En.Citatepedia^®.ro

You write it down because finally, when it's written down you do get it out of your system somewhat.

quote by Leo Ornstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Best Poem

when you plant a seed
in the ground, and
water it, work it, weed it
till it grows... you've written

the best poem you'll ever write.

when you make a baby,
waiting and planning for birth;
and you raise this child to adulthood
with respect... you've written

the best poem you'll ever write.

when you live your life
working honestly, giving
all that you are and can be,
never holding back... you've written

the best poem you'll ever write.

when you go to death openly
with no regrets, not clinging
to dreams that were not real,
owning no one... you've written

the best poem you'll ever write.

poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Wrote A Poem I Could Not Write

I wrote a poem I could not write-
And then when I tried to write it again
Could not write it again -

Poems written and not written
Words and more words
What do they mean?

Paradoxes and games with words
What do they mean?

If there is Beauty in the language
It is one thing
But words just to hear themselves think,
Why should they mean ‘Remembrance'?

Oh Words oh Questions oh Darkness oh Life-
Let me write myself to the grave
Believing at least
That poems too even when they can be written
Have their small unhidden meanings.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Anniversary

I thought Id write you something to remember me by,
A commemorative for the two years you spent by my side,
But every day is a new mistake,
A new song to be written and erased,
Why would you listen anyway,
Finally Im going on with my life,
What a big mistake it was saving all my good-byes,
Im not the type of person to get over it,
Its stuck in the back of my mind along with the time we spent,
Finally Im going on with my life,
What a big mistake it was saving all my good-byes,
By the end of the year,
You wont even be there,
What a big mistake it was,
I wanted you to be there
Piece it together,
Along with all the rest,
Dont forget to write,
Warm your cold shoulder,
Dont listen to what they say, what they say,
I thought Id write you something to remember me by,
Finally Im going on with my life,
What a mistake it was saving all my good-byes,
By the end of the year,
You wont even be there,
What a big mistake it was,
I wanted you to be there

song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Your senses are reeling all the time. Finally you find something to write and the very next day you go out and see something else which totally contradicts what you've written and every conclusion you've come to.

quote by Charles Dance
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Before I Write These Lines

before i write these lines
it will take me perhaps

perchance
ten years more
to realize that the words
are worthy to be
written

the pain finally soothing
when we finally
said goodbye

when we realize
that goodbyes seasoned
by the spices of time

that after all the bitter herb
too gives
a nice taste to the buds

so that when we meet again
we smile
we remember those tears
we thought salty
now, we say though silently
how funny
how misplaced sentimentally

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Making every planet an earth

the wish to be a poet
in Tang Dynasty China
who had written
'1500 years from now
you can have the
literature of the world
at your fingertip the
size of a jade pendant'

the wish to be a poet
2000 years from now
who would write
'the wish to be a poet
of the year 2000 who
had written '2000 years from now
you can make an earth out
of every planet in the solar system'.

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet To Be

A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.

I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.

I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.

I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.

But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.

I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.

I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.

I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.

A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.

I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.

I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.

It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.

A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.

But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.

How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.

As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.

poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gratis Et Amore

for the poems that i have written
and which you read
by heart, i bless you with a prayer for luck
for another year

for the poems which i have not written yet,
i wish you a longer life, so you may read them
when they become finally written

for the poems i have in mind and which i will not write
i wish you patience i wish you some prayers

may these poems realize their worth
may they decide to become truths

with you i pray that God may be also kind
for those still unspoken

and may God bless your mind
may they open up like tight buds to become the flowers
of the world, the sun to warm them, the rain to shower them

may these poems live and linger
may they be like grass always unswerving to grow and cover everything
alive and loving.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Never Written

to write
hungry to write
and over

a lifetime
to have written
so little

less than
two years
writing

if compressed
into full time
writing

to have said
to have written
so little

when thought
so much
deep thoughts

never written
never recorded
never achieved

never expressed
never articulated
never illuminating

what a waste
modern sibyl
only whispered

briefly
self paid time
a fireflies flight

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Perhaps My Poems Have Already Been Written

PERHAPS MY POEMS HAVE ALREADY BEEN WRITTEN

Perhaps my poems have already been written
Perhaps it is all now senseless repetition
Perhaps I should just stop
And go on if I can to some other form of writing
God gives us what we have
We strive to go beyond ourselves
We can to a certain point
But then we have done what we have done
We can live a million years more
And write a million more poems
But what we have to write
Is done
Perhaps my poems have already been written
And small and poor and awkward as they are
Less than the truest poetry
They are what I have and am
Good-bye myself
I cannot go home.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poem I Would Write Now-Can Be Written In Seconds

THE POEM I WOULD WRITE NOW/ CAN BE WRITTEN IN SECONDS

The poem I would write now
Can be written in seconds -
A small poem
Easy to remember
A poem which will give hope and happiness
To others-
Who also write poetry
And dream of their own poems
As I do of mine.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I haven't written enough songs to be able to say that I have a system. I've only written a handful.

quote by Mike Gordon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Life Art

Life Art

I want to write you a poem.

One that contains no verses

no words

how long it will be
I cannot tell.

It will be a poem that you can see through
yet it will shade you from the sun

a simple lyric
as complex as a crossword

I want it to be something
that you carry through your day

every day

I don’t know if I can write that poem

Or if indeed that poem can be written at all

So instead I am with you
Of you

And slowly together
we are writing our very own poem

Not on a page
Or in a lost notebook

But in the café
and in the street

At a table

In our bed

Every day we add another line

another image
another verse

and I know that with every word that we write
I want it to be the longest poem

That has ever been written.

poem by Andy Houlihan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)

I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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The inspiration to write? Perhaps it's not so much inspiration, as a NEED to write. I get itchy and guilty and dissatisfied when I haven't written for a while. Ideas come to me and need to be written down.

quote by Eric Brown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All I Can Do Now Is Write Another Poem

All I can do now is write another poem-

The poems are small,
And do not require the long hours and long years
Of the books-

Like the world as a whole
I seem to have a shorter attention span
And less patience-

A poem can be written and given a name
In minutes not years-

Though some would say a great poem
Takes the travail of years of waiting
And years of work-

But I did not say
‘All I can do now is write another great poem'
Perhaps I have in all the years of the nights never written one-

I can write the poems I write
My kinds of poems
In a fairly short time-

All I can do now
Is write another of my kind of poems-

Whether they be worth anything,
Or not.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dear Friend

i always love to write, as early as
gradeschool when we were classmates
while you were playing and chasing and stumbling
i just sat on the grass of the playground under a tree and scribble anything
and read a lot about some stories with lots of pictures
and colors of fairies and kings and queens and butterflies and bees,

i do not stop writing, in fact, writing has become my life
that without words i may die an instant death
i dream that i have written novels and stories and lots of poems
i wake up with some ideas like some seeds that i want to sow
and grow in the field and see them become shrubs and trees and forests

and i keep on this life writing and writing and writing and writing
for writing's sake and i wish i may live longer so i may write
some more, some sequels of my love stories and suspense thrillers
and write finally all the poems that are inside my mind
hanging like ripe grapes and creeping like vines on my fence

as i am writing now as you always want to read me
until such time my friend that i will die, or end my life myself (who knows?)
(i will not talk about it now, it is something bizarre and makes me
shiver, but who knows, well you know, all are but possibilities and nothing
but possibilities in this vast wide world of realities and dreams)

there is something i must say somehow
there is something that i must have forgotten, i have not written about myself
i have always written about them, about you, about the world,

please do not refuse me, stop playing with your life,
gradeschool ended
a long time ago, i have one and ultimate request:

write the story of my life, because it is you who only knows about it.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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