A Little Thought
Don't you hate it when nothing comes to mind
Can't even write one single line.
So many thoughts all entertwine
Can't even write one single line
Look at this page so white and fine
Can't even write one single line
Just had to think and take my time
(11.30.12)
poem by Earl Spencer
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Another Blank Moment
Another struggle with a write,
Another battle, another fight.
Think Adam, think some more,
At least I made it to line four.
I hate it when my mind is numb,
This heartbreak has me full of glum.
The inspiration today is low,
The words are coming rather slow.
But here I am with my pen,
Trying to write once again.
Tomorrow is another day,
Maybe it won't be so gray.
This might be all I got,
But let me give it one more shot.
I'll come up with one more line,
And hope this poem turns out fine.
poem by Adam McKim
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A Single Telling Line
A SINGLE TELLING LINE CAN MAKE
A single telling line can make
A collection of words
Into a poem.
But how to find that line
And how to know
When it has come?
A single line can make a poem.
But who knows
When the iron strikes
And if the fire has come?
And whether in the darkness of the soul
Words are the rescuing light
of a poem?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Single Is Fair
Single
I am single
Question of double
Does not arise.
I am single
Only single.
Single sun
Single moon
Single earth
Single air
Single sky
Sngle water
Single fire
Single soul
Single body
All are there
All are fair.
Single is single
Single is beautiful
Single is fair.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Bequeathal
THE night-birds cry in the bush outside,
And I write here, though the hour be late;
And what shall I write of the man who died?
'He gave his gold to the poor at his gate!'
The line is written. Was that his all,
And did that all exhaust his love?
'Nay, nay, write on, while the night-birds call:
‘He gave his soul to his God above’!'
Say on; for in so rich a vein
More gold lay waiting to be proved.
' 'T was so! Write this, and write it plain:
‘He gave his heart to the wife he loved’!'
What more? 'What more dost thou require?
What more was left to give or take?
Yet more there was. Write this in fire:
‘He gave his life for his country's sake’!'
'Last gift of all, with courage fine,
Though far from stars that watched his birth.
He fell. Write then this final line:
‘He gave his clay to the aliens' earth’!'
poem by Roderic Quinn
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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
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Bussokusekiku Japanese form
Bussokusekiku
6 lines
5 syllable, line one
7 syllables line two
5 syllables line three
7 syllables in the last three lines
Orientally
inspired I write poetry.
Exercise my brain
Look at things differently
If I can do it so can you
White chrysanthemum.
Signifying purity
One single blossom.
Typically Japanese
in its simplicity
Needs no explanation.
Savage warrior
who composes poetry.
Shows his softer side.
He must be a samurai.
A well trained brave fighting man
Writes beautifully of love.
28/10/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Single Day
Not a single day goes by..........
Where she is not in his thoughts
Not a single day goes by..........
Where his heart does not feel
Not a single day goes by..........
Where he does not want to reach out
Not a single day goes by..........
Where he dreams of his love for her
Not a single day goes by..........
Where he does not dream of kissing her
Not a single day goes by..........
Where he does not dream of holding her
Not a single day goes by..........
Where he does not ask. Why?
Not a single day goes by..........
Where she is not his first thought on waking.
Not a single day goes by..........
Where she is not his last thought before sleeping.
Not a single day goes by..........
RG/NB
poem by Robert Green
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Writer's Drought
You've heard of a thing called writer's block and you've heard of writer's drought
But writers are never short of things on which they can write about
It's just at times their inspiration well does seem to run dry
And they cannot seem to pen a line though hard enough they try.
The writers drought it causes writers moments of self doubt
Till the words that seem locked in them eventually flow out
Through their pens to their notebooks their dry spells do not last
And on time lost out on penning words they seem to catch up fast.
Some writers in their writing drought cannot seem to feel inspired
To write even a single line they feel mentally tired
But when fresh inspiration comes to them much better stuff they do write
And feeling re-invigorated they sit and pen all night.
Most writers you will talk to of writers drought can tell
When there is no inspiration in their inspiration well
But when inspiration returns to them and their creative juices flow
They become much better writers and in self confidence grow.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Vow 2 (Right Words)
I've always been able to
now I don't even know what to do
it's never been a problem before
I've always been able to write about it
talk about it, now that it hit me
I'm somewhat speechless
I put pad to pen, nothing
an empty space on a white page
shouldn't this just write itself?
not a word or a single letter
I know it hit me, I feel it
it hurts yet I like it,
I smile at the sight of it
I've spent days and still on a blank page
it's stupid to say, but I give up
a pen is in rage to silence
to express this, these feelings
no words could describe
nor will I try
the only thing I can say for certain
that it is real, I Love you
this I vow.
poem by Kelvin Owusu
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In Fifteen Lines
1.when you write
2.a poem
3.in fifteen lines
4.i always look
5.forward
6.to the fifteenth line
7.the best line
8.lies there
9.and it will just be the line
10.i read
11.the last line
12.lasts
13.it is deigned
14.with dignity
15. condescendingly, a respect to the brevity of poetry
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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366.in Fifteen Lines
1.when you write
2.a poem
3.in fifteen lines
4.i always look
5.forward
6.to the fifteenth line
7.the best line
8.lies there
9.and it will just be the line
10.i read
11.the last line
12.lasts
13.it is deigned
14.with dignity
15. condescendingly, a respect to the brevity of poetry
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Invincible Companion
Sometimes, you feel possessed…,
You hear voice whisper verses to your ears,
You pick your pen and write.
Sometimes, you want to add your line,
But, the voice will say; ‘No, it is not that way,
Listen very attentively, and, write’.
Sometimes, you will add your own line, and the voice
Will say, “Fine, it is alright”…,
Sometimes, you write before you think,
Sometimes, you omit some lines, then, you will have to wait
Long-temporally to get them back.
Sometimes, you get just the sketch, it becomes
An assignment to complete….
Sometimes, you argue with the voice for days
Before you turn out a piece; you listen, you think,
You write, cancel, and rewrite.
Sometimes,
When you become,
You look at the piece, and, you say, what a beautiful
Verses 1 have written.
Then, you will look back and say,
I never wrote that, I am just a tool in the hands
Of supernatural conspirators,
I am been used to respond to events,
Sometimes…
©2001
poem by Akachukwu Chukwuemeka
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Loves On The Line
Tell me baby
Have we lost everything that we had before
What do you do in the day
When I walk out the door
I can see you made up your mind
And I know our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
With each passing day
I gotta watch more and more what I say to you
I can feel your eyes looking through me
As I sit at the table at dinnertime
I can feel our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
I watch our kids
Growin up, going to school
Is there anything else for us now
Are we both just fools
Wasting our precious time
At night we lay in bed
But its like youre not even there
Theres something real bad
Going wrong somewhere
Last night I heard you cry
And I know our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line, our loves on the line
Loves on the line
song performed by by Bruce Springsteen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Page Stays White
I so want to write, but try as I might,
the words don’t come, this mind’s an empty drum.
Cells remain shut tight, ideas just won’t bite.
Brain’s full of bunkum, notions are struck dumb.
It’s an terrible plight, because the more you fight,
the less you succumb.
Not a single crumb will see the light.
I’m not sure why, quite!
But I’m feeling glum, I’m hitting a problem.
Can’t my wits be bright. My thoughts should unite
in my futile cranium, and that is saying some.
I so want to write, but the page stays white.
New poems ought to blossom, in a state of equilibrium.
But try as I might, somehow, my words seem to have taken flight.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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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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I Listen To The Line I Wait To Write
I LISTEN TO THE LINE I WAIT TO WRITE
I listen to the line I wait to write
I hear myself speaking the poem to myself.
What I write
Comes from somewhere else
Inside myself
Perhaps beyond.
I take these words down
Which appear right before
I say them
Which appear
As I say them.
Is what I am doing ‘Poetry’?
Or is it merely my own illusion
Of what I am
And what Poetry is?
God gives and God takes.
Will God make these lines too
What they are not now,
And yet?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Draw The Line
You can write me a letter
But I wont tell you where I am
Oh you can send me a postcard baby
But I wont tell you where I stand
Well Im right outside of your window
And Im walking on through your love
And Im giving you all I can babe
But I know what youve been thinking of
And now baby its time
Baby its time
To draw the line
Draw the line
You may have good intentions
And I may be dead wrong
If what you see here isnt love babe
Its cause Im too tired to be that strong
Now Im burned out on your affection
Because it comes from a jaded tongue
And Im burned out on your direction baby
I know Im not the only one
Baby its time
Baby its time
To draw the line
Draw the line
Draw that line baby
Draw that line yeah
Keep it straight
Keep it close
And tell me
What do you have in mind
Im gonna take this heartache
Im gonna turn it all inside out
Im gonna find every livin last drop of love
Until Im too sure to have any doubt
Now you can love me if you want me
Or you can turn away and tell me to go
Now you can write me a letter
You can send me a postcard
But dont tell me what youre thinking
If you really dont know baby
Baby its time to draw the line
Draw the line
Yeah draw that line
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hit Single
You might have seen me hangin around
I never miss one night I could be on the town
I used to be another one like you
Always running home to that special one or two
And when I think of all the years of finding out
What I already knew
Now I spead myself around
And you can have 3 minutes too
cause Im a hit single
Lookin out for number one
I got a line or two that never fail
And every time you look around Ill be there on your tail
Im nothing special but I dont give in
Before you know it Ill be there right underneath your skin
And if you think that being serious and smart
Gets you where you should be
You must be not only joking
But way too heavy for me
cause Im a hit single
Goin straight to number one
And when I die and go to pure pop heaven
The angels will gather around
And ask me for my whole life story
And ask for that fabulous sound
But I know theyre gonna stop me
As I start going through every line
And say please not the whole damn album
Nobody has that much time
Please . . .
Just the hit single
You gotta love that number one
song performed by by Joe Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Easter Sunday (and not a word from McD's)
Today I solemnly resolve to say nothing
Not to observe nor write a single line
I won't even mention the man dressed like a cowboy
Nor that voluptuous chick lookin' fine
I'll not fixate on the fat,
nor lay praise on the lean
Not one single comment
Be it kindly or mean
The tall skinny lady sitting opposite me
With the red fright-wig hair
Well today I shan't make mention
That she's even there
For this Easter Sunday
I shall refrain from writing
Of people no matter be they
Strange and funky
Not even whether
that lady Is cradling
Her baby…or is that
A Rhesus monkey?
Today being Easter Sunday,
I'll not comment, I'll give it a rest,
Keep my chin on my chest
just keep my eyes on my book
But daaamn! Does that fat lady
With the monkey-like kid
Really have hair on her breast! ! ?
Guess it won't hurt to take a second look
(Sorry!) Well I hope my readers (reader?)
Will enjoy my missing Sunday spiel
My weekly dose of geezer-prose
My remarks on schmoes and schlemiels
This week I'll write not, a single jot
Nor a passing shot will I take
I shall keep my pen in my pocket
as if it were locked, and then…
Give you all a well earned "David O" break
poem by David Whalen
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