I did not have a chance to write novels until my youngest child started school fulltime.
quote by Anne McCaffrey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Sent My Child To School Today
I sent my child to school today
With his little lunch box
When he came home he said his friend
Had gotten the chickenpox,
I sent my child to school today
And asked him what he learned
He told me about firemen
They taught him how not to get burned,
I sent my child to school today
He said, 'Do you know what they taught me? '
He told me they taught him numbers
As well as his ABC’s,
I sent my child to school today
A smile on his face
I gave him a kiss and a hug
And said, 'See ya funny face! ',
I sent my child to school today
His smile bright and wide
But an older child brought in a gun
How did he get it inside? ,
I sent my child to school today
As in every day
But the child with the gun started shooting
The reason? No one could say,
I buried my child after school today
All I can do is cry
I lost my child at school today
And nobody can tell me why.
poem by Doug Hollywood Davis
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In effect I am not a novelist, but rather a failed essayist who started to write novels because he didn't know how to write essays.
quote by Jose Saramago
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Weirdo school
Our school is so unfair
They gave us a holiday which is rare
Wait a minute.. Home schooling is right there
We keep studying so we won't fail
Our school is really weird
All we do is write and read
Our school is really stupid
All we study at math is cube and cubid
When our school started our happiness started to fade
What on earth is wrong with 9th grade
All we do at art is draw and shade
You should follow every single rule
Our they will call you a fool
What on earth is wrong with this school
poem by Emma Justin
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I used to go with my parents and loved it, I was in school plays, and I started reading plays before I started reading novels. I'll defend it to the hilt. When theatre is good it is fabulous.
quote by Patrick Marber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you enjoy math and you write novels, it's very rare that you'll get a chance to put your math into a novel. I leapt at the chance.
quote by Mark Haddon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I used to write novels and little stories and compositions and I - but I put them away because I started acting when I was 17. So there wasn't much time.
quote by Joan Collins
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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And I used to write novels and little stories and compositions and I - but I put them away because I started acting when I was 17. So there wasn't much time.
quote by Joan Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why Do I Write
People often ask me why do I write,
unfortunately I have no answer.
I started when I was eighteen
when my then girlfriend
said we were through.
I said to myself
if the Beatles can do it why not try it.
I was lonely with nothing else better to do
and it all progressed from there.
The more I wrote the better I got
and now I don’t even think about it
as the ideas just come to me
and I write them down quickly before they pass.
When I started, my parents said
it was just a passing phase,
but here almost half a century has gone by
and that seems like some long passing phase.
Of course as I progressed, I experimented
with poetry, short stories and novels,
now my back library seems endless
and still I write more and more
jumping from one subject to another.
If I knew why I do it,
I’d bottle it and sell it
probably making a fortune on the way.
Sadly, the answer eludes me,
all I know is, I just sit with pen in hand
and the words come automatically
with line following line until I am through
no matter what facet of writing I am working in.
I never question myself about it,
but just let it happen and feel happy that it does.
Maybe sometime in the future
some scholar will give an answer to why I do it.
24 April 2011
poem by David Harris
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That child in me
Just like any other child, I never experienced being brought to school by a nanny.
My family couldn’t provide me one.
Just like any other child, I never experienced being fetched by a chauffer.
My father could not afford any.
Just like any other child, I never experienced being prepared a lunch box for my snack.
Nothing was there to prepare anyway.
Just like any other child, I never had a bag of my own.
What I had was a plastic bag that could accommodate all my belongings.
Just like any other child I never had good shoes to wear.
I got broken slipper; sometimes, none.
Just like any other child, I never had a good pair of socks.
An old pair of Boyscout knee socks is all I got
Just like any other child, I never had a uniform for my school.
Well, I inherited two faded ones from my grade six cousins.
Just like any other child, I was never allowed to go out camping in school.
No one could provide me the things to bring.
Just like any other child, I was never allowed to participate in any school games.
I was too thin to play any games
Just like any other child, going to school without breakfast became a habit.
Not because no body’s preparing it for me but because there really is nothing to prepare.
Just like any other child, I can hardly pay for my school tuition fees.
My mom barely had enough money after she does the neighbor’s laundry.
But unlike any other child, I never quit.
I never quit! I never quit!
poem by Edgar Rendon Eslit
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Summer Of ‘63
Everyone will have a year
that they will never forget,
for some reason or other.
Mine is 1963
and the summer of that year.
The year started normal,
but before it was over
my life would change.
Something would possess me
and never entirely go away.
I was eighteen at the time,
no steady girlfriend to call mine.
Then one day with my wages, she came.
I smiled and for some reason,
I wanted to go out with her.
A few weeks later, I got the chance.
I bucked up enough courage to ask her out.
So then, it started my first big romance.
Her name was Joyce Knapp,
but she liked to be called Joy, I remember that.
From June to September,
our romance grew strong.
Then one day it was over as sudden as it began,
with her immortal words one night.
I love you, but I don’t want to hurt you
so I’m packing you up.
We parted; a lot of tears filled my eyes.
She said we could see each other,
but I said I’d rather not.
Just one clean break
and tell everyone we were through.
So off I wandered broken hearted,
looking for someone to ease the pain.
It wasn’t a someone that did it for me,
rather a something you see.
A turning point in my life.
In 1963, the Beatles were all the rave;
everyone wanted a link,
to associate themselves with them.
I had my link in my birthday June 18th.
It is the same birthday as Paul McCartney.
The year maybe different, but never mine,
we share the same month and day.
So I said to a friend of mine at the time Ian Freeman,
why don’t we write a song together.
I know a little about music.
A date and a time was made
and we’d meet at my house.
We were going to write, a number one best seller,
but what came out would make glass break.
A much dreaded Shake Little Baby, Shake.
It never got further than the lyric stage,
a right little stinker to ever grace a page.
We went on to write another would you believe,
called Little Wandering Girl.
I think she is wandering still.
Ian had had enough and I didn’t blame him,
but I soldiered on through songs,
short stories, novels and poems,
to where I am now.
So now, you see how it started for me.
A long time ago in the summer of ‘63.
I have only one regret you see.
I never got a chance to thank,
Joy and Ian as I lost contact with them.
I hope they may read this one day, and contact me
so I can thank them properly.
20 July 2007
poem by David Harris
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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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Love at First Sight
I don't know why I cry.
I don't know why I feel this inside.
Just by hearing your voice I fell in love.
You made my heart soar like a snow white dove.
Just by seeing your picture.
You made my vision clearer.
I've searched for love for so long.
Not knowing what I was doing was wrong.
I've tried to love so many guys.
All that did was bring tears to my eyes.
My dad passed away,
I didn't want to go another day.
I don't know what to do.
We just met and I'm madly in love with you.
Because of you I finally felt.
That I could finally be myself.
Before I was bullied in school.
Because no one thought the real me was cool.
I was so different no one understood.
I started to think I would never be anything good.
I changed my likes in music.
I started acting really stupid.
I changed my entire style.
I started to act crazy and wild.
I did it to be the same.
Not realizing the fake me was really lame.
I saw your picture and in that glance.
I realized it was I could give real me a chance.
I knew when we met.
That you would take my breath.
All the words in the world could never describe.
The way you make me feel inside.
I love to look you in the eyes.
And say 'I love you' without any dumb lies.
we go through struggles here and there.
But to me our struggles show we care.
I want your child oh so much.
Seth I know that we are meant to be.
No one could ever make me this happy.
You electrify me in just one touch.
I could write this poem for eternity.
It still wouldn't explain how much you mean to me.
poem by Jean Pullman
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Love Child
Tenement slum
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ah
You think that I don't feel love
But what I feel for you is real love
In other's eyes I see reflected
A hurt, scorned and rejected
Love child, never meant to be
Love child, born in poverty
Love child, never meant to be
Love child, take a look at me
I started my life in an old, cold run down tenement slum
My father left
He never even married mom
I shared the guilt my mama knew
So afraid that others knew I had no name
This love we're contemplating
Is worth the pain of waiting
We'll only end up hating
The child we maybe creating
Love child, never meant to be
Love child, scorned by society
Love child, always second best
Love child, different from the rest
Hold on
Hold on (Ooooooohhh)
I started school, in a worn, torn,
Dress that somebody threw out
I knew the way it felt, to always live in doubt
To be without the simple things
So afraid my friends would see the guilt in me
Don't think that I don't need you
Don't think I don't wanna please you
No child of mine 'll be bearing
The name of shame I've been wearing
Love child, never quite as good
Afraid
Ashamed
Misunderstood
But I'll always love you
I'll always love you
I'll always love you
I'll always love you
I'll always love you
I'll always love you
You-ooo-ooo
You-ooo-ooo
You-ooo-ooo
song performed by by Faith Hill
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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A Dream I Have To Write
A dream
I have to write
On the wooden slate
Of a child
Playing traunt from the school.
A moon
I have to write
On the forehead
Of a woman
Swarthier than evetide darkness.
A song
I have to write
On the frozen lips
of the wind
Passing through
A bamboo forest.
A name
I have to write
On an unmarked
Grave stone
In a memorial cemetry.
(Translated from Urdu to English by Dr. Satyapal Anand and from English to Spanish by Dr. Teresinka Pereira)
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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The Seductress
all her life, by men she had been put down
she tried so much to smile, but could only frown.
she was beautiful, but men could not see
'that she had a rare quality'.
they took advantage, because she was soft spoken
and her heart was always broken.
she decided that a profession she must seek
and that she must reach the highest peak.
she decided a teacher she would become.
in her mind: ' better than her, there was none'.
she graduated with the highest marks
and in the best school she got her start.
and at the age of twenty two
she had done all that she could do.
then when the new term started,
she became open hearted.
she started to teach her students
one on one, and found herself under the gun.
in her class, a fourteen year old arrived
and she started to visualize
his eyes so blue, his hair so black
from her teaching, it did distract.
the more she taught, the more she fought
all the pent up feelings inside
to the point that she did'nt hide.
she started to get closer to him
knowing that she was commiting a sin.
he responded like any young teenage boy would do
and told her: i want to get closer to you.
she let him touch her pounding breast
and from there you could imagine the rest.
soon it spread throughout the school
that she had broken the golden rule.
then the school board found it out
and the public became aware
that with a minor she could not share
all the things that she learned in life.
she got pregnant and became his wife.
his parents she did know
but to jail she did go.
now that she's out, and has child number two
he does' nt know just what to do.
but he had gotten his education
and that may be his salvation
poem by Louis Rams
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I didn't want to write a biographie romancee especially since I already write novels, nor did I want to challenge the rules of the biography game, arbitrary as those rules might be.
quote by Edmund White
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In School
In school so much go's on
You read
You write
Friends are there to help you make it through
Teachers are there to help you learn
You got books
You got computers
In school
You get away from parents
In school
There are people that understand you
There are people that hate you
There are people that look up to you
In school
There are bad lunches
There are packed halls
There are smelly locker rooms
All in school
poem by Sally Minns
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School Just School
School we need it
school, friends
school you have teachers
school is great
high school is even better
college, PARITES
school you mite find your true love
new experiences everyday
school, dances
school just school
school who dose not love it
school is fun
school, preps
school, classes
school, math, science, computer classes
school is great love it
school just school
we need school
poem by Kerri King
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Song: Child's Play
Are accidents - reflections,
Of the chaotic quantum world;
Do the stars that rule the heavens,
Raise cosmic flags, unfurled?
Is love a constellation,
In the vacuum pack of cold;
A joyous distillation,
A yeast alive in mould?
It's child's play. It is child's play.
It has no creed but come what may.
We write the screed, it's all display:
On bended knee, for luck we pray.
It's child's play. A wild child's play.
We take no heed, but remain unswayed.
It's child's play. It is child's play.
When we learn that greed, is here to stay.
Is the background irradiation,
More a subset of decay;
Not dog-eat-dog predation,
But chance as child's play?
So that's OK. That's what we say.
When the meme of hate, sells well, it pays!
It's child's play. It is child's play,
When our dreams deflate, in a listless haze.
So that's OK. That's what we say.
We lean on fate, like a brand new day.
It's child's play. It is child's play,
When we learn too late, what's been swept away!
poem by Dave SmithWhite
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