Related quotes: Don't worry about it, the...

(Humility Poem) A Letter To The Poets Follower

Don't worry about it, the votes don't mean as much as the comments do.
They tell me the readers perspective on it.
Which in turn gives me insight in what I should write about.
And why you see me as so grand I don't truly know.
For I'm a nobody writing about nothingness in all her splendor.
That sparkle you occasionally see is your eyes playing tricks on you.
A following would require me to leading with a purpose or goal.
But I don't have one.
I live cold and alone.
And it is something that would never condone.
The fault is nobody but my own.
I wouldn't want anybody to wear these shoes.
For they are a very painful and tight fit.
You think you want a glimpse into what makes me tic.
Well my friend living when where and how I do isn't all it's cracked up to be.
I'm the inspired artist who lives in very hard times.
And I'm not the only one.
Just others don't write as much as I do.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

2008: My Writing

Somtimes I need to write
At 3 AM
When the house is
Dark and quiet

Nothing
But the LEDs
Watching
Me work

Often I need music
Sometimes my mixes
Then a single artist's CD
Or random automated all-night FM radio

There are times
My writing needs a boost
From Starbucks or Peets
Soft music and socialization

I am inspired too
By the shouts of children
Fighting over who got
The best toy with their Happy Meal

I live in this world
I draw from this world
What I write I write
About this world and others

poem by Tom J. Mariani
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Don't Write Because I Can

I don’t write because I can
I don’t write because I’m told to
I write because when the day is done
I know it’s a friend I can turn to

It’s a friend who always laughs
And it’s a friend who will always care
And better yet I’ll always know
It’s a friend who will always be there

We’ve together faced rough times
and eventually older I grew
But when I get a pen and paper
we both feel as good as new

So I don’t write because I can
and I don’t write because I’m told to
I write because when I’m lost and alone
I know an old friend will help me though

poem by Lauren Saari
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Why Do I Write

I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go

I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain

At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down

I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it

I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am

poem by Wilfred Mellers
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My Life's Been Grand

(Merle Haggard/Terry Gordon)
My life's been grand
I been a hand at livin' it up all the way
I've had good times and bad times and hard times and done time
But life's been a blessing every day
My life's been grand
You know I'd write home and tell 'em
But they wouldn't believe how good my luck's been
And if it ended today I've been all the way
My life's been grand
My life's been grand

song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why I Write?

I write poems for myself and I write for the readers
I write for the masses and I write for the leaders
I write to imprint my thoughts in people's mind
I write to make the bad guys helpful and kind
I write to light up our path to Great God
I write for everyone home and abroad
I write to preserve values new and old
I write to make my ink precious like gold
I write for peace and I write for progress
I write to make the world a better place
All major issues I want to address
I write to see smile on God's face

poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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One Out Of Ten

goal was only
to write one good
poem out of ten...

therefore
just writing
is important

poems people actually
like can be surprising?
but a simple one in ten...

goal means 240 intriguing
or good poems achieved?
to write at least one interesting

element or altered
perspective was relative
to composed most...

even posted
poetic failures
as strangely

some like
enjoy fractures
go figure...

poem by Terence George Craddock
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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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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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A Letter From A Writer Searching For Her Soul And Wanting To Feel Not With Her Hands

Hello (to whom it may concern) ,

It's been awhile since we exchanged messages. Sorry, I'm not much of an |'onliner' these days. I resigned from my job. I'm, in the process of soul searching. Funny but I don't really know why I'm looking for a soul, my soul, when I cannot even see it. I'm on an unplanned vacation in some quaint town some miles outside the city while writing this email.

I guess I never had the chance to tell you how you took the glint from my eye. To write from the soul and not for the awards. I have overlook that writing is an Art. Thus it is priceless. A gold medal does not define you as an artist. Write until it ceases to become a craft.But more than just stringing words after words, conscious of your weary grammar, punctuations, right words, and subject matter. To write is to turn your heart inside out.

Beyond 'writing' and its technical definitions, it is actually a journey - a self surrender - towards the oblivion you are willing to traverse with your pen. And you find yourself in another state.

To write is to 'see' but not with your eyes. To 'feel' but not with your hands. And at the end of it all, you know that it's there. Writing takes over you. Thus, I often wonder: am i writing with the pen? Or is it the pen using me to write? But I know somewhere deep inside, there is a thing mightier than the pen that prompts me to write. And that is the soul.

I want to find my center. My creative process in writing. Ironic, but to find it, I must loose myself.

hahahahaha. whew. I know i sound stupid. Sorry. Thanks for bearing with me. Hope it's not too late to greet you a Happy New Year! ! ! ! =)

Always,
(name witheld, but this could be you)

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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A Journey Taken God Wants Us to Condone

There is 'something' felt in the air.
Something that says the times ahead,
Will be okay.
With whispers calling for a patience.

Even though clouds of despair seem to be,
Everywhere,
There are those without hesitation...
Showing reasons to express they care.

These times we all are living,
Come to give us reasons to condone.
These times we are living,
Are no longer the times to decide to leave alone.

These times we all are living,
Come to give us reason...
To live and condone,
A journey taken God wants us on.
A journey taken God wants us to condone.
Claiming it as a direction we own.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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A writer

Out of what, does a writer write?
Out of hatred, out of denial,
Out of failure, out of perversion,
Out of insult or out of neglect.

Why does a writer write?
To vent his anger, anguish and agony.
To bend his feelings in catharsis.

From what does he write?
From borrowings, being inspired,
Or pouring old wine into a new bottle.

For what purpose does he write?
For an applause, to show his skills
And to earn a place and money.

Why at all must he write?
For an idler, what else can he do?

What lacks in one’s writing?
His concern for you lacks.
Your vow to pursue it lacks.

He writes and forgets
You read and forget.
When you are gone and when he is gone
The relevance to his writings is gone.
Bubbles are formed and burst.
12.04.2007

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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That elusive perfect poem

Some day I’ll write one…
That won’t garner great numbers
Yet will linger in hearts…and
Rest sweetly on one’s lips

A poem that readers
will want to come back to
A poem that readers will savor
Tasting, …In long, sensuous sips

A poem that warms one’s cockles
Makes one lean back and smile
Makes one glad to have read it
To enjoy my writing…for a while

Maybe place it in their favorites
Hopefully, at least… keep in their hearts
Repeat to themselves favorite phrases
All my descriptive and alliterative parts

Better to have written
Just that one special poem
That could arouse great emotion
Than to write many… that arouse it in none

I have not yet accomplished it
And by me, this feat may ne’er be done
The perfect poem yet eludes me…
Yet I hope… some day I’ll write one

poem by David Whalen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write Me

Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.

song performed by by Aerosmith
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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Lost In The Music

the music you write
makes my mind soar
the music you write
makes me want to dance
the music you write
is like a lullaby
the music you write
makes my heart jump
the music you write
makes me want to hear it again
the music you write
is like a shooting star
the music you write
makes me fall in love with you
the music you write
is like a shower in a drought
the music you write
is like a dream that i don't want to wake up from
i get lost in the music you write

poem by Brittney Crozier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Having Not A Reason Or Purpose To Purchase

There is something comfortable I found,
In the wearing of my own shoes.
I have never wished,
I could fit those of others.
Or have I wondered,
What it would be like...
To rest my eyes,
So that I could see a perspective...
I did not myself experience.

However,
I've learned that in the sharing of events,
I am more inclined...
To listen with interest.
And not believe the shoes I wear on my own feet,
Could have been easily exchanged...
To feel someone else's pain.

And...
If that was possible,
Many would decide the shoes they pick to wear...
Would be a wasted decision.
With the wearing of them at all...
Having not a reason or purpose to purchase.
Especially,
If someone already knows how they feel when they fit.
Or where my travels may take me.