Please write again soon. Though my own life is filled with activity, letters encourage momentary escape into others lives and I come back to my own with greater contentment.
quote by Elizabeth Forsythe Hailey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Right Back Here In My Arms
{cuz thats my only mission sample repeats in song}
Oh baby
(right back here in my arms) {x2}
Right back here, yeah
Dont want u 2 write me no letters
Dont want u callin my farm
I just want u, I just want u
I just want u right back here in my arms
Alright
I aint checkin 4 the sweet talk, baby (right)
Talkin bout how ure missin my charms (right)
I just want u, I just want u
I just want u right back here in my arms (thats my only mission)
I just want u, I just want u
I just want u right back here in my arms
(right back here in my arms)
Oh baby
(right back here in my arms)
Oh baby
I know u got a lot on your mind (right)
Thats why I wanna give u some time (right)
Till I get 2, till I get 2
Till I get 2 hug that body so fine
I know u need a little space, just a little
Thats why I aint showin my face (right)
I just want u, I just want u
I just want u right back here in my arms
Oh baby
(right back here in my arms)
(right, right)
Right back in my arms (right back here in my arms)
Right back, right back
Right back here in my arms
(right) (right back here in my arms)
No, no, no 2 the postman bringin me letters
U know a brotha gonna feel much better
If he keep his mind on, u know, whatever
Anything as long as it is makin it wetter
Cuz I cant stop thinkin about what we do
There ought 2 be a law against the hoochie ooh! (ooh!)
Can we groove? I dont wanna do u no harm
I just want u right back here in my arms
Oh baby (right back here in my arms)
Dont want u 2 write me no letters
I just want u, I just want u
I just want u right back here in my arms
Ooh yeah, right back here in my arms
(right back here in my arms)
I just want u right back here in my arms (right)
Right back here in my arms
(right back here in my arms) (right)
Right back, right back (right)
Ill try 2 write u back
(right back here in my arms)
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Life Of Contentment
To suit and to pursue in seconds...
A life of contentment.
And one you can depend,
A life of contentment.
To put an end to affixed evils,
A life of contentment.
With satisfactions that begin,
A life of contentment.
To have it there and with decision,
Is...
A life of Contentment./
With a rule that is so crucial,
A life of contentment.
And desired as a need...
A life of contentment.
To always have and never leave.
To suit and to pursue in seconds...
A life of contentment.
And one you can depend,
A life of contentment.
To put an end to affixed evils,
A life of contentment.
With satisfactions that begin,
A life of contentment.
To have it there and with decision,
Is...
A life of Contentment./
With a rule that is so crucial,
A life of contentment.
And desired as a need...
A life of contentment.
To always have and never leave.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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An Autumn Letter
I want to write a letter to someone in the autumn
In the Autumn, I see lonely fountain streamed from a deep valley
And want to wet the lonely heart
I write a letter in the autumn night but knowing that cannot be sent in the morning
Now there is a postman who delivers letters in the air in the days and nights
So I am sending letters
I regret but the unsent letters always cry
I send the thread tied letters in the air without stamps
The letters of the poet opens its eyes with holding their breaths
poem by Kyungdae Min
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write by Return
Clerk, corresponding,
“Rooster and Comb”,
Here I sit idle
“Thinking of home”;
I must be grafting—
Living to earn,
More correspondence,
“Write by return.”
Clerk in employ of
“Shoddy and Woods”,
Thinks that we have not
Forwarded goods.
Parcel we sent them—
Missing, I learn,
Says in his postscript:
“Write by return.”
Here is another
Letter from Bland—
“Cheque he expected
Isn’t to hand.”
How we forgot it
Cannot discern,
“Forward remittance,
Write by return.”
Here is another—
O how they come?
Treats of a “Bender”
Planned by a chum.
See on the margin,
Big letters: “Burn
After perusal—
Write by return.”
Mail in from England,
Letters for me—
Dear little sweetheart
Over the sea.
“Quite broken-hearted,
O how I yearn
Only to see you. . . .
Write by return.”
One who will “never
Think that I’m bad”
Writes me a letter
Tearful and sad.
Thinks that I’m starving,
Filled with concern,
Sends me some money—
“Write by return.”
Letter from father,
Sent to his son,
“All is forgiven—
Fat calf for one.”
O that I ever
Thought he was stern—
Money for passage—
Write by return.
poem by Henry Lawson
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I Write To Write To Write
I WANT TO WRITE TO WRITE TO WRITE
I write to write to write-
A poem must be more than a straining against Emptiness-
A poem must be more than making a name.
A poem should be food for the heart and soul and mind
It should make us feel the world with new love
It should make us want to live more and more
A poem should make us love life
It should be written for its readers
And not for its poet alone
A poem should make us want to be in this world
In greater beauty and greater love.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Fate's Flow
held trapped in Fate's maze
running, running, trying to
escape.
but that is all part of
It's greater plan
every turn is the wrong one
every step take me where i want
Not to go.
every road, i see
people resigned to
Life
tired and weary,
they scorn me,
knowing i too
will one day give up all hope
this meaningless running,
for a life directed by - It's flow.
so i conclude
the only door of escape is
Death
and even that is part of
Fate's greater plan.
Gurdjieff
“You are both a wolf
and a lamb.
If you do not stay awake
the wolf will devour
the lamb.”
Oh you, the Living and the Dead!
Both those who earn
and you who claim by right
your daily bread.
Encourage the few
they will become the many.
Encourage the poor
they will reach out for more.
Encourage the young
they will fail to grow up.
Encourage the old
they will grow older.
Why do so many
in public life
wear nametags
nowadays?
“In case they forget
who you are.”
poem by Brian Taylor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Poems I Write Give Meaning To My Life
The poems I write give meaning to my life.
But what are they for others?
Are they Poetry or just the sentences I happen to think?
The Poems I write give meaning to my life
But only in the time I am writing them
What they are afterward
Does not truly depend on me?
Meaning it seems is momentary for me
And the higher meaning of what will endure
Is a question I by myself however I write
Cannot answer.
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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The escapes
Fight is an escape from fear.
Art is an escape from deprivation.
Love is an escape from perversion.
Ambition is an escape from sloth.
Goodness is an escape from depravity.
Life is an escape from death.
Every escape gives you relief
28.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Does Your Mother Know
Does your mother know
You had to go someday
Does your mother know
That you would go so fast
Anyway, thats all you think about
Youd call her if you could
But the letters that you write
In the faded winter light
Just tell her they tell her
That youve got ten dollars and youll be all right
And when you get straight youre gonna come back east some day
Does your mother know
You have a man in the west
Does your mother know
You drove him from your door
Anyway thats all you think about
Youd call her if you could
Does your mother know
You walked all day in the rain
Does your mother know
How deep your love could be
Anyway thats all you think about
Youd call her if you could
But the letters that you write
In the faded winter light
Just tell her they tell her
That youve got ten dollars and your rent costs eight
And when you get straight youre gonna come back east some day
But the letters that you write in the faded winter light
Just tell her they tell her
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0005 Letter to a Younger Poet
Thanks for your letter. Though
you’ve caught me at a rather awkward time –
I’m going into surgery tomorrow – a rather
risky op; so I’ll try to put all the answers that I’ve got
into this one letter;
I hope you'll understand...
and that helps me to make my first point to you:
write as if you, too, may not live
beyond tomorrow – write as if
it’s the last thing that you’ll ever write –
give it everything you’ve got,
hold nothing back;
or better still – write as if
the world will end for everyone tomorrow:
write so that in their last hours, too, this
will make them feel, will make them know
we’ve faced life fully, faced it so complete
that death is relatively unimportant now…
write as if it were only yesterday
that, in an air crash, all your family –
parents, wife or husband, partner, children, and best friend,
had lost their lives; write as if,
were you not to write,
your heart would break forever, or you would go mad...
write as if you’re writing somewhere
where there’s no such thing around, as ink;
you’ll have to use your own blood in the pen,
so use it carefully; so red, so living,
look at it… so beautiful, so precious,
and so solemn – use it carefully, don’t spill a drop…
write as if you’re borrowing every word
from the very centre of the universe, where suns and gods are made;
and need thus to account for every word
with your whole life, no less; know that every word
must be given back, cleaner, stronger, brighter
with your own power, than when you borrowed it;
write as if every poet that ever lived
is leaning over your shoulder, so that you
can feel their breath upon your neck as they say
‘Tell them all that we would tell,
but cannot now; tell them all of this’…
this, now, is how you must deeply be and speak;
write as if you are the only being on earth
who can tell them this; as if tomorrow, if tomorrow comes,
you shall visit them every one, at home,
and look them in the eye; write as if
you love them more than they will ever know;
write as if you were offering to live their lives with them;
write as if you were a force of nature in yourself:
as if whatever earthquake, hurricane or flood might do,
whatever law or love may greatly do,
whatever gods or men can speak, in fullest force,
this you may do, because the sound of poetry is such;
yes, write ‘as if’ – but know you really write ‘because’…
write as if – no, write because –
you know that only poetry can tell
all, that must be told, and must be known;
and as all hearts melt in the heat of your own love,
be in no doubt – and see that all are in no doubt too –
that life was never, never more serious,
never more glorious, than it is right now;
write all this.
poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Escape
Escape
Escape
That one word resonates in my mind
I need an escape a reprieve from
All this energy surrounding me
Escape
Escape
I want to be let out for awhile
To be free and alone
To do what I want without interference
Escape
Escape
I don't wanna hear arguing
Or little petty problems
I want to not have to do anything
Escape
Escape
I want to Escape
poem by Autumn Winds
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When I Hear
When I hear your name,
when I hear its sound
my being is filled with happiness.
It's filled with leaps and bounds.
When I hear your name
excitement replaces calm.
It's only letters put together.
But they form a soothing balm.
It caresses my ear anew
and alerts my sense of you.
It lingers for a little while
as my heart skips a beat or two.
I write your name on paper.
I look at it and know
that I must say it aloud to myself,
say it soft and low.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Letters To No One
I wrote a letter to my love
and never received a reply.
I've often wondered why that was.
Did he up and die?
Yes, he did. It's a fact.
And because I didn't know
I kept writing letters
and kept feeling low.
These letters went to no one.
So no one wrote to me.
I've often wondered if all my words
would come back home to me?
And then one day they all came back.
'Undeliverable'
is what they said.
I guess my lover moved away
or maybe he was dead.
And so I stopped my letters.
I never wrote again.
I still have all those letters,
unopened and unread.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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If I Could Write A Poem About Each Person I Have Known And Cared About
IF I COULD WRITE A POEM FOR EACH PERSON I HAVE KNOWN AND CARED ABOUT
If I could write a poem for each person I have known and cared about,
If I could say something of the goodness and pain of their lives,
If could write them as they truly were or are-
But who can write a whole life truly
And what could it mean to them
Or their eternal happiness?
Their lives were and are beyond my writing of them
And my words and my feelings
Are only my own.
God bless them all
Each one his own story and name.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Love is something far more than desire for sexual intercourse; it is the principal means of escape from the loneliness which afflicts most men and women throughout the greater part of their lives.
quote by Bertrand Russell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wedding Poem
There are times in our lives
when we have special day.
A day that we cherish all of our lives.
A day that is filled with nothing but joy,
That is also filled with nerves for everyone,
hoping and praying nothing will go wrong.
I am talking of course of someone’s wedding day,
when a couple become man and wife,
promising to cherish one another for the rest of their life.
It is a big day and a joy filled one,
as they are joined together,
under the sight of God and become as one.
Therefore, for the happy couple
there is nothing but cheer,
and we wish them both all the best
through the coming years.
31 July 2007
poem by David Harris
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The Why In You...
when you get old with no one
to talk to
because everyone is living their own lives
lighting their own dark homes
brewing coffee and indulge in the most trivial arguments
about life
it is proper timing that you begin to scribble
recall, recoil, rebound, reverse, modify
scramble the letters of your past life
and write
your own tapestry in poetry,
and you do not tell them when in the next morning
you are wearing a smile
something that they cannot figure out
why.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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