Well, one of the things I discovered in the course of looking back and writing about what I saw in my memory is that I was a closely observant person long before I became a reporter.
quote by Alma Guillermoprieto
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Mr. Reporter
Hey, mr. reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?
Hey, mr. reporter,
I'll believe all that you put down.
I'll believe the sun is going up,
Even though it's going down.
Hey, mr. reporter,
Don't you twist my words around.
I'll kill you, i won't let you,
Distort my simple sound.
Hey, mr. reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?
Hey, mr. reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?
Did your daddy stop you playing
With your friends when you were young?
And is that why you run down
All the young folks have their fun. [?]
The reason i am stupid,
Is because i read you every day.
You misquote all of the true things
Because they rub you the wrong way.
Hey, mr. reporter,
How 'bout talking about yourself?
Do you like what you're doing,
Or is it that you can do nothing else?
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If a reporter doesn't like the person he's writing about, it shows up in his article.
quote by Willie Stargell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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So Long
So long, so long
Now Im on my way
So long, so long
See you all some day
Dont know where Im heading for
Turn my back and walk away
Dont think about whats left behind
Otherwise
Think about the good times
Think about the people you love
Think about the sun that is gone
And there aint no use me talking bout the things we used to do
So long, so long
Im better by myself
So long, so long
Dont need nobody else
If I fade from peoples hearts
Im glad I left them far behind
Theres one thing that holds me still
Im thinkin
The memory of your kiss
The memory of your sweet caress
The memory of you love that is gone
And there aint no use me talking bout the things we used to do
So long, so long
Got no time for tears
So long, so long
Got music in my ears
Got no time for muswell town
Gonna look around now
My old town was good to me
But oh...
Guess Ill say so long now
Dont even say a word
Ill turn my back and walk away, but oh...
The day that Ive seen everything I promise to return
So long, so long
Now Im on my way
So long, so long
See you all some day
So long, so long
Now Im on my way
So long, so long
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Same As I
i get so tired
of writing poems
about suffering....
but everywhere i look,
all around me,
people are hurting....
and try as i might,
i cant close my eyes,
cant shut my ears up
to the sounds of need and want.
and i cannot be silent
as long as there's one person
who is not free,
one person whose rights
have been violated....
one person who is hungry,
one person who is homeless,
one person sick who cannot
get medical care....
one person abused, enslaved,
or treated like property...
i cannot, and i will not stop,
for they are the same
as i... i see their faces
every time i look in the mirror!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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If I Can Go On Writing Poems
IF I CAN GO ON WRITING POEMS
If I can go on writing poems
I will be happy-
If I cannot go on
I will lose something of myself-
I wonder how long I will be able to go on
Days? Years? How long exactly?
I write happily now
A poem I know I can post-
Without that I might be less happy about it-
If I can go on writing poems
This will be a sign I still have hope in life-
When I am stopped or stop
Will it mean I am finished
As a person also?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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It's Better With The Good Eye
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
Looking back at oh so far away.
Memory’s just another way to see.
A place to go on holiday for free,
Forty years ago if it’s a day.
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.
And was that other person really me,
What changed, why could I not stay?
Memory’s just another way to see
The way things were around us then when we
Thought all our dreams were surely on their way.
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
The sky was always blue it seemed to me,
Every day the sun shone so they say -
Memory’s just another way to see,
But now I know that life’s not lunch for free
That bitter fruit is served on many days
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be,
Memory’s just another way to see.
Martin Swords
“Prompt Poems”
Villanelle
March 2008
poem by Martin Swords
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True 007 Style
Joyously discovered my thick blue pen
writing in many colours can be my new
talisman, a necklace accompanying me
to the library as a blue aura around my
black-clad person, marched back to the
office in the same grim determination
not to eat anything that will aggravate
my too high cholesterol levels
The only food left so bland I prefer not
to eat at all, tried to take the blue pen
off for writing but the grey of my T-
shirt threatened to swallow all light
and delight; necklace-pen has to stay
repelling all black and grey - it also is
a secret weapon à la Q
The James Bond inventor, I can blow up
my boss so only her smoking shoes
are left - in true 007 style -
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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I think, though, that people will read into a reporter's story a bias that they want to see in a reporter.
quote by Garrett M. Graff
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I had - all my life, everybody who knew me thought that I would probably grow up to be a reporter, a newspaper reporter because we didn't have much television in those days.
quote by Bob Schieffer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Trigger
Everything we do is recorded
in our computer’s memory
to be released at moments
when we least expect them.
A smell or a sound
could be the trigger
to release a memory
and send us hurtling back
to the time when it was recorded.
Some things are sad things
that we hoped
would never be released
and others are of good things
that came our way
making us rejoice over them.
Each lasts for only moments
before returning back
into our computer’s memory.
10 April 2011
poem by David Harris
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Inside each and every one of us is a person that no one knows. A person, should you take the time to look,is waiting to be discovered, Wanting you to take notice. Take a few minutes every day and sit down to chat to this person. Who knows what you may learn
quote by Neill MacRae
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My employer was never at any time aware of anything in my past beyond the writing I did, because, frankly, it isn't relevant to the job I was asked to do, which was to be a reporter.
quote by Jeff Gannon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing On The Wall
Words and music by rick nielsen
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
Lo and behold, heard it on the radio.
It was a long time comin, but it sounds so sweet, come on, man, get off my back.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
In the midwest and in the east.
Canada, southwest, around the world,
L.a., tokyo, sounds so sweet,
Come on honey, get on your feet.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
The words were oh, so...
The words were oh, so clear.
All right, I saw the writing on the wall.
All night, I saw the writing on the wall,
I saw the writing on the wall.
Lo and behold, heard it on the radio.
It was a long time comin, but it sounds so sweet, come on, man, get off my back.
Saw it at the airport, it was on t.v.
Read it in a magazine, runnin down the street.
Makes no sense, but I hope its gonna last,
The next big thing, I really gotta laugh.
Worked and slaved and played like hell,
Everybodys goin crazy, youre the last to know.
Cant explain it, still a joke to me,
Maybe Im naive, cause its so plain to see.
Its right in front of your face, man.
Its right in front of your face, man.
Played like hell, whoa!
Played like hell, whoa!
song performed by by Cheap Trick
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Positive Thinker
Am I a good thinker?
Can I see what others don't?
Am I a daring person?
Can I do what others do not like to do?
Or others are afraid to do?
Am I a creative and imaginative person?
Can I see the invisible?
Can I feel the intangible?
Can I achieve the impossible?
Am I a contemplating person?
Am I a self-reflective person?
Am I a confidence person?
Am I a self-reliance person?
Can I be a perfect person?
Can I be a clever person?
Can I be a smart thinker person?
Above all,
I prefer to be
A simple person
With a positive attitude,
Not only accept positive things,
But willing to accept negative things.
poem by Lawrence Hiung
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What Was
I can't go home;
even if I do
because that me going home
would be expected
to be
someone I haven't been in so very long.
How to be with family and friends
who constantly want to talk about
that young kid
who's long since moved on.
Out of klndness and memory
I play along
and let them
brag and fawn
over a person
long gone
into the forward years
while they look back
into what for you
is only the dimly remembered.
I told my mother to dismantle my room
dismantle the museum
keeping it that way, I said,
was inappropriate and too tempting
because I don't have the luxury
of looking back
while I am trying to move on.
So home is somewhat like an old love affair
nice while it lasted
but something which needs to be outgrown
as the truth is
one can never really
go back home
unchanged
from what was
then
the hurt in Mom's eyes
not withstanding.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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In The Way Back Then
Seven years ago,
I went back to Canada
after forty-two years.
I walked down a road
to show my wife where I used to live.
The road was built on rolling hills
and as I came over one,
I knew instantly where I was.
Things had changed
in those forty-two years,
some would say
it was unrecognisable
from what I used to know,
but as soon as I started down the hill
things came back like yesterday.
It was as if I had never been away.
Memories of my childhood
instantly sprang to mind.
I found myself seeing things
not as the now,
but there were changes
from the way back then.
The memory flashes
brought a smile to my face
as I could visualise
all the friends I knew then,
the funny incidents that over my life
in the way back then.
All too soon, time
has a way of taking things back
and my memory reclined them
to the back door of my mind.
30 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Chained to a Memory
You went away a long time ago,
set me adrift in an emotional sea.
I couldn’t find someone new,
‘cause I was chained to a memory of you.
Everywhere, little things I saw,
reminded me of your memory.
Nothing that I did would pull me free;
everything just spoke your name to me.
Now I cannot go anywhere,
as always there is something there.
To remind me of the fun we used to have,
in that so long ago.
I tried to break the chain,
but love is too strong there.
Therefore, I’ll just go on forever,
chained to a memory of you.
(13 June 2007)
poem by David Harris
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Ben
Verse 1:
I’m sitting in my room thinking about the times that weren’t so bad
When you were here with the family
It was like you were the person who listened, the kind one
Always knew the right thing to stand up for no matter the cause or cost
Chorus:
The pain shoots through me every time I start to think or talk about your memory
Just because the way you were taken was so unnecessary
So Ben this one is for you
The family we miss you it’s like
The pain could never end
But together we can get through this
And keep your memory alive
Verse 2:
The many things run through my head
That the fact if you were here still today
Things could be different, it seemed
Like you were the part that kept things together
When you went things fell apart
Chorus:
The pain shoots through me every time I start to think or talk about your memory
Just because the way you were taken was so unnecessary
So Ben this one is for you
The family we miss you it’s like
The pain could never end
But together we can get through this
And keep your memory alive
Verse 3:
The feelings cut deep like a knife
Through all of this I’m still here
To keep your memory alive, I shall remember you for the good
Not the last memories, the grievance just wont pass
But thanks to the support of many certain friends I can still pull through.
Chorus:
The pain shoots through me every time I start to think or talk about your memory
Just because the way you were taken was so unnecessary
So Ben this one is for you
The family we miss you it’s like
The pain could never end
But together we can get through this
And keep your memory alive
In memory of Ben Chantler 1981-2006
poem by Shane Cannon
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Writing stopped being fun when I discovered the difference between good writing and bad and, even more terrifying, the difference between it and true art. And after that, the whip came down.
quote by Truman Capote
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rove and his attorneys can parse the words all they want, but it is now clear that while Rove may not have given a reporter Plame's name, he clearly identified her by telling the reporter that Joseph Wilson's wife was a CIA agent.
quote by Louise Slaughter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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