One of the pleasantest things about book writing is that sometimes it brings one in touch with old friends.
quote by Rachel Field
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Sarah Palin - now don't laugh - is writing a book. Not just reading a book, writing a book. Actually, in the word of the publisher, she's 'collaborating' on a book. What an embarrassment! It's one of these 'I told you,' books that jocks do.
quote by Chris Matthews
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The Book Of Love
In the book of love come of age
When you lose your love, you turn the page
Hey-ho the book of love,
Life is written in your own blood
Say forever and it all sounds fine
When youre holding hands,
With the hands of time
Hey-ho the book of love
Laugh at the dead but tomorrow you cry
Chorus:
My broken hearts from a to z
Dos and donts on bended knees
Change of lovers endlessly
And this book of love is writing me
Chapter 2 you walk away
But in chapter 3 a man made me stay
Hey-ho the book of love
Why dontcha look up
All the games you played
Chorus
Theyll be sweet love in a darkness
But the book of love
Is a story of your loneliness
Finger tipped it on a holy night
And a page is ripped for a name of life
Check the back cause the datell be due
When theyll throw the book of love at you
They are broken hearts from a to z
Dos and donts on bended knees
Disappointed right to be
Celebrate a celebrity
K-i-s-s-i-n-g
Ah stupid cupid set me free
Took a look and whatll I see
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
This book of love is writing me
song performed by by Cher
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One book at a time... though I'm usually doing the research for others while I'm writing, but that sort of research is fairly desultory and I like to stick to the book being written - and writing a book concentrates the mind so the research is more productive.
quote by Bernard Cornwell
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Talking Book
I wish I had a talking book
That told me how to act and look
A talking book that contained keys
To past and present memories
A talking book that said your name
So if you were gone, youd still remain
More than a picture on a shelf
In imagination I could touch
A talking, talking book
I wish I had a talking book
Filled with buttons you could push
Containing looks and sights, your touch
Your feel, your breath, your sounds, your sighs
How much Id bluster to ask it why
One must live and one must die
I wish I had a talking book
By my side so I could look
And touch and feel and dream, a look
Much bigger than a talking book
A taste of loving future and past
Is that so much to really ask
In this one moments time and space
Can our love really be replaced
By a talking book
Can our love really be replaced
By a talking book
Can our love really be replaced
By a talking book
Can our love ever, forever be replaced
Can our love ever be replaced
Can our love ever be replaced
(can our love really be replaced)
By a talking book
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Saved By Light
Dannion Brinkley
was 'Saved By The Light'
all spiritual writing
in the book he writes.
Yes, he says we
are powerful
Spiritual beings
coming to this plane,
to help inspire and change.
He was asked like many
who die and come back to tell,
'What Love have you given,
or did you make life on Earth hell? '
Now not quite those words,
but haven't you heard,
you can affect people
with small little things,
there is a chain reaction
from what your action brings.
So let your actions be of
Consciousness thought,
that helps people grow
and not stay in their lot.
Dannion words are true,
I met him and
he speaks firsthand to you.
Believe what you can,
read his book to see his view.
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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The Book I Read
Im writing bout the
Book I read
I have to sing about the
Book I read
Im embarassed to admit it hit the soft spot in my heart
When I found out you wrote the
Book I read so
Take my shoulders as they touch your arms ive
Got little cold chills but I feel alright the
Book I read was in your eyes oh oh
Oh...Im living in the future.
I feel wonderful.
Im tipping over backwards
Im so ambitious
Im looking back im
Running a race and youre the book I read so
Feel my fingers as they
Touch your arms
Im spinning around but I feel alright
The book I read was in your eyes
Na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...oh oh oh oh oh oh oh
Oooooh...Im living in the future
I feel wonderful
Im tipping over backwards
Im so ambitious
Im looking back im
Running a race and youre the books I read so
Feel my fingers as they touch you arms im
Spinning around and I feel alright
The book I read was in your eyes
Na na na na na...na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na na
Na na na na...na na na na na na na na
Na na na na...oh oh oh oh oh oh oooh..
song performed by by Talking Heads
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My companion
I don't know where I'll be,
when who ever buys my book to read.
I was just writing the date on my new
notebook, and these thoughts came to my mind.
Sometimes when I'm going over some
writing I see the date on the paper,
and it brings me memories of
how I felt at the time when I
wrote those poems,
Those notes, they have the flavor
of me. My intimate thoughts my most
saddest and happiest moments of
my existence.
My poems my notes my
stories and my hands, they are one.
One memory in all together.
The way my hands clinch my
writing my every move of prose.
I don't know who
Will want to read the writing coming
from a stranger a none-known poet.
From lonesome I, no one
knows who she is.
I cherish every letter,
word and phrase my hands have writting.
Because all of this has been to me a wonderful
companion of my lonesome life of appetence to feed.
Copyright©ElenaToledo2011
poem by Elenushka Toledo
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Nothing is as surprising as life. Except for writing. Except for writing. Yes, of course, except for writing, the only consolation.
Orhan Pamuk in The Black Book
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Life Or Death?
Every day we live, we always face death
We get closer to it, every time we take a breath
Life is special but death brings peace
Life brings reality and things you believe
Death is hard for everyone around
Death is quiet, no more bad sounds
Life is also hard, all the things we go through
Life can never be easy, no matter what you do
Death is sad, for those who cry
Death is meaningful, for those who die
Life is a work of art, it's nice to look
Life is full of teachings, like an open book
Death is the new life, might as well be dead
Death is a lot more, for what's up ahead
Life brings new things, always something new
Life brings surprises, something out the blue
Death is scary, nothing we want to see
Death is negative, a place we don't want to be
Life is full of love, with the ones close to you
Life is full of money, for those who sue
Death is empty, nothing compared to this
Death is a lot of things, too long of a list
But life is everything; don't wait till there's nothing left
Death can wait, so don't waste your last breath
So just pick your choice, which one? Life or death?
poem by Triauna Hall
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Letter to Kimani, my son
I am writing you to let you know
My son how much I love you so
I miss you and I wish I were there
For you I will always care
I would change time if I could
To mend my mistakes yes I would
I wish I could make things right
For your love I will always fight
My boy you are so smart
That’s why you are dear to my heart
So far you are now from me
A great man you shall one day be
As much as I try and try
Your picture brings tears to my eyes
Time stands still while I look
My feelings I could fill a book
Your voice I sometimes here on the phone
But the pain still won’t leave me alone
A thousand words can’t say what I feel
The pains I have just won’t heal
I love you more than words can tell
I wish I had a wishing well
I would wish away all the sorrow
I’d wish you a brighter tomorrow
You deserve better than what I did for you
I did my best that’s all I could do
God bless the day you came to me just as you are
You are my guiding light and my lucky star
The things you do are so clever
My love for you will change never
So far from his father my lovable boy
Your light brings me so much joy
No matter where, no matter when
For my love you can always depend
No matter the pain nor the strife
I will love you more than life
I love you more than I could ever show
I love you more than you will ever know
Without you life is no longer fun
You are my life, my legacy, and my son
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Saved By Light
Dannion Brinkley
was “Saved By The Light”
all spiritual writing
in the book he writes.
Yes, he says we
are powerful
Spiritual beings
coming to this plane,
to help inspire and change.
He was asked like many
who die and come back to tell,
'What Love have you given,
or did you make life on Earth hell? '
Now not quite those words,
but haven’t you heard,
you can affect people
with small little things,
there is a chain reaction
from what your action brings.
So let your actions be of
Consciousness thought,
that helps people grow
and not stay in their lot.
Dannion words are true,
I met him and
he speaks firsthand to you.
Believe what you can,
read his book to see his view.
Written on April 17,2011 by Christina Sunrise
www.christinasunrise.com www.purplepoems.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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I'm publicizing the book that's done. I'm writing the book that's in the hopper, and I'm doing a little advance research on the book to come.
Truth and the Devil
The devil unstoppably took pride in salaciously writing; the book of
obnoxious caste-creed and venomously penalizing hatred,
The devil unstoppably took pride in acrimoniously writing; the book of
indiscriminate bloodshed and disastrously traumatizing ruthlessness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in vengefully writing; the book of
tyrannical devastation and lecherously bellicose orphaning,
The devil unstoppably took pride in fretfully writing; the book of
vindictive war and satanically criminal holocausts,
The devil unstoppably took pride in maliciously writing; the book of
coldblooded barbarism and manipulatively bizarre malice,
The devil unstoppably took pride in forlornly writing; the book of
worthless
ghosts and mortuaries brutally anointed with fresh blood,
T The devil unstoppably took pride in indigently writing; the book of
nonchalant spuriousness and fecklessly insipid meaninglessness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in torturously writing; the book of
ominous
animosity and hedonistically pugnacious illwill,
The devil unstoppably took pride in dictatorially writing; the book of
licentious bawdiness and insanely threadbare nothingness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in heinously writing; the book of
lascivious poverty and baselessly crippling uncertainty,
The devil unstoppably took pride in savagely writing; the book of
despicable
defeat and lethally ballistic atrociousness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in raunchily writing; the book of
dolorous
delinquency and insidiously slandering betrayal,
The devil unstoppably took pride in preposterously writing; the book of
scurrilous lunatism and barbarously incarcerating fiendishness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in frigidly writing; the book of
jejune
mockery and impudently castigating brazenness,
The devil unstoppably took pride in heartlessly writing; the book of
ghastly
bloodshed and indefatigably bombarding politics,
The devil unstoppably took pride in malevolently writing; the book of
prurient shit and debasingly corrupt profanity,
The devil unstoppably took pride in diffidently writing; the book of
impeachable slavery and tempestuously crucifying sanctity,
The devil unstoppably took pride in dreadfully writing; the book of
gruesome
extinction and sordidly smutty flagrance,
The devil unstoppably took pride in whippingly writing; the book of
wastrel
withering and invidiously jailing eccentricity,
The devil unstoppably took pride in grotesquely writing; the book of
merciless decimation and countless estranged lives,
The devil unstoppably took pride in gorily writing; the book of
sadistic
despondency and ignominiously deteriorating mankind,
The devil unstoppably took pride in stupidly writing; the book of
goddamned
solitude and murderously decrepit decay,
The devil unstoppably took pride in cacophonically writing; the book of
indolent withering and agonizingly cancerous disease,
The devil unstoppably took pride in belligerently writing; the book of
lost
oblivion and corrosively mad lamentation,
The devil unstoppably took pride in perniciously writing; the book of
stinking discrimination and dastardly languid nervousness,
But no matter what he wrote; where he did choose to write; what
language he
preferred to maliciously scribble; what ink he used to cold-bloodedly
lambaste; what expression he made to lousily concentrate,
Even the most infinitesimally evanescent alphabet inside his books was
irrefutably metamorphosed into a stream of immortally unending love; by
the
intransigently blazing inferno of truth; simplicity; humanity;
benevolence;
beauty; and the unassailably Almighty Lord…
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Paintings
colours, they bring back
scenes and scents
your painting, it brings
brings me back all the years
still i can sit in that chair of
that long lost cafe and
have the privilege of a
tete a tete with friends,
imagined and real
of things we all cherish
the love of art and all the things
that it brings - scenes,
scents, and the time
we thought is lost
forever in time
Second Version
--
colours, they bring back
scenes and scents
your painting, it brings
brings me back all the years
still i can sit in that chair of
that long lost cafe and
have the privilege of a
tete a tete with friends,
imagined and real
of things we all cherish
the love of art and all the things
that it brings - scenes,
scents and geniuses
overheated talents
that drove them lunatics,
madmen manoevring
with the coldness
of the arctics
volcanoes that explode
splotches, dashes
splashes, onto the
canvas of their dreams
colours, they bring back
scenes and scents
paintings, they bring back
all the years nature plods on
against adversities to help
the artist pour out its best onto canvas
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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My Blue Pen
A pen, what is a pen?
An instrument for writing, a tool, a path to wisdom?
Or is much more than that?
What means this blue pen to my heart?
I'm writing with this pen all my thoughts, my hopes,
I'm keep it in my hand to help my ideas flow,
This blue pen is the bearer of all my joy and pain,
And when i'm writing, its blue ink holds my dreams.
I'm writing with my blue pen,
Which he gave it to me,
To never forget and to write,
Our impossible love story in the book of life.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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Donna's Story
I spend alot of time writing poems, telling my story
Most are kind of sad, doesn't offer much glory
My best friend is my paper and my pen
It brings me back to places I have been
Some hold sorrow, some hold cheer
Some hold memories, that are very dear
In some I write about great pain
But most of all, I don't write in vain
If one of my poems can touch your heart
Then, I consider my writing some kind of art
I would like to touch, the lives that have been hurt
Want everyone to know that they must stay alert
Pain and fear isn't a choice for many
In all my years, I've sure had plenty
So if my words can help you heal
Maybe my new life, you can feel
Don't pity me, because I've been made whole
I've taken back my life that other's stole!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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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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I thought, well I can do that. I couldn't be bothered writing a book review, because I'd have to read the book, I haven't got time to read a whole book for a fifty dollar write-up.
quote by Eddie Campbell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If You Come By
If you come by
And I'm not here
Do not worry with a tear,
But just gives a smile
If just for a while
And remember, that I once was here.
And if you look
And you find my book,
To remember the things I have said,
Just give a thought
For you have caught,
Feelings, I once had read.
For I was here
Not long ago
Along with the freezing snow,
Writing dreams and remembering things
So man wouldn't let go.
But the dreams had died
One gloomy night,
When wishes were no longer made
So they didnt need me to write them down
So my book, they threw away.
If you come by
And I'm not here,
And you have a dream in your mind.
Just open a book
And then you look,
A dream, you might have found.
So write it down
Without a frown,
Or a lonesome tear.
But remember that thought
That you had sought,
For now, you are here.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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The only joy I had was writing what was. That book was. It no longer amuses me to be all the things I was when I wrote that. But it is my story as I was then.
quote by Mary MacLane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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