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I started writing, or rather, thinking, stories as a child, and at that time the reason was very clear.

quote by John Sladek
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I started writing stories as a child.

quote by Danielle Steel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why I write

I used to feel, like a pain is in my heart.
When without saying a word, u depart
Here I m alone, remembering our memories
Had so much left to tell you my life stories.

As an alternative of you I started talking to myself
Not that good idea but still it was little relief
Not for long that idea worked, if It was too much miss of your.
Thought of writing my felling so I took a pen and paper.

Started writing stories n poems about my felling
And things that I had always thought of telling.
I feel I m near to you and with you I m talking
That's why I write. Even if my writings are not good and boring..

poem by Sushanta Rokka
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Like so many writers I started writing stories because I didn't have much time for anything else.

quote by Tobias Wolff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Child

Child. Old child,
No longer wild;
No longer speaking,
No longer beguiled;
I have become
A quiet old child.

Child. Old child,
No longer cold;
Never an old man,
Always too old;
I have become
An old child tenfold.

Child. Old child,
Forever a child;
Always rethinking,
Always exiled.
I should become
A happy old child.

Child. Old child.
Always soft-spoken;
No longer breaking,
Still being broken;
I have become
An old child, unspoken.

Child. Old child,
No longer bold;
By thinking, rethinking
Of stories untold,
All through my childhood,
I've become... old.

poem by Mihai Cosmescu
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A Mistake I Made

There is a question I ask myself repeatedly.
Why did I become who I am today,
a writer of songs, poems, short stories and novels?
In reality, I do not know, but I tell everyone who asks
it was simply a mistake I made.

Many will say I had it in me,
that I was born to do it.
Remembering how it started
I am not so sure of that.
It started with the words to a friend
if they can do it why can't we.

Now almost fifty years have passed
from that fateful day I picked up the pen.
If asked what I have achieved
in all that time of writing.
I would answer there is plenty,
but none of it is money.

My rewards for my writing
is bringing a smile to someone's face
someone whom I might never see.
The inspiration I have passed on to others,
but the best of all to me are the numerous friends
I have gathered from around the world.

poem by David Harris
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It Is Me

He sat in his own world
writing down the stories
that came to his mind.
He never watched time,
for him there
was no time.

He wrote stories of love,
of mystery and suspense.
He wrote of everything
that popped into his head.
He was not a lonely person
as his characters kept him company.

He wrote things
for every writing sphere,
but there was one thing
he could not write
which may come as a surprise
to everyone.

He could not write a letter
no matter how hard he tried.
His mind went completely blank
whenever he tried.
Yet he could write
just about everything else.

He could write songs,
he could write stories at will.
He could write poems
on everything,
but writing a letter
was something he could not do.

Now all who read this
might take it as a joke,
but it is very true
every word I have spoke,
and how would I know that.
The answer is simple it is me.

19 April 2008

poem by David Harris
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I'm probably writing music now for the same reason as I started writing songs when I was 14 - to meet women.

quote by Billy Joel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Revolution Poetry Is....!

Are you writing words of rhythm according to thoughts?
Or are you coining words of thoughts according to rhythm?
Or are you writing poetry both working at the same time?
Asking so, if they ask me how to write poetry, what shall I say?

Poetry writing is natural, spontaneous expression from heart!
How can this be taught to anyone to write poetry ever at all?
Poetry is a spontaneous flow of words direct from heart ever!

I wonder many a time how am I writing poetry at all ever!
But this is happening to my great surprise since longtime!

Due to engagements ever poetry only I am able to write
Though my aim in the beginning was writing stories.....,
Novels, short stories and nonfiction articles of criticism!

Poetry books too I have completed writing so since long
But what a pity there is no reception for poetry books...!

poem by Ramesh T A
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Dear Friend

i always love to write, as early as
gradeschool when we were classmates
while you were playing and chasing and stumbling
i just sat on the grass of the playground under a tree and scribble anything
and read a lot about some stories with lots of pictures
and colors of fairies and kings and queens and butterflies and bees,

i do not stop writing, in fact, writing has become my life
that without words i may die an instant death
i dream that i have written novels and stories and lots of poems
i wake up with some ideas like some seeds that i want to sow
and grow in the field and see them become shrubs and trees and forests

and i keep on this life writing and writing and writing and writing
for writing's sake and i wish i may live longer so i may write
some more, some sequels of my love stories and suspense thrillers
and write finally all the poems that are inside my mind
hanging like ripe grapes and creeping like vines on my fence

as i am writing now as you always want to read me
until such time my friend that i will die, or end my life myself (who knows?)
(i will not talk about it now, it is something bizarre and makes me
shiver, but who knows, well you know, all are but possibilities and nothing
but possibilities in this vast wide world of realities and dreams)

there is something i must say somehow
there is something that i must have forgotten, i have not written about myself
i have always written about them, about you, about the world,

please do not refuse me, stop playing with your life,
gradeschool ended
a long time ago, i have one and ultimate request:

write the story of my life, because it is you who only knows about it.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I'm not so presumptuous to feel that they're gonna get it right away, get exactly what I have in mind. I hope that they'll enjoy looking at it at any rate, whatever it is. And that's why I started writing stories on my work.

quote by Faith Ringgold
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And every friend I've got has been writing Mars stories. It was pretty clear I'd never catch up.

quote by Larry Niven
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Evening Tuition

It was winter time
on a chilly evening
a boy had to go to a tuition class

He came from school in a good mood
And started eating quickly as if he should
Books were already arranged in the bag
And the condition was so
That the boy had to run like a stag
On reaching the destination he huffled and puffled
To see that no one had reached yet

He was relieved when he entered the teachers room
To know that he has succesfully reached his destination in time

The teacher started teaching in time
The boy feeled that he had
commited a crime

For no one had come
And the teacher told that no one will come
The boy sat in the middle of the room
Thinking what would be his doom
He sat surrounded by a mist of dissapoinment
Thinking what to do and he was grave silent

The teacher went on teaching the chapter
But the students mind was not thereafter
Suddenly the boy noticed
The windows were closed and the fan was off
he felt as if he was on a volcano top
For he was wearing a thick sweater
which burnt the body under

The teacher gave the boy a lesson to write
and he took a book to recite
The half burnt child got a chance
And opened his night mare at one chance
When he saw the excercise
his brain alarmed twice
The excercise was very large
to be done at one hour time
He started writing as fast as he could
After 90 minutes the task was at last completed
The boy felt from his hand his
wrist being diminished
His fingers ached mercillesly
And he groaned painfully
When the teacher was checking the copy
The boy washed his hand which was sweaty
Suddenly his watch started bipping
And his heart also started jumping
For it was the time to go home
The teacher understood the meaning of the meaning of the bipping
And started checking the copy without care
When the checking was done
Miraculously no mistakes were there
The student was astounded to see it
For he thought that he did not deserve it

When the teacher opened the door
The student ran to the ground floor
And went straight to the exit door
From there he went to his dearest home

poem by Subham Roy
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I'm older than my sister so I started writing first. I started writing at school. I was always top of my class in composition, essays, English Lit and all of that.

quote by Joan Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Diving In The Deep End

Some people
Don't worry
'bout nothing
Don't know what's going on
I'm not one
Who can't say they're sorry
I just care what's going on
There's more important things
Than making sure your watch looks just right
And second hand opinions
Don't make you look any smarter
Don't you think
Don't you think
Don't you think that maybe
it's time , yes it's time
Time you started thinking
Time you started thinking
And don't just sweeten up the taste
Brother shoots brother
But meanwhile you're fixing up your face
You're not affected by the truth
Unless it's on your doorstep
Deodorise your paradise
No point in getting crazy
Don't you think
Don't you think
Don't you think that maybe
It's time , yes it's time
Time you started thinking 'bout things in the back of your head
Someone said before you turn a blind eye
Hear a bell ring sex sells everything
But I don't buy it so don't try it
Sleeping in the small world head in the sand
Better wash your hands , make a new plan
There's more important things
Than making sure your shoes just walk right
Ignore reality there's nothing you can do about it . . .
The clothes you wear don't make the man
It's just another party
(Chorus)
from:[email protected]

song performed by by Natalie Imbruglia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Marigold: Gloria Swansong

(sylvester / clarke)
The book I bought yesterday
I started to read
I found a small marigold
Pressed between leaves
And in that small marigold,
Well, I found a note
Saying, please wont you write to me
cause Im so alone
So Im going to write back today
Yes, Im going to write right away
I started dear marigold,
Not knowing her name
I just had to write to you
cause I feel the same
You sound like the marigold
That I found today
The beauty was there to be found
But fading away
So Im writing to you today
Yes, Im writing to you right away
As I started writing,
Well what can I say
I got to thinking
Where are you today
Brown leather cover,
Ripped, tattered, and torn
Its been such a long, long time
Since the flower was born
Theres no need to write back today
Im not going write right away
Just like a swan she is gliding,
Drifting from here unto there
She has no thoughts of dying,
Winter does not mean despair
Warm summer nights left behind her,
Thinking of things that shes done
Once were her friends all around her,
But now she is only one
Swan, swan keep your feet off the ground
Keep flying around
Its lonely youve found
You were left on your own
You didnt do right
Not to take off and fly
When your friends left that night
Chorus
Someday I know youll see something
That will bring back the memories of gold
Youll meet the friends that did leave you
No more to be left in the cold
And just like a swan youll be gliding,
Drifting from here unto there
Youll have no thoughts of dying
cause winter did not mean despair

song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cant Help Thinking About Me

Question-time that says I brought dishonour
My heads bowed in shame
It seems that Ive blackened the family name
Mother says that she cant stand the neighbours talking
Ive gotta pack my bags, leave this home, start walking, yeah
Im guilty
I wish that I was sorry this time
I wish that I could pay for my crime
I cant help thinking about me
I cant help thinking about me
I cant help thinking about me
Remember when we used to go to church on sundays
I lay awake at night, terrified of school on mondays
Oh, but its too late now
I wish I was a child again
I wish I felt secure again
I cant help thinking about me
I cant help thinking about me
I cant help thinking about me
As I pass a recreation ground
I remember my friends, always been found and I cant
I cant help thinking about me
I cant help thinking about me
I cant help thinking about me
Now I leave them all in the never never land
The station seems so cold the tickets in my hand
My girl calls my name hi dave
Drop in, see around, come back
If youre this way again
Oh, Im on my own
Ive got a long way to go
I hope I make it on my own
I cant help thinking about me
I cant help thinking about me
I cant help thinking about me
I cant help thinking about me
I cant help thinking about me

song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Creator And A Barren Woman

A barren woman had been praying for a child for long,
Then after many years without hope the Creator heard her prayers;
Then the Creator said to her: 'A year today you will give birth'.

This is the story of the Creator and a barren woman:
A year after the barren woman gave birth to a child.
Now, she started to complain again to the Creator;
Because, she has no time to take care of the child.

'Oh, i am too tired of taking care of this child';
And the Creator was very patience.
'Oh, i cannot take care of this child any longer';
And the Creator was very patience again.
'Oh, i have given my husband a child but i cannot take care of him';
This child was a son and then, the Creator said to the woman:
'When you were baren you did cried out for a child but,
Now that you've got one you also crying daily for his upkeep';
'Well, the wants of mankind are many and mankind is NOT satisfied'.

Yes, we are all living on this earth;
With stories and the things that we see around us;
But mankind is really NOT satisfied, whether barren or with a child.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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I'm Thinking

The pen is gripped between my fingers.
The tension grows, an idea lingers,
And yet somehow it’s stuck.
I’m thinking, ‘just my luck’!

The pen is starting to want to play,
Upon the paper, and have its say.
And yet there’s no feedback.
I’m thinking, ‘I’m off track’!

The pen is tapping away frustrated,
The owner’s now infuriated.
And yet one shall still strive.
I’m thinking, ‘it must arrive’!

The pen is gyrating all about,
There’s something definite coming out.
And yet, a nervous time.
I’m thinking, ‘will it rhyme? ’,

The pen is slowing, and it will stop.
It’s done its writing and needs to flop.
And yet, this work of art,
I’m thinking, ‘is from the heart’!

The pen has finished its job and rests.
It has done well, its achieved its best.
And yet, it will do more,
I’m thinking. ‘That’s for sure’!

The pen - has run out of ink.

I think!

poem by Ernestine Northover
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Wondrous Stories

I awoke this morning
Love laid me down by a river.
Drifting I turned on upstream
Bound for my forgiver.
In the giving of my eyes to see your face.
Sound did silence me
Leaving no trace.
I beg to leave, to hear your wonderous stories.
Beg to hear your wonderous stories.
He spoke of lands not far
Or lands they were in his mind.
Of fusion captured high
Where reason captured his time.
In no time at all he took me to the gate.
In haste I quickly checked the time.
If I was late I had to leave to hear your wonderous stories.
Had to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing
Hearing
Hearing your wonderous stories.
Hearing your wonderous stories.
It is no lie I can see deeply into the future.
Imagine everything
Youre close
And were you there to stand
So cautiously at first and then so high.
As he spoke my spirit climbed into the sky.
I bid it to return
To hear your wonderous stories.
Return to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,

song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wondrous Stories

I awoke this morning
Love laid me down by a river.
Drifting I turned on upstream
Bound for my forgiver.
In the giving of my eyes to see your face.
Sound did silence me
Leaving no trace.
I beg to leave, to hear your wonderous stories.
Beg to hear your wonderous stories.
He spoke of lands not far
Or lands they were in his mind.
Of fusion captured high
Where reason captured his time.
In no time at all he took me to the gate.
In haste I quickly checked the time.
If I was late I had to leave to hear your wonderous stories.
Had to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing
Hearing
Hearing your wonderous stories.
Hearing your wonderous stories.
It is no lie I can see deeply into the future.
Imagine everything
Youre close
And were you there to stand
So cautiously at first and then so high.
As he spoke my spirit climbed into the sky.
I bid it to return
To hear your wonderous stories.
Return to hear your wonderous stories.
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,
Hearing,

song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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