I have grown in my writing and I care about it now and I know how important it is to write stuff.
quote by Charles King
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Many Can Teach Few Can Write
many can teach and be good teachers
some even aspiring excellent teachers
but few can image write wondrous words
who are now waiting among
those who have words worth writing
words waiting to be written?
writing will cost much
demanded much
then will cost yet more
a small fortune in wages
wages spent not made
still to be spent and yet
accumulative cost is nothing
for there are hunger hearts
minds waiting for these words
looking even searching
for quest sought words
therefore it matters not
if for a specific poem
or passage paragraph
only a few or one is searching
these thoughts
are important
still must be written
some of what we write
even much of what we write
is of no prime importance
but that small portion
which is important
that tiny potent seed
which is important
must be written
translate many can translate
some even translate
almost perfectly precise
but those writing
original thoughts
are far more precious
and their words
will also in their time
be sought after read
but there time is not yet
that which is not
written cannot
be read
therefore write
write
and write well
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It's time to start really writing some stuff, and I really wanted to write some stuff in the vein of the original Misfits, and this was really the first step in that direction.
quote by Jerry Only
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Having Been Given So Much In Writing
HAVING BEEN GIVEN SO MUCH IN WRITING
Having been given so much in writing
I nonetheless try to write
Another small poem-
It seems what we have done is never enough
In the present in the future
We need to strut our stuff.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Will I Do Today And What Will I Do Tomorrow?
What will I do today and what will I do tomorrow
And what will I do for the rest of my life?
Write and write and write
Until I can no longer write –
And even if this writing is never known?
And even if this writing is wholly lost?
And even if this writing is not really worth very much?
And even if it is known only a little?
And even if others are highly critical of it?
And even if it seems vanity of vanity and only vanity?
Write and write and write
To the end of my life.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I write journals and would recommend journal writing to anyone who wishes to pursue a writing career. You learn a lot. You also remember a lot... and memory is important.
quote by Judy Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I don't know if there is any one secret to successful writing, but one important step is to move beyond imitation and discover what you can write that no one else can - that is, find out who you are and write that in an appropriate narrative and style.
quote by James Gunn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Write
Write, keep writing lot
Write, write before you forget
Write, make it as reminder
Write, write before words disappear
Write, for you to contemplate
Write, write before your mind changed
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
WikiLeaks Revelations
Journalists write miles about WikiLeaks but they don’t say much,
I’ve wasted hours reading this stuff and it reads like double dutch,
About so called secrets and gossip - insignificant and rough.
Haven’t seen anything worth reading yet and enough is enough.
It all seems to be a lot of newspaper and magazine noise,
Trying to maybe make something out of nothing and dramatize,
If you find something important there, let me know right away,
Please because I’d like to know at least before Columbus Day.
It seems as though the end of the world might be coming soon,
And we should start paying attention to WikiLeaks by noon,
Keep reading the WikiLeak stuff because there’s more coming our way,
It could be very important or maybe not as much as they say.
Dec 21st 2010
poem by James Bredin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
No One Can Stop Us To Write
and they must know the reason why,
simple enough
we are writers and our essence is to write
for writing's sake
nothing aimed nothing gained nothing lost
we write because we are here
and we are here because we write
we write because if we do not
we no longer become ourselves
we lose our salt we become just like any
flesh, rotten, infected with bacteria
foul, and finally become just dust
on the corner of the road
we write and we keep on writing
because we are
we do not need the praise
or the condemnation
we do not need an audience
or an empty space
we write because we are
that is our essence and no one can stop us
except perhaps when the word is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Write And Write And Write And Write
I WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE
I write and write and write and write
I write and write and write and write
I write.
And all this writing and all these words and all I am
Forever unheard.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Whatevah
write
till it does not hurt anymore
write
till all the happy moments are consumed.
write
till all the aches are justified
write
till all your revenge is dissipated
write
till all angles are examined
write and keep on writing
till all of you is hidden, till all of you is folded back
write and keep on writing still
because you are your writer and there is no one who knows you well
except yourself, and what they know shall only be
skin deep
because you want it so,
you are the king in the jungle of your uncertainties
the Tarzan hitting his chest before Jane came and ruined it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Malcontent Debris
Why do you think they wear goggles?
To keep their eyeballs in?
The two orbs are not trying to escape.
All they want is a little protection
From the stuff flying at you as you pick up speed.
You don't need the goggles
Quietily sitting writing a poem.
You need them,
Firmly strapped on,
When you're out there;
Collecting the stuff
You'll need to write a poem.
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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!
On My Worth As A Writer
On my worth as a writer I do cast great doubt
Though one could never run out of things to write about
And poetasters are many and poets they are rare
Yet so much to write on of the big World out there
One can say I've written a whole heap of stuff
Yet out of millions of writers few are good enough
To make a success out of the wordsmith trade
So many there are and so few make the grade
Not many writers the literary critics impress
And so few out of writing become a success
For every literary success of which we do read
So many are destined to never succeed
And only a tiny minority do make writing pay
But then such is life as some are known to say.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
What Do You Know?
you talk to me,
once in a while,
when i'm feeling happy,
you find a way to bring me down,
what the hell?
am i not good enough?
to be accepted in this world,
people look as if i'm different,
so what if i am?
why should you care?
for the longest i thought
that was important.
who was i kidding?
i don't need you!
want to know why?
along the way,
i found who i am,
call me crazy,
but, i'm glad i'm different,
what's you excuse?
trying to be the same,
as everybody else,
how is that working?
that's not me,
i go my own way,
jealous of who i become?
a girl who is strong,
because of the stuff that was said,
i realize your opinion shouldn't matter,
you not important,
i am!
why should i care,
what you think?
in the back of my mind,
you still got some work to do,
to accept all of yourself,
because trying to fix me,
won't complete you like you think,
i found myself alone the way,
let me know when you do the same.
3-6-09
poem by Mona Martinez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Can Write Poetry All Day Long
I CAN WRITE POETRY ALL DAY LONG
I can write Poetry all day long
But what will it give me?
There is just so much others will listen to
If anything?
And what is the value of writing words to myself for myself
Even if I love them
And believe they are real poetry,
And know in my soul
That their music is real?
I can write Poetry all day long
Or think I am writing poetry
When I am not-
Am I writing poetry now?
I feel I am-
Within me there is the song and the sound
There is the music of poetry
But is it real
Or only my self- deception?
Can I write poetry all day long?
Can I write poetry at all?
I am writing poetry now
Or so I tell myself-
But as I write this
The music within
Is already fading
And I hear in myself
The silence of my own lonely sound.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It Is Me
He sat in his own world
writing down the stories
that came to his mind.
He never watched time,
for him there
was no time.
He wrote stories of love,
of mystery and suspense.
He wrote of everything
that popped into his head.
He was not a lonely person
as his characters kept him company.
He wrote things
for every writing sphere,
but there was one thing
he could not write
which may come as a surprise
to everyone.
He could not write a letter
no matter how hard he tried.
His mind went completely blank
whenever he tried.
Yet he could write
just about everything else.
He could write songs,
he could write stories at will.
He could write poems
on everything,
but writing a letter
was something he could not do.
Now all who read this
might take it as a joke,
but it is very true
every word I have spoke,
and how would I know that.
The answer is simple it is me.
19 April 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
It seems to me that since I've had children, I've grown richer and deeper. They may have slowed down my writing for a while, but when I did write, I had more of a self to speak from.
quote by Anne Tyler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Once The Idea Comes To My Mind
i may find a pen and make a note in any of those
papera in my pocket anticipating such a situation
of radiance
without light at all
i may have captured the new idea
on paper
in writing, so it may not escape and slip like an eel
like a droplet of water
on my raincoat from my head,
but sometimes, i am too lazy to listen and
impatient to write what comes to me
as a gift
and i let it go, let is slip in my tongue like a spit
a phlegm
after all, it may not be important, so important that i may soon die
if i forget it
or the world stops spinning
or this whole world ends,
there is no such an idea,
there is no such person even, so indispensable, so important
there is no such line
no such poem, everything here is always something throwable
into some trashcans
sometimes, i have them inside myself, and then
without so much regret
i vomit,
who cares anyway?
oh well, nobody, except the critics who are there
always to kill your urge
to write poetry, who are always there to compare you to someone
deserving
the laurels of despair, the crown of literary gall
the thorns of misery
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!