Writing became an obsessive compulsive habit but I had almost no money so I thought about being an urban firefighter and having lots of free time in which to write or becoming an English teacher and thinking about books and writers on a daily basis. That swayed me.
quote by David Guterson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Habit is harmful
Form a habit.
Habit gives you pleasure.
In between, break it.
Otherwise,
It turns to be compulsive
Then, obsessive
And then compulsive.
It will be your fatal end.
24.04.2002, ddPakd
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Love To Read
Is it a misconception,
That writers read...
Other writers' works?
Or reads extensively at all?
Afterall...
When would a true writer,
Find time to get that done...
If one has a love to read?
And...
I am not that one to say,
A reading AND a writing done...
Is an impossibility.
Because I read what I write often.
Regularly and on a daily basis.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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My English Teacher
At the grade three
A new teacher came
Around her table
A queue we were all in
Having exercise books on our hands
To get written our names on it
Twining with aroma of her perfume
Let the mind not go back to the bench
My English teacher
Not like other teachers
Wearing new dresses
Pleasant smile with snazzy
I bought a double rule book
To write proper English letters
Putting the alphabet of base
Following day had a message
No more with us
Principle's words
Teacher came to us
We cried a lot
"Why may teacher you go leaving us'
'Is our school not good'
While worshiping on her feet
Without an answer
Looking at us
Touched our heads
She got a transfer
Because of our remote dry school
Since then on
Until primary end
Without an English teacher
My texts books were new
She doesn't know me for sure
Placed an aroma still in my mind
You wrote that name of mine
I am writing today.
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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94
compulsive
a tattoo in your body crawling your thoughts
of the past
reflected in the lines of your skin those violent ones
and bloody ink tracing what they did to you when you were
just but a kid,
you cannot stop the tattoo
tattooing you, a matter of obsessive
compulsive body writing,
these too are the makings of depression,
the doctor says, you do it and you want it done, like you cannot stop
tattoo tattooing you,
in your arms,
and legs
and tomorrow your chest
you wish some pictures of God and gods
no, no, not the monsters that you want extricated,
i watch you
in this compulsion and you are relating why,
how,
what
explaining the meanings of these figures when they confront you,
i am listening,
i am not lost, i am analyzing bits and pieces of your world
to mine,
i am amazed how the changes come,
like some scribbles
becoming
angels
and saints,
i am trying to get what the
doctor is saying,
compulsive neurosis
schizophrenia,
obsessive,
dominant
recessive,
i am looking
for a space to put you
and make you my guinea pig,
but i stopped,
you are human and i must respect you,
now, i have to deal with my compulsive state too,
this poetry,
i cannot stop and it is hammering me everyday,
crazy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Most Writers
Most writers 'twould seem have moments of self doubt
But they never go short of things to write about
And to become a top writer of one a big ask
And to succeed as a writer for many seems too daunting a task.
Most writers do not write for wealth or for fame
And despite lack of success they pen on just the same
For every one hundred thousand writers perhaps one writing millionaire
Amongst the ranks of the wealthy the writers are rare.
Few writers can hope for to scale success height
For the love of writing they only do write
Few writers get published and fewer know of success
But in their writings on paper their thoughts they express.
Most writers will never know wealth and renown
And they are not even well known in their own Hometown
They never will be known beyond their home shore
They write for the love of it and little more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Compulsive
a tattoo in your body crawling your thoughts
of the past
reflected in the lines of your skin those violent ones
and bloody ink tracing what they did to you when you were
just but a kid,
you cannot stop the tattoo
tattooing you, a matter of obsessive
compulsive body writing,
these too are the makings of depression,
the doctor says, you do it and you want it done, like you cannot stop
tattoo tattooing you,
in your arms,
and legs
and tomorrow your chest
you wish some pictures of God and gods
no, no, not the monsters that you want extricated,
i watch you
in this compulsion and you are relating why,
how,
what
explaining the meanings of these figures when they confront you,
i am listening,
i am not lost, i am analyzing bits and pieces of your world
to mine,
i am amazed how the changes come,
like some scribbles
becoming
angels
and saints,
i am trying to get what the
doctor is saying,
compulsive neurosis
schizophrenia,
obsessive,
dominant
recessive,
i am looking
for a space to put you
and make you my guinea pig,
but i stopped,
you are human and i must respect you,
now, i have to deal with my compulsive state too,
this poetry,
i cannot stop and it is hammering me everyday,
crazy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Of all the ways of acquiring books, writing them oneself is regarded as the most praiseworthy method. Writers are really people who write books not because they are poor, but because they are dissatisfied with the books which they could buy but do not like.
quote by Walter Benjamin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Happened to Billy Ray?
As a matter of stature, this man is not very tall.
The stories he tells could fill a shopping mall.
Bill is a word technician in a local high school.
As an English teacher, he is nobody's fool.
Generations of students have learned at his feet.
They will not face the future being incomplete.
How many of us wished we'd had a teacher like Bill?
Thinking of my English teacher still gives me a chill.
Now Bill the Great also likes to fish from time to time.
According to him, his fishing ability is simply sublime.
He worked the worm like strumming a fine instrument.
The poor bass ending up on his hook was his testament.
I write this poem to honor a simple English teacher.
Oh by the way, he once was a country preacher.
Unappreciated by others, he left his current position.
Making more money became his new mission.
In 2006, he had a motorcycle accident that was very grim.
Thereafter, another in his life began to assimilate him.
Resistance proved futile as he had finally become the 'Borg.'
As a result, you'll find our relationship residing in the morgue.
poem by Manager Poet
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But It Makes Me Lots Of Money
Cigarette addiction kills people
But it makes me lots of money
It ruins their health
But it makes me lots of money
They cannot breathe properly
But it makes me lots of money
Their addiction causes them misery
But it makes me lots of money
A trillion cigarette butts pollute our earth daily
But it makes me lots of money
Cigarettes cause fires which burn many people to death
But it makes me lots of money
Parents buy cigarettes when their children need to eat
But it makes me lots of money
Cigarette smoke fills our bars and nightclubs, very unpleasant
But it makes me lots of money
Dirty ashtrays are disgusting
But it makes me lots of money
Why are you allowed to promote and sell such a disgusting product?
Because I've got lots of money
(Sydney, Australia - 2003)
poem by Alessandra Liverani
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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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Writer's Drought
You've heard of a thing called writer's block and you've heard of writer's drought
But writers are never short of things on which they can write about
It's just at times their inspiration well does seem to run dry
And they cannot seem to pen a line though hard enough they try.
The writers drought it causes writers moments of self doubt
Till the words that seem locked in them eventually flow out
Through their pens to their notebooks their dry spells do not last
And on time lost out on penning words they seem to catch up fast.
Some writers in their writing drought cannot seem to feel inspired
To write even a single line they feel mentally tired
But when fresh inspiration comes to them much better stuff they do write
And feeling re-invigorated they sit and pen all night.
Most writers you will talk to of writers drought can tell
When there is no inspiration in their inspiration well
But when inspiration returns to them and their creative juices flow
They become much better writers and in self confidence grow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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No One Can Stop Us To Write
and they must know the reason why,
simple enough
we are writers and our essence is to write
for writing's sake
nothing aimed nothing gained nothing lost
we write because we are here
and we are here because we write
we write because if we do not
we no longer become ourselves
we lose our salt we become just like any
flesh, rotten, infected with bacteria
foul, and finally become just dust
on the corner of the road
we write and we keep on writing
because we are
we do not need the praise
or the condemnation
we do not need an audience
or an empty space
we write because we are
that is our essence and no one can stop us
except perhaps when the word is gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Juggling
think think think
you think a lot wanting to capture
the words and fit in all the works
write
you write and keep on writing
love, life, love life, sex, money,
lots of sex, and lots of money,
spend, save, spend, cycles of lost loves
lust, desire, sadness
a sorrow you keep from
dissipating like water drying on
your skin
after a bath, but things keep on
coming and going and you know not
what to to and where and when to stop
precisely you juggle
all these like you're part of the circus
and you know how to
to at the spotlight and on top
of everything
and there they are after your performance
some did not clap their hands
but what do you care
let the finale come and the curtains fall
the end.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Favorite Teacher
You helped me with math
You helped me with reading
Always there at your door with a friendly greeting
Oh how I will miss you!
I can not express how much I need you on a daily basis
You are so helpful
You are so kind
You are always there all the time
No longer a teacher but a companion
We had much fun in the classroom
Learning and shouting
And that's when it happened
A bond like no other
Not teacher to student,
But daughter to mother
You are the best
My sixth grade teacher
And I have to confess
You are my favorite
I will miss you so much
As the year ends
The time flew by
And we did not notice
But now as we stand here, two weeks away
I must say,
I was dreading this day.
poem by Laurena Rocks
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Song of Money
I had to pay one thing and another taxes
and debts and the cable television bill
the city was always too spread out for me
I didn't have the time to pay it all if I were a millionaire
I would hire a delivery service with a courier
but I have to go in person to the banks and offices
I didn't make it to the teller on time and had to wait
until the following day the following days multiplying
exponentially I don't know what this could mean
Money money that dirty and obsessive thing or dirty
because it's obsessive and above all because it's lacking
or lacking altogether or lacking in the desired amounts
There is an odd relationship between money and desire
and need I won't be the one to examine this in depth
these questions that should interest the Professors no end
A Peruvian writer used to say that money
does not produce happiness but rather produces
a state so similar it's hard to tell the difference
I guess that's a pretty good joke but money
is the 'nerve of war' the most bloodthirsty abstraction
the most powerful weapon the conclusive argument
I write poems so that among other reasons I don't have to
sing songs to money but as you all can see up there at the top
it says Song of Money it was bound to happen sooner or later
poem by Surya Raman
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I'm one of those writers who, when writing, believes she's god-and that she hasn't bestowed free will on any of her characters. In that sense there are no surprises in any of my books.
quote by Lynn Abbey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've lost track of the number of people who want to be writers but never actually write anything. Talking about writing, dreaming about writing, can be very fun, but it won't get a book written. You've got to write.
quote by Laurell K. Hamilton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Opportunities
I've got the brains, you've got the looks
Let's make lots of money
You've got the brawn, i've got the brains
Let's make lots of -
I've had enough of scheming and messing around with jerks
My car is parked outside, i'm afraid it doesn't work
I'm looking for a partner, someone who gets things fixed
Ask yourself this question: do you want to be rich?
I've got the brains, you've got the looks
Let's make lots of money
You've got the brawn, i've got the brains
Let's make lots of money
You can tell i'm educated, i studied at the sorbonne
Doctored in mathematics, i could have been a don
I can program a computer, choose the perfect time
If you've got the inclination, i have got the crime
Oh, there's a lot of opportunities
If you know when to take them, you know?
There's a lot of opportunities
If there aren't, you can make them
Make or break them
I've got the brains, you've got the looks
Let's make lots of money
Let's make lots of -
(aahhhhh) money
(aahhhhh)
(aahhhhh - di du da di da bu di ba)
You can see i'm single-minded, i know what i could be
How'd you feel about it, come and take a walk with me?
I'm looking for a partner, regardless of expense
Think about it seriously, you know, it makes sense
Let's (got the brains)
Make (got the looks)
Let's make lots of money (oohh money)
(let's) you've got the brawn
(make) i've got the brains
Let's make lots of money (oohh money)
I've got the brains (got the brains)
You've got the looks (got the looks)
Let's make lots of money (oohh money)
Money
song performed by by Pet Shop Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I started writing while I was a little boy. Maybe it's because I was reading a lot of books I admired, and thought that I would like to write something like that someday. Also, my love for good writing pushed me.
quote by Naguib Mahfouz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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