I can write for any magazine now, in any voice. I can do it in two hours, I could do it in my sleep, it's like writing a grocery list.
quote by Ann Patchett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Writing Is My Strength
I love to write.
I can sit and write
for hours and hours.
I love to write poetry
on how I feel.
It’s so great to have
writing as your strength.
I like it when people
read it too
But.....WRITING IS MY STRENGTH!
poem by Lisa Parks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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You Sing And I Write
you sing and i write
you sing louder
and i write some more
as i do not sleep
as early as you
want to
to sleep with you and keep you warm
and keep you happy
and so secure
and then you stop singing
as i still go on writing and writing and writing and writing still
without minding that you already stopped singing
and you wished
that this house burns itself
that i too burn myself with it
that i may finally become ash
that i finally be blown by air as nothing but dust
and then she may finally continue
her singing and even dancing
and learn to fiddle the strings her new violin
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I end up writing about all kinds of things. I never make an attempt to write about anything in particular. I don't have a little list of topics to write about.
quote by Tracy Chapman
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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What Will I Do Today And What Will I Do Tomorrow?
What will I do today and what will I do tomorrow
And what will I do for the rest of my life?
Write and write and write
Until I can no longer write –
And even if this writing is never known?
And even if this writing is wholly lost?
And even if this writing is not really worth very much?
And even if it is known only a little?
And even if others are highly critical of it?
And even if it seems vanity of vanity and only vanity?
Write and write and write
To the end of my life.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Writing Is Like A Diet
It is not easy to write.
Even if one likes it...
Writing is like a challenge.
An obstacle to face.
And when confronted,
To make use of it...
A discipline applied,
Is what it takes!
It is not easy to write.
Even if one likes it.
Those who do may not sleep,
At night.
Or discover they have lost an appetite.
Writing is like a diet.
And accepting it becomes a way of life.
Those who ask how writing is done...
Usually have no idea,
Of what they must overcome.
Some believe writing is nothing but fun.
But those committed...
Know writing is more like a spouse,
That can be quiet as a mouse.
Then at other times a shouting occurs...
Heard from the inside,
With a wish to come out!
Writing is like a diet.
And accepting it becomes a way of life.
It is not easy to write.
Even if one likes it!
Writing is like a challenge.
An obstacle to face.
And when confronted,
To make use of it...
A discipline applied,
Is what it takes!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Nobody can erase my writing
Nobody can erase my writing
And it is determined by destiny
I can see at dark night
I can hear voice of silence
I can bring colorful light
It is my joy to write
And no body can erase my writing
My writing is my soul my eternal truth.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Write
Write, keep writing lot
Write, write before you forget
Write, make it as reminder
Write, write before words disappear
Write, for you to contemplate
Write, write before your mind changed
poem by Maria Sudibyo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To be a writer
They say, when you have nothing to say
Do not say anything
They say when you have nothing good to say
Do not say anything
He is not convinced
He wants to be a writer and to be one he must write
What is in his mind
To be a writer he must write and write and write
Even when there is nothing to write
Even when there is nothing to say even when nobody listens
Even when the word is dead even when there is no sense at all
Even when he gets blind and deaf and mute even when his fingers are cut even when his mind is blank even when his consciousness is lost
Even when you are angry even when you say what is written is nothing
But trash, dung, cadaver, corpse, poo, pee, even when there is nothing
Anymore,
He writes because he is a writer and no one can stop him now.
he is
he is writing
he is writing always
he is writing always whatever that needs to be written
and here you are foolishly reading. thanks to you, audience of one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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I Write And Write And Write And Write
I WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE
I write and write and write and write
I write and write and write and write
I write.
And all this writing and all these words and all I am
Forever unheard.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Whatevah
write
till it does not hurt anymore
write
till all the happy moments are consumed.
write
till all the aches are justified
write
till all your revenge is dissipated
write
till all angles are examined
write and keep on writing
till all of you is hidden, till all of you is folded back
write and keep on writing still
because you are your writer and there is no one who knows you well
except yourself, and what they know shall only be
skin deep
because you want it so,
you are the king in the jungle of your uncertainties
the Tarzan hitting his chest before Jane came and ruined it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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And So I'm Writing...
I'm hard-pressed for time,
yet I do have the heart
And so I'm writing
Know not what to pen down,
have a paper to write on
And so I'm writing
May be I'll write about 'you and me'
Or may be of 'us and them'
Feel like playing with words
And so I'm writing
May be that starving beggar's hungry looks
Or that homeless Child's beckoning eyes
Are making me scribble these lines to you
And so I'm writing
May be you'll find my words vague
Or you might decipher a meaning
Intend to leave you in the oblivion
And so I'm writing
Whatever might be the impression I create
Wish to see its reflection on your soul
And leave an imprint on your mind
And so I'm writing
May be you and I've become immune
To the pathos of mankind
Or may be there's still
A dropp of humanity flowing deep within us
Wish to arouse 'The Human Being' in you
And so I'm writing...
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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We sleep like hours unslept in the eyes
we sleep like hours unslept in the eye
we wakefully take them to the first of dawn
'let something break out' you say
and I am silent my eyes are silent
my lips are pregnant with sleep
we sleep like leaves forgotten by the tree
we rootlessly take them to a garden heart
'let something plant us' you say
and I am sad my eyes are sad
my lips are yearning for sleep
we sleep like lakes moon shattered rays
we facelessly list them unto the names
'let there be something' you say
and I am crying my eyes are crying
my lips can deliver no sleep
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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I have never written anything in one draft, not even a grocery list, although I have heard from friends that this is actually possible.
quote by Connie Willis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Poem For Those Who Are Sad
did Octavio say that happiness
and charm are cliches?
did he really mean that he
shall write about those who
labor in pain
about those who stopped
smiling because of the
harsh rain
about those who hide
because of the coming storm?
he could be right
not writing about the cliches of
happy days
for they have all enough
that make the sweet syrups
of their eating lives
let me write a poem for those
who are sad
for those who have less
let me write about the opening
of a flower
about the butterflies moving
out from their cocoons
let me write about the
end of the bitter days
for they have less and now
they may have more
through my lines
let me write about the
rising of the sun
the waking up of the boy
from his sleep
and the beginning
of his play on the yard
with his bike
let me write more
about what i really like...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Who Does Not Really Want To Write The Best Poem In The World?
yes, a five-star poem.
the one fit for first prize
awards, the one that will
make you famous
worldwide,
who does not like to
go on tv? read that famous
poem personally.
me? sorry i don't.
i am tired writing the best poem
of my life
been writing for years
i can imagine
trying to fit in
with the most famous ones
dead and alive
but i know i can never write it
because i can't
because i don't
because i do not have any reason
to write it.
i love to write.
AND that is foremost.
that is final. nothing ambitious.
nothing to change your world
or this world or that world
nothing to influence another
indonesian or turk
or swedish or
anybody or anything
what advantage do i get
when i say i just love to write
when i say i do not want to write the best poem in the world?
nothing, except the joy of having
to make the deep breath
in my life.
air that fills my lungs
and make me dream and make me sleep
longer than you do.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I Can Write Poetry All Day Long
I CAN WRITE POETRY ALL DAY LONG
I can write Poetry all day long
But what will it give me?
There is just so much others will listen to
If anything?
And what is the value of writing words to myself for myself
Even if I love them
And believe they are real poetry,
And know in my soul
That their music is real?
I can write Poetry all day long
Or think I am writing poetry
When I am not-
Am I writing poetry now?
I feel I am-
Within me there is the song and the sound
There is the music of poetry
But is it real
Or only my self- deception?
Can I write poetry all day long?
Can I write poetry at all?
I am writing poetry now
Or so I tell myself-
But as I write this
The music within
Is already fading
And I hear in myself
The silence of my own lonely sound.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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It Is Me
He sat in his own world
writing down the stories
that came to his mind.
He never watched time,
for him there
was no time.
He wrote stories of love,
of mystery and suspense.
He wrote of everything
that popped into his head.
He was not a lonely person
as his characters kept him company.
He wrote things
for every writing sphere,
but there was one thing
he could not write
which may come as a surprise
to everyone.
He could not write a letter
no matter how hard he tried.
His mind went completely blank
whenever he tried.
Yet he could write
just about everything else.
He could write songs,
he could write stories at will.
He could write poems
on everything,
but writing a letter
was something he could not do.
Now all who read this
might take it as a joke,
but it is very true
every word I have spoke,
and how would I know that.
The answer is simple it is me.
19 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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This Poem This Afternoon
this poem
has nothing much to give you
some words
discarded that i
keep again
on this monitor
perhaps garbage
or dust or pieces of
scratch papers,
but somehow
i go on writing,
without any purpose
at all
in mind, just
to let the hours pass
by
the minutes wasted
for having to wait
on something else,
the next scene
another event
of my life
a meeting in
another room
a riding of
a vehicle to the city
and then
wait again for the
students in the
university
i talk much
and write too
little
for hours and hours
until it gets so dark
at the late hour
of the night
and then i go home
drive my car
no talking now
just paying attention
to the road
meeting my face
and the faint sound
of the aircon
of the car until i
arrive on the side
of the house
the gate opens
i turn on the light
and go inside the room
to sleep
on this chilly evening.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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I got that experience through dating dozens of men for six years after college, getting an entry level magazine job at 21, working in the fiction department at Good Housekeeping and then working as a fashion editor there as well as writing many articles for the magazine.
quote by Judith Krantz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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