Whispers In The Wind [How I Write]
The words I write
Are just whispers in the wind
Coming home to greet me
Like an old friend
Swirling around in my head
Waiting to be set free
From my mind to my fingertips
On paper they must be
Written down before they're gone
Oh Lord how can this be
Word by word they hit the page
In an order I do not know
But once all are written
They are where they all should go
Telling a story in magnificent words that
Jesus whispers to me
poem by David Kush
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Related quotes
Words on paper
Words on paper
~
Just words on paper
Where a story is told
An emotion revealed
Or a love laid to rest
Where a dream begins
An ambition is spoken
Perhaps a whim of fancy
Takes charge of the pen
To write what is written
Letters forming words
Shapley and beautiful
Expressions of a soul
Or a mind at play
There across the page
Words on paper
Written to have their say
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Home Alone Happy Without Working Computer
Home alone happy without working computer
I take my pen in hand
And slowly write these words –
Let the world click and paste and post
I am out of it for now-
I have before me an evening of any book I like
Of any page I want to write
-
Peace of Mind is one place of attention at a time-
Here weighing each word as I write
I am at home with my inner self-
I hear my own thoughts
I correct them at my own pace.
So many words and so many pages
Have been written in my life-
Now in this one
I am wholly at home
Peaceful, quiet happy
Each word a small blessing
As I write it-
This is the only poem I know
The only page I see
The only place of attention
I give myself and my soul to
At this moment.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Love Letter
She wonders how to begin her letter
She knows he will read each word
Greedily for any hint of love. She knows
He will sniff the paper for any scent of her
She leans an elbow on her writing desk
And clutches her pen tight. She has got
As far as, Dear John, but then the words
Stopped coming. Before she had sat down
To write, the words flowed through her
Mind like a rushing stream, now nothing
She sucks the end of the pen. Say what
You would if you were face to face, her
Mother always said. She tries to imagine
He is there before her and what she would
Say if he was, but still no words will come
He writes to her so fluently when he writes
He always seems to know what to write
And how to put it into words. She tries again
Puts the pen nib onto the paper, gripping
The pen tighter. She reads what she’s written
Dear John. The pen moves, the words begin
To flow, her hand moves across the page
The images come into her mind as she writes
The things that they said last time they met
The things they did, she blushes slightly
That almost being caught out by the maid
In a state of undress. She pauses the pen
And sits gazing at the painting on the wall.
She looks back at the paper and starts again
The words tripping over themselves to be put
Down in ink upon a page; the images open up
In her mind, the colours, the smells, the events
The pen now stops. The love letter is written
The writing done. She looks at the words
Then she seals it in an envelope and writes
His address. She pictures him reading it: in bed
In his room, sleepy, in a state of his usual undress
poem by Terry Collett
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Seek The Lord
Friend, if you seek to understand, you will know The Son of Man.
If you search with all your heart, Christ will guide you at the start.
Christ will give you eyes to see, that shall help your heart believe.
You will see Him throughout the day, as He leads you all the way.
The Lord is on the written page, and is read by men of every age.
He is the Living Word of God, and He will guide you with His rod.
Friend, if you seek The Lord above, He will fill you with His Love.
With His love He gives a peace, along the way that will not cease.
And in The Lord you can depend, He wants to be to you, a friend.
If you seek to find Him friend, He shall lead you to a glorious end.
On the cross He did His part, to change your mind and your heart.
Friend, now the rest is up to you, for Jesus did what He had to do.
Seek Christ in the written Word, to confirm what you have heard.
Friend, if you truly seek The Lord, your effort shall not be ignored.
For your eyes will be opened to, everything God has done for you.
The Lord’s promises you will see, are good through all of Eternity.
Seek Him while He can be found, and you will be on solid ground.
Seeking will lead you to believe, then Jesus Christ you will receive.
And your search for The Lord, will reap for you an Eternal Reward.
For all who do seek Jesus Christ, receive through faith Eternal Life.
Interactive
I write some lines and you read each word
A word excites you and you take it up to
Seed your fields where you grow your own
Shrubbery of words with tendrils climbing
I look at your garden of words and there is
This word growing into a flower attracting
Me I pick it up this sensual flower and I
Seed it in the lines of my mind now another
Bunch of words like ripe grapes I take one
Swallow it and savor the taste of its sweetness
More lines of words in my throat sliding
Through the lining of my esophagus so smooth
Going straight inside the veins leading to my heart
Sweet, so sweet I could have written the usual
Lines of “ I love you, I miss you” but I couldn’t
There is this roadblock, this writer’s block
The lines stopped, the words are stunted
I stutter, I retreat to my eyes, to see
The face of this woman I love, her eyes
Are gentle, she smiles at me, and waits
For this beautiful silence that gives her life
You stand there, looking for a hint, another
Word to seed the lines waiting to be written.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dedicação
sometimes i do not like to write
even a word
i hate it when a time like this comes
to me
like a friend i detest for betraying me
and my secrets
i go places
to forget find me some green grass
and blue skies
i embrace the silence of the
hibernating fish in mud
somehow, this dedication comes
a fealty to word
a sense of i cannot be without it
i go back again
to my room
my head so full
my mind dancing again like a crazy bee
to the petals around me
so here i am
again writing for you
these lines are lovingly written again
i could have written one simple word:
hello.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Another nothing poem
Another nothing poem
~
These are just words
Rhyming, walking with rhythm
They do not hate or love
Laugh, cry or shout aloud
They know no malice or jealousy
They just piece together nicely
In a story or a poem
However they are written
Presented on a page
They remain just words
They talk of no living soul
But a fictional character
If one happens to be written
Or a place or feeling
Some may relate to it
You’re free to see what you like
Or dislike in these words
That’s all they are sitting here
Rhyming, walking with rhythm
Across the once blank page
Just another nothing poem
Waiting to be read
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Come Lord Jesus, Take Me Home
Originally written as a song, tune: Joan Baez, All my trials Lord, soon be over
This earthly life has got me down
When I get home, I’ll wear a crown
Come, Lord Jesus, take me home
God has promised me in his word
Eternal life through my risen Lord
Come, Lord Jesus, take me home
I’ve not yet seen it, but I’ve been told
Heaven’s streets are paved with gold
Come, Lord Jesus, take me home
Holy Spirit leads I know he’s right
He comforts me both day and night
Come, Lord Jesus, take me home
When life on earth has come and gone
I’ll live in heaven before his throne
Come, Lord Jesus, take me home
Come, Lord Jesus, take me home
©: C R Clark - May 6,1982
poem by C.R. Clark
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Words
Words on this paper
Words in my head
Words while I'm texting
Computing
Unsaid
Words between people
Words on the phone
Words upon words
Even when I'm alone
Words from the Bible
I question
Don't mesh
Words from pornography
Making them flesh
Words with flat letters
Written in black
Good words and bad words
You cannot take back
Words that are shallow
Words that are deep
When they're too many
They put me to sleep
Words that I'm writing
And rhyming you read
Whatever I'm saying
There's prolly no need
Words from the alphabet
Words that can't be
When you are blind
And it's Braile that you see
Words that are worthless
And said on the fly
My words or your words
Are most likely lies
Words in a sentence
Wise words or fair
The only words earnest
Are those said in prayer
Written by Sara Fielder © 2011
poem by Sara Fielder
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Will The Words Come Back?
Words slip off our pen
like warm butter off a knife.
They fall in unison across the page
with everything we write.
Then one day the words don’t flow
in unison like they used to before.
They have no rhythm within them
and just become no more than words.
We look at what we’ve written
and there is no bounce in them.
The words become no more than words
once written by a creative hand.
There is no meaning in what they say
they have no heart anymore.
They are just words written on a page
with no rhyme or reason for them being there.
Some call it a writer’s block;
others call it stagnation of the mind.
The creative juices fall away to nothing,
no spark to be kindled,
no emotions to be released,
no protests to be made,
no stories to be assembled
like a jigsaw in your mind.
Just an empty pen with words
that don’t make sense anymore.
Struggles without feeling,
ideas leading nowhere
on a spiralling downward turn.
You are no longer a writer,
your creativity is gone
and the only question you have,
will the words come came back?
13 July 2009
poem by David Harris
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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
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For It Is Written
It is written says it best for the words written have stood the test.
While enduring the test of time it exposes God's Sovereign Design.
Prophecy sets The Word apart pointing to the end from the very start.
The Word you can't belittle as there's truth in every jot and tittle.
My dear friend it is written: Zeal for your house will consume me,
And The Lord cleared the temple of all money changing Pharisees.
It is written: These people honor me but their hearts are far from me,
And many religious people you see are filled with empty hypocrisy.
It is written: God’s name is blasphemed by Gentiles because of you,
And an empty zeal without knowledge is in the heart of many Jews.
It is written: Those who were not told, they will see and understand,
And that is why the Gentile Nations have accepted The Son of Man.
It is written: I lay in Zion a rock that causes men to stumble and fall,
And that rock, my friend, is Jesus Christ The Lord and God above all.
To Abraham it is written: I have made you the Father of many Nations.
Is it any wonder that through the Jew we have been afforded Salvation?
My friend, it is written: There is no one righteous, not even one.
And God so loved us that He sent to the world His Only begotten Son.
For it is written: In the Gospel a righteousness from God is revealed,
And that righteousness is Christ by whose wounds we have been healed.
My friend it is written: Cursed is everyone who is hung on a tree,
And Christ became that curse as He died on the cross for you and me.
And friend it is written: He was numbered with the transgressors,
And Christ died with criminals at the hands of angry oppressors.
It is written: The insults of those who insult you have fallen on me,
And all of man’s hostility towards God was laid on Christ at Calvary.
It is written: I’ll strike the shepherd and the flock will be scattered,
And the disciples left at the cross seeing Christ so sorely battered.
The Word of God can't be denied as God alone is The Father of Time.
Christ stands outside the window of time guiding His Eternal Design.
Time for God truly stands still as God fulfills His Sovereign Will.
Scoffing tongues will be stilled as every jot and tittle is fulfilled.
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
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Whispers
We have to speak in whispers
for fear someone might hear
our words that we want private.
It is a dreadful thing to have to do
if our secrets we want to keep
of how we desperately feel,
so we talk in whispers
that no one else can hear
in case our every word is drawn
to make comment on.
Therefore, when we talk to one another
it has to be in whispers
so no one can over hear,
our movements are scrutinized
and our conversations listened to.
Soon it will be over
and our lives can once again
begin to resume.
Until then we talk in whispers
so no one else can hear.
21 September 2008
poem by David Harris
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Many Can Teach Few Can Write
many can teach and be good teachers
some even aspiring excellent teachers
but few can image write wondrous words
who are now waiting among
those who have words worth writing
words waiting to be written?
writing will cost much
demanded much
then will cost yet more
a small fortune in wages
wages spent not made
still to be spent and yet
accumulative cost is nothing
for there are hunger hearts
minds waiting for these words
looking even searching
for quest sought words
therefore it matters not
if for a specific poem
or passage paragraph
only a few or one is searching
these thoughts
are important
still must be written
some of what we write
even much of what we write
is of no prime importance
but that small portion
which is important
that tiny potent seed
which is important
must be written
translate many can translate
some even translate
almost perfectly precise
but those writing
original thoughts
are far more precious
and their words
will also in their time
be sought after read
but there time is not yet
that which is not
written cannot
be read
therefore write
write
and write well
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Poem Life
what is...
a poem...?
some word
speaking...
some word
crying...
some word
trying...
some word
hitting...
some word
danching...
some word
loving...
some word
colling...
some word
lifing...
some word
loughing...
all the words
are poem...
feel free
your heart free..
love free
to write+ speak...
with freee...
making a poem
life your style...
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Can it be Memory, Inspiration, or Figment Causing This?
The poems I write are a story of my life
They are a foreseeable future, a regret filled past
In this they stain, in my poems they stain
The dreams, my ideals, life lessons, and hopes
Flood on to the page waiting to be read
Stranger they become
Stranger to be in my mind
How they come to be there
That bolt of lines that swirl and toil in my mind
They say for my allure, they sway for my attention
'Take me', they cry, 'Take me for your own'
'Release us from here, bring us to life and capture us in
your work! '
'Immortalize us in history on that page! '
They sway faster in an angry tempo
Chanting now on how to be used
Begging, pleading to be used
I grasp the pen and paper
Pull my laptop closer
I write and type as fast as my hands can go
The tempo soothes, and the swaying stops
All is quiet
All is empty
They are released, glorified on this magnificent page.
Written: January 21,2012
poem by Ryan Collins
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With no words
Nicely missed page with no words
No imprints but waiting order from lords
Soon something may be out to adore
Lot many unsaid things to adore
This is how page is filled
Sprit is revived and not killed
Many may catch it as inspiring zeal
Many may think it not fiction but real
Word may not remain as words
It will be sharp weapon like sword
May cut through many sweet hearts
Provide healing touch at the start
Such is power and strength
Words to fill and create the length
A surface to write and inscribe
If so worth to describe
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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My Words To Be Written
Words can be said, they can be written
they can be funny or sad or informed
words are sought after by everyone
papers, scripts, books, letters or texts
they can gossip, tattle or lie
honest, trust worthy, confusing
written to story or rhyme to rhythm
they can be found in our minds
written or printed they are strong
brought together the bring magic
imaginations, fantasy, real life
many stories and songs by words
have touched the soul with in
my words are to enlighten and entertain your mind
to put you in places we never dreamed
and to think I could of done that
my words to you is my soul to share
written with love, hate and sorrow
take the time to enjoy the words
words make ours dreams come true
poem by Michael Peterson
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Mark My Words!
'You mark my words, ' the Cabbie said,
To his fare for the night,
'Us Christians know what lies ahead
And we will steer you right.'
Then he explained his earnest faith
In Jesus Christ the Lord
And said that He was strong to save,
That's why He is adored.
'You mark my words, ' the Cabbie said,
'Christ is the light of men!
Lord Jesus Christ rose from the dead!
He's coming back again!
The Holy Bible's prophecies
Are meant to put us straight.
They prove Christ is the Prince of Peace
For whom us Christians wait.'
'You mark my words, ' the Cabbie said,
'Lord Jesus died for you!
Upon that Cross His Blood was shed
To prove God's love is true.
For all our sins He took the blame,
Then took our sins away.
That's why us Christians praise His Name!
That's why us Christians pray.'
'You mark my words, ' the Cabbie said,
To his fare for the night,
'Us Christians must be Spirit-led,
Serve God with all our might! '
The passenger had understood.
He was a Christian, too.
His heart was warmed, 'Our God is good!
Good night and God bless you! '
Denis Martindale, copyright, August 2011.
We can hear the word of the Lord on
Revelation TV on UK Sky Digital and
via the Watch Now webpage on the
Revelation TV website:
revelationtv-dot-com
: : : : : : : : : :
This poem was also uploaded with
the title, You Mark My Words! and this
has its own shortcut for that page:
tinyurl-dot-com/you-mark-my-words
The poem was written for Mark the Cabbie and
it was read out to him on the Revelation TV
show Thank God For Fridays,20th of July 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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