At present I answer about 100 letters a month, and read 300 emails.
quote by Piers Anthony
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I get about 25 letters a month, and I answer every one of them.
quote by Mary Ann Mobley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just live a good life
I wake up early this morning
Opening my computer
To read the emails and to
Write some thoughts in my mind
You pop out on the screen
With a big Good Day to me
You were fast on your pessimism
As I sip my coffee and read you
The world is ending
The climates changed
There is so much CO2
Humans have become
Slanderers and blasphemers
And God shall take his day
For this world’s destruction
I ask, if you have taken coffee
A pineapple juice or simply tea
I ask, if you had good sex last night
With your wife or someone else
I ask, if you are writing another poem
I ask, if you are taking a morning walk
With your dog or your son or daughter
I ask, if you have seen the sun rise
I ask, if you had a nice conversation
With a friend or an officemate
I ask, if you are living a good life
I ask, if you are being good and taking
Care of yourself, if you are praying, if
You are on the good side of the fence
You may not answer, I am taking a walk
I have just written a poem, I am answering
Emails of friends, I am seeing a beautiful
Sunrise today, its rays coming out from the trees.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Confessed To You
As I read the old love letters,
you sent back to me.
The ones in which I confessed to you
how I wanted our love to be.
I told you in them
how I was sensitive to your touch,
and how I loved you so much.
It was obvious that you
did not feel for me the same way.
You never answered the letters,
but sent them unopened back to me.
Years have now passed
and I kept each and every one.
I dig them out occasionally
and have a good read through,
and then I sit down
and read them to you.
When I wrote them,
there was one thing I did not know.
You could not have read
the letters even if you wanted to.
You were blind and I did not know,
but that never stopped our love.
Now as we grow older together
with each passing day.
Our love grows a little stronger
in lots of different ways.
Those faded old love letters
we keep, as our reminder
love has no bounds.
4 June 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A typical agent in New York gets 400 query letters a month. Of those, they might ask to read 3-4 manuscripts, and of those, they might ask to represent 1.
quote by Nicholas Sparks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Nickname....
on early dawn
while you are writing those letters
(still on the grip of tradition
emails are impersonal and lack
the sentimentality of distance
and the grace of the
strokes and
tendrils)
you hear those chirping birds
cocks crowing
sounds of the streets being swept
and occasional hushes of the wind
from the sea
your letters sound as though
they are anticipating the birth of the world
on the seventh day
when the Lord said he finally rested
at the end you say what they always write
Sincerely yours,
your nickname.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I read our emails every day and I know there are people out there who think I'm awful.
quote by Dan Abrams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Please Sign Your Letters
(sylvester / clarke / hicks)
Please sign your letters
Please dont make me blue
Please sign your letters,
And then Ill know its you
Cant stop thinking of you
Youre always on my mind
Please sign your letters
Please dont be unkind
I read your letter
I read most every line
You said you loved me,
Said you would be mine
My heart was jumping
Something shook my mind
I found your letter was left unsigned
Chorus
Your letter said wed met some time ago
Id like to see you,
But somehow you just wont show
I just dont know which way to go
Repeat
Chorus
Please sign your letters
Please dont be unkind
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To My Unseen Friends
To My Unseen Friends.
By: Aziz M. Tehrani, Mashhad, Iran([email protected]
Dear friends, I love you all.
Don't think you are unseen.
When I study your emails,
I read them as if you are present and seen.
I always think of you and the distance,
Which has seperated us from one another.
I think our vision creates pictures,
To see each other as if we are together.
I hope one day I will be with you and see your face.
Regardless of discrimination or race.
We are originally from one mother and father
We should try our best to respect each other.
Without doubt, we are all sisters and brothers,
We see ourselves as equally as others.
Fat and thin, young and old,
We are all protected in God's threshold.
poem by Azizollah Memar Tehrani
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Publishers
I write letters, cut cd’s,
mail parcels and let emails heap up,
but my words are blown away
like specks of sand in a gale.
I sometimes wonder
why feelings and life
can blind you for a time with hope
and if the haste for profitability,
lets merit die along the way
and if everything
has to be eaten by the power of reality.
poem by Gert Strydom
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July....
July is the month where the families get the barbeque grills fired up.
July is the month where the night sky is light up with fire works.
July is the month where many families go out of town to be with family.
July is the month where many kids are dreary because it’s a month away for school.
July is the month where America gets to celebrate its independence from England.
July is the month where many people are dying of the heat of the summer.
July is my favorite month because it’s the time that I get to be myself around my family.
poem by Natasha Ligons
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On A Young Poetess’s Grave
UNDER her gentle seeing,
In her delicate little hand,
They placed the Book of Being,
To read and understand.
The Book was mighty and olden,
Yea, worn and eaten with age;
Though the letters look’d great and golden,
She could not read a page.
The letters flutter’d before her,
And all look’d sweetly wild:
Death saw her, and bent o’er her,
As she pouted her lips and smil’d.
And weary a little with tracing
The Book, she look’d aside,
And lightly smiling, and placing
A Flower in its leaves, she died.
She died, but her sweetness fled not,
As fly the things of power,—
For the Book wherein she read not
Is the sweeter for the Flower.
poem by William Cosmo Monkhouse
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The Wicked Postman
Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother
to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find
a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish
as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Heavens Mercy Seat
So you think you’re all alone?
Gnarled up in a ball
Bent and twisted like a war
Oblivion like jewels of opium
Disappear into thin air
Under the sheets
Sleep forever
We are waiting for you
Come join the choir of the broken
Come like a princess of the cross
The world has no hope
Answer your phone
Answer your emails
The soul cannot die
Holy Holy Holy
Lord God all mighty
You may not want to go to heaven
But you sure don’t want to go to hell
Everything is fading like a lie
One big fat lie
Hear the broken sing
Heavens Mercy Seat
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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I Am A Very Poor Electronic Man
i don't have emails to read
no one remembers me
i do not have a chat mate
no one likes to talk with me
but i write a poem and
you are reading it today
that makes me the richest man
alive in the internet
on a blog known as PH.
Welcome me as I thank you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Do Not Also Attempt To Understand Me
when i sent you flowers
asking for forgiveness
when you forgave me
and then left you
when i wrote you letters
and you wrote back
and i did not answer them all
when i did not tell you anymore where i was
when i come back
and keep myself enclosed in a dark room
do not attempt to understand me
there is nothing with me anymore
i am heartless i am loveless
and i have long lost my life to the past
the present eats me whole
and the future waits no more.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Letters Never Sent
(carly simon/jacob brackman)
In a suitcase tied with string
On the highest shelf
In the closet down the hall
Hidden from myself
Fits of madness, pools of grief
Fevers of desire
How peculiar these remain
Slavaged from the fire
For some I crumpled some I burned
Some I tore to shreds
Lifetimes later, here they are
Ones I saved instead
Letters never sent to you
Letters never sent
Never reached their destination
Mostly born of pain
Resurfaced with the purpose of
A trip down memory lane
Broken hearted, breaking hearts
All the way it went
Evidence of what I saw
My experiments
Lifes a riddle, lifes a dream
Lifes an accident
Now Im gonna set them free
Letters never sent
Letters never sent to you
Letters never sent
Once upon a time taboo
Letters never sent
Letters never sent to you
Letters never sent
Incongruous, and overdue
Letters never sent
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burn All The Letters
I am sorry that I set my sights
On the things I read
Something meant for your husband
Maybe you left it under the bed
Once upon a love those words blew free and secret
The pages lay around
Drifted to the hands of the publisher
And the greedy generations on down
Burn all the letters
(someone is always watching)
The governments on the phone
(whether openly or secretly)
Burn all the letters
(now breathe life)
Send them on
(into your story)
To a safer home
(I said burn it to secrecy)
Burn all the letters
Brand them in you before you go
Soldiers are coming to plunder
But there are some things they will never know
We made our love out of dignity
Dug our nails in the dirt
(hung our towel soaked souls out on the line)
Hung our towel soaked souls out on the line
We loved so hard that it hurt
To ease my pain I took a pen and paper
Incarnate came the bleeding
Send it back before the public eye
Perverts it in the reading
And burn all the letters
(someone is always watching)
Ah the governments on the phone
(whether openly or secretly)
Burn all the letters
(now breathe life)
Send them on back
(into your story)
To a safer home
(I said burn it to secrecy)
Burn all the letters
Brand them in you before you go
The soldiers coming to plunder
But there are some things they will never know
Burn all the letters
Ah the governments on the phone
On the phone
Burn all the letters
(all the letters)
Send them on to a safer home
(send them on to a safer home)
Burn all the letters
To you
And you to
To me
Coming to take what they can
They cannot read
What they cannot see
Mmm
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Love Letters
She held a pack of love letters tied with ribbons and bows.
these were the love letters that she would never show.
Every one of them was dated first to last
These were the letters that held a life past.
Times may pass and things may change
But memories stay the same.
The writing of love letters had slowly disappeared
But she held on to them from year to year.
She sat with the letters in her lap.
As the tears rolled down her eyes
He had said he would be with her
Till the day he died
And fifty years later
He met his maker
And was carried to the cemetery
by the undertaker.
The letters had been written
with tenderness and love
Proclaiming every thing
Even the stars above.
He said life was meaningless if with her
His life he could not share.
And losing her was something
he could not bear.
Now that he was gone and she
Was left all alone.
The house didn’t seem
like much of a home.
She knew her children would not understand
Why she held the love letters in her hand.
These were the memories that kept her alive
And on that she couldn’t deny.
But her mind and body was fading fast
And she knew she could not last.
So to her children she bequeathed
The letters that she cherished all her life
For that was her husband, and she was his wife.
These are the love letters that your father
Wrote to me when we were young and carefree.
He told me of all that life had to offer.
And of all the love he had for me
And that he wanted to raise a family.
When you read his letters you will know
Why I loved this man so.
And now it’s time for me to go.
Because your father awaits me on the other side
And we’ll be together for all of time
poem by Louis Rams
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Soldier Boy
Oh won't you tell me, my soldier boy
What did you do to make them send you off to war
Why did they send you to that alien place
With all their lies, and all that mud across your face?
It nearly broke my heart, my soldier boy
You were my one and only son, my pride and joy
I kept your letters to read and read
I'll keep them safe until the day that you are freed.
And I believe in you no matter what they say
The time will come, you'll see I'm right
When all the fools are made to see the light of day
Together we will win the fight, my soldier boy.
I heard their whisp'rings, my soldier boy
Their secret schemes and plans, I knew their every ploy
And with the loaded gun ready to misfire
I took my case to that authority much higher.
It's nearly over now, my soldier boy
I'll see you soon my flesh and blood, the real McCoy
No need for letters, to read and read
I'll meet you presently, it's true now, you take heed.
And I believe in you no matter what they say
The time will come, you'll see I'm right
When all the fools are made to see the light of day
Together we will win the fight, my soldier boy.
My soldier boy
My soldier boy.
(Song lyric)
poem by John Carter Brown
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I mean I appreciate fan mail and that the people like what I am doing but I can't answer it. If I would answer 25 letters a day I would be just a guy answering mail and not an artist anymore.
quote by Henry Rollins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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