices Are Back
He saw flames in the department store
He tried to get the people to the safety of the door
There was no fire the voices were telling him what to do
You could see from his face he needs someone
To help pull him through
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
Ripping through the fabric between his world and the real
Hes trying to protect you but
The knife will know that your flesh meets steel
Took him to an institution
And they helped the voices go away
But he didnt have the right set of papers
So they put this boy in jail
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
Six weeks turned to twelve
He was locked up for twenty-three hours a day
The warden found him in his cell
His only crime was that he was ill
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
The voices are back theyre telling him what to do
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
narrative poetry: Learn more!
different?
Though
his earliest poems
are
formal and satirical,
he quickly adopted
the new forms
of Brazilian modernism
that were evolving
in the 1920s,
incited by the work
of Mário de Andrade
(to whom he was not related) .
He adopted a
Whitmanian free verse,
mingling speech fluent
in elegance and truth
about the
surrounding,
a few improvements
many times
quotidian,
world,
with a fluidity of thought.
to Wikipedia
Notice something
We've made.
are you jealous?
sorry,
i am not telling
you
that i am writing this one,
i am not telling
you
that i write for you
or myself,
sometimes, i challenge
the hypocrisy
of the poets
who feel the way
you do:
hubris!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Writing To
Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
Writing every emotion..
With such a white background.
It makes no sound
Even as the keys I pound.
Let my words have bite
Let from my words drip out meanings beyond meanings
Its something I try to be constantly be achieving.
Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
I want every heart and mind
Sucked in cause this is my world stage
No sense of the time.
Never to turn the page
Stuck in to a world oh so oh so fine
Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
Listen to her melody, as she sings.
Let chaos reign down from the skies
What will this day really bring?
Will the letter say good bye?
Will it mend everything?
Making everything better.
Destroying all the consequences
That exist in your world.
Welcome to the place I visit daily.
Inspirational maddness,
It attacks, attacks, and attacks.
With perfect sadness
I must let go once more.
And then the words hit the floor
Writing to feel
Writing to heal.
Writing to steal.
Becoming one with my soul.
Fighting for its one and only control.
Its mine, Its mine. Its mine.
In this reality it subsequently is not
A constant questioning of what?
Writing to feel
Writing to heal.
Writing to steal.
With every sound, taste, and light.
The worlds get get oh so oh so bright
Understand that which is not so forthright
This is my night, and day.
So come on join me, please this way.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To me, horror is when I see somebody lying. I mean a person I know. A friend. And he's telling me something that I accept. And then suddenly, as he or she is telling it, there's something that gives them away. They're not telling me the truth.
quote by Jonathan Frid
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!