Learning How To Get It Right
When I started writing,
I was a young eighteen
and I can still remember
the first piece I ever wrote.
To say it was terrible
is an understatement to say the least,
but I am not ashamed I wrote it
no matter how bad it was.
It’s a part of my history now,
the beginning point
for everything I have achieved,
the first step that I took.
It was a bit clumber some
as all first steps usually are,
unless you are a genius
of which I am clearly not.
They say the more you practice,
the better you are going to get.
I have been practicing
for forty years now
and I am still not perfect yet.
Nor do I think I will ever be,
for if I thought I was perfect
I would give up completely.
I am still learning
and I’ll remain that way
until the day I eventually die.
So, if you see mistakes in my work
you’ll understand the reason why,
I am still learning
on how to get it right.
19 July 2008
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Lessons Of Love
(s. garrett/g. ballard)
See the children play
Listen to the things they say
One-on-one to one another
Theyre just having fun
Finding out it can be done
They dont seperate by cover
Ooh, young hearts
Facing to feel it so naturally
And the flower grows from the seed and
Chorus:
Practice makes perfect and we tryin enough
And were bound to be learning
The lessons of love
Coz were never too old and never too young
To be teaching each other the lessons of love
Got some work to do
Theres so much we can improve
Piece by piece we come together, yeah
In the neighborhood
I know we can make it good
But weve got to make it better
Oh woh oh, inside each of us has a romelody
But weve got to find our harmony
Practice makes perfect and we tryin rnough
And weve got to remember
The lessons of love
Coz were never too old and never too young
To be teaching each other the lessons of love
Bridge:
Imagine how this world could be
If all of us would live in peace
Nothing good comes easily
Together starts with you and me
Yeah, oh yeah, aha
Lessons of love
Practice makes perfect and we tryin enough
And were bound to be learning
The lessons of love
Coz were never too old and never too young
To be teaching each other
Practice makes perfect and we tryin enough
And weve got to remember
The lessons of love
Coz were never too old and never too young
To be teaching each other the lessons of love
Practice makes perfect, try it enough
(oh, never too young, aha)
And weve got to be learning
The lessons of love (lessons of love)
And were never too old and never too young
(to learn the lessons of love)
To be teaching each other
The lessons of love
Oh, never too old, to learn the lessons of love
Oh yeah, lessons of love
song performed by by Lea Salonga
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Biting Those Lips
Why are you biting your lips?
'I am practicing.'
So you are learning to keep your mouth shut?
'I said I was 'practicing'.
And as far as keeping my mouth shut...
That is a learning process.
And I did say I was practicing.
I did not say I was learning anything...
Yet! '
Practice makes perfect,
You know?
'Who said anything about wanting to be perfect?
There are too many rehearsing that right now.
With questionable results I am sure will be delivered.
And I am practicing biting my lips,
In the event 'that' becomes a necessity.
And once that becomes discovered as one of my skills,
Well...
Only 'then' will I begin rehearsing perfection,
To overwhelm those disbelieving...
I have yet revealed another talent no one can deny.'
I see.
Well...
You keep biting those lips,
Okay?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Practice Every Step
Practice every step.
Do not second guess what it takes.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
There's no sleeping for someone who has a place to go,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Focus on that goal,
And tighten on your hold,
And...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Do not second guess what it takes.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Every journey taken,
Must be thought of as a race...
And,
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
There's no other way to straighten out a crooked road,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
No matter what you're told,
There will be some doubts and woes...
But you,
Practice every step.
Yes you,
Practice every step.
Woes you hold will eventually go,
So...
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
Practice every step.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Little Did I Know
Little did I know forty-two years ago
when I put pen to paper
after getting off a fairground ride
at sunset that day.
That what I was about to write
would be a crowning achievement
in my writing life.
That what I wrote would be read and used
in all the four corners of the world.
It would be used to compliment
photos, painting, and memorials
to those who had passed away.
A piece of writing
which would evoke so much in many.
For everyone who reads it
get their own impressions from within it.
Little did I know
more than any other of my work,
it would make my name.
Although I have written poems
for one reason or another
that have become favourites of mine,
Just Beyond The Sunset is a dream
and beyond that sunset
my dreams have come true
in a lot more ways than one.
For little did I know
what I was writing then.
21 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Debateable Point
I did something
I said I would never do.
I looked back at the first pieces
of writing that I ever wrote.
They were supposed to be
lyrics for songs.
As I read through them
I wondered what I was thinking of then.
They were so terrible,
but they were the first things
I ever wrote.
I was pretty naïve then
and had a lot to learn.
Whether or not I have learnt anything
is a debateable point.
9 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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Practice Maker Perfect
D. roberts / e. gold
If practice makes perfect
Lets try that old embrace
In some romantic place
Where we can take out time
If practice makes perfect
Just close you eyes again
Well try those sights again
And make them more sublime
Were in loves kindergarden
Learning from a to z
And if its fun just starting
Think what its going to be
If practice makes perfect
Lets have that kiss again
We mustn miss again
Were not doing bad right now
Were not doing bad
Lets practice some more
Were not doing bad right now
song performed by by Billie Holiday
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Two Hundred Steps
After a life how many step
Little small learning capability step
Youth strives for to learn to walk
A grown-up marriage step
Marriage to seek live hood step
Holds a young learning capability step
Old age to retire a step
Life needs 200 steps
Several to permit 200 steps
Accompanies several 200 steps
Has not refused stubbornly to pause
poem by Albert Wong
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You made a lot of mistakes, and you wrote a lot of crap. But it was all part of the learning process.
quote by Cynthia Weil
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Is Me
He sat in his own world
writing down the stories
that came to his mind.
He never watched time,
for him there
was no time.
He wrote stories of love,
of mystery and suspense.
He wrote of everything
that popped into his head.
He was not a lonely person
as his characters kept him company.
He wrote things
for every writing sphere,
but there was one thing
he could not write
which may come as a surprise
to everyone.
He could not write a letter
no matter how hard he tried.
His mind went completely blank
whenever he tried.
Yet he could write
just about everything else.
He could write songs,
he could write stories at will.
He could write poems
on everything,
but writing a letter
was something he could not do.
Now all who read this
might take it as a joke,
but it is very true
every word I have spoke,
and how would I know that.
The answer is simple it is me.
19 April 2008
poem by David Harris
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I Remember
I remember being ten years old
And wondering what I would be?
I talked it over with my father
And he said, “We’ll see.”
I remember being twenty years old
And wondering all about life.
I found myself getting married
And learning to be a wife.
I remember being thirty years old
With 2 sons at my side.
I saw a few strands of gray hair
Which I tried to hide.
I remember being forty-five
And birthdays coming too soon.
I was teaching kids all about music
And waiting for vacations in June.
I remember when I turned fifty
And my body started to change.
The hormonal and emotional challenges
All became so strange.
I remember becoming fifty-eight
When retirement came my way.
I thought to myself, “ Now what do I do? ”
On every single day?
I remember becoming seventy
When breast cancer came to me.
I decided I wanted to live some more
So I created poetry.
All that I remember from that point on
Is where I am today
Using this pen that’s in my hand.
It’s become my way to say
Thank You.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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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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Only Time Can Tell
Just when you think something
has nothing more to give
it surprises you with a little bit more.
Forty-five years ago,
I wrote something at a fun fare
and it keeps coming back
with something exciting and new.
First, it became my best-loved poem
with over fifty-five people
making it one of their favourites.
Next, it was used in an English class
in a London college,
then it had a video make of it
and then incorporated into a symphony,
it was read out at a memorial service
for an American serviceman in Afghanistan.
Another surprise came when
it was translated into Russian
for a University in the Ukraine
and then yesterday I found
it had been turned into a country song,
which really made my day,
something I had always imagined it to be,
and the tune they used was similar
to what I envisaged when I wrote it
all those years ago.
I cannot even guess what more surprises
this piece holds in store,
only time can tell.
28 July 2011
poem by David Harris
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Learning is the beginning of wealth. Learning is the beginning of health. Learning is the beginning of spirituality. Searching and learning is where the miracle process all begins.
In The Day's When We Are Dead
Listen! The end draws nearer,
Nearer the morning—or night—
And I see with a vision clearer
That the beginning was right!
These shall be words to remember
When all has been done and said,
And my fame is a dying ember
In the days when I am dead.
Listen! We wrote in sorrow,
And we wrote by candle light;
We took no heed of the morrow,
And I think that we were right—
(To-morrow, but not the day after,
And I think that we were right).
We wrote of a world that was human
And we wrote of blood that was red,
For a child, or a man, or a woman—
Remember when we are dead.
Listen! We wrote not for money,
And listen! We wrote not for fame—
We wrote for the milk and the honey
Of Kindness, and not for a name.
We paused not, nor faltered for any,
Though many fell back where we led;
We wrote of the few for the many—
Remember when we are dead.
We suffered as few men suffer,
Yet laughed as few men laugh;
We grin as the road grows rougher,
And a bitterer cup we quaff.
We lived for Right and for Laughter,
And we fought for a Nation ahead—
Remember it, friends, hereafter,
In the years when I am dead—
For to-morrow and not the day after,
For ourselves, and a Nation ahead.
poem by Henry Lawson
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I Wrote Nothing Today
I WROTE NOTHING TODAY
I wrote nothing today
I did not do my work
I played around
I read what I wanted
I searched the Internet for nonsense
I did not face the work and reality I have
I wrote nothing today
I did nothing today
I am to blame
The world will fall apart
The sky will never be blue again
The night will go on forever
No birds will sing and no rivers will flow
All the trees will lose their green-
I did nothing today
It's all over
I did nothing today and I am nothing and I will forever be nothing
And I am ashamed of being nothing and guilty for being nothing
And still I am nothing
And writing this does not make me something either
Because it is not the work I am supposed to do
Which I am still escaping
What a loser I am
What a failure-
After this tirade
Will I at last have the courage to begin the real work now?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Learning
I'm learning to say thank you.
And I'm learning to say please.
And I'm learning to use Kleenex,
Not my sweater, when I sneeze.
And I'm learning not to dribble.
And I'm learning not to slurp.
And I'm learning (though it sometimes really hurts me)
Not to burp.
And I'm learning to chew softer
When I eat corn on the cob.
And I'm learning that it's much
Much easier to be a slob.
poem by Judith Viorst
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My advice to an aspiring actor would be to never stop learning or working for what you want. Nothing comes easy, ever, if you want something, you have to work for it. By working for it I mean work on your craft, learn from people who have something to teach. It's just like anything else, practice makes perfect.
quote by James Lafferty
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The true and best way of learning any Art, is not to see a great many Examples done by another Person, but to possess ones seIf first of the Principles of it, and then to make them familiar, by exercising ones self in the Practice. For it is Practice alone, that makes a Man perfect in any thing.
quote by Brook Taylor
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Anniversary Poem to My Darling Gloria
The years fly our love grows stronger
Time bonds our life truly fonder
Weekday Sunday every day
Decades prove love will stay,
These words I say I know are true
Simply fact that ‘I love you'
.
.
NB.As teenagers 19 and 16 we wed
57 years ago July 1955. I wrote a poem
‘Gloria' {Published and sits on the
First page of an anthology of 200 poems]
Beauties Nucleus Gloria.
My darling,
If I was a painter
a master of repute,
A genius of deft strokes
to sketch the charcoal base.
One thousand years of learning
need I,
indeed,
to reproduce the beauty
that dwells within your soul,
and reflects upon your face.
poem by Ken e Hall
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Paper Boomerang
At the college where I work,
they teach people with learning difficulties.
Today while I was on my rounds,
I passed one of these people
a young lad I would say was about eighteen.
In his hand, he clutched a paper boomerang.
It was obviously something he had made.
He waved it to and fro,
as if he was ready to give it a quick throw.
In his eyes, you could see
the smile of satisfaction
with what he had achieved,
and then he was gone from my view
with his paper boomerang.
21 May 2009
poem by David Harris
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