I wrote a novel for my degree, and I'm very happy I didn't submit that to a publisher. I sympathize with my professors who had to read it.
quote by David Eddings
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Esteem
Although it is 2010 and not the 60's--
You have definately caught my eye...
Took me back to the: Crystals from Brooklyn--
And songs of happy days gone by;
Seems i am reading you...
And-wow-you sometimes read me...!
The latter is a great compliment---
Of the highest degree! ;
It seems that whatever your subject matter...
I almost always totally agree...
Given that we grew up in the same era...
This fact does not surprise me;
This week you wrote of an end of an Era In Publishing...
I read you-reread you and know that it is no doubt true--
Sadly, i put my hands to my keyboard (in vain?)
Typing up a manuscript that is long overdo;
Now i am keeping my fingers crossed-oh most esteemed...
That i might just sneak in under the final line...
Much like you in the OLD ERA of New York...
And get myself published-perhaps just in time! ;
Dedicated to the book: '77 Love Sonnets'
Publisher: Common Good Books
And its most esteemed author.
May 28,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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Both of my parents are professors and everyone in my family has some fabulous degree of something or another and I couldn't get into college because I didn't know a language.
quote by Camryn Manheim
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I didn't want the headache of having a publisher reviewing everything I wrote in advance.
quote by Mark Millar
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When we finally came to start work on this, the joy was it was only Joel and I, we didn't have to answer to anybody, and we didn't have to submit a screen play or anything like that. We just wrote it and then made it.
quote by Andrew Lloyd Webber
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Note You Never Wrote
Later on, the story goes,
A bottle floated out to sea.
After days, when it had found the perfect spot,
It opened up,
And I read the note that you never wrote to me
After all, Im sure you know,
The mayor of baltimore is here.
After days now he can finally appear,
Now at last hes here,
But he never is gonna get my vote,
cause he never is gonna get a quote
From the little note
That you never wrote to me.
Further on, along the line,
I was arrested on the shore,
Holding papers of governments galore.
I was taken in,
But I read the note that you never wrote.
Yes, I read the note that you never wrote.
Oh, I read the note that you never wrote to me.
To me.
To me.
To me.
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Would Like It Better If
If I wrote to be liked,
I would not be read.
And I do like that some read,
What I write!
But I would like it better,
If I was fed...
By what it is I've said that is written...
And read by those who read what I wrote!
Finding a nibble to afford,
Liked And nourishes...
To feed the reader something read,
Coming from this writer's head!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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A Poet
He — or was it she?
was a child who said little
but walked, endlessly, just looking
or stood still for minutes, hours,
and became what they looked at
was from a large family
but still people said, you’re an only child aren’t you
was it seems very happy in themself
but no-one asked, so never said
kept themself to themself, which annoyed
other children, who bullied them
and then were even more annoyed
when they didn’t play the victim
failed examinations and yet
was always wrapt up in a book
occasionally did things like cutting themselves
and was told off but never questioned usefully
wrote poems secretly but was unconcerned
whether people read them or not
was good to be with as long as you
didn’t expect anything of them
was secretly loved by some
who never liked to say so
because what they loved somehow
didn’t have a name
years later, some of them read the poems
and knew what they had loved
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Culture is an instrument wielded by professors to manufacture professors, who when their turn comes will manufacture professors.
quote by Simone Veil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Culture is an instrument wielded by professors to manufacture professors who when their turn comes, will manufacture professors.
quote by Simone Weil
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The poem
I wrote a poem that didn't
ryhme,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love
more than life,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme to the one I love more than life,
of which she did more than like,
the poem was short,
repeated myself alot,
but the one I loved more than life,
felt that love is like the poem I wrote,
full of joy and full of hurt,
the poem I wrote when I was full of hype,
coz the one I loved more than life is the one that now fills in my life all gaps,
the one that brings me up when am down,
a smile on my face from a frown,
music to my ears when we talk,
love in my heart when I'm near,
i wrote a poem that didn't ryhme for the one I love more than life.
poem by Kennedy Musyoka
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A Curious Secret
When I said that I read
Vita Sackville-West
He didn't get it
When I said I had a yen
To visit Llangollen
and bask in the past
of those infamous ladies
He still didn't get it
When I wrote I was smote
in a Sapphic type verse
He just didn't get it
I even told him of my passion
for Balthus' 'Guitar Lesson'
yet he still didn't get it!
So while we watched
'Gazon Maudit'
and he sat there
obliviously
I asked him to join us
Now he gets it!
© Justine Tennant 2004
poem by Justine Tennant
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What They Will Say
Some times, I wonder if I write for the future.
That may seem like a strange statement to make.
Forty-three years ago, I wrote a poem
that at the time no one wanted to know.
Now it is my best-loved poem
read by countless people around the world.
Thirty years ago, I wrote two poems
and each one won me an award,
but at the time I wrote them,
no one wanted to know.
All of which makes me wonder
if what I wrote in my yesteryears
that then none wanted to know.
Could they all be popular now?
Today I started collecting and retyping
short stories I wrote twenty years ago.
At the time, publishers and agents
didn’t want to know.
Now twenty year on
I am wondering what they will say.
24 January 2009
poem by David Harris
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Didnt Know
Didn't know what you had
Until you lost it
Didn't know what you own
Until you got it
Didn't know of your sins
Until you fought it.
Didn't know what you needed
Until you sought it.
Didn't know your lies
Until someone spoke them
Didn't know of the truth
Until someone wrote them
Didn't remembered your dreams
Until someone awoke them
Didn't know they died
Until someone chocked them.
Didn't know you had guilt
Until you cried
Didn't know you felt sadness
Until you tried to hide
Didn't know you felt shame
Until you lied
Didn't know you believed in GOD
Until you asked him why.
Didn't know you felt sorrow
Until you shed a tear
Didn't know that you were scared
Until I saw your fear
Didn't know that you hated
Until you were near
Didn't know that you were unhappy
Until you looked in a mirror.
Didn't know who you truly were
Until your ways you sewed
Didn't know that you were evil
Until the truth was showed
Didn't know you did this before
Until I saw all of your woe
Didn't know who you really were
Though I wished then I did know.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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It is not half cooked
Having heard and read, I wrote.
Having seen and felt, I wrote.
I wrote of love and romance
From experience and perception.
As I wrote I was soothed.
Don’t scorn my writings as half cooked.
10.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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When I Was Happy
When I was happy,
I was able to smile
I was able to show myself for who I really am
When I was happy
I was able to be myself
I never would have let myself fall in so many areas
Why is it that now I can’t?
Why can’t I shine the way I used to?
Why don’t I succeed anymore?
Why don’t I fly high anymore?
How was it that you were able to change me with something so simple as a smile?
When I was happy
Why didn’t I think what that smile meant?
Why didn’t I do what I had to when I had the chance?
When I was happy
Why didn’t I see the truth?
When I was happy
Were you happy?
When I was happy…
Was I truly happy?
poem by Mithzi Silva
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The Poet's Pride
The publisher
Is the poet's pride
Because the publisher
Reads a lot of manuscripts that are
Submitted
poem by Aldo Kraas
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If you want to publish two books a year under your own name and your publisher doesn't, maybe you need a different publisher.
quote by Dean Koontz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forever Friend
For Mike Bird
1943 - 2005
My forever friend.
I never though I’d have to say
The words I did over you
As they lowered you slowly into the ground
But there was one else
To say them, only me.
We’d been friends
For over forty years
At times we were almost brothers
Many happy Christmases you spent with my wife and me.
You became part of our extended family
You were an only child
and when your parents passed away
We befriended each other
During troubles and hardships
Through the years that came our way
Our friendship was strong
Even when for some reason or another
We didn’t see each other for a while
We never argued or raised our voices
Whenever we disagreed
Which I recall, wasn’t often
I remember you only getting heated
When some publisher rejected me
Saying “The fools, can’t they see.”
They were my failures, but you took them to heart.
Whenever you succeeded
I was first to congratulate you
I am so proud to have had you as my friend
Words can’t express the sorrow that I felt
When they said you had gone
I wanted to be on my own
Go somewhere and cry
Unfortunately responsibilities made me pass that by
Your cousins all the time you were alive
They stayed away from you
Didn’t even want you in their homes
Then they heard you were dying
Out of the wood work they came
To see what they could get
Oh, what a shame
They never knew
You didn’t have a penny to your name
He wasn’t religious they proclaimed
So no priest was sought
We gathered in the chapel
Only seven people came
Someone read a eulogy
But they didn’t know the real you
And that was that
I was asked to say a few words
As they lowered your coffin into the ground
With a lump in my throat, eyes full of tears
In a voice choked and low
I asked God to look after and protect
Your immortal soul
I held your wake at my house
Where you had spent so many happy times
I talked about you to your cousins
And they found out more about you
Than they ever knew
When they left and I was alone with my thoughts
I said a silent prayer for you
You my forever friend
26-27 Jan 2007
poem by David Harris
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My own experience and development deepen everyday my conviction that our moral progress may be measured by the degree in which we sympathize with individual suffering and individual joy.
quote by George Eliot
Submitted by anonym
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Dear John
(vocals by john prine)
When i woke up this morning
There was a note upon my door
Saying " don't make me no coffee, babe
Cause i won't be back no more"
And that's all she wrote
"dear john", i sent your saddle home"
Now jonah got along in the belly of a whale
Daniel in the lion's den
I know a guy that didn't try to get along
And he won't get a chance again
That's all she wrote
"dear john", i sent your saddle home"
She didn't forward no address
No she never said goodbye
All she said was "if you get blue
Just hang your little head and cry"
That's all she wrote
"dear john", i sent your saddle home"
Now my gal's short and stubby
She's mean as she can be
If that little old gal of mine
Ever gets a hold of me
That's all she wrote
"dear john", i fetched your saddle home"
Went down to the bank this morning
The cashier said with a grin
I'm sorry for you little john
But your wife has done been in
That's all she wrote
"dear john", i sent your saddle home"
That's all she wrote
"dear john", i sent your saddle home
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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