One writes to make a home for oneself, on paper, in time and in others' minds.
quote by Alfred Kazin
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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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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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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Religion promotes the divine discontent within oneself, so that one tries to make oneself a better person and draw oneself closer to God.
quote by Cyril Cusack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Be You
When one looks at history
We can either
Learn from the past
To adapt to the present
So you can
Face tomorrow's mysteries
The age old question
We all ask
Can we better ourselves?
To better oneself
You must be brave
To better oneself
You must know love
To better oneself
You must be strong
To better oneself
You must believe
To better oneself
You must learn to share
To better oneself
Just be you
After learning all
Of life's mysteries
One must discover
To be true to
Thine own self
Just be you
poem by Kaila George
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0017 And Where The Joy
This, then, the question
for those whom it may concern –
to find a celebration in oneself
that, as outer is, so inner;
that all truth rests within oneself –
for where else can it be found?
to love oneself – for oneself must be loveable,
or none other could be loved for true;
to know all happiness to be within;
to celebrate all this; the world a constant joy;
to find this celebration in oneself.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Paper
Paper promises, Dunstead said,
paper cups, wallpaper being stuck
up on the wall for the next to last
time, paper tigers, paper to wipe
the ass and best of all paper to
create art, to have it from the heart,
to see it out there, being gazed at,
studied by some bearded guy with
glasses and paper money to buy
the next paper to create and then
if I’m lucky the muse turning up on
time and giving me the big nudge
in the right direction or some paper
picture of some nude dame giving
the long time wished for erection.
poem by Terry Collett
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Self indulgences.
The one who talks much of oneself
Is doing so to conceal as much oneself.
The one who curses much oneself
Is doing so to get pity for oneself.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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On The Poet And Poetry: The Complete Text
1
Shakespeare and Kalidas and Homer
had no need to flaunt qualifications
so don’t trumpet too much of yours
2
in this kingdom
where one writes
there is no seniority, each is equal
3
it is not important to be a poet;
the thing is to bring the poetry
4
one may win titles
and may be crowned Poet Laureate:
but only time points out
the poet from the crumpet
5
none of your self
and none of your importance here:
just poetry, if you can,
poetry is all that’s needed
6
poetry can be
like a sky filled with wrangling clouds
or as a sky without a wisp
7
in poetry one wakes from dreams
and it may yet be
that one’s wakefulness is itself but a dream
8
in poetry there are no
clichés in thought and phrase;
and what is left there is
the resplendent and the living
9
the writer who repeats
inaptly
word, phrase and concept read or heard
comes second-hand into a market for bad verse
10
one writes;
one does not fill one’s mind with the words:
I want to achieve
11
one writes and
the self disappears
and what is left is understanding
12
poetry leaves one
rich inside
and ordinary outside
13
the fool defines poetry
and poetry defies all definitions
14
poetry entertains, inspires;
poetry tickles, distracts, and shapes and frees -
but its true intent, no one knows
15
expand your understanding of the self –
it includes the world
16
if one had no coins
one cannot buy bread;
but not all the world’s wealth
can bring you poetry
17
celebrate your locality
but go beyond the parochial;
go beyond the region’s arrogance
to reach minds across cyberspace
18
many lines, and countless lines
many pages, and thick volumes
don’t make poetry
19
Oh no!
Not another love poem!
Oh no!
Not another poem about oneself!
20
rhyme, technique and meter
and tricks of prosody
don’t make poetry: passion does
21
the fool speaks of having
written the most number of poems in the world;
and the same fool speaks of quantity
22
we rarely succeed
if one does not go
beyond oneself
23
you wink, you twinkle
you want praise;
you write and you publish online
and you want to win titles –
and so poetry eludes you always
24
a hundred titles, a hundred prizes
a hundred spots of fame
and international renown
all these pale, all pale
before a single line of luminosity
25
the ambitious write pathetic verse;
the lover yields
and poetry embraces such a one
poem by Raj Arumugam
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Origami Me....
the way you fold a piece of paper
to make those cups and flowers and cranes
never stops to amaze me,
you know how to make use of mere scraps
into art, into something as useful as a cup
into something more meaningful as
those hundred cranes flying in the skies
on the minds of excited children
origami me, make me more artistic,
more useful
i am a mere scrap of paper flat on the table of this universe
Oh God...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Love Letter
She wonders how to begin her letter
She knows he will read each word
Greedily for any hint of love. She knows
He will sniff the paper for any scent of her
She leans an elbow on her writing desk
And clutches her pen tight. She has got
As far as, Dear John, but then the words
Stopped coming. Before she had sat down
To write, the words flowed through her
Mind like a rushing stream, now nothing
She sucks the end of the pen. Say what
You would if you were face to face, her
Mother always said. She tries to imagine
He is there before her and what she would
Say if he was, but still no words will come
He writes to her so fluently when he writes
He always seems to know what to write
And how to put it into words. She tries again
Puts the pen nib onto the paper, gripping
The pen tighter. She reads what she’s written
Dear John. The pen moves, the words begin
To flow, her hand moves across the page
The images come into her mind as she writes
The things that they said last time they met
The things they did, she blushes slightly
That almost being caught out by the maid
In a state of undress. She pauses the pen
And sits gazing at the painting on the wall.
She looks back at the paper and starts again
The words tripping over themselves to be put
Down in ink upon a page; the images open up
In her mind, the colours, the smells, the events
The pen now stops. The love letter is written
The writing done. She looks at the words
Then she seals it in an envelope and writes
His address. She pictures him reading it: in bed
In his room, sleepy, in a state of his usual undress
poem by Terry Collett
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Paper
Hold the paper up to the light
(some rays pass right through)
Expose yourself out there for a minute
(some rays pass right through)
Take a little rest when the rays pass through
Take a little time off when the rays pass through
Go ahead and mis it up...go ahead and tie it up
In a long distance telephone call
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on becuase its been taken care of
Hold on to that paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
Had a love affair but it was only paper
(some rays they pass right through)
Had a lot of fun, could have been a lot better
(some rays they pass right through)
Take a little consideration, take every combination
Take a few weeks off, make it tighter, tighter
But it was never, it was never written down
Still might be a chance that it might work out (if you)
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on because itll be taken care of
Hold on to that paper
Dont think I can fit it on the paper
Dont think I can get it on the paper
Go ahead and rip up, rip up the paper
Go ahead and tear up, tear up the paper
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's a 'Must' to Witness
Only those who are wishing to get away,
Are those who have never experienced life...
Away from themselves.
That's all that's about.
A routine they can easily change.
But there is a need to get away,
To do it!
To other environments,
They have not themselves created.
And in their minds there is an observation,
Of similarities.
Only to discover 'who' they are.
To return from where they started.
But this time...
Some of life has been explored.
And be prepared...
Yes. You!
Be prepared.
They are going to bore you with their 'findings'.
As if a child with a new toy,
'You' have not seen before.
And it's a 'must' to witness.
Since their excitement,
Will generate within them a happiness.
And be prepared...
Yes. You!
Be prepared.
Even though they wanted to get away?
You are going to see them more,
Than you've ever seen them in your life!
That's what 'getting away' does.
That's what getting away from 'oneself' does!
Like the getting over of oneself that has been in the way.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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To make oneself hated is more difficult than to make oneself loved.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poets’ Heaven on Earth!
Allpoetry.com is Poets’ home!
- A happy family that’s growing fast;
Where one can speak his heart out to others,
And share the joys/woes with sisters/brothers.
Where Greeters come and make you feel at home,
And help to clear your genuine doubts;
And guide you through the website’s rules followed,
And give the newcomers a warm welcome!
Oh, what a lovely place for all poets!
Empty your emotions and have no fear;
Where friends comment and critique on your writes;
But sometimes cause upsets and little fights!
The place looks friendly for all ages, minds!
Show off your talents at word-painting;
Enter the contests and win cups and points,
Blessings too; someone even anoints!
Nevertheless, ’tis a wonderful place,
Where stressed minds and hearts can find real peace;
Where poets post numbers at rapid pace,
And learning and fun is for paltry fees!
poem by John Celes
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to connect himself to God
to make this divine connection
from his human
ity
he writes a poem about a kite that a child makes
from sticks and paper
and some paste
to stick them in together
like a symbolism
of body and soul
and the child puts the paper tail
as rudder
of this kite and then he runs to the field
to find the wind to give his kite a lift
to the skies
high spirited like his soul
and his body
wanting to be with
God up there
after this i will ask him,
the child
(or the child in him)
or simply him the man who who writes a poem about a kite
lifting itself up with the wind of his beaufiful words:
do you feel something divine?
was there something divine in this poem about a kite?
did you feel God?
did you see him up in the skies above?
you tell me about angels, now tell me, my friend
about the presence of God
tell me more, about this kite this flight this wind
do not mention anything about power
i am always this suspicious believer.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Ballad Of ‘Memo’ Roy
For JoAnn
Who in conversation inspired this little ditty.
This is the Ballad of ‘Memo’ Roy
the fastest memos in the world.
Roy writes a memo every minute
just to remind himself what to do.
He even writes one to tell himself
he must visit the loo.
It all started many years ago
when the doctor told Roy
he was suffering from
short-term memory loss.
Now he writes memos
to remind himself to write a memo
for everything he must do.
He writes one late at night
to remind him
to get up in the morning
and one in the morning
to remind him to go to bed at night.
It is estimated he writes
quite a few hundred memos everyday.
His house is filed with little bits
of yellow paper stuck up here and there.
He couldn’t watch TV
even if he wanted to.
There are s many memos on it
you can’t see the screen.
One day his pen ran out
and no memos he could write.
He couldn’t even write a memo
to remind himself to buy a pen.
Then he found a pencil
and shouted that will do.
Now he is able to write memos to himself
to tell himself what to do.
As far as I know,
he hasn’t written a memo
to remind himself to sharpen
the pencil once and a while.
28 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Alias Poem
Many selves with personalities I do have
I have different alias for you to understand.
Christina Sunrise writes about planet Earth
Suzae Chevalier writes about life since birth.
Sue Chevalier writes of characters on Krendoll land
Suzae is the visual artist, performing artist
paints and uses oral presentations to understand.
Now don't forget Puppit Lady for Razel has a voice
Melodie also who speaks with 'Freedom of Choice.'
So visit www.suzae.com right now
where you will see all of them make a home
Written by Suzae Chevalier on September 9,2012
www.suzae.com www.suechevalier.com
www.christinasunrise.com www.puppitlady.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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The White Of The Paper
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they ask such
a simple task from me
write as you wish
think as you want to
or dont want to
I feel a white dove
flying amongst wondrous
cumulus clouds
meditate as much as i wish
so that the white becomes
a mere plane of zen,
a vibration of existence
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they ask just
such a simple thing of me
to swing myself and exercise
my thoughts so that i let loose
clouds, birds, stars and moon
in the minds of men
i like the white screen
i like the white paper
because they always
are my best friends,
open an infinite plane
for me to act out my antics
for the good of men,
exercise their minds and
let their humours flow
i like the white of the
screen and the paper
because they are always
there to accommodate me
to let the gift from heaven flow
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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