In the theater, characters have to cut the umbilical cord from the writer and talk in their own voices.
quote by Irwin Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Sad To Be Without You
Sad to be without you
Sad to laugh withot you
Sad to live without you
Because I feel that
The umbilical cord
Broke after you died
And I was left behind
Feeling sad that
I was not connected
To that umbilical cord
poem by Aldo Kraas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Umbilical
Chiming bells, uproaring thunder-like voices, merry making, upon the promulgation of a child
Cries emanates, just as the umbilical cord becomes set for cut
The daunts & wearies of the child opens in sheer despairity
Seeming 'a punishment' at birth
Oops! Just flustery scenes advertently nothing can be done
An anti-thesis like an armoury clad then render at the time due making the sky deeply frightened but yet not taken aback
An enticement, never can it be ignored, not even on the 'kerstmis' in a year of plenty
Umbilical cord it hovers, armistic it acts as the child gasp for breath
A separation & passage which broils unto humanity, the adventures ahead and the apportioned destinies.
But knowingly, even after the darkest of unending nights, lies a certainty of a brighter sky amid unwavering faith & unabated hopes tomorrow
#Certainly umbilical
poem by Prince Kenny Osei
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A Mirror Image
How many times when reading a book,
do we identify with the characters within?
Their traits they have we share,
their loves and heartaches
their lives go through somehow mirror our own.
It’s as if the author was writing about us.
As though he has put us under a microscope
and then writing down everything, he saw.
However, we know this isn’t so
because he or she has written
segments of their own life
and by accident they happen to mirror ours.
Every writer will tell you
that they have their characters under control.
Having written numerous novels,
I know the characters take on a life of their own
and do what they want to do.
We become their instrument as they guide us on our way.
We end up writing what they want us to say.
To every writer his characters are real,
they live, breathe and feel.
The more you write about them,
the more alive they become.
So the next time you pick up a book
and the characters seem real,
they probably are to the author
who looks after them.
24 September 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Using adult stem cells drawn from bone marrow and umbilical cord blood system cells, scientists have discovered new treatments for scores of diseases and conditions such as Parkinson's disease, juvenile diabetes, and spinal cord injuries.
quote by Nathan Deal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I think it's definitely beneficial for these characters to have good acting voices behind them and it affects the characters in a way that people can feel like they're part of the game and that they know these characters.
quote by Tara Strong
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The umbilical cord of Mother Earth connects us all.
aphorism by Hasier Agirre, translated by Dan Costinaş
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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My guitars are my umbilical cord. They're directly wired into my head.
quote by Kirk Hammett
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Umbilical Cord Reminds
No umbilical cord connection
Between my siblings and me
Or between my father and me.
I can't stand against my mother.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Admiring Those Who Know How To Cut And Leave
i admire those
who know how
to cut and leave
what courage
have they when
they decide to
become birds
and fly away
to shores unknown?
to cut the umbilical
cord and be the
persons that they
want to be away
from their mothers?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Orestes
I’d kill you if there wasn’t
An umbilical cord wedged between us.
Gods dictate what will happen
If I don’t murder you.
The Gods dictate what will happen
If I do.
Everything happens in circles,
A cycle that’ll never stop.
Humans can’t stop the cycle,
But they keep it spinning instead.
It makes no sense,
But, nothing ever does.
I’d kill you if there wasn’t
An umbilical cord wedged between us.
Gods dictate what will happen
If I don’t murder you.
The Gods dictate what will happen
If I do.
© Charlie F. Kane
21/3/06
poem by Charlie F. Kane
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Mother's Day Special - Decibels of Love
I know when i was born
your pain was a tempest
love translated decibels
that shove me into world
shrouded, protected,
against rough sea
the love egg never dries
out of you but never out
of your womb of love -
the world you perpetually
work to shield me from
shocks and knocks
the great decibels have
amplified our bond
the way our voices
echo to us in the mountains
an umbilical cord
ties this heart to you
where severing would
blood our conscience
with guilt and turn
the world against us as well
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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He invented this idea of telling the life story of a great writer through becoming his characters and becoming him. It was such a pleasure and I thought we must find another writer.
quote by Simon Callow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pacific
i do not belong to anyone
nor to
any place
i am always unattached
not because of
fear
that i may weep and wallow in grief
when i am finally detached
like an umbilical cord
cut and blood flows like
water in the faucet
i am no
bark to a tree
or leaf to
a stalk
i am no flower
that blooms one day
and wilt
upon the setting sun
you must understand
i like it here inside my heart
i am alone
in this secret dwelling
peaceful and calm
like
the pacific ocean
in a saucer
of white porcelain
i say loneliness is not
my cup of tea
i am my self's best friend
and we can both take a walk and talk
all night long
without you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No theater could sanely flourish until there was an umbilical connection between what was happening on the stage and what was happening in the world.
quote by Kenneth Tynan
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Even the two times that I left, I never really felt like I left the band. It's very bizarre. It's like there's sort of an umbilical cord that stretches between us spiritually.
quote by Rick Wakeman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Anchor
As a baby
I was fastened to mother’s belly
As I float in her amniotic fluids
Through an uncut umbilical cord,
I kept that
In my navel forever, perhaps,
As times pass by, as I begin living a life
Of my own, in work, in love,
In circles of my daily undertakings & means,
I anchor myself to some ideals
Like
Being clean, and honest, and
Having integrity, principles,
Sort of another set of umbilical cord,
Though in different conceptions,
A figurative sense of the word
Or something emblematic,
I keep
That in my mind, now, perhaps, who knows,
Forever,
The feeling of having to float is
Always there, wherever I am, be it in
A drinking spree with friends, making love with my wife,
Or asking a night with a woman that I just met
At the sleazy bar,
Or in the
Simple study of
Some ordinary events here and there,
A feeling of lightness for being so
Different from the rest of those who are
Here with me once,
These idiosyncrasies of self, always getting to know why me,
This quirk,
This oddball,
Why am I being different yet so ordinarily elbowing with all,
Why this sort of floating
Drifting,
Like a canoe on smooth silvery river,
Dusts floating in air,
A white crane gliding,
A waft of culinary flavors from a
A food plate,
A shadow of a plane hovering,
This drift,
This sail on some seas without land
Or anchor,
Like when I write poetry grasping ideas, floating, drifting ideas
Catching them with the nets of my recollections
Bobbing and dangling
Trying to find a buoy,
An anchor, of weight, to hold things together, to make links
Chains to hold on to.
Of what I am who I am
Who I was
And where I am going,
I hold on to faith
Hold on to faith, they will always tell me, the priest the nun
& the Voice of God
And just in case I still float, drift, and waft
To tense & terse feelings and lots of pretenses
I go outside,
Touch a tree, feel its rugged barks, smell its
Leaves, stick my hands to its sticky stains, and
I
Get stuck, I want it, I want being stuck.
I hold on, to the sturdy tree standing near me,
I hold on
Like a baby floating on amniotic fluids fastened to an umbilical cord
Or
Like a hot air balloon, anchored on some sandbags and ropes on the ground.
I am somehow fastened, anchored, I become real.
Now, touch me, talk to me, hold me tightly please.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The relationship between reader and characters is very difficult. It is even more peculiar than the relationship between the writer and his characters.
quote by Guillermo Cabrera Infante
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Still Borns Of Africa
we are still in the womb
swimming in the filthy fluid of corruption
we are still in the womb
battling to cut the umbilical cord of pollution
we are still in the womb
preying on the reminant of deprived relation
we are still in the womb
drowning in the congest world of deprivation
we are still in the womb
protesting against divisional segregation
we are still in the womb
exsalting the strength of voices calling for attention
we are still in the womb
reaching the spheres through screw faces and traumatic expression
we are still in the womb
paddling our ways through neglect and isolation
we are still in the womb
stirring gently towards the end of our active function
we are still in the womb of africa
waiting to be called the still borns of our mother
poem by Kemurl Fofanah
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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