Everyone is different, but I'm not standoffish at all. I'm not one of those people who prefer to write a note. I'll walk right up to you and ask you out! Even if the answer's no, I'm totally cool with it.
quote by Corbin Bleu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Walk And Wonder
I walk and wonder
Why am I here?
What does it all mean?
God has answered me many times-
This Poem now is an answer-
But in the end beyond the End
Will there be Answer?
God knows-
I do not know-
I write this down and walk home.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The stupidity of people comes from having an answer to everything. The wisdom of the novel comes from having a question for everything... it seems to me that all over the world people nowadays prefer to judge rather than to understand, to answer rather than to ask, so that the voice of the novel can hardly be heard over the noisy foolishness of human certainties.
Milan Kundera in Interview on The Book of Laughter and Forgetting
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I wake up early in the morning and walk for an hour. If I have something to write, I prefer to write in the morning until midday, and in the afternoon, I eat.
quote by Naguib Mahfouz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Kumquat Trees, Blueberries And Why Bees Buzz?
For those that can not tell the difference between,
The kumquat trees and the blueberries.
Or the lettuce from tomatoes...
And must ask why bees buzz?
Know this...
You will never come to understand,
Why some people prefer to walk away...
Than to answer another question,
You may have about life that will not connect!
There are a few 'more' steps,
That are needed for you to take...
Away from your comfort zone!
And do not wait for assistance to do this.
Do this on your own...
Alone!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Totally. Totally. Totally Bummed
Totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
Totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
Significant this feeling is,
Hard to overcome.
When an aging is apparent,
And nothing can be done.
And when one has a wisdom,
One developes more and more...
The pressure to pretend there isn't,
Can not be ignored.
Oh, totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
Being now an elder,
Overnight has stunned.
Totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
No more looking 26.
Overnight has stunned.
Disappearing quick was 36.
Overnight has stunned.
And the 46 that came...
Picked up 56 and split.
And now I can't believe it,
I am elderly legit.
Oh, totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
Being now an elder,
Overnight has stunned.
Totally. Totally. Totally bummed.
Being now an elder,
Overnight has stunned.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Possibilities
I prefer movies.
I prefer cats.
I prefer the oaks along the Warta.
I prefer Dickens to Dostoyevsky.
I prefer myself liking people
to myself loving mankind.
I prefer keeping a needle and thread on hand, just in case.
I prefer the color green.
I prefer not to maintain
that reason is to blame for everything.
I prefer exceptions.
I prefer to leave early.
I prefer talking to doctors about something else.
I prefer the old fine-lined illustrations.
I prefer the absurdity of writing poems
to the absurdity of not writing poems.
I prefer, where love's concerned, nonspecific anniversaries
that can be celebrated every day.
I prefer moralists
who promise me nothing.
I prefer cunning kindness to the over-trustful kind.
I prefer the earth in civvies.
I prefer conquered to conquering countries.
I prefer having some reservations.
I prefer the hell of chaos to the hell of order.
I prefer Grimms' fairy tales to the newspapers' front pages.
I prefer leaves without flowers to flowers without leaves.
I prefer dogs with uncropped tails.
I prefer light eyes, since mine are dark.
I prefer desk drawers.
I prefer many things that I haven't mentioned here
to many things I've also left unsaid.
I prefer zeroes on the loose
to those lined up behind a cipher.
I prefer the time of insects to the time of stars.
I prefer to knock on wood.
I prefer not to ask how much longer and when.
I prefer keeping in mind even the possibility
that existence has its own reason for being.
poem by Wislawa Szymborska
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Are persons people?
and he says
you don’t write poetry to please people, you know
that’s with a comma after people
you write poems to please you
with shock lines like I still treasure
our first condom oh my love
to show that you’re cool and hip
but she says why write poems at all
if they don’t please people
men have such egos I suppose
it’s because they can’t have babies
but who are people anyway, how
many persons make a people or
how few persons and are they
a random mix or is there like
a recipe, some of this lot some of that
he says people who know about these things
like poetry but how do you know
which are the people who know
I’m not sure I know he knows for a start
and she says well ordinary people
so what then do you slide up
to a bus queue when there’s no
bus in sight and say look you’re
ordinary people I’ve been looking for you
yeah watch them give you a nasty look
and skedaddle pretending they remembered
they were due some place else
I’m beginning to wonder if people really exist
I mean as such but I’ll have to stop there
my PC says it’s run out of virtual memory
that’s another thing I don’t understand
maybe people are just a virtual memory too
I’m beginning to wonder if anyone knows
what *people* should think about poetry
maybe they should just write it throw it away
see who picks it up and not never nohow talk about
other *people’s* poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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How Do You Write Poetry
There is a question I am often asked,
of which I have no answer for at all.
The question is a simple one,
how do you write poetry?
To be honest I haven’t got a clue.
With me the words just trickle out
one after the other,
if they rhyme that is great
and if they don’t, I just scratch my head.
I cannot tell anyone how to write,
for me it’s just a natural thing.
I write almost everything,
novels, short stories, poems and songs.
I have even written a couple of plays,
but that was a long, long time ago.
However to tell anyone how to write,
I would not know where to begin.
The answer I give to the question is simple;
write whatever you like good or bad.
It’s yours and be proud of it
no matter what anyone else has to say.
The more you write the better you will get.
However, the most important thing
that you should always remember and that is
that you write, write, and write!
9 November 2011
poem by David Harris
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Heavy Fuel
Last time I was sober, man I felt bad
Worst hangover that I ever had
It took six hamburgers and scotch all night
Nicotine for breakfast just to put me right
cos if you wanna run cool
If you wanna run cool
If you wanna run cool, you got to run
On heavy, heavy fuel
My life makes perfect sense
Lust and food and violence
Sex and money are my major kicks
Get me in a fight I like dirty tricks
cos if you wanna run cool
Yes if you wanna run cool, you got to run
On heavy, heavy fuel
My chick loves a man whos strong
The things shell do to turn me on
I love the babes, dont get we wrong
Hey, thats why I wrote this song
I dont care if my liver is hanging by a thread
Dont care if my doctor says I ought to be dead
When my ugly big car wont climb this hill
Ill write a suicide note on a hundred dollar bill
cos if you wanna run cool
If you wanna run cool
Yes if you wanna run cool, you got to run
On heavy, heavy fuel
song performed by by Dire Straits
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's often wrong to write for specific actors because one ends up using what is least interesting about them, their mannerisms and habits. I prefer not to write for specific people.
quote by Claude Chabrol
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I Want To Write A Sad Poem Today
how i wish to write a sad poem today
for instance: wilting grasses and dried river beds
stinging heat of the sun
cinder like sands of the shore
heat waves, and melting ice caps
something like there is no place that is cool
to my senses,
how i wish i can write the poem about a mad woman
and a husband that always follows her laughter,
how i wish not to be affected by such a sad poem
but i am
and i do not wish to add insult to injury for writing it
and so
i quit, i will not write a sad poem about other people,
that will be too much,
i decided not to write about it anymore.
i will forget about it. I will write something much better.
i will write about
nothing at all.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blowin In The Wind
How many roads must a man walk down
Before you call him a man?
Yes, n how many seas must a white dove sail
Before she sleeps in the sand?
Yes, n how many times must the cannon balls fly
Before theyre forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.
How many times must a man look up
Before he can see the sky?
Yes, n how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?
Yes, n how many deaths will it take till he knows
That too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.
How many years can a mountain exist
Before its washed to the sea?
Yes, n how many years can some people exist
Before theyre allowed to be free?
Yes, n how many times can a man turn his head,
Pretending he just doesnt see?
The answer, my friend, is blowin in the wind,
The answer is blowin in the wind.
song performed by by Bob Dylan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Not... (The Journey)
i am not the journey,
not your bags, your hat,
or your shoes...
i am not your destination,
not a road sign,
not a drink of cool water.
i am not the fire that warms you,
not the cool evening breeze.
i am not the dawn,
i am not the knowing,
nor your heavy breathing
as you walk.
i am not the reason,
nor the answer...
i am not your path.
i am but the memory
that feeds your hunger,
making you hungrier still!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poised To Be Teased
Poised to be teased,
Are 'most' of the people.
The others...
Have totally blocked out reality.
Nothing remotely connected to truth,
Will these folks believe.
And...
There are those who who actually,
Prefer and seek to be deceived...
Than to accept anything,
Close to hinting ofm any reality.
And those who were bred,
To have mush for brains...
Will have nothing to do with what truth contains.
Forget introducing a thought process.
Many more accept medications,
To provide their fantasies...
Exclusive access.
Yes.
Poised to be teased,
Are 'most' of the people.
The others...
Have totally blocked out reality.
Nothing remotely connected to truth,
Will these folks believe.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Cool
I got a penthouse in Manhattan
2 more in Malibu
I bought a '87 Cadillac Seville
Girl, I got a Mazerati 2
I wear diamonds on my fingers
I got a couple on my toes
I wear the finest perfume money can buy
It keeps me smellin' like a rose
If U wonder how I do it
There's just one simple rule
I'm just cool (Cool)
Oh oh - Honey, baby can't U see?
Girl, I'm so cool (Cool)
Ain't nobody bad like me, hey
(C-O-O-L) What's that spell?
(C-O-O-L)
I might dine in San Francisco
Dance all night in Rome
I go any freakin' place I want 2
And my lear jet brings me home (Listen darlin')
I got ladies by the dozens
I got money by the ton
Just ain't nobody better
Heaven knows that I'm the one
And it's all because of something
That I didn't learn in school
I'm just cool (Cool)
Cool - Honey, baby can't U see?
Girl, I'm so cool (Cool)
Cool - Ain't nobody bad like me
Sing it, baby
(C-O-O-L) What's that spell?
(C-O-O-L) That spell cool
(Cool) Cool
Sweeter than sex
(Cool) That spell cool
(Cool) Cool
So what U think?
(Cool) Cool
What time is it? Ooh
Listen baby, it takes a lot of lovin' and a little money
2 be a friend of mine
But baby, if U know how 2 shake that thing
I'll try 2 squeeze a little time
Cuz I make love, love every mornin'
2 who's ever by my side
Well, U might say that I'm a nymphomaniac
But it keeps me satisfied
When I look into the mirror
It just tells me something I already know
I'm so cool (Cool)
Cool - Honey, baby can't U see?
Girl, I'm so cool (Cool)
Cool - Ain't nobody bad like me
Sing it
(C-O-O-L) What's that spell?
(C-O-O-L) What time is it?
More (Cool)
I'm so cool (Cool)
Cool (Cool)
And I'm so cool (Cool)
Band
(C-O-O-L) {x2}
Cool, that's right
I'm cooler than Santa Claus, baby
Oh, mm hmm
Ain't nobody bad like me
Somebody pinch me
I must be dreamin'
I know that's right, honey
Cuz there ain't nobody bad like me
What time is it?
Is it time 2 get my hair done yet?
I said, "What time is it?"
Time 2 just walk and shake my head
I'm cool 'til I'm dead
Enough has been said
Come on, baby, let's go 2 bed
Everybody
Walk, shake my head
Cool 'til I'm dead
Enough has been said
Let's go 2 bed
When I look into the mirror
It just tells me something I already know
I'm so cool (Cool)
Ain't nobody bad like me
Oh, I'm so cool (Cool)
I said ain't nobody bad like me
All 2gether now
(C-O-O-L) What's that spell?
(C-O-O-L)
{repeat chant 10 times}
Band? (Yes!)
Is anybody hot? (No!)
U know why? (Why?)
Cuz we're cool (Cool!)
(Yes! No! Why? Cool!) {x3}
Oh, I'm so cool
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fishing Hole
Some place quiet
peaceful
Preferably
I would like to
Walk
Or maybe
Ride a bike there
If I have to drive
I think too many people might know about it
It has already become too popular
Its purpose
The reason I would have went there
has already been defeated
I'm not trying to give an impression of exclusivity
Sometimes
I just want to be alone
In a place where
I can take a book
Read for hours
I can take a pen and note book
Maybe my laptop
Write for days
I'd bring my headphones
Or
Listen to nature's symphony
A radio would be too much
Too loud
Not something I would want to carry
I won't do what I did to my last one
One became two
Two became a few
A few
For me
Became too many
I won't tell anyone
Ill just leave a note,
Gone fishing
Be back
Sometime between
Now and Then
©Christopher F. Brown 2012
Technorati Tags: Fishing Hole, poetry, Christopher F. Brown, cfbrown.com
poem by Christopher Brown
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What I Cannot Write
what i cannot write
is the answer of the riddle of the sphinx
to me.
i know myself.
hence, i know the answer very well.
i cannot even say it.
thinking about it
shakes my being
like an earthquake
to the foundations
of my house.
i cannot say or write it.
because if i will
everything in me crashes
like September 11.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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If you write, one of the questions you're always trying to answer is, Where do you get your ideas? And, if you write, you know how pointless a question this is and how difficult it is to answer.
quote by Lynn Abbey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I prefer to write music for family films. I like people.
quote by Alex North
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Do I Write
People often ask me why do I write,
unfortunately I have no answer.
I started when I was eighteen
when my then girlfriend
said we were through.
I said to myself
if the Beatles can do it why not try it.
I was lonely with nothing else better to do
and it all progressed from there.
The more I wrote the better I got
and now I don’t even think about it
as the ideas just come to me
and I write them down quickly before they pass.
When I started, my parents said
it was just a passing phase,
but here almost half a century has gone by
and that seems like some long passing phase.
Of course as I progressed, I experimented
with poetry, short stories and novels,
now my back library seems endless
and still I write more and more
jumping from one subject to another.
If I knew why I do it,
I’d bottle it and sell it
probably making a fortune on the way.
Sadly, the answer eludes me,
all I know is, I just sit with pen in hand
and the words come automatically
with line following line until I am through
no matter what facet of writing I am working in.
I never question myself about it,
but just let it happen and feel happy that it does.
Maybe sometime in the future
some scholar will give an answer to why I do it.
24 April 2011
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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