In twenty years I've never had a day when I didn't have to think about someone else's needs. And this means the writing has to be fitted around it.
quote by Alice Munro
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Come Alive In Writing
I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -
I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-
I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The design of the God
Growth and generation for twenty years.
Health and reproduction for twenty years.
Breath and degeneration for twenty years.
Since then live sans passion, the God’s design.
20.11.2011
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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As somebody who's been writing about this subject for getting on twenty years now, it's astonishing how the climate has changed in the last five years.
quote by Anthony Holden
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Twenty years a child twenty years running wild twenty years a mature man-and after that, praying.
Twenty years a child; twenty years running wild; twenty years a mature man -- and after that, praying.
Twenty Years Hence
Twenty years hence my eyes may grow
If not quite dim, yet rather so,
Still yours from others they shall know
Twenty years hence.
Twenty years hence though it may hap
That I be called to take a nap
In a cool cell where thunderclap
Was never heard,
There breathe but o'er my arch of grass
A not too sadly sighed Alas,
And I shall catch, ere you can pass,
That winged word.
poem by Walter Savage Landor
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My So Called Life
Ever since i saw you
On my so-called life,
I've been writing you these letters
Asking you to be my wife.
But its been almost a year
And still i've gotten no reply,
I'm assuming you have met some other guy.
So i sit in my room,
Watch romeo & juliet
A thousand times.
I wish i was as cool
As leonardo is
But i'm not.
I went on jerry springer
To confess my love to you
You said i didn't have a chance
And there was nothing i could do
You told me i was crazy
And wished that i was dead.
You threw a chair right upside my head
Today i highjacked a plane
I wrote your name across the sky,
Miss clare danes.
But they were waiting on the ground
To take me straight to jail
I'm staring at your pictures
From my lonely little cell
I'm writing you this letter
To let you know i doing well
Until we meet again
You know i'll cry a thousand tears
And i'll see you in another twenty years.
song performed by by Ataris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ten Grey hairs and a silver one
I discovered my first grey hair
when I was Seventeen years old
It had to do with broken up my first relationship
I discovered my second grey hair
when I was Twenty years old
It had to do with the quarrels at home
I discovered my third grey hair
when I was Twenty-one years old
It had to do with searching for work
I discovered my fourth grey hair
when I was Twenty-three years old
It had to do with loosing my job
I discovered my fifth grey hair
when I was Twenty-five years old
It had to do with giving up my unborn child
I discovered my sixth grey hair
When I was Twenty-eight years old
It had to do with opening my pub
I discovered my seventh grey hair
When I was thirty years old
It had to do with giving birth to my daughter
I discovered my eight grey hair
When I was thirty –two years old
It had to do with the first day at the kinder garden school
I discovered my ninth grey hair
When I was thirty-four years old
It had to do with to find out that some thing was missing
I discovered my tenth grey hair
When I was thirty-five years old
It had to do with the fights between my sisters and mum
My one Silver hair I discovered lately
Has to do with you
Because I miss you so hard …
poem by Pascale Ost
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A Folder
While lifting a folder
from a box of papers
I had stored up in the loft
several loose pages fell out
and landed at my feet.
As I lifted them,
I saw much to my surprise
that they were half a dozen poems
I had written twenty years ago
and forgotten all about.
As I quickly flicked
through the folder
it became clear to me
that there was about fifty other poems
buried within I had forgotten about.
I’ve put the folder to one-side
to sort through it when I have more time.
Then I can rediscover
what I was writing
more than twenty years ago.
6 March 2008
poem by David Harris
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Twenty Years
I burned the bridge. There's no going back.
Would never be ten or fifteen again.
Opening my eyes to a blood red sky
Designed with black and all shades of darkness
Inscribed in it was 'Welcome To Life'
I cried and cried, everyone smiled and grinned
I really don't wanna be here but ssshh
You can't say that, life is for living
The dead hath no friendship with the living
Holding the back of hope's hand
On the other hand holding tightly
The photograph of the days of my life.
I run for my dear...not so dear life
Here comes the seasons changing on me again
When it rains, it pours, I drown, and become rain
When it shines, it burns, I ignite, and become passion
There's been no rain, I prayed
Took an umbrella, with faith in my chest
I chilled under the sky for an answer
It didn't rain, so I went for a gin
Twenty years. Twenty failures. One cynic.
Pure Russian water wash through my bleeding soul.
Twenty years looking for something
Not sure what, the whole world is moving
I'm standing, chilling, and stilling
A confused fish, stuck in life, a tough shore
Death and nothingness, the peaceful ocean
How do you fill up an empty heart?
Twenty years with an empty side
The best way to give your life a meaning
Is to give someone's life a meaning
Twenty years, I've sounded an alarm
To the higher heavens, to the Only one
But how do you give what you don't have?
Twenty years. Twenty heartbreaks. Twenty failures. Twenty prayers.
Twenty kisses. Twenty goodbyes.
Twenty attempts. Still breathing.
Twenty caresses by Him who wooed me young
He who loves and chases me old
Yet His absence is chilling and silence, killing.
Twenty years. Of clueless motions.
And the crowds' mental insanity.
Twenty years. History has told her story.
Time is penning my story.
I repeat again; I wish I knew
At any point knew how life should be lived.
Twenty years. Prince Charming. Remained a frog, or perhaps had disdain for sleeping beauty.
Twenty years. The rain is pouring, my heart is needing
But the umbrella's missing.
Disney made me dream...weak...love
My prince charming in shining armour is...a...fairy...in a child's tale.
Gloom is norm. Loneliness is my bestie.
Twenty years. What do you want to be in Twenty years?
I wish you well.
Me? I'm just searching...for the sea.
poem by Jenim Dibie
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R.i.p
Writing this is hard for me
Because writing this
Means that your gone
And your never coming back
You was my best friend
You was my ride or die
You was my brother
Even if we didn't come from the same mother
I loved you with all my heart
I would have died for you
I would have took a bullet for you
You was all ways there for me
Now that your gone
I feel like no one cares about me
I feel lost in darkness
But i know your watching over me
guiding me as i go
I love you bro
I would never for get
Rest, In, Peace i love you bro
poem by Curtis Brown
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Well, we won the war. You know what that means. In twenty years, we'll all be driving Iraqi cars.
quote by Will Durst
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Society
Talking to someone today,
we reminisced of years gone by.
We reflected on things
when we were young and didn’t have,
and how much fun we had.
We didn’t have TVs, CDs or DVDs,
computers or anything like that.
We had to twiddle a cat’s whisker to hear
the radio we might have built.
What we did have was an imagination,
creating games we could play.
We didn’t destroy everything in our wake,
but looked after everything we got.
Today our society it doesn’t matter,
things are so easily replace,
if you break something today
you can always replace it tomorrow,
and the wastage that goes around,
because nothing means much anymore.
Years ago, we used to treasure
everything that we got.
Today it means nothing,
as they have everything and want for naught.
Everything has lost its value.
Now just look around and make a list,
of what material thing in your life
that can never be replaced.
Then do another list of everything
that can be replaced.
The first list will contain next to nothing,
and the second will go on and on.
This should show you a picture of our society today.
6 September 2007
poem by David Harris
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Thank You For Writing A Poem For Me
i am your fan
many years and more years to come
i shall remain
your avid fan
thank you for writing me a poem
about love
and sleepless nights
thank you for writing about the ward
the man bound in
straitjacket
that glass of water that has to be taken everyday
to slide the pills smoothly
in your throat
thank you for writing about the children
who shall still find their mothers
their homes
thank you for bearing with us all these years
when we ourselves
have nothing to write anymore
thank you for being there
always and forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Twenty Years Ago
It's been a long time since I walked
Through this old town
But oh how the memories start to flow
And there's the old movie house
They finally closed it down
You could find me there every Friday night
Twenty years ago.
I worked the counter at the drugstore down the street
But nobody's left there I would know
On Saturday mornings that's where
All my friends would meet
You'd be surprised to know what a dime would buy
Twenty years ago.
All my memories from those days come gather round me
What I'd give if they could take me back in time
It almost seems like yesterday
Where do the good times go?
Life was so much easier twenty years ago.
I guess I should stop by Mr. Johnson's hardware store
His only son was my friend Joe
But he joined the army back in 1964
How could we know he would never come back
Twenty years ago...
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Don’t Look Like An Author
Many, many years ago,
thirty odd years in fact
I met a woman at a writing class.
We have been friends
ever since our meeting then.
It was a little while after that meeting
that she said to me.
“You know, David,
when we first met
you didn’t strike me as being an author
as you didn’t look like one to me.”
I’ve joked about it with her ever since.
Because what does a writer look like?
Is there some set format
in everyone’s eyes
of what a writer is suppose to look like?
If someone knows
could they please tell me,
then I’ll change my image
and start looking like one.
27 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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Twenty Days
Twenty days are barely gone,
I was merry all the day.
Folly was my butt of scorn.
Now the fool myself I play.
Wit and learning ruled my head,
Logic and economy.
All the books I ever read
Taught me only vanity.
Most of all it moved my mirth
Womankind the world should rule.
Man, the lord of all the Earth!
He, forsooth, a woman's tool!
Cherry lip and glancing eye!
What were rosy cheeks to me?
Beauty's truth was but a lie--
Witness tomes of history!
Twenty days had barely run.
Twenty years they well might be.
All my wisdom was undone,
Reason bade good--night to me.
Her hair was of the red red gold,
Her blue eyes looked me through and through.
She was twenty--three years old,
I was twenty years and two.
Fortune, fame, I freely give,
Honour's self, if so she please,
Sweetly in her smile to live
Other twenty days like these.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Twenty Years
There are twenty years to go
Twenty ways to know
Who'll wear
Who'll wear the hat
There are twenty years to go
The best of all I hope
Enjoy the ride
The medicine show
Thems the breaks
For we designer fakes
We need to concentrate on more than meets the eye
There are twenty years to go
The faithful and the low
The best of starts, the broken heart, the stone
There are twenty years to go
The punch-drunk and the blow
The worst of starts, the mercy part, the foam
Thems the breaks
Before we designer fakes
We need to concentrate on more than meets the eye
Thems the breaks
Before we designer fakes
But it's you I take cos you're the truth, not I
There are twenty years to go
A golden age I know
But all will pass and end too fast you know
There are twenty years to go
And many friends I hope
Though some may hold the rose
Some hold the rope
That's the end - and that's the start of it
That's the whole - and that's the part of it
That's the high - and that's the heart of it
That's the long - and that's the short of it
That's the best - and that's the test in it
That's the doubt - the doubt, the trust in it
That's the sight - and that's the sound of it
That's the gift - and that's the trick in it
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
You're the truth, not I
song performed by by Placebo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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I've produced my own films for twenty years now - it means I have to talk to less people.
quote by Sydney Pollack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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