Judging from the letters I've received from obviously feeble-minded persons who wish I would write another These Old Shades, it ought to sell like hot cakes.
quote by Georgette Heyer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
An Autumn Letter
I want to write a letter to someone in the autumn
In the Autumn, I see lonely fountain streamed from a deep valley
And want to wet the lonely heart
I write a letter in the autumn night but knowing that cannot be sent in the morning
Now there is a postman who delivers letters in the air in the days and nights
So I am sending letters
I regret but the unsent letters always cry
I send the thread tied letters in the air without stamps
The letters of the poet opens its eyes with holding their breaths
poem by Kyungdae Min
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Letters To No One
I wrote a letter to my love
and never received a reply.
I've often wondered why that was.
Did he up and die?
Yes, he did. It's a fact.
And because I didn't know
I kept writing letters
and kept feeling low.
These letters went to no one.
So no one wrote to me.
I've often wondered if all my words
would come back home to me?
And then one day they all came back.
'Undeliverable'
is what they said.
I guess my lover moved away
or maybe he was dead.
And so I stopped my letters.
I never wrote again.
I still have all those letters,
unopened and unread.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Face
The Face
On my walk along the old lane I came across a tree that
has on its trunk the outline of a sad pastry chef’s face,
of one who has just burnt his cakes; and has to open his
shop, now he had to rush out, buy up pastries in other
places; theirs, of course, will not be as good as his own,
but he got to have something to sell. He’ll grind up his
burnt cakes put the crumble in tiny paper bags and sell
them to children on their way to school, or old folks who
are going to the park to feed the ducks; ten cent a bag.
His wife’s fault, she came to the bakery - they haven’t
been married long- they kissed, canoodled; ok, we get
the picture. He has made it clear that she mustn’t upset
him during baking hours, he isn’t mad at her, not since
she told him she had a bun in the oven herself.
And the tree, it’s an olive tree- silvery in winter light- is
silent but there is a stir of a smile in the air.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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The Wicked Postman
Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother
to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find
a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish
as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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But it seems that the judging maybe they shouldn't at least see the practices all week long. That can taint the way they go into the judging and the outlook of what's going to happen, instead of just watching those four minutes and judging on those minutes alone.
quote by Nancy Kerrigan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Treasure for joy
Need two persons,
Mummy and daddy,
the result is me;
Need two persons,
My grandparents,
to take care of me;
Need two persons,
Child specialist and family physician,
to look after my health;
Need two persons,
My loving teachers,
to teach me manners;
Need two persons,
My sincere friends,
for play and pastime;
Time has come,
A good job has come,
A happy companion has come;
A beautiful wife to share my life,
We have two children, a girl and boy,
They are our treasure for joy.
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Wise Advice
If persons do not want to change for good,
Advise them if you can, sometimes;
If persons are recalcitrant in mood,
Try advising them in some better climes!
If persons do not listen or pay heed,
Ignore their misdemeanor, if you can;
If persons appear to be ‘blind’ indeed,
Just watch them from a farther distance, man.
If persons are too adamant to change,
Leave them to change the hard way, if they must;
If persons are in ‘impossible’ range,
Leave them to God or let them bite the dust!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 2-8-2010
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poetics Of Stevs Jobs
Visionary
A valley
Lost family
Risks of innovation
A Buddhist's practice
Interventions of diseases
Recurrent cancer cells
Still having a courage to build up hope for the people to make their lives easy and comfortable
Surviving capacity directing towards real change from analog-minded attitude to digital-minded attitude
No goodbye for you, STEVE with capital letters! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
HAPPY WORLD NEW CENTURY! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Weak-Minded As Coleridge
WEAK- MINDED AS COLERIDGE
Weak- minded as Coleridge
In Irresolution I write
A Great Plan for tomorrow
Quick lines for tonight.
The hare of the story
Has run out of steam
He writes new words
But is emptied of Dreams.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I Work To Be A Big Poet
every day i write
every night i write like e e cummings
every second i write letters and numbers
every year i finish a collection of poems
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)
I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I don't write for an audience, I don't think whether my book will sell, I don't sell it before I finish writing it.
quote by Ann Patchett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Write by Return
Clerk, corresponding,
“Rooster and Comb”,
Here I sit idle
“Thinking of home”;
I must be grafting—
Living to earn,
More correspondence,
“Write by return.”
Clerk in employ of
“Shoddy and Woods”,
Thinks that we have not
Forwarded goods.
Parcel we sent them—
Missing, I learn,
Says in his postscript:
“Write by return.”
Here is another
Letter from Bland—
“Cheque he expected
Isn’t to hand.”
How we forgot it
Cannot discern,
“Forward remittance,
Write by return.”
Here is another—
O how they come?
Treats of a “Bender”
Planned by a chum.
See on the margin,
Big letters: “Burn
After perusal—
Write by return.”
Mail in from England,
Letters for me—
Dear little sweetheart
Over the sea.
“Quite broken-hearted,
O how I yearn
Only to see you. . . .
Write by return.”
One who will “never
Think that I’m bad”
Writes me a letter
Tearful and sad.
Thinks that I’m starving,
Filled with concern,
Sends me some money—
“Write by return.”
Letter from father,
Sent to his son,
“All is forgiven—
Fat calf for one.”
O that I ever
Thought he was stern—
Money for passage—
Write by return.
poem by Henry Lawson
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It is just as cowardly to judge an absent person as it is wicked to strike a defenseless one. Only the ignorant and narrow-minded gossip, for they speak of persons instead of things.
quote by Lawrence G. Lovasik
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Are persons people?
and he says
you don’t write poetry to please people, you know
that’s with a comma after people
you write poems to please you
with shock lines like I still treasure
our first condom oh my love
to show that you’re cool and hip
but she says why write poems at all
if they don’t please people
men have such egos I suppose
it’s because they can’t have babies
but who are people anyway, how
many persons make a people or
how few persons and are they
a random mix or is there like
a recipe, some of this lot some of that
he says people who know about these things
like poetry but how do you know
which are the people who know
I’m not sure I know he knows for a start
and she says well ordinary people
so what then do you slide up
to a bus queue when there’s no
bus in sight and say look you’re
ordinary people I’ve been looking for you
yeah watch them give you a nasty look
and skedaddle pretending they remembered
they were due some place else
I’m beginning to wonder if people really exist
I mean as such but I’ll have to stop there
my PC says it’s run out of virtual memory
that’s another thing I don’t understand
maybe people are just a virtual memory too
I’m beginning to wonder if anyone knows
what *people* should think about poetry
maybe they should just write it throw it away
see who picks it up and not never nohow talk about
other *people’s* poetry
poem by Michael Shepherd
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You've got to be success minded. You've got to feel that things are coming your way when you're out selling; otherwise, you won't be able to sell anything.
quote by Benjamin Jowett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Zero One Slash Seventeen Slash Zero Nine
he does not like to use numbers
and so all his numbers are letters
and all his thoughts in numbers
are written in letters including the
date when his poem is written
making it the very title of the same
and all his emotions are in letters
even though he knows that each
feeling has a corresponding number
and even the colors are numbered
in letters. Blue is the number four.
Nine is class. Forty-seven is pride.
ninety-nine is not perfect and
one hundred is too much for an
old aging man like him who likes
to arrive at zero and then enjoy
his much needed rest. He likes to
be happy and wants to sleep, so he
begins to write, one, two, three, four,
five, six.... and so on and so forth.
autistic savant, they all call him.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Love Letters
I have a bunch of
Love letters
That express just how he feels
Every word every line
Are memorized in my mind
He tells of how he misses
Sweet moments yet to be
So that we can build a future
Just for you and me
His heart so warm
His love so grand
Sends shivers down my spine
I blush at tender moments
That only we two can share
The ecstasy of love
I write my declaration of love
In those letters from my heart
________________________
As the song goes
Love letters straight from your heart
Keep us so near while apart
I'm not alone in the night
When I can read every word that you write
©Copyright Kaila George 2012
poem by Kaila George
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Who's judging American Idol? Paula Abdul? Paula Abdul judging a singing contest is like Christopher Reeve judging a dance contest!
quote by Chris Rock
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In the United States, doing good has come to be, like patriotism, a favorite device of persons with something to sell.
quote by H.L. Mencken
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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