Writing can be a very solitary business. It's you sat at a desk typing words into a computer. It can get lonely sometimes and lots of writers live quite isolated lives.
Related quotes
Four Main Types of Writers (personal opinion)
The Lonely Writer
Some writings tell me
This person is lonely
And is reaching out
For the touch of a friendly comment
These writers are sad, solitary,
Isolated, but good persons
And quite often very good writers
The needy juvenile writer
Some writings contain words
Or language meant to shock
And to offend.
These writers are lonely also
But in a different way.
These writers are simply saying
Like a little child
“hey! I exist! Someone better
Acknowledge me! ”
These writers can often write well
But usually don’t, can’t, or choose not to
The Spite Writer
This writer can be of either gender
But seems to be in a female majority
They’ve been spurned or rejected
Two-timed or lied to.
And they are going to vent their ire
In the most public way they can.
These writers can also be very good writers
But too often let their anger get in the way.
The Religious Writer
These writers show people passionate
And zealously devoted to singing the praises
Of the Lord and goodness and charity.
They’re probably austere, honest people
Who almost always write very well.
For the most part these writers seem
To want to spread the word and
At the same time tend to be rather singular
In the subject matter of their writings,
Rarely attempting other genres.
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
On the other hand, I mean, that is what writers have always been supposed to do, was to rely on their own devices and to - I mean, writing is a lonely business.
quote by Donna Tartt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Writers and Poets
Here I sit
At a desk dimly lit.
Holding an unsharpened pencil
Over a piece of old, faded paper,
In my mind lingers a vague intention
Within the unformed idea
Of somehow writing something.
With no clear idea, theme or plan.
Only the restless desire to write.
It's raining. Again.
It seems to rain often.
Not the weather.
Life.
Interior drops fall,
Like flower pedals sacrificed.
Beautys death, the ransom price.
My desire lives in poetic rhythms,
Not in serious writers cadences.
I am not a writer.
- I hope to be a poet-
There is a difference? one may ask;
Oh yes, I believe so.
I'll attempt to express why.
In poetry words flow,
Like living waters.
In writing ideas are built within words.
The writer builds something,
Like a dam, to hold and control the way of the water,
To cause it to go somewhere precisely.
Writers form canals to move readers
To certain places.
Poets open up the dark clouds over life
Pouring out necessary wonders onto human souls;
Thirst quenching beauties that all
-in one way or another-
Are in great need of.
Writers, thankfully, take people
To places where they are able
To realize their own thirst.
Poets give them the drink.
The taste towards fulfilling life's true longings.
Writers and poets together
Make the dark a bit brighter,
The waters a bit more navagatible,
The way a bit clearer,
And the thirst of life
A bit more quenchable.
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Killer
So you want
To be free
To live your life
The way you want to be
Will you give if we cry?
Will we live, yeah
Or will we die?
Oh
Jaded hearts (hearts)
Heal with time
Shoot that love
So we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
If we try
And live your lives
The way you wanna be
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Solitary brother (solitary brother)
Is there still a part of you that wants to live?
Solitary sister (solitary sister)
Is there still a part of you that wants to give?
Yeah, yeah
Racism in amongst the future kings can only lead to no good and
Besides, all our sons and daughters already know how that feels
Yeah, yeah, yeah
Love, love, love, yeah
song performed by by Sugababes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Killer
So you want to be free
To live your life the way you wanna be
Will you give if we cry
Will we live or will we die
Tainted hearts heal with time
Shoot bad love so we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother, is there still a part of you that
Wants to live?
Solitary sister, is there still a part of you that
Wants to give?
Solitary brother,is there still a part of you that
Wants to live?
Solitary sister, is there still a part of you that
Wants to give?
If we try to live our lives
The way we wanna be
Solitary brother, is there still a part of you that
Wants to live?
Solitary sister,is there still a part of you that
Wants to give?
Solitary brother, is there still a part of you that
Wants to live?
Salitary sister, is there still a part of you that
Wants to give?
Racism in future kings can only lead to no good
And besides, all our sons and daughters already
Know how that feels
song performed by by George Michael
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
It might take some here and there, but Apple's market share in the global computer business has really shrunk pretty far, and where they've been making success recently is not in the computer business but in the iPod music business.
quote by Kevin Rollins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Deferred Pen
It is five thirty and I am at my desk
With the intention of writing something.
I’m sitting waiting for inspiration
But the stimulation has not surfaced
Yet. All I hear are the sounds of children
Playing and the hum of my computer.
The thought occurred to me, don’t write just yet
Drop everything and sit out on the deck
And watch the indefatigable youth
Live life the way only a child can live:
Never thinking about the tomorrows
Only the present is all that matters.
Know what? I’m going to act on that thought
Inspiration or not, I’m out of here!
poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Can Enjoy Your God Given Write
Writing down your thoughts cleanses the soul,
It can help lift you out of life's goldfish bowl,
Though your words can enrage they may also console,
Never give up the fight.
Life is a challenge for those given the chance,
Your own and others you must try to enhance,
By writing what you feel your spirit you'll enhance,
You will also never lose sight.
You must never be afraid of honest critique,
Though some can make your future feel bleak,
Everyone in life has their troubles to seek,
The written word can and will bite.
Who's to say any poem is better than yours,
Words from the heart are usually what lures,
Others personal opinions are not what obscures,
The writers own inner light.
Never be put off by what people may say,
Some live their lives just to cause others affray,
You will live to fight another day,
Let the fire inside you ignite.
Criticism and praise can help you to learn,
As long as you show all others concern,
Both are attributes we all have to earn,
Your writing at times will incite.
Just remember your poems can cause distress,
If done truthfully your writing you can honestly express,
Regardless of whether it causes duress,
You'll have no need to feel uptight.
The written word can and does bring us joy,
As a weapon it can also be used to destroy,
If you just try your best not to annoy,
‘' We Can Enjoy Your God Given Write ‘'
Writers Block
He was going to write a brilliant poem
probably the best one he'd ever done
but when he sat down at his desk
the inspiration just wouldn't come.
No matter how hard the poet tried
to get some ideas down onto the page
nothing worth writing about arrived
leaving him on the verge of rage.
Then an Eureka moment hit him
while listening to the ticking of the clock
he'd write a poem on the frustration
of that dreaded writers block.
He ended up writing five verses
about a poets worst nightmare
when your wanting to write a masterpiece
but end up pulling out your hair.
So the moral of this poem must be
that writers block isn't so bad after all
as you can use it as a poetry subject
instead of sitting there staring at the wall!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Most Writers
Most writers 'twould seem have moments of self doubt
But they never go short of things to write about
And to become a top writer of one a big ask
And to succeed as a writer for many seems too daunting a task.
Most writers do not write for wealth or for fame
And despite lack of success they pen on just the same
For every one hundred thousand writers perhaps one writing millionaire
Amongst the ranks of the wealthy the writers are rare.
Few writers can hope for to scale success height
For the love of writing they only do write
Few writers get published and fewer know of success
But in their writings on paper their thoughts they express.
Most writers will never know wealth and renown
And they are not even well known in their own Hometown
They never will be known beyond their home shore
They write for the love of it and little more.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Was Lonely Outside The World Of The Anthologized Poets
I WAS LONELY OUTSIDE THE WORLD OF THE ANTHOLOGIZED POETS
I was lonely outside the world of the anthologized poets-
I was lonely in not being good enough -
I was lonely in not being known -
I was lonely in having given a lifetime to never having been heard-
I was lonely in not being among the voices that will endure-
They were there on those heights
And all around them words of praise were being sung-
And I was lonely alone with my own little voice
Crying and crying and crying
Trying to write and afraid-
A lifetime had been given
And they were there on the glad height
And down in the low alone of my own lost words
Writing and writing forever my own lonely life away
I was as much alone as someone who would have been born in poetry and never was.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Killer
Brother
Sister
It's the loneliness thats the killer
So you want
To be free
To live your life
The way you want to be
Will you give
If we cry
Will we live
Or will we die
Jaded hearts
Heal with time
Shoot that love
So we can
Stop the bleeding
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
If we try
And live our lives
The way we wanna be
Yeah
Brother brother
Sister sister
Brother brother brother brother brother
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no other love no other love like ours
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no other love no other love like ours
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There's no other love There's no other love There's no other love
There is no love
Solitary brother
Is there still a part of you that wants to live
Solitary sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Solitary brother
Solitary Sister
Is there still a part of you that wants to give
Racism in among future kings can only lead to no good
Besides all our sons and daughters already know how that feels
song performed by by Seal from Debut
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
My Rhymes Are My Own
Some of those who happen to be strangers to me
Say what I write is stuff as opposed to poetry
But that's their opinion and that suits me fine
And what is their business could never be mine.
As for me other writers professional or amateur I never criticize
For from my years of living I have come to realize
That the Wordsmith Trade all of it's writers does need
Though at making a living from writing few known to succeed.
In a success driven Human World many for success do compete
And many ambitious people live on every street
Yet not everyone does live at a fashionable address
And not everyone known to be a great success.
I thank those who of me have kind things to say
In life you win some and lose some as life is that way
And those who criticize me are those I've never known
But I can vouch for one thing my rhymes are my own.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Writer's Drought
You've heard of a thing called writer's block and you've heard of writer's drought
But writers are never short of things on which they can write about
It's just at times their inspiration well does seem to run dry
And they cannot seem to pen a line though hard enough they try.
The writers drought it causes writers moments of self doubt
Till the words that seem locked in them eventually flow out
Through their pens to their notebooks their dry spells do not last
And on time lost out on penning words they seem to catch up fast.
Some writers in their writing drought cannot seem to feel inspired
To write even a single line they feel mentally tired
But when fresh inspiration comes to them much better stuff they do write
And feeling re-invigorated they sit and pen all night.
Most writers you will talk to of writers drought can tell
When there is no inspiration in their inspiration well
But when inspiration returns to them and their creative juices flow
They become much better writers and in self confidence grow.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Writers are in the entertainment business, and it gives me lots of pleasure to entertain my readers.
quote by Brian Lumley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
The End Of The Story Of The Creature Who Feared The Sun And Man
..and so the creature who had feet
and skin
for fear of the sun
learns to live on the water
evolving into a fish
with gills and scales &
some fins
and lots of slime
purposely to evade the
touch of the
fingers of the
moss and stones
its mouth forever silenced
by its
noble choice
just to be
its lonely and
isolated self
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Raven
My raven was at my computer this morning,
on the desk and
standing near the keyboard.
I assume you're writing a novel, said I.
Never more, the raven said.
Very funny, I replied.
I yelled at my neighbor because he's a pig.
He yelled back,
Hey man - you just won the prize.
Prize for what? I yelled to him.
The pig wouldn't say.
He just walked away.
So now my raven is writing a book.
He may win a Oscar.
I'll be his chief.
95 / 5 and nothing less,
with a handling fee of 25,
and 15 bucks for cleaning cage.
poem by Rick Stokes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
They're fancy talkers about themselves, writers. If I had to give young writers advice, I would say don't listen to writers talking about writing or themselves.
quote by Lillian Hellman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Elanor Rigby / Eleanor's Dream
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby picks up the rice in the church where a wedding was been,
Lives in a dream.
Waits at the window, wearing the face that she keeps in a jar by the door,
Who is it for ?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong ?
Father McKenzie, writing the words to a sermon that no one will near,
No one comes near.
Look at him working, darning his socks in the night when there's nobody there
What does he care ?
All the lonely people, where do they all come from ?
All the lonely people, where do they all belong ?
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Ah, look at all the lonely people
Eleanor Rigby died in church and was buried along with her name;
Nobody came.
Father McKenzie, wiping the dirt from his hands as he walks from the grave;
No one was saved.
All the lonely people, where do they all come from ?
(ah, look at all the lonely people)
All the lonely people, where do they all belong ?
(ah, look at all the lonely people)
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Eleanor Rigby
Ah look at all the lonely people
Eleanor rigby picks up the rice
In the church where the wedding has been
Lives in a dream
Inside a window
Wearing a face she keeps in a jar by the door
Who is it for
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong
Father mackenzie writing the words to a sermon no one will hear
No one comes near
Look at him working
Darning his socks
In the dark because nobodys there
What does he care
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong
Look at all the lonely people
Look at all the lonely people
Look at all the lonely people
Look at all the lonely people
Eleanor rigby died in the church
And was buried along with her name
No body came
Father mackenzie wiping the dirt from his hands
Has he walks from the grave
No one was saved
All the lonely people
Where do they all come from
All the lonely people
Where do they all belong
Look at all the lonely people
song performed by by Rick Springfield
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!