I always carry lots of stuff with me wherever I roam, always weighted down with books, with cassettes, with pens and paper, just in case I get the urge to sit down somewhere, and oh, I don't know, read something or write my masterpiece.
quote by Elizabeth Wurtzel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
I read true crime books, and I read when people do case studies of stuff. I'm into books like that. Case studies or forensics or murder - all that good stuff.
Cacoethes Scribendi
If all the trees in all the woods were men;
And each and every blade of grass a pen;
If every leaf on every shrub and tree
Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea
Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes
Had nothing else to do but act as scribes,
And for ten thousand ages, day and night,
The human race should write, and write, and write,
Till all the pens and paper were used up,
And the huge inkstand was an empty cup,
Still would the scribblers clustered round its brink
Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I still love books. Nothing a computer can do can compare to a book. You can't really put a book on the Internet. Three companies have offered to put books by me on the Net, and I said, 'If you can make something that has a nice jacket, nice paper with that nice smell, then we'll talk.' All the computer can give you is a manuscript. People don't want to read manuscripts. They want to read books. Books smell good. They look good. You can press them to your bosom. You can carry them in your pocket.
quote by Ray Bradbury
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Romanian
Sonnet For Homework
Okay, sonnet for homework.
I'm in the library, ready to write.
My notebook thick, pen poised to write on it.
My mind open, ready to get it right.
My view? The sky and billowing white clouds,
Tip of trees languidly blowing in the breeze.
I cherish the quiet, the lask of crowds
But the outdoor view is merely a tease.
Surrounded by stacks of books here I sit.
Slight noises of people, paper and books.
A constant motor's hum and bit by bit
I write this poem, concerned with how it looks.
Does it make sense, read well, and does it scan?
Or instead, perhaps some trash for the can?
poem by Caitlin losa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
In my next life, I want to be tall and thin, parallel park and make good coffee. But for now, I have lots of stuff to work out in my life, but I'll have that until the day I die. I want to write more books.
quote by Paula Danziger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Randomness Of Thoughts
it is a rush,
there is no time anymore,
been busy,
lots of books piling up to read,
lots of papers to write,
many people to please and pamper,
all pleasing tiger,
losing all teeth,
resigned
to the comforts of society's pleasures,
yet still has to keep on
doing
what is it?
no direction, this wind,
no wave, is this sea,
words without assuming any meaning,
flowing
water seeking its own
level, and
why are you following?
same here
same there
you &
I,
IN THIS VOID.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A sensual scribble
I was the scribe who woke up at dawn
Finding a clean sheet of paper
And this glossy sort of ballpoint pen
Having the urge to write
Something sensual
My fingers spread the paper
On this table
Where there is so much disorder
Some paper clips and
Floppy discs scattered
Scotch tapes and mail openers
And some still unopened mails
That I did not mind
Not my priority
I was into something sensual
On this clean sheet of paper
On an urge to write
Grabbed this glossy sort of ballpoint pen
And start scribbling
Some lovely head notes
“My dear darling”
Careful strokes in curves
Sliding on paper
My fingers are wildly
Caressing to the shapes of
Sensual letters and words
And breathtaking sentences
“You know that you make me
Hot and you make me wild
And I always remember you”
And I am at the middle
Of so much longing
Using such letters
U and I
And w and e
Lots of ohs and ahs
And s and e and x
L and o and v and e
To make sense
Without pretense
Some exclamations
And pauses of commas and
Semicolons spread on some
Corners of this paper
With so much
Unstoppable anticipation
Somewhere in the center
I pierced this paper
With this glossy ballpoint pen
Writing something
Emphatic
Clinching
And I was at the height
Of my desiring and
So much liking
Something ecstatic
And calming
At the end
It was a beautiful piece
Of a scribble
Written at dawn
And I wrote at the end part there
“With all my love I remain
Your faithful slave”
And a postscript at the tip
Of my tongue
Written with a nip
“When will I see you again? ”
The letter shall be mailed at once
She will understand that pierce
Somewhere at the center something
That was ecstatic and she will remember
Every letter every word was an ember embedded.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Blind Couple
I wanna write this poem
with my long black pen
I like this pen very much
ı ts writings
why I cannot understand
my brothers also lı ke the pens too
they are not just pens
they are indstruments brought from heaven
to write your petitions to somebady above
some like it black
some blue
some red
ı always prefer black
why I do not understand
now
GOD informed
at the beginning of the holy book
read....read...read and read again
then comes writing
so ı wanna read the world before writing
universe is not my business yet
look at thgis couple on the pavement
walkı ng cautı ously and care fully
a white long stick in yhe hand of the wife
tapping on the stones
listen to it
a child is in the bosom of the husband
clad clean and neat
you cannat calll them blind
they are walking with the help of god
walking happily
talking happı ly
like singing a hymn
thgey do not need any help
they willl lose lose balance
if you try to help
just watch them
leave them alone
ı try to clean my near sighted eyes
and try to read the far aways
but ı ı nderstand
ı have only read A..B.C..
of the divine alphabet
even them not so easily and clearly
when ı look at this couple
with a child in their bosoms
as their future and hope
ı understand the only
and the bitter truth
they were not blind
ı was the only...the pure blind
ı read it
and then write
poem by Metin Sahin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Write A Poem And Immortalize Yourself
Write a poem and they'll
Read your masterpiece for
The next five hundred years!
Write a fabulous poem and they'll
Know who you are!
Write a great majestic superlicious
Poem and immortalize yourself!
Kings and presidents live and they
Die to be the footnotes of History!
But if you write a superb poem
They'll call you the immortal
Beloved of your generation!
Write the poem of the century
And you will speak in proverbs
With the gods!
poem by Ngaka Motaung
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vellum
I write my name down on paper
paper that has a unrealistic desire
to be vellum
I read what I have written
for a sense of authenticity
more authentic than my image
reflected in a mirror stained with mildew
and toothpaste
The words on this paper
anyone can read
bums, whores, addicts,
homosexuals
intellectuals
and the broken old men
whose hope died
in the past
I write
but I don't speak
what I write
details what I see
The things I see
O, the things I see
could invoke suicidal tendencies
in a child who still believes
in Christmas carols
and hunting Moby Dick
whom rules the seas
How tragic it is
to let fleeting imagination
slowly die among the magic spelling
of the words we once spoke
on Christmas Eve
And now I sit
with the adulterated gift
of alcohol
and nicotine
writing down words on paper
whom wish to be vellum
but realistically
could never be
poem by Justin Tallman Gonzalez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am
poem by Wilfred Mellers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
We Used To Carry Books To School
We used to carry books to school
But now they carry guns
Are bullets now the tool
For schoolwork to be done?
We used to carry books to school
Went there for education
But now some kids may think it cool
To shoot down confrontation.
We used to carry books to school
Had sports, the fun we can't forget
But now in school, so many fools
Just know how to spell Death.
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Metaphor II
Life is paper; we are pens.
A story to write we must
Will you write a poem?
Or perhaps a sonnet?
What about tales
Of frogs in blue bonnets?
Or a conglomeration
Of witty falsehoods?
Or a long narration
Of those who have stood
For freedom and truth
And other sugh things?
Or a limerick
With a rhythm that rings?
Maybe you would really rather
Write a ripping rollicking riddle?
Or classical rhymes
Like the “Hey Diddle Diddle”?
All very good, all very well
But what about prose?
That’s an excellent field
That gets up and goes
On and on and on until
You find something wonderful
Like frogs in blue bonnets
Or pirates so plunderful!
Why not try your hand at wit?
Just make sure your jokes are funny!
For nothing’s so rotten as punch line forgotten.
And really won’t bring home the money.
Hey! How ‘bout this?
A song! A ballad!
Of heroes gone by like Honest Abe Lincoln
Or good old Gil-Galad!
But look – there’s more!
Non-ficiton is educational!
Of wreslters and pianos
And anvils sensational!
Did I mention nature?
A marvelous course!
There’s frogs in blue bonnets
Bird, dog, and horse.
You can choose any way that you like
Just be sure that it’s sensible.
(Or not) and appealing,
And also (or not) comprehensible.
Now that I’ve shown you just what you are
(A pen, in case, like me, you forgot)
Look at that paper you’ve got in your grip
And give it all that you’ve got!
poem by Sophia White
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The more books we read, the clearer it becomes that the true function of a writer is to produce a masterpiece and that no other task is of any consequence.
quote by Cyril Connolly
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Did You Read The Morning Paper
(Nickolas Ashford/Valerie Simpson/R. Monica)
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
There on the front page was a picture
Of a crowd as they watched a parade passing by
And through the haze of last nights sleep
Something familiar caught my eye
There was a couple looking so much in love, yes
They had a front line view
And as I pulled the paper closer
I realized standing next to her it was you
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Now I know why you've been working late each night
And no longer have desire to ever hold me tight
And your busy, busy schedule was all a lie
Oh, even the dream with a bonus, oh just another alibi
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Did you get the news today
Did you read the morning paper
Isn't the picture very clear
Where do we go from here
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headlines
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Oh, what now
Did you read the morning paper
Did you get the news today
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Did You Read The Morning Papers?
(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson/r. monica)
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
There on the front page was a picture
Of a crowd as they watched a parade passing by
And through the haze of last nights sleep
Something familiar caught my eye
There was a couple looking so much in love, yes
They had a front line view
And as I pulled the paper closer
I realized standing next to her it was you
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Now I know why youve been working late each night
And no longer have desire to ever hold me tight
And your busy, busy schedule was all a lie
Oh, even the dream with a bonus, oh just another alibi
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Did you get the news today
Did you read the morning paper
Isnt the picture very clear
Where do we go from here
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headlines
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Oh, what now
Did you read the morning paper
Did you get the news today
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I knew I would read all kinds of books and try to get at what it is that makes good writers good. But I made no promises that I would write books a lot of people would like to read.
quote by Carl Sandburg
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Got To Give It Up
Ive got to give it up Ive got to give it up
That stuff
Ive got to give it up Ive got to give it up
That stuff
Tell my mama and tell my pa
That their fine young son didnt get far
He made it to the end of a bottle
Sitting in a sleazy bar
He tried hard but his spirit broke
He tried until he nearly choked
In the end he lost his
Bottle drinking alcohol
Ive got to give it up Ive got to give it up
That stuff
Ive got to give it up Ive got to give it up
That stuff
Tell my brother I tried to write and
Put pen to paper but I was frightened
I couldnt seem to get the words out right
Right quite right
Tell my sister Im sinking slow
Now and again I powder my nose
In the end I lost my bottle
It smashed in a casbah
Ive got to give it up Ive got to give it up
That stuff
Ive got to give it up Ive got to give it up
That stuff
Ive got to give it up Ive got to give it up
That stuff
Ive got to give it up Ive got to give it up
That stuff
Ive been messing with the heavy stuff
For a time I couldnt get enough
But Im waking up and its wearing off
Junk dont take you far
Tell my mama Im coming home
In my youth Im getting older
And I think its lost control
Mama Im coming home
Ive got to give it up Ive got to give it up
That stuff
Ive got to give it up Ive got to give it up
That stuff
song performed by by Thin Lizzy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!