Writing is a passion I have never understood, yet a storyteller is all I have ever wanted to be.
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I wanted to hold onto and exploit the power of narrative. This is not only a book about a great storyteller, but there have to be stories about the storyteller.
quote by Stephen Greenblatt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Passion
(rod stewart / chen, savigar, cregan, grainger)
Somebody somewhere
In the heat of the night
Looking pretty dangerous
Running out of patience
Tonight in the city
You wont find any pity
Hearts are being twisted
Another lover cheated, cheated
In the bars and the cafes, passion
In the streets and the alleys, passion
A lot of pretending, passion
Everybody searching, passion
Once in love youre never out of danger
One hot night spent with a stranger
All you wanted was somebody to hold on to yeah
Passion, passion
Passion, passion
New york, moscow, passion
Hong kong, tokyo, passion
Paris and bangkok, passion
A lotta people aint got, passion
Hear it in the radio, passion
Read it in the papers, passion
Hear it in the churches, passion
See it in the school yards, passion
Once in love youre never out of danger
One hot night spent with a stranger
All you wanted was somebody to hold on to yeah
Once in love youre never out of danger
One hot night spent with a stranger
All you wanted was somebody to hold on to yeah
Alone in your bed at night, passion
Its half past midnight, passion
As you turn out your sidelight, passion
Something aint right, passion
Theres no passion, theres no passion
Theres no passion, I need passion
You need passion, we need passion
Cant live without passion
Wont live without passion
Even the president needs passion
Everybody I know needs some passion
Some people die and kill for passion
Nobody admits they need passion
Some people are scared of passion
Yeah passion
song performed by by Rod Stewart
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pop Singer
Never wanted to be no pop singer,
Never wanted to write no pop songs.
Never had no weird hair to get my songs over.
Never wanted to hang out after the show.
Pop singer (writing) of pop songs.
Never wanted to have my picture taken.
Now, who would want to look into these eyes?
Just want to make it real - good, bad or indifferent.
Thats the way that I live and thats the way that Ill die (as a)
Pop singer (of) pop songs.
Pop singer, writing of pop song.
Never wanted to be no pop singer,
Never want to write no pop songs.
Never wanted to have a manager over for dinner.
Never wanted to hang out after the show.
Pop singer, writing pop songs.
Never wanted to be no pop singer, of pop songs.
A pop singer.
Never wanted to write no pop songs.
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am definitely a storyteller, but probably not a traditional Storyteller.
quote by James Welch
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When I began to think about the head of the family, the storyteller, the rise of television which became the new storyteller, the break-up of the American family as an idea and then Avalon came.
quote by Barry Levinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Not One to Dissect What's Enjoyed
I made an announcement,
Very early in my life
That I was going to write.
No one understood that appetite,
I had for writing.
No one understood it.
But I had to do it to get it done.
No one understood it.
Neither do I still.
I just write.
With a feeding that delights,
A craving that goes unexplained.
Like a desire to be fulfilled.
And I'm not one to dissect what's enjoyed!
What would I then find to nourish...
With such complete love?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Directing a film was something I was yearning to do. I always wanted to see if I had the capacity to be a good storyteller.
quote by Kevin Spacey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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She had loved
She had loved,
Loved with the passion of a thousand loves
All of her hurt and pain went into this love
A love that no one had ever known
The ache and hurt from all the others went into the act of loving
The abuse of all the others went into her passion
The pain of rejection from family and friends went into the love making
She could never feel the hurt again so she put it into the passion and heat they two had when they where together
And when she was alone she would cry for the pain
Pain for the fear that she might never love
Cry for all the abuse that was put onto her body
Some in part to find love
Some in part to feel something instead of being loved
She used her body as a vessel to get what she wanted
And never showed love when doing it
She gave herself to forget herself and all the pain and fear and anguish
She gave and gave and showed no emotion in doing so
She knew that no one would really know her
Or really loved her
They were all just lovers without the love and all of the passion
She used what she knew
And passion is what she knew best
She had passion in the way she walked and talked and all the things that she did
She never showed her true colors
Until she found that love
And poured it all into the love making that she gave and cried for a different reason
She now cried for the loved that she had found and wanted
She gave all of her and more then needed to give to one person
That love that she had never had and wanted so desperately she gave to this person and that person never really understood her
She thought that this would never end and never wanted it to
But when the love in the love making faded it was just empty
And from then on all of her became empty
She did not know how to show true love and slowly lost her passion
All of her passion for all of the things that made her lovable
So now she was never to find that love again
Now she was passionless and empty
Empty was she would remain to be
Hallow once again just a vessel for others to abuse
and confuse for what they thought was love
Love that she would and could never feel again
poem by Ruthy Fernandez
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A love poem to a poem
for there’s what you planned to write about,
and what you find yourself
writing about; perhaps
find yourself, while writing about..
and there’s the poem itself; did you
consult it about what
its plans were? and when
it’s got itself written,
gone where it wanted to,
said what it wanted to say,
become what it wanted to become,
do you really know
what it’s finally and really about?
is it telling you more about
you than you knew yourself?
is the poem writing you?
did we, as with the unicorn,
feel the unspoken need for it,
and it became?
in some other world,
did two grains of dust change places?
did a new sort of light
shine on a new sort of place
in some new sort of time?
poems are like cats:
we think we own them;
they allow us certain rights,
but they own us.
this is a love poem
to a poem
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Only Men Bleed
Only men bleed!
She never understood my need -
She understood she'd won my heart
And then she casually tore it apart!
Little wonder that I wanted to die,
I got no sleep, all I did was cry,
No doubt she laughed at my foolish ways -
What do you expect in these Feminist Days?
I only wanted to make her smile
And be in her company for a little while,
Yes, I was foolish and fell for her charms
And wanted to hold her in my arms.
Take my advice, my dearest friend,
Or your broken heart will never mend,
Don't give your love to Womenkind,
Their eyes are open but their souls are blind! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Plastic Passion
Plastic passion is a hard to handle
Plastic passion is a sold out scandal
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is the ladies lover
Plastic passion is the marble mother
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a diamond delight
Plastic passion is the nadir of night
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a hycoscine heart
Plastic passion is a transparent tart
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
Plastic passion is a gold guarantee
The plastic passion is murdering me
Oh it's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
It's a plastic passion
song performed by by Cure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Understood
If i ever asked for strength,
God must have given me difficulties,
They made me stronger instead.
Then I understood;
Sometimes He allow illness
So we care for ourselves.
If I ever begged for wisdom,
God must have granted me problems,
I think I hadst to solve.
Then I understood;
Our hearts 're broken,
So we be strong.
When asked for prosperity,
God gave me brain,
I had to think and think o' work.
Then I understood;
We fail other times,
For us to be humble.
In place of Courage,
I was given storms of danger,
Mine was to overcome.
Then I understood;
God might break our spirits,
In time to save our souls.
I called forth for favours,
Instead God made opportunities,
Up my way.
Then I understood;
Our paths 're made longer,
So we won't hit Walls.
I then asked for love,
But God gave me trouble stricken,
People. To help.
Then I understood;
Sometimes God snatch our best,
To make us live longer.
I
Then I understood something,
Happening sometime,
For some seasoned reason...,
II
I remember one time,
I broke my leg.
Now I understand;
God wanted,
Me not to fall in hole.
III
I recall another time,
My short younger brother,
Lost everything from the ground.
Now I understand;
He was to find them on shelves,
IV
When I received nothing I wanted,
God gave me everything I needed,
And that's His perfect work
poem by Buyunde Acura Sylivester
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The Hands Of Whom We Love
what i have been writing is simply
the product of
a big distraction
it is like the blind
writing about light
i hear it and i know it
but i cannot clearly see it
and hence
i have never fully understood it
if i understood it
i shall not bother writing about it
this doubt shall make me live to write for more
i have it in my tongue but it slips the moment i want to utter it
behind me are scenes of my rumored true being
i set it aside for a while to describe it in words
but words are too shallow
i cannot bury my feet on them
and so the same things happen
night after night
sleepless after sleepless hands
groping for a dark and elusive fish in space
i submerge into unfathomable madness
do not get me wrong i am sane as the brightest star tonight
but just like it
there is no intimacy
for clarity
there is only beauty at a distance
like the way we wish to hold the hands of whom we love
we long that much but
we do not die.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Where Is My Passion
Where is my passion
Far too much pain
Where is my passion
Must I love in vain?
Where is my passion
I need must know
Where is my passion
I want so much to grow
Where is my passion
Lost in your lips
Where is my passion
I feel for your kiss
Where is my passion
Lost in your eyes
Where is my passion
Release me to fly
Where is my passion
There in your hands
Where is my passion
Touch me…expand
Where is my passion
Please…be a man
poem by Fleurette Elaine Harris
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The Hands Of A Teacher
Optimism,
Optimism perished from the face of my earth
And then you came along, came along and swept me away,
She kissed me, as we stood on the edge,
The night made the day as we made for the bridge
It started raining hard, and I saw we may live to regret
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
Pessimism,
Pessimism perished from the face of my earth,
And then you came along, came along and swept me away,
Did you miss me? did you miss me as we walked
Through the pain, attached the chain so you could
See me again
I started asking myself, did I teach you right?
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
Understood why...
You came to me, you broke the bonds,
You set me free
And then the love that you promised me
Came a tumblin tumblin tumblin down
Into my hands...
No I never really understood
No I never really understood why,
Because Ive never been given,
Never been given two tries,
No I never really understood,
Understood why...
So teacher teach me...
song performed by by Live
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blackboard Of My Heart
You wrote your words so carefully
on the blackboard of my heart.
Writing of the passion,
you held inside for me.
Writing that we would never part,
you would always be with me.
Writing every word with love’s pen
on the blackboard of my heart.
21 April 2009
poem by David Harris
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That's Perfection
From many things that i understood - there was one thing it never can i understand is the passion.
My passion on you like a flames - which can provide warmth while burning to ashes, without leftover!
That's perfection
Copyright © 2012 ℠
The things I love with a passion
I rock and roll with passion
I talk out my soul with a passion
I eat good food with passion
I defeat bad mood with a passion
I sleep well with passion
I weep hell with a passion
I dream endlessly with passion
I gleam ceaselessly with a passion
I aim for money with passion
I do the same for honey with a passion
I listen carefully with passion
I glisten dutifully with a passion
I search for fame with passion
I research to blame with a passion
I walk everyday with passion
I talk and play with a passion
I embrace life with passion
I face nightlife with a passion
I laugh out with passion
I chaffe about with a passion
I cook with others with passion
I look at mothers with a passion
I touch gently with passion
I clutch tightly with a passion
I work hard with a passion
I rock mad with a passion
I gear up goals with passion
I stir up roles with a passion
I make friends with passion
I take weekends with a passion
I love kissing with passion
I love teasing with a passion
I make love with passion
I take from above with a passion
If push comes to shove
Label me old fashioned
For these are things I caption
In life with all my passion
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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I'm honestly as happy writing Superman Adventures as I am writing Wanted.
quote by Mark Millar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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