The mind is not sex-typed.
quote by Margaret Mead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Would Be A Poet?
Tell me, who would be a poet?
Just think what it entails...
And we know we'll sometimes blow it,
For every writer fails...
To think, that when we're feeling down,
We write to raise a smile,
But then we often have to frown,
Restricted by some style...
Eight syllables, then six below,
That's how I try to write...
Eight syllables to match the flow
Then six to keep it light...
So pretty soon verse three's arranged
Before the poem's done
And then verse four gets somewhat changed,
But don't tell anyone!
Some names get swapped and switched around,
Some placenames, too, replaced...
And suddenly an ending's found
And that has to be phrased...
My, my, it's like a Mystory Tour!
All jumbled jolly stuff,
With heartfelt tales of sweet amour
And that weird thing called lurv...
For thirty years, I've typed and typed
And typed and typed again...
I've either griped or else I've hyped
And emptied every pen...
The Writing Bug's still bugging me...
And yet how much I owe it!
Except no sweetheart's hugging me!
So who would be a poet! ?
Denis Martindale, copyright, October 2011.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writer's Block!
Yes, these two words came into mind...
Wordpad opened again,
New Rich True Format Document,
Followed by Arial ten...
No text displayed as I perused,
The cursor blinking still...
In readiness for brand new words
My thoughts were yet to spill...
I typed the title, first thing done,
Two line gaps then the verse...
With not a word to lead the way,
It couldn't get much worse...
But then I thought, I'll add my name
And copyright as well,
Then type the date, as if to claim
There's nothing left to tell...
The poem stands, no words at all,
To summarise the theme,
As if the empty heart and mind
Had nothing there to dream...
But then I thought, that's such a waste!
I'll let the reader know,
That even nothing has its place
Before the words can flow...
And so, from nothing came these rhymes,
These thoughts upon a page,
Or PC screen each time I type
To reach another stage...
Who knows? The poem I write next
Could be a great success,
That may grant tremendous insight,
Some cherished happiness...
So Writer's Block, I've beaten you!
I've conquered every doubt!
God gave me something that's brand new
And now I've typed it out!
Denis Martindale, copyright, September 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Luring Websites!
I'm a reserved man.
When I was in service,
my subordinates wouldn't
dare look at my face.
'Sinister-looking man'
only the men said of me.
Being a bored retiree,
I visited a website,
seeking messages for dating.
When I typed down my age,
they flashed a startling joke:
' Wow! Just born'; my heart broken.
I entered another site,
answered Psychology-tests
and they greeted me to have
all my erogenous zones thrilled
by the folks of epicurean tastes.
When they told me to send
a maiden message to a friend waiting,
I typed: ' Don't look at my empty purse'.
Her lightinng curt reply was:
' You funny old geezer! Wanna meet me? '
I switched over to another site.
They sent loads of profiles
of Mr.Quickfire, Longman, Footy Punch
and so on, wanting soulmate soon.
My God! I cried and clicked: 'Unsubscribe'.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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The Message Of The Wind
it is your
coldness
typed in
sighs
in the
wind.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My assignment was in the communications office, where I typed out dispatches.
quote by Jack Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm constantly revising. Once the book is written and typed, I go through the entire draft again.
quote by Chaim Potok
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am a typed director. If I made Cinderella, the audience would immediately be looking for a body in the coach.
quote by Alfred Hitchcock
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The old fun thing is when somebody typed up the first chapter of War and Peace. And then made a precis of the rest of it and sent it out and only one publisher recognized it.
quote by Jim Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't be too harsh to these poems until they're typed. I always think typescript lends some sort of certainty: at least, if the things are bad then, they appear to be bad with conviction.
quote by Dylan Thomas
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The greatest pleasure when I started making money was not buying cars or yachts but finding myself able to have as many freshly typed drafts as possible.
quote by Gore Vidal
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At 60
there is nothing to keep
for nothing shall last
and so i am finally giving away
anything
that makes me remember you
i am not the detractor
i have never betrayed true love
i was faithful all the way before you
passed away
but i have never told you that
on your stereo-typed logic
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Here I Am ...
drunk again at 3 a.m. at the end of my 2nd bottle
of wine, I have typed from a dozen to 15 pages of
poesy
an old man
maddened for the flesh of young girls in this
dwindling twilight
liver gone
kidneys going
pancrea pooped
top-floor blood pressure
poem by Charles Bukowski
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Although Bill Finger literally typed the scripts in the early days, he wrote the scripts from ideas that we mutually collaborated on. Many of the unique concepts and story twists also came from my own fertile imagination.
The Sounds From Symbols....
as i flex my muscles
and raise my hands and
stretch my legs
as you begin to dance
and hum a song
as we make each day
different from the rest of
the days of the world
so must our poems be
so must our lives be
we have decided
when we have typed the first word
upon those symbols
the syllables have given birth
to the much awaited
sound
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Chronicles of a Dark Heart Part 19 The Death of Feelings
numb....
its something quite dumb
something i do not want for any reason... no i do not want
something that will haunt
mind and soul
and wear out the sole
of one's shoe and character, and even body
making all clothes, all morales, all goodness shoddy
wear out the sole of life
such a pun
how fun
fey imbroglio
never again shall i grow
with alacrity nor joy
I will just sit there, remembering how I am senseless, emotionless, like a toy
i can feel life begin to wain
and i endure the pain
for the sake of not being numb and to retain
just some even any sanity
for you and for me
as i chronicle these endeavors
of my dark heart... ah it shall make me write forevers
(I no longer believe in this stuff i do not believe myself numb or devoid of joy i submitted this poem for i wrote it long ago and typed it up now it is a reminder of what the Lord saved me from)
poem by David Knox
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Shades Of Pink
How many shades of pink are there?
My fingers typed.
That can't be the start of a poem
I said to myself
bit of a dead end that
like the ends of fingers....
where so many things begin
and so many shades of pink.
poem by David Taylor
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Turned-up nose
I want to clear this matter up some way
And at the same time make my point
That love note I sent you the other day?
The one that got your nose all out of joint?
I think I simply typed too fast
And didn’t say what I meant to say
Not …“I like your huge, turnip nose”…
But “I like your cute turned up nose”
Was What I really meant to say
poem by David Whalen
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A freudian slip (who nose?)
I want to clear this matter up some way
And at the same time make my point
That love note I sent you the other day?
The one that got your nose all out of joint?
I think I simply typed too fast
And didn’t say what I meant to say
Not …“I like your huge, turnip nose”…
But “I like your cute turned up nose”
Was What I really meant to say
poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Gangster
Education
that's not for me,
I'm a Gangster
can't you see?
Studying at school
And following golden rule
Isn't a gangster tool
That's not cool
I learn from the streets
not typed sheets
On the road all day
that's the Gangster way
Education that's for bob
I have to focus on my mob
Pushing drugs, killing spree
That's the gangster way for me
poem by PetaGaye Walker
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Robust Thruster
I love life.
And the mystery of not knowing what comes next.
Like a roller coaster ride one takes.
A robust thruster,
With thrills absent of brakes.
Coming to take my breath away...
To leave me to recover,
As the adrenaline within me shakes.
This...
Is the life I love!
To experience like no other,
Animation made...
Within my mental state to date.
Teased and filled and free of safe escapes.
Adventurous is my mind,
When these moments come!
With temptation that persuades.
I can choose to relax and rest...
After my fantasies have pleased delusions,
I have put to test.
At least with a pen,
Or typed to give life to them!
I love life!
And the choice to choose,
To name each imagination I like!
Enjoying each ride as I decide.
Fulfilling a need that stirs inside!
However...
This one comes and I can't refuse!
It wants me to use it without excuse.
Until another...
Arrives for me to discover,
That satisfies my exploring druthers.
With this quick boost that comes to lift...
To keep my mind from becoming idled,
From other trips I have exhausted.
I shall entitle this,
'Robust Thruster'.
Completing it until its visit,
Leaves me breathless...
To select from limited words,
Attempted to depict it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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