There are so many separate selves; no one who writes creatively hasn't felt that.
quote by Jeanette Winterson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
As Long As I Know I've Been Felt
I am not worried about,
Whether 'you' feel me or not.
I'm not!
As long as I know I've been felt,
I'm fine!
And cool with it.
By all means,
Continue your charade.
I'll continue I don't notice.
To leave us both creatively existing,
In our separate but equal dimensions.
Even though I do see,
We have this in common...
A head.
Two arms.
And two legs attached to feet,
I use to keep stepping.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Must
She writes as if there’s not much time.
She writes to pain, to happiness,
She writes to every remote detailed thought.
She writes to the departed,
to the extant,
to poverty,
to wealth.
She writes to mourn, and grief.
She writes to the wind, the rain,
forest, the desert, and mountains.
She writes to her pouring tears,
to her grateful moments,
She writes because really what she has is time.
She has no little ones to feed, or bathe,
nor a husband to make happy. To write is
to escape- to her. Time is not a problem, time
is just a killing system, she needs to kill in many words.
She writes as if there’s not much time.
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Ballad Of ‘Memo’ Roy
For JoAnn
Who in conversation inspired this little ditty.
This is the Ballad of ‘Memo’ Roy
the fastest memos in the world.
Roy writes a memo every minute
just to remind himself what to do.
He even writes one to tell himself
he must visit the loo.
It all started many years ago
when the doctor told Roy
he was suffering from
short-term memory loss.
Now he writes memos
to remind himself to write a memo
for everything he must do.
He writes one late at night
to remind him
to get up in the morning
and one in the morning
to remind him to go to bed at night.
It is estimated he writes
quite a few hundred memos everyday.
His house is filed with little bits
of yellow paper stuck up here and there.
He couldn’t watch TV
even if he wanted to.
There are s many memos on it
you can’t see the screen.
One day his pen ran out
and no memos he could write.
He couldn’t even write a memo
to remind himself to buy a pen.
Then he found a pencil
and shouted that will do.
Now he is able to write memos to himself
to tell himself what to do.
As far as I know,
he hasn’t written a memo
to remind himself to sharpen
the pencil once and a while.
28 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Living creatively is really important to maintain throughout your life. And living creatively doesn't mean only artistic creativity, although that's part of it. It means being yourself, not just complying with the wishes of other people.
quote by Matt Groening
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Reflections 101
he writes not because
he wants to be read and
be understood
got him wrong really
he writes because he likes
to live
life writes upon himself
and so he writes upon life too.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Your Time Hasn't Come Yet Baby
(words & music by hirschhorn - kascho)
Your time hasn't come yet baby
You got a lot of dreams to go
Your time hasn't come yet baby
But when it does your heart will know
You're gonna be a beautiful woman
Because you're such a beautiful child
And when you start to bloom
Just like a rose in june
I bet the schoolboys all go wild, but right now
Your time hasn't come yet baby
You got a few dreams to go
Your time hasn't come yet baby
When it does your heart will know
Your life's still a lollipop heaven
Your teddy bear's at the foot of your bed
The little boy next door who only makes you sore
Is gonna some day turn your head but right now
Your time hasn't come yet baby
You got a few dreams to go
Your time hasn't come yet baby
When it does your heart will know
You're gonna grow over night into a lady
With a devastatingly smile ???
And then a lucky guy will see you
And wanna walk you down the aisle, but meanwhile
Your time hasn't come yet baby
You got a few dreams to go
Your time hasn't come yet baby
When it does your heart will know
When it does your heart will know
When it does your heart will know
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So, my sweetheart back home writes to me and wants to know what this gal in Bombay's got that she hasn't got. So I just write back to her and says, Nothin', honey. Only she's got it here.
quote by Alvah Bessie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Book Of Suleika - The Loving One Again
WRITES he in Neski,
Faithfully speaks he;
Writes he in Tali,
Joy to give, seeks he:
Writes he in either,
Good!--for he loves!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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Not Eating or Feeding the Comfort of Laziness
I sometimes laugh at the people,
Who perceive creative abilities...
Expressed,
Is easy.
Or those who decide to devote their entire lives,
Creatively expressing themselves...
Are afraid of hard work.
And those critics find, surprisingly enough...
An inability to keep up.
And eventually decide for themselves a nine to five,
Is more sensible for them to do and survive.
Although those who are creatively incline,
Must do both and...without the whine!
With their minds more on pursuing the deed,
And not eating or feeding the comfort of laziness.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Blood Chalice Injustice Drips
skipping words across water
ripples spread at each touch point
mind merges into felt wonder
therefore it does not matter
if words are read or not
each skip was mind thunder
mind writes what words want
writes soul felt free thought
runs choice fields that anoint
sanctification consecration
pays homage honours all creation
earth entwined population
control investing in rim wars
out of sight out of mind fills
blood chalice injustice drips
beware balance restoration
all empires embracing evil fall
prosperity favours liberation
poem by Terence George Craddock
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His letter.
The letter has come at last.
You have been waiting for days.
You open the envelope with
Both excitement and anxiety
Gripping you tight. His script
Is as per norm: clear, well written
With that slanting at the end of words.
He hasn’t signed with love or left
Those flying bird kisses. You see
Meaning between words, not those
He’s written, but what it was he
Meant to say, but hasn’t. You skip
Words on matters trite. You read
Deeply on the words that mention
You or how he feels. You hold his
Letter tightly between fingers of
Both hands. The page shakes.
He doesn’t say he loves you or
Speak of that night of sexual passion.
You fold the letter carefully; place
It in the pocket of your dress. You
Gaze out the window at the passing
Crowds below. It isn’t what he writes
That troubles you, but what he leaves
Unsaid that brings you now so low.
poem by Terry Collett
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Written in Black Ink
Upon
The tear-stained
Paper
She writes
Writes,
Her story
Her experiences
Her life
Written in
Black ink
Upon
The tear-stained
Paper
She writes
Writes,
Her sorrows
People she lost
People who are gone
Written in
Black ink
She writes for
Days and
Days
Until
At last
Her masterpiece
Is finished
Her eyes Begin to
Close and
Oblivion Takes hold
And when she
Awakens
Her story will be written
Written in black ink
poem by Autumn Winds
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I am a pen
A fountain pen made in an unknown country.
But nowadays they leave us alone
And prefer the ballpoint pens?
My Boss with thick glasses
An old fashioned gentleman
Who writes a love letter it seems
After a long time?
He filled my belly with ink
Oh! I felt very cold.
He's seated on his ebony chair
with tears in his eyes
Looking towards the faraway burial grounds,
Then he writes;
'I see your tomb like an unexpected invitation!
Please let me know the party time
I search a humble present for you
And I want it to wrap
with a smile! '
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Separate Ways
I wont apologize
The light shone from in your eyes
It isnt gone,
It will soon come back again.
Though we go our separate ways
Lookin for better days
Sharin our little boy,
Who grew from joy back then.
And its all because of that love we knew
That makes the world go round.
Separate ways, separate ways.
Separate ways, separate ways.
Me for me, you for you
Happiness is never through
Its only a change of plan
And that is nothing new.
As we go our separate ways.
Lookin for better days
Sharin our little boy,
Who grew from joy back then.
And its all because of that love we knew
That makes the world go round.
And its all because of the love we knew
It makes the world go round.
Separate ways, separate ways.
Separate ways, separate ways.
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I felt like I was a teacher. But nowadays, I am as much a student of his. He writes a lot of what we play.
quote by Gary Burton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writes
He seems to be
Doing drugs and
Drinks...
As whatever
He writes
Doesn't
Make
Much
Sense
To me.
Maybe,
Whenever he
Writes...
He's so very
Intoxicated
On a high,
That his
Sanity
Bids him
Goodbye,
And the
Utter
Nonsense
That he
Writes...
Doesn't
Make
Much
Sense
To me ;)
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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I'm still proud of what I've done, even if it hasn't been the biggest song on the radio or hasn't gone to number one.
quote by Faith Hill
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A woman doesn't care if she hasn't a stomach, provided she looks as if she hasn't.
quote by Flann O'Brien
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I've had a normal life, but I have struggled to get here. It hasn't been handed to me and it hasn't been easy.
quote by Ashley Tisdale
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I don't know how a fellow looks, when he meets somebody that he hasn't seen, hasn't heard of, don't know where they are, know nothing about the house, whatever.
quote by Charles Phillips
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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