I'm not one of those writers I learned about who get up in the morning, put a piece of paper in their typewriter machine and start writing. That I've never understood.
quote by Wole Soyinka
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Most Writers
Most writers 'twould seem have moments of self doubt
But they never go short of things to write about
And to become a top writer of one a big ask
And to succeed as a writer for many seems too daunting a task.
Most writers do not write for wealth or for fame
And despite lack of success they pen on just the same
For every one hundred thousand writers perhaps one writing millionaire
Amongst the ranks of the wealthy the writers are rare.
Few writers can hope for to scale success height
For the love of writing they only do write
Few writers get published and fewer know of success
But in their writings on paper their thoughts they express.
Most writers will never know wealth and renown
And they are not even well known in their own Hometown
They never will be known beyond their home shore
They write for the love of it and little more.
poem by Francis Duggan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I always start writing with a clean piece of paper and a dirty mind.
quote by Patrick Dennis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Befores
It could all start again.
(And maybe end as well!)
Just a piece of paper.
An acceptance of notice!
(A requirement of proof of identity) and interest maybe!
An orange piece of paper.
A scrap, a twinkle in your eye.
I am enchanted, you're curious!
Who knows.
Wanting begins, despair ends.
It could all start again.
Stress relieved, direction back on line.
Health returned.
Befores, afters, all is new, fresh
Revived. reborn.
poem by Peter Vealey
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Piece Of Paper
A diploma hanging on the wall
is really not you at all.
It's just a piece of paper.
A marriage certificate in your file
of when you two walked down the aisle
is just a piece of paper.
A birth certificate, signed and sealed
made you legal but concealed
that it's just a piece of paper.
A death certificate proves you're gone.
The truth is you've just moved on.
It was just a piece of paper.
All these papers that yellow with time
were really not worth one thin dime.
They were just pieces of paper.
Your life was never all those things.
Your life was when you took on wings
and soared with love for all.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Writers Block
The worst thing any writer can experience
is the most dreaded writers block.
Sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper
waiting and waiting for the words to come.
It is the curse of all writers
whether they are good or bad.
The frustration of trying to unblock their mind.
We try it with reading others words or soothing music
hoping to stimulate the little grey cells into working.
However it is never as easy as it sounds
as a writers block can sometimes last for years,
I know that from experience as
I have been down that road before.
Then the inexplicable happens and you pick up a pen
and that blank page is not blank anymore,
it is filled with words galore.
The torture is over and a new start begins.
You give a big sigh of relief as your writing begins again,
but being always weary in case that block comes back again.
14 January 2011
poem by David Harris
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I don't know any other lifestyle. I get up in the morning and I really do feel that the world is my oyster, and I start that way, the same as I would if I were preparing to write a song: put a blank piece of paper up on the piano and you go for it.
quote by Lesley Gore
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Copy Machine and I
I have a copy machine romance
where the machine's heat
contributes
to my losing my senses.
Our arrivals
are timed
each day to maximize
and synchronize
to intensify
the chance encounter
we both seek.
'How are you' is
the morning entree;
the sounds of the staple and sort routine
and just a brush of finger tip
warmed by the sweeping green glow
as you help
position
the paper guide
and insert
a new ream
in the paper tray;
bending we both
and now standing
while we wait
for copying
one-sided
double-sided and both.
In the humming silence
the machine
spools
guides
separates
and we
have yet another
small
'just getting to know you'
situation
which
may
lead
who
knows
what.
And it did.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Nautical Terms
Nautical Terms
The night above me is like an elastic balloon, a plane penetrates
flies through and disappear only its engine roar remains and echoes
into the infinite. I can see its light, green for starboard and red for
portside. On a tramp ship I served on, the old captain, when he got
up on the bridge in the morning, open a locked drawer he only had
the key to; read on a piece of paper and closed the drawer again.
When he resigned, the first officer took over, he was curious about
the piece of paper, opened the drawer and found a folded piece of
paper. On it was written: right is starboard and left is portside.
It is good to meet people who know they are fallible.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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In A Spin
My inspiration has thrown me in a spin
instead of writing one poem a day
I have now been writing six or seven.
After a few weeks of that
you could say I need a break
or at least cut down a bit.
Of course that is easier said than done,
the poems still come tumbling out,
so out comes the pen, and paper
and I start writing again
always asking will it ever end.
Maybe one day the river will run dry
and I’ll suddenly have a drought.
30 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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I don't want anything to do with anything mechanical between me and the paper, including a typewriter, and I don't even want a fountain pen between me and the paper.
quote by Shelby Foote
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writers and Poets
Here I sit
At a desk dimly lit.
Holding an unsharpened pencil
Over a piece of old, faded paper,
In my mind lingers a vague intention
Within the unformed idea
Of somehow writing something.
With no clear idea, theme or plan.
Only the restless desire to write.
It's raining. Again.
It seems to rain often.
Not the weather.
Life.
Interior drops fall,
Like flower pedals sacrificed.
Beautys death, the ransom price.
My desire lives in poetic rhythms,
Not in serious writers cadences.
I am not a writer.
- I hope to be a poet-
There is a difference? one may ask;
Oh yes, I believe so.
I'll attempt to express why.
In poetry words flow,
Like living waters.
In writing ideas are built within words.
The writer builds something,
Like a dam, to hold and control the way of the water,
To cause it to go somewhere precisely.
Writers form canals to move readers
To certain places.
Poets open up the dark clouds over life
Pouring out necessary wonders onto human souls;
Thirst quenching beauties that all
-in one way or another-
Are in great need of.
Writers, thankfully, take people
To places where they are able
To realize their own thirst.
Poets give them the drink.
The taste towards fulfilling life's true longings.
Writers and poets together
Make the dark a bit brighter,
The waters a bit more navagatible,
The way a bit clearer,
And the thirst of life
A bit more quenchable.
poem by Smoky Hoss
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They're fancy talkers about themselves, writers. If I had to give young writers advice, I would say don't listen to writers talking about writing or themselves.
quote by Lillian Hellman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Loan Shark's Secretary
She writes on a piece of paper; My Boss is a multi-millionaire
Though he's never been to a school.
Boss questioned her 'What do you write honey'
'I am writing about you sir' Secretary replied.
'Then read it louder' Boss said.
'My Boss knows the secret of success than a learned person.'
When she gets her pay slip the following month she found it has been increased more than a double.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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If you're writing a piece for the Boston Pops, the balance is towards one end. If you're writing a piece for a chamber music society, then it's towards another point. I won't make a final answer on that. I think it changes with every piece.
quote by Peter Maxwell Davies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whispers From Bones
THE WAR MACHINE
IS QUITE OBSCENE
THE WAR MACHINE
IS QUITE UNCLEAN
BUT
THE WAR MACHINE
WILL NOT STOP
BECAUSE
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST BE FED
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE BLOOD
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE DEATH
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE LIFE
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST HAVE STRIFE
THE WAR MACHINE
MUST BE FED
THE WAR MACHINE
LOVES THE DEAD
THE WAR MACHINE
WILL NOT STOP
BECAUSE
THE WAR MACHINE
IS ANGRY MAN.
poem by M.L. Squier
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As I sit down and start to work, I often panic. I stare at the empty piece of music paper. How can I say that my piece will be ready for performance next January when I do not have a recipe for making it happen?
quote by Lukas Foss
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Piece Of You
Im just trying to live this life of mine
The more I look, the more Im blind
And all I ask for is piece of mind
And all I want is a piece of you
Well I lost my way today
Back home from work
The snow fell like dust
I felt like dirt
Happens everytime I start to search
For that long lost piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
It seems the last time I was sure
Of anything
I sold my heart
I wore your ring
But now, the queen has lost her king
All I want is a piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
A piece of you
song performed by by Veruca Salt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did You Read The Morning Paper
(Nickolas Ashford/Valerie Simpson/R. Monica)
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
There on the front page was a picture
Of a crowd as they watched a parade passing by
And through the haze of last nights sleep
Something familiar caught my eye
There was a couple looking so much in love, yes
They had a front line view
And as I pulled the paper closer
I realized standing next to her it was you
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Now I know why you've been working late each night
And no longer have desire to ever hold me tight
And your busy, busy schedule was all a lie
Oh, even the dream with a bonus, oh just another alibi
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Did you get the news today
Did you read the morning paper
Isn't the picture very clear
Where do we go from here
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headlines
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Oh, what now
Did you read the morning paper
Did you get the news today
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did You Read The Morning Papers?
(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson/r. monica)
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
There on the front page was a picture
Of a crowd as they watched a parade passing by
And through the haze of last nights sleep
Something familiar caught my eye
There was a couple looking so much in love, yes
They had a front line view
And as I pulled the paper closer
I realized standing next to her it was you
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Now I know why youve been working late each night
And no longer have desire to ever hold me tight
And your busy, busy schedule was all a lie
Oh, even the dream with a bonus, oh just another alibi
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Did you get the news today
Did you read the morning paper
Isnt the picture very clear
Where do we go from here
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headlines
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Oh, what now
Did you read the morning paper
Did you get the news today
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I write from instinct, from inexplicable sparkle. I don't know why I'm writing what I'm writing. Usually, I sit and I let my hands wander on my guitar. And I sing anything. I play anything. And I wait till I come across a pleasing accident. Then I start to develop it. Once you take a piece of musical information, there are certain implications that it automatically contains — the implication of that phrase elongated, contracted, or inverted or in another time signature. So you start with an impulse and go to what your ear likes.
quote by Paul Simon
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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