That isn't writing at all, it's typing.
quote by Truman Capote
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
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.
March Twenty-Third, Two Thousand Ten
senioritis~
the ultimate excuse,
oh yes indeed.
here i sit, my studyhall
not the most useless class of all
no of course not.
so here i sit, typing this
to you
and as i'm typing this poem
with no work to be done
or at least,
no work i'm going to do
and i will uphold my A's and B's
as my teachers continue stressing
over the work that,
basicly none of us are ever going to do.
Oh highschool,
what fun you really are.
poem by David Thomas
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Come Alive In Writing
I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -
I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-
I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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And I'm writing
The purpose of writing poem
Is not known and I'm writing.
Excuse me, I'm writing
And writing
And writing is natural
As natural as wind
As natural as light
And I'm writing
Writing and pervading
Everywhere.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Novel....
this has something to do with the novel that
you have been writing
the one that you started many years back
about your hero
that you regret writing
now you want to change him
his vision and what he is going to do
in the next chapters
something that he cannot do too
because of what he is known already
to the other characters
they do not expect him to do that
the twist of his character is simply
too unexpected
and they are getting apprehensive
that this novel may not have
a happy ending after all
you think about it for days
you ask and even beg him to understand
that he must fall and be humiliated
and be condemned
but he definitely disagrees and warns you
that if that is the case then
he better be killed and simply be
ended in Chapter X of the novel
you feel pity for him
you think for more days
you give it time tonight
and you decide no to kill him
the novel will not be that good
to kill him or not
that is your eventual decision
at dawn you start typing the
next chapter
you keep him alive
but the novel shall be damned
the other characters of course
shall continue adoring him
till the last chapter.
there shall be no other sequel
on such a bland and usual novel
of that happy ending
that saddest ever-after.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At This Hour, It Is The Deep Of The Night
at this hour, it is the deep of the night
calm,
silent,
there is no wind blowing, i can hear the typing
of words
in this keyboard, this personal computer, writing,
because i cannot sleep, after we made love, because i am still
thinking what to do with my life,
what is the next move,
after love,
when there is no hate, because i have stopped feeling altogether
all those years,
and the years shall come slowly like some growing children
in your eyes, not seeing how the cells add to become their innocent eyes,
i am here again at midnight, then dawn,
2: 11 a.m.
that is the time here in this room
on this island
on this nook of the big, wide world,
time had made some divisions for all of us
for you it is morning, and for her it is noon,
but we are here writing at this moment for all different reasons,
some claim happiness and bliss and love and nature and hope,
i still claim my main reasons,
doubt, this sadness that has known how it is to write and be not able
to get a sound sleep, this lostness in space trying to find
where is everything
from nothing.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Planning to write is not writing. Outlining, researching, talking to people about what you're doing, none of that is writing. Writing is writing.
quote by E.L. Doctorow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing The Words
I’m writing this at your funeral.
As I watch all the people in tears.
I wish I could join them,
But I know I have to be strong.
I’m writing this on my hand,
No paper to get it down on.
I want to remember your funeral,
So I’m writing this to honour you.
I’m writing the thoughts that pop into my head,
Making sure they are only the best.
I have to remember,
Because I couldn’t live with myself if I ever forgot.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
As people dropp flowers onto your coffin.
I stand up to dropp my own,
Blue, unlike the others, because I know it’s your favourite.
I’m writing this through the ceremony,
Because if I listen to the words I’ll cry.
And I know I can’t, for you,
I have to keep it together.
I’m writing the words I want to say,
To make people remember how much love you gave.
Because I want them to know,
How much of it you gave to me.
So, I’m writing this at your funeral,
To stop myself from shedding a tear.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
So that I never ever forget you.
poem by Rachel Brewer
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On Writing
is talking aloud to myself
i'm the first recipient of my communication,
first translator of my emotion into words.
first witness to the subtle unfolding within
writing is my strength.
writing is my weakness too
to me writing is meditation.
writing is prayer!
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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I enjoy writing, sometimes; I think that most writers will tell you about the agony of writing more than the joy of writing, but writing is what I was meant to do.
When I'm writing about reality, I'm writing about death. When I'm writing fiction, I'm writing about life.
quote by Ralph Peters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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4 O'clock In The Afternoon
a small maroon van
is parked beside an unfinished pillar
along a gray road
a pile of rocks stands still
at the other side
a thin woman with short blond-dyed hair
is wiping the roof of a yellow painted pedicab
and then she pedals away
towards an old cemetery
the rain begins to pour heavily
the sonorous sound of the rain amplifies
itself on the rusty galvanized roof
of this building where i am
writing
the ceiling at the typing room
leaks some drops of rain
as though it is
crying
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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
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Writing To
Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
Writing every emotion..
With such a white background.
It makes no sound
Even as the keys I pound.
Let my words have bite
Let from my words drip out meanings beyond meanings
Its something I try to be constantly be achieving.
Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
I want every heart and mind
Sucked in cause this is my world stage
No sense of the time.
Never to turn the page
Stuck in to a world oh so oh so fine
Writing to feel
Writing to heal
Writing to steal
Listen to her melody, as she sings.
Let chaos reign down from the skies
What will this day really bring?
Will the letter say good bye?
Will it mend everything?
Making everything better.
Destroying all the consequences
That exist in your world.
Welcome to the place I visit daily.
Inspirational maddness,
It attacks, attacks, and attacks.
With perfect sadness
I must let go once more.
And then the words hit the floor
Writing to feel
Writing to heal.
Writing to steal.
Becoming one with my soul.
Fighting for its one and only control.
Its mine, Its mine. Its mine.
In this reality it subsequently is not
A constant questioning of what?
Writing to feel
Writing to heal.
Writing to steal.
With every sound, taste, and light.
The worlds get get oh so oh so bright
Understand that which is not so forthright
This is my night, and day.
So come on join me, please this way.
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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I'm Not Writing A Poem Today
I'm not writing a poem today, don't feel like writing,
Instead I'll watch soaps today, while nail-biting.
I'm not writing a poem today, I'm just going to sleep soon,
Instead I'll later wake up and look at the white moon,
I'm not writing a poem today, I'm just going to be sad,
Instead I'm going to search for something else that makes me glad.
So peace be unto anyone that reads the letter here,
For I am not writing a poem today, just going to get a beer.
poem by Chad Fisher
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The sounds of darkness
Darkness, it comes every night
The sounds come with it.
There are crickets humming,
And twigs falling making a thud on the roof.
The roar of a train, the rush of the creek,
The tap, tap, tap of the keyboard typing.
The buzz of my laptop and the sounds of the TV.
The soft, slow howl of the wind.
The sounds of darkness may differ with seasons
But no matter what time or day
The sounds will come.
The roar of a train, the rush of the creek,
The tap, tap, tap of the keyboard typing.
The buzz of my laptop and the sounds of the TV.
The soft, slow howl of the wind
poem by Maddie Shanahan
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Not The Poem Then
NOT THE POEM THEN
Not the poem then
Although it can be the poem
Writing
Simply writing
This is the duty and the meaning
And the release from meaninglessness
And the ‘enabling me to go on’
The poem is only one form of it
It is the writing which matters
My life has been this
This writing
Even if it is a poor poem now
As I write these words
I live.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Soyinka, Intro
'But the ultimate lesson is just sit down and write.
That's all.'
so with you charles.
and so with me
here i am
writing and writing ang writing
that's all
no questions asked
anymore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nothing is as surprising as life. Except for writing. Except for writing. Yes, of course, except for writing, the only consolation.
Orhan Pamuk in The Black Book
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I passed a typing test and became a member of the staff of Rear Adm. Newton.
quote by Jack Adams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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