I'd always liked to write, but I never wanted to be a writer, because it seemed a sissy occupation. It is. To this day, I find it terribly easy. And so, rather than trying to hunt up a text, I just wrote one.
quote by Daniel Pinkwater
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Writer- a must?
Out of what does a writer write?
Out of hatred or perversion;
Out of denial or deprivation.
Why does a writer write?
To vent his anger or hatred.
To cry out from pain or lust.
How does a writer write?
By borrowing or distorting.
By modeling or duping.
For what does a writer write?
For an applause and a place.
It alone suits him, an idler.
What is the use of a writer?
For him to flaunt his skill.
For readers to idle away
Does the society need a writer?
Does a woman need cosmetics?
Writer is a part of civilization
16.05.2007.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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There Was Nothing Left To Write
THERE WAS NOTHING LEFT TO WRITE
There was nothing left to write
Everything had already been written
And was being written over again and again
By thousands elsewhere-
There was nothing left to write
And nothing new to say -
And no need for anything he had to give-
It was over for him as a writer
Whether he accepted it or not-
No one would ever need or want anything he could do again-
And so when he despite all this still wrote
It seemed to many simply pathetic-
The obsessive reflex of an already lost soul-
Who wrote and wrote and wrote
Who writes and writes and writes
Who cannot stop
However senseless all he does, is.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Wrote A Poem Across The Universe
I wrote a poem across the Universe
It was read among the stars-
Cosmic messages were sent endlessly reinterpreting it-
It appeared in Galactic anthologies
And whole Civilizations taught it in their schools-
Worlds were born with it and worlds lamented their dying with it-
It became the Text of the Text of the Text of the Text of the Text
Of cosmic intergalactic meaningfulness-
I wrote a poem across the Universe-
It was read for billions of years
And then somehow
No attention was paid to it anymore-
And it vanished for as long as forever can be understood to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Paperback Writer
(LennonMcCartney)
Paperback writer
Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It's based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
It's the dirty story of a dirty man
And his clinging wife doesn't understand
His son is working for the Daily Mail
It's a steady job but he wants to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer
It's a thousand pages, give or take a few
I'll be writing more in a week or two
I can make it longer if you like the style
I can change it round and I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
If you really like it you can have the rights
It could make a million for you overnight
If you must return it, you can send it here
But I need a break and I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer (fade out)
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What They Will Say
Some times, I wonder if I write for the future.
That may seem like a strange statement to make.
Forty-three years ago, I wrote a poem
that at the time no one wanted to know.
Now it is my best-loved poem
read by countless people around the world.
Thirty years ago, I wrote two poems
and each one won me an award,
but at the time I wrote them,
no one wanted to know.
All of which makes me wonder
if what I wrote in my yesteryears
that then none wanted to know.
Could they all be popular now?
Today I started collecting and retyping
short stories I wrote twenty years ago.
At the time, publishers and agents
didn’t want to know.
Now twenty year on
I am wondering what they will say.
24 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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For me, being a writer was never a choice. I was born one. All through my childhood I wrote short stories and stuffed them in drawers. I wrote on everything. I didn't do my homework so I could write.
quote by Laura Hillenbrand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What is classic?
Easy to borrow, that too to maxim,
Easy to write, that too so fast,
Easy to get at will a wealth of materials,
You and I can write volumes about things.
Hard to borrow, that too with efforts, ,
Hard to write, that too with hardships, ,
Hard to get at ease such materials,
Ancient scholars wrote their works.
Let us bow to such men of the past..
17.09.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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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
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Emphatically Expressed
A writer doesn't write to attract readers.
Maybe gossip columnists do.
To sell images and ruin a few.
But a writer who is true,
Writes because that is what writers do.
I wrote years before anything I wrote was read.
It wasn't to impress.
Those issues express about me,
Have long been put to rest in my head.
If something I write is read...
I hope a connection is made from what I've said.
Some also make claims they too like to write.
And I say to myself,
'Liking and loving are different appetites.'
No one who 'is' a writer takes it 'light'.
And those who feel this way...
May stay up night after night,
After many a sleepless night.
And it isn't for fame or money.
Trust me on that.
And I thank God what I do isn't done for the glory.
That's another story.
However,
When my contributions do become discovered...
It will be 'seen' there is some depthness meant.
Something within me that seems never to be solved.
Something with content I can not just dissolve.
And there is nothing to glorify,
When someone who writes for nourishment...
To feed others,
Do not think themselves to eat or drink.
Not when a thought comes to possess their minds,
With a desire to be completed.
Coming with a sensation one should heed.
And most of the time this is the writer's deed.
Whether the one who 'writes' gets a wink of sleep,
Or blinks.
And no matter if what is written is accepted,
Or thought to be rejected and stinks!
This kind of discipline...
Does not seek to reach for that attention!
Unless,
Money becomes mentioned.
And only then,
Of course...
What I have just emphatically expressed,
You have my permission to ignore.
Since my intention will take upon another direction,
To excite my need to explore...
With a more deepened Introspection.
I do write.
But biting into a good meal,
Intrigues!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Finding Chicago
I wanted to write poetry like Carl Sandburg.
I wanted to write about big cities and small towns,
about open prairies and rivers in the sky.
I wanted to write about the people:
plumbers, politicians, poets,
but I’d never been east of Tucson.
So I quit my dead end job,
closed out my savings account, all 600 dollars,
and went to Chicago in search of a poem.
Chicago—City of the Big Shoulders, wrote Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find it.
I found Chicago falling down around an old black man
leaning on his battered bass case, the way you lean
on a friend when you’re in need. And Thomas Jefferson
Brown was a man in need, shoulders sagging under
the weight of six decades of back alley blues bars
and his thirst for blended whiskey.
Chicago—Player with Railroads and the Nation’s Freight Handler,
wrote Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find it.
I found Chicago in a rusted heap of railroad cars, twisted
tracks and 55 gallon drums where bums built their fires.
Factories and warehouses empty, workers sitting in nearby
bars drinking beer, expecting checks at the end of the week.
Chicago—Stormy, husky, brawling, wrote Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find it.
I found Chicago shimmering in the shadows of towering
concrete, steel and glass along 32nd Street, poets reading
in bookstores and coffee houses, children marching
to museums, women with slim hips in black silk gowns,
men in tuxedos and Italian shoes, dressed for the theater.
I wanted to write poetry like Sandburg.
But I couldn’t find his Chicago.
poem by Clifton King
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As soon as I began, it seemed impossible to write fast enough - I wrote faster than I would write a letter - two thousand to three thousand words in a morning, and I cannot help it.
quote by Helen Hunt Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Legends, Elegies, Pleasures And Norma Jean
The man who wrote Legends of the Fall
Wrote; 'Don't fall in love as if fallin' off a dock at night'
But when you are struck by the thunderbolt
How do you not fall?
The man who wrote the Duino Elegies
Wrote; 'Beauty is only the start of bearable terror'
But to be stuck without beauty
Is unbearable
The woman formerly know as Norma Jean
Wrote; 'I know from life one cannot love another'
I know what she meant, but to love you
How can I not?
The man who wrote The Pleasures of Hope
Wrote; 'How hard it is to find the one just suited to our mind! '
But it is just a little too easy to find one
Who is ill suited
From Legends, Elegies, Pleasures and Norma Jean
What they wrote is unforgettable
And that is what you are muse, though near or far
In every way
poem by MacGregor Tagliaferro
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I Would Like It Better If
If I wrote to be liked,
I would not be read.
And I do like that some read,
What I write!
But I would like it better,
If I was fed...
By what it is I've said that is written...
And read by those who read what I wrote!
Finding a nibble to afford,
Liked And nourishes...
To feed the reader something read,
Coming from this writer's head!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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What next!
What next?
Did you read text?
You won't get
If you let
Set in time
You may miss sometimes
Beware
But don't hesitate to dare
Care enough
But don't prove tough
Smile with message
But write nothing on page
What else!
Nothing, but don't be tense
Easy way and easy day
Not to ignore but "hello" to say
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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I Wanted To Write The Poems Of The Stars
I WANTED TO WRITE THE POEMS OF THE STARS
I wanted to write the poems of the stars
The poem of Beauty and Hope and Inspiration
I wanted to write a poem that helped others
Find Joy and Meaning in their lives -
I write my little poems
Often they are the sad truths of my own little life
Consolations for myself
I think may perhaps echo the souls of others.
I am not what I would have been
And perhaps not what I should be
I am what I am
What G-d has given me to be -
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Well, writing was what I wanted to do, it was always what I wanted to do. I had novels to write so I wrote them.
quote by Octavia Butler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Hunt
I hunt.
For specific kinds of meat.
I hunt.
To feed that desire within me I seek.
I hunt.
I do not keep my needs a secret.
I do not wish to discreet them in any way.
I hunt.
I want this known.
I want it easy for the meat,
To be captured and seasoned.
With a sauté done to taste.
And delayed at a minimum wait.
I hunt.
For specific kinds of meat.
I hunt.
To feed that desire within me I seek.
I hunt.
To satisfy what it is I do.
And grunt...
Sometimes,
Just before the morning dew appears.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Dear Michael
She wrote dear michael
Youll probably never get this letter
Michael, I wrote you a hundred times before
Knowing how I feel
Ill write a hundred more
Dear michael, every time your records on
(michael michael)
Michael, I close my eyes and sing along
Dreaming youre singing to me.
(ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh)
And then she wrote:
(ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh)
Michael, I love you
I held the tears back long as I can
(ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh)
Im sealing my feelings in this envelope
(ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh)
cause I wanna be more than just your number one fan
Im gonna answer your letter
(michael michael)
Ill start beginning with the abcs of loving you
(I love ya)
(she wrote)
(michael michael)
(I love ya)
Your letter really touched my heart
(she wrote)
Ive been dreaming of meeting the picture
That you send along, signed with all your love
(michael michael)
(I wrote ya)
(she wrote)
Im gonna write you back, ouuh, I promess you that
(wont you write me back? , please write me back)
Girl, I think I love you
(michael michael)
Hurry, hurry mister postman, take my letter, tell her I love her
(she wrote)
(wont you write me back, please write me back)
(michael michael)
(she wrote)
Hurry, hurry mister postman, take my letter tell her I love her
(wont you write me back, please write me back)
(michael michael)
Yeah,
(I wrote you)
(she wrote)
Im gonna write you back
I promess you that...
song performed by by Michael Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Magic writer
Am the writer who going to write about the truth
Am the writer who going to write about the things you went throw
Am going to take all the pain out of you
And make magic to it and make it go away
Am the magic writer
I was born in the magic city
Where every one was smiling and happy
Where every kid had their own magical talent
I had the talent to write about people’s pain
And I could take it away
Because am the magic writer
poem by Aliyah Aliyah
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Ernest Hemingway did a great deal toward making the writer an acceptable public figure; obviously, he was no sissy.
quote by Irwin Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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