I've been asked to write an autobiography, and I've started it a couple of times, on different angles, and maybe one day I will, but you know what? There's time for that because I'd like to have the whole story.
quote by John Saxon
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In this one book are the two most interesting personalities in the whole world - God and yourself. The Bible is the story of God and man, a love story in which you and I must write our own ending, our unfinished autobiography of the creature and the Creator.
quote by Fulton Oursler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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2113
had to kiss you one more time
so i followed you home
and i almost lost you at the light.
i've seen you a couple of times
but i had no idea
that you would be mine tonight.
i was to meet another girl,
but she didn't show
and you asked if i was alone, oh
the night came to an end
had to kiss you one more time
so i followed you home, oh
i'm just a boy
i'm on the side
yeah, believe me i don't mind
i'm just a boy
not quite your type
and that don't matter much tonight
yeah, you asked if you could call
but you didn't write it down
so i thought that we were through.
and when you said
song performed by by Bowling For Soup
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How Do You Write Poetry
There is a question I am often asked,
of which I have no answer for at all.
The question is a simple one,
how do you write poetry?
To be honest I haven’t got a clue.
With me the words just trickle out
one after the other,
if they rhyme that is great
and if they don’t, I just scratch my head.
I cannot tell anyone how to write,
for me it’s just a natural thing.
I write almost everything,
novels, short stories, poems and songs.
I have even written a couple of plays,
but that was a long, long time ago.
However to tell anyone how to write,
I would not know where to begin.
The answer I give to the question is simple;
write whatever you like good or bad.
It’s yours and be proud of it
no matter what anyone else has to say.
The more you write the better you will get.
However, the most important thing
that you should always remember and that is
that you write, write, and write!
9 November 2011
poem by David Harris
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Bus Stop Angel
I sat down at a bench today,
at a bus stop as it speed away.
by a young girl
who seamed sad and gray,
I asked her what might be wrong.
but not that long she opened up,
and said she thinks all my angles have gone away,
so I asked her,
why you think this might be so,
she tells me is in a low paying job,
but that her life is falling apart,
and then she starts to cry,
as then the rain comes down on us both,
I give her my last bill,
place it in her hand shaking still,
as I start to get up,
I say there angles everywhere,
then she runs in front of the next bus and was killed.
poem by Walter C. Edwards
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A Little Story
- once there was this little boy who asked his father,
Would you tell me that old, old story?
Once there was this little boy who asked his father,
Would you tell me that old, old story?
Once there was this little boy and he went to...
- mummy...you should remember this more because dyou know why?
- why?
- I learnt it from my daddy, you know.
- umm-umm.
- hah-hah.
- once there was this little boy who asked his father
To tell him that old, old, old, old, old, old story.
Once upon a time there was this little boy who said,
Would you tell me that old, old story?
Once upon...
- you could see...it can end anywhere!
It can end...its just a little story.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Story
- once there was this little boy who asked his father,
Would you tell me that old, old story?
Once there was this little boy who asked his father,
Would you tell me that old, old story?
Once there was this little boy and he went to...
- mummy...you should remember this more because dyou know why?
- why?
- I learnt it from my daddy, you know.
- umm-umm.
- hah-hah.
- once there was this little boy who asked his father
To tell him that old, old, old, old, old, old story.
Once upon a time there was this little boy who said,
Would you tell me that old, old story?
Once upon...
- you could see...it can end anywhere!
It can end...its just a little story.
song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Friend Oliver
My name is Roberts,
a reporter I used to be;
until one day I was sent to interview
an interesting man
whose name was Oliver Cyriax.
It was many year ago
that I first met him
and much to my surprise
he asked me to be his official biographer.
He stood against a fireplace
with his briar pipe in his hand.
He then went to tell me
stories from distant lands.
He wasn’t adventurer, but a ghost hunter of sorts.
I sat there in amazement
at all the things he said.
Those stories weren’t for recording,
at least not yet.
They were told to explain to me
of the kind of life he lead.
His career if you want to call it that
started in the middle 1800’s
on a Tramp Steamer
and lasted for more than half a century.
The strange things he saw
at times made my blood run cold.
He seemed a very quiet man
who was content with his life.
He did not appear to be someone
you would expect for the job that he did.
He smiled when he spoke
of a couple of amusing tales
he had been involved in
and looked sad at others
which had taken something from his life.
He related tales of horror,
which made you, shiver when he spoke.
He related tales of mystery
of which some were never to be solved.
He told me how he had lost friends
with their encounter with the unknown.
When he finished speaking,
I told him I would be honoured
to become his official biographer.
Therefore, started a thirty odd year friendship
that I hoped would never end.
From time to time, we would meet
and fresh new stories he would tell,
right up until the time
he retired and moved away.
I got a letter yesterday
to say he was happy now.
He was far away
from any ghostly goings on.
I write this as an introduction
to a character I’m going to write about
as I delve into his casebook
and tell the world
about the strange things that he did see.
poem by David Harris
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How Many Times Have You Asked Yourself
Finally...
You reach home.
Believing you are sheltered.
And will get deserving rest!
Then suddenly the phone rings.
To leave you wondering,
If the caller is someone you should address.
And with unanswered questions,
You unleash from your mind...
What should be done next!
You want to know...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
When you have issues you have not yet to address.
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
Relax?
You can't!
A tension is enhanced.
The phone keeps ringing to erase the chance.
And...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
When you have issues you have not yet to address.
And that somebody wants to disturb your rest.
And with unanswered questions,
You unleash from your mind...
What should be done next!
You want to know...
How many times,
Have you...
Asked yourself,
How many times...
You've asked yourself,
How could you find...
Yourself in the middle of somebody else's mess!
When you have issues you have not yet to address.
And that somebody wants to disturb your rest.
How many times,
Have you asked yourself...
How many times,
You've asked yourself....
How many times have you done this and did nothing else?
To be there to please somebody else...
And not yourself!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Faded Pages
Recently I started retyping
a manuscript of short stories
I had written twenty years ago.
The pages were faded;
too much time being opened to the sun.
As I typed, I smiled
at the things I had written
and the dialogue I had created.
The stories are about a cat
and looking at the world
through his eyes and thoughts.
I had even created him a language
that I had to write a glossary
at the back of the book to explain
what some of the phrases meant.
There is a vast array of characters
and most have a funny turn.
I also remember what prompted me
to write the stories long ago.
My original intention was to write
one story and one story only,
but a friend of mine at the time
persuaded me to write another and another.
Before long, a volume was finished
with enough stories to start another.
From a one off story I have written over sixty now
about the cat and all his friends.
Now as I flick through these faded pages,
which I haven’t read in years,
I find myself being reunited
with many long lost friends.
26 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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The Autobiography
You want to write your autobiography
At the end of your life
By when you will have gone infamous.
It will be outdated even to your kith and kin.
Must you write?
21.12.2005
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Starting Again
Music: Barry Manilow
Lyrics: Marty Panzer
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
And it started again And I meant every word
And I liked what I said
And I liked what I heard
And I started to think
I could think about starting again
We were laughing again
Over memories and wine
And the years in between
Didn't seem a long time
When I smiled she knew why
In a while it was starting again
And I started to think I could feel again
All the bad times seemed unreal
When I looked in her eyes
The cheating, the lies,
The things that were wrong seemed far behind
And I started to think I could care again
And my fears all disappeared
When she called me by name
I knew that she'd changed
The flaws were all gone
The Saint remained
But it started again when I asked her to stay
And she said, "There's this friend who's in town just today"
And she really felt bad, but she had to be leaving again
And she left me again as she'd left me before
Still pretending she cared when we kissed at the door
But I saw in her eyes that the lies were all starting again
Just when I started to feel again
When all the bad times seemed unreal
When it all seemed so right and I thought that tonight
If she said she cared, she really might
Just when my fears disappeared again
And I heard what I wanted to hear
It all started again
And I knew what that meant
It wasn't the start
It was really the end
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It means that no matter what you write, be it a biography, an autobiography, a detective novel, or a conversation on the street, it all becomes fiction as soon as you write it down.
quote by Guillermo Cabrera Infante
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whatevah
write
till it does not hurt anymore
write
till all the happy moments are consumed.
write
till all the aches are justified
write
till all your revenge is dissipated
write
till all angles are examined
write and keep on writing
till all of you is hidden, till all of you is folded back
write and keep on writing still
because you are your writer and there is no one who knows you well
except yourself, and what they know shall only be
skin deep
because you want it so,
you are the king in the jungle of your uncertainties
the Tarzan hitting his chest before Jane came and ruined it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Not a Poem Poem
A Not a Poem Poem
I will not write a poem
For I am not a poet
I cannot makes things rhyme
I’ve tried for quite some time
So will I write a poem?
NO!
I can’t write poetry
I’ve tried to all my life
Once, I tried to write a poem
About a husband and his wife
It sounded really silly
So I crumbled it up into a ball
That’s why I decided
That I couldn’t write poetry at all
Am I gonna write a poem?
NO!
Well, I’ll try to write a poem
But it will be really bad
It will be absolutely lousy
It will be completely horrible
It won’t be up to snuff
People will say, “Who wrote this stuff? ”
Will my poem be good?
NO!
Can I write a poem?
NO!
Will I write a poem?
NO!
Well, what do you know! ? !
I wrote a poem!
And it’s a pretty good poem, too!
I guess I can write poetry if I try
The next time I’m asked to write a poem,
Will I say no?
NO!
I cannot forget a conversation that I had with an elderly couple from the tribe. They asked me whether I would kill them after I had finished. When I asked them why they asked that, they replied, Because you white men always do!
quote by Roland Joffe
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Story of Murder
It always amazes me of the cruelty
and barbarism that lingers within our world.
If you are squeamish,
please do not read any further.
For what I am about to write
might well upset you.
This is the story about a murder
of a woman, my friend’s ex-wife.
It is quite disturbing
because what is written is true.
This did happen.
She was lying in her bed.
She had been bedridden for a while.
Her strength had been ebbing away
a little each day.
The murderer who’s mother was a neighbour
looked in on her every once in a while
to make her food and a cup of tea
and to see if she was OK.
The son needed drugs and money,
took his mother’s key.
He let himself in and started to look
for anything that was valuable.
Whether she heard him
and shouted out to him
has not been established yet.
However, what happened next
should not happen to anyone.
He went upstairs and stood beside her bed.
It was probably when she spoke to him
that he started hitting her around the face.
He punched her so hard
that he broke her jaw.
She had no strength to push him away,
but he just kept beating her
all the time around the face.
Then he grabbed something heavy
and smashed it over her skull
caving it in and causing damage to the brain.
However, this callous man was not finished yet.
Grabbing a pillow commenced to smother her.
It is unknown whether she had any strength to struggle
with the injuries she had received;
however, I doubt it though.
The police have caught and charged him
and his trial come up at the Old Bailey later this year.
I just hope they throw the book at him,
as society does not want the likes of him
walking the streets again…
I met this women a couple of times
and she was a lovely person
and did not deserve this kind of end.
I am ending this piece here as my rage
for such a crime will get the better of me
and I will start saying things I should not say.
16 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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Michael came home and asked, Would you like to write a song with me? I got this idea for a title called A Kiss at the End of a Rainbow. So we had a couple glasses of wine and wrote it.
quote by Annette O'Toole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How The West Was Won And Where It Got Us
Blood from a stone, water from wine.
Born under earplay design.
A stroke of bad luck, wrong place, wrong time.
Let's fly up out of the lime.
The story is a sad one, told many times.
The story of my life in trying times.
Just add water, stir in lime.
How the west was won and where it got us.
Canary got trapped, the uranium mine.
A stroke of bad luck, now the bird has died.
A marker to mark where my tears run dry.
I cross it, bless it, alkali.
The story is a sad one, told many times.
The story of my life in trying times.
Just add water, stir in lime.
How the west was won and where it got us.
I didn't wear glasses cause I thought it might rain.
Now I can't see anything.
I made a mistake, chalked it up to design.
I cracked through time, space, Godless and dry.
I point my nose to the northern star,
Watch her decline from a hazy distance.
The story is a sad one, told many times.
The story of my life in trying times.
Just add water, stir in lime.
How the west was won and where it got us
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ladder
Once upon a time in the land of sinaplenty
There lived a king who didnt deserve 2 be
He knew not where he came from
Nor where he was going
He never once said thank u, never please
Now this king he had a subject named electra
Who loved him with a passion, uncontested
4 him each day she had a smile
But it didnt matter
The king was looking 4 the ladder
Everybodys looking 4 the ladder
Everybody wants salvation of the soul
The steps u take are no easy road
But the reward is great
4 those who want 2 go
A feeling of self-worth (everybodys looking)
Will caress u (for the answers)
The size of the whole wide world will decrease (how the story started)
(and how it will end)
The love of gods creation will undress u
And time spent alone my friend, will cease
Everybodys looking 4 the answers
How the story started and how it will end
Whats the use in half a story, half a dream
U have 2 climb all of the steps in between (yeah, we ride)
Everybodys looking 4 the ladder
Everybody wants salvation of the soul
The steps u take are no easy road (the steps you take are no easy road)
(its not that easy)
But the reward is great
4 those who want 2 go (I do)
Everybody... everybodys looking (everybodys looking 4 the answers)
For the answers
Everybody wants to know how the story (how the story started)
Started and how it will end (started and how it will end)
Whats the use in half a story, (whats the use in half a story)
Half a dream (half of a dream)
U, u gotta climb, u gotta climb (u have 2 climb all)
All of the steps in between (the steps in between)
Everybody,
Everybodys looking 4 that ladder (everybodys looking 4 the ladder)
Everybody wants salvation of the soul (everybody wants salvation of the soul)
(salvation)
The steps u take are no easy road (the steps you take are no easy road)
(thats for sure)
But the reward is great (the reward is great)
4 those who want 2 go, (4 those who want 2 go)
Those who want 2 go
Everybody... everybody wants (everybodys looking 4 the answers)
An answer
Anyone who know how the story (how the story started)
Started, how it will end (started and how it will end)
Will it be lonely in the world (whats the use in half a story)
Whats the use? (half of a dream)
(have 2 climb all)
(the steps in between)
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An autobiography is the story of how a man thinks he lived.
quote by Herbert Samuel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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