Related quotes: The man who writes about...

The man who writes about himself and his own time is the only man who writes about all people and about all time.

quote by George Bernard Shaw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes

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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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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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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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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Their Kind Of Books

You are somebody's wife and now,
Somebody's husband is using you;
But, is this what you call love? !
You are somebody's husband and now,
Somebody's wife is sleeping with you;
But, is this what you call love? !
What kind of world is this?
Is this the kind of love or lust that you want?
What kind of garden of Eden is this?
Is this what you call lust or love?
Oh, what a shame! ! !
A lady sleeps with a president and writes a book about it,
A man kills a woman ans writes a book about it,
A thief robs a bank and writes a book about it,
A man sleeps with somebody's wife and writes a book about it,
A flirt sleeps with different people and writes a book about it,
A kidnapper is very successful with his or her acts and writes a book about it,
A woman kills a man and writes a book about it,
And so on and so forth as we seen in this world;
But, sin is like enjoyment to these people in this Garden of Eden!
And now, thier kind of books are all over the stores in this world for sale.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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A good journalist is not the one that writes what people say, but the one that writes what he is supposed to write.

quote by Todor Zhivkov
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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There Is A Time When Tired And Weak

THERE IS A TIME WHEN TIRED AND WEAK

There is a time when tired and weak
An old man can barely think
But writes nonetheless
A few small lines
To remind himself
That he still has a mind-

There is a time when tired and weak
An old man can barely speak
But writes nonetheless
A few small lines
To prove to himself
That he still is alive-

There is a time when tired and weak
And old man can barely dream
But writes nonetheless
A few small lines
To make himself believe
He still has time

There will be a time when tired and weak
An old man will be unable to read-
He will not write a few small lines
He will sit and wait
For the end of his life.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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He's A Man of His Word

He contemplates life
In general who people are
Or what things are
What is it all about?

He likes to learn
From those of us
With knowledge
Of the here and now
And of the past

He taps away
At his keyboard
As he reads
As he writes
And discovered
To his knowledge
That it helps him
To be a better man

His words are immaculate
Even words I've never heard
But when he writes his poetry
It has meaning to each word

The man is so humble
On what he writes
On what he feels
And on how he preserves others
And their words

I bow to thee Kevin Patrick
Who is a man?
Of his every word

poem by Kaila George
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A Poet's Blues

A poet
Is having a hard time
To day
While he is writing his poem
He writes something
Om his computer
And after he finishes it he reads it
And it doesn't seem good enought for him
So he errases it
And he writes his poem again on his computer
When he is finished with his poem
He reads his poem
And he is not happy with it still
So he errases it again
And then he writes it again on his compute
Now his poem is finally making sense
And all he needs to do is to elaborate his poem
Now it it is getting late for the poet
Ans he needs a break from writing
So he goes to sleep right now

poem by Aldo Kraas
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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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An Old Man Waits For a Poem To Come

AN OLD MAN WAITS FOR A POEM TO COME

An old man waits for a poem to come
How many poems will come
Before he’s done?

An old man writes and writes and writes
He will write
To the end of his life.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poem about Poetry - I know how God writes his poem

i know how god writes his poem
it is in the delicate, artistic and
defining lines of every flower
petals, pistil, stamen, pollens,
fragrant and scents that fill the air

i know how god writes his poem
it is in the ray of the sun
that reveals their metaphors
and rhymes in the rain
an arc over the clear blue sky

i know how god writes his poem
it is in your eyes, two lakes of honey
that sail me into your warm saccharine world
dilating and constricting to let them
speak more volume to my my lovelorn heart

i know how god writes his poem
it is in the dazzling lines of the sea
that shows the sky how many ways
it can define and redefine itself
it is in the breeze that pulls off a dancer
twirling towards me in every direction

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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My Heart Writes

Unending words flow through me
like streams of water-
My heart writes not to tell
the world Im broken,
that he should shed some tears for me.
But it writes to tell
the world my failures...
and that somehow
he would learn from them.

Broken words that know forever
flow through me like streams of water-
My heart writes not to show
the world I need him,
and that he should praise me more.
But it writes to tell
the world the lessons
I wish I knew before.

poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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Happy New Year To You 2011

Kee writes to you,

My dearest,
Happy new year for you to be blessed,

you writes the best

really blessed if writes from the heart....

You penned few lines on my our book

The harvest of god and prayer words on dreams
Somewhere, you keep my heart and its burns

a kiss of your words....

To see no further than ……
And now our psalm
And a smell of fiery word in this poem

your writes little is the best....
I love our greatness in its charm..
happy new year to you dearest

Sincerely wish you happy new year,
you loves our poems on god
Kee thampi

poem by Thampi KEE
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Everything And Everyone

She's never afraid of what her past had might become
Alone in her lazy time in-between a thought that ends with loss
Her life is spent searching for the next
An answer a question never asked
Everything and everyone finds their time
Everything and everyone writes their line
But it seems hard now things work out in time

She lacks self pride her lazy time
Never once identified her lonely nights
Spending days alone but through the phone
She waits for a voice to calm her name
Then takes a drink says it makes me sane
She lives through a dream she once called fate
Then finds herself alone to contemplate

Everything and everyone finds their time
Everything and everyone writes their line
But it seems hard now things work out in time

song performed by by Near Miss from The Gentle Art Of Making Enemies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The offender writes in dust, the offended writes in marble.

Sicilian proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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He writes with an iron pen. [That which he writes will not be easily altered.]

Latin proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Happy Words To Love 2011