The Diary
Dot the I's, cross the T's
and read this once again.
Close it up. Take the key.
Lock it. Put down the pen.
This diary I will always keep
bringing to my mind
all the endless things I do
that I leave behind.
All the meaningless, tireless words
that sum up all my days
never seem to express my dear
the costly price one pays
for loving someone much too much
like I loved you.
No one will ever find your name
if some day they view
what I've written in this book,
what I did impart.
Your name ny love, I could not write.
I kept it in my heart.
So when my life is finished dear
if they come upon this book,
they won't even know you existed
for they won't know where to look.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Related quotes
A Surprise For Myself....
on his diary he writes:
dear diary
i have sacrificed a lot
years are like
layers of steel on my back
time is running fast
abnormally
on engineered days
canals are overflowing
with water
the cities are flooded
i am drowning
and yet how helpless
can i be
how dumb
not to call for professional
help or even
to talk to a close friend
about it
only to find that actually
i do not have any
of these
closer encounters
or needed
intimacies
tomorrow my dear diary
i will write more
courageously
i pray for more strength
more wisdom
tomorrow dear diary
i will surprise myself.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Can I Be With You, O' Love?
dear love, o' love, love
can i be with you, o' love?
can i stay with you, o' dear love?
o' love, love, love
you are the perfect key to every heart
((o' love!))
you are the string to every heart
((dear love!))
you are the peace to my heart
((love, o' love!))
your mood is so emotional
but your love is so natural
you are the wood to my art
to carry me by the walls of my heart
can i be with you?
o' love,
wont you leave and gone?
dear love,
can i talk with you?
pure love,
can i walk with you?
soul love,
you are the need to my wish,
(that is love)
you are the feed to my dish,
(such is love)
you are the strength to the weak,
(o' love)
you are the length to the thick,
(endless love)
can i be with you?
o' love
wondering not but,
is my heart there?
or has it faded?
is it beating?
or has it deflated?
o' how i wish love you were
so close to mine and there
to stone me a love with care
yes, i stare
with eyes of love and share
love with her that dare
to share,
i ask with no one...
can i fall in love
with you, o' dear love?
wont you escape my heart?
wont you run away from love?
wont you fade away from love?
come stay with me, o' dear love
come lay with me, not tear love
some blame with you, but care love
come wave with me, share love
you are the perfect key to every heart
((o' love!))
you are the string to every heart
((dear love!))
you are the peace to my heart
((love, o' love!))
come be with me
((o' dear love))
opn02122012/0345
poem: can i be with you?
book: the melody of my heart
book no.14 of 2012
december 2012
email: [email protected]
[email protected]
facebook: opnmambo
twitter: @opnmambo
poem by Onalethuso Petruss Ntema
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Dear Diary
Dear Diary....
this heart of mine is been confused
if it is love, infatuation or crush
he always in my thoughts all day and night
that keeps lingering on my mind
Dear diary....
here I’ am smiling all alone
and thinking him all day long
and see him face closer to mine
walking hand and hand
talking laughing and feeling
Dear diary.....
I don’t know what to do?
Tell me where do I start
I miss him each day of my life
can't explain this feeling I have
if it is madness... when it will last?
Dear diary....
I wonder what would happen next?
Song of my heart will be please
this feeling soon will reveal
a love I have been hidden and care about
Dear diary... tell me now
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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These Things Will Keep Me Loving You
(harvey fuqua/johnny bristol/sylvia moy)
Oh and I know these things will keep me loving you dear
Say it again
These things will keep me loving you dear
A gentle touch upon my face baby
A tender kiss and a warm embrace honey
Oh a few kind words
Spoken so sincere
And I know and I know
These things will keep me loving you dear
These things will keep me loving you dear
Give me your shoulder so I can cry on it baby
Oh give me advice that I can rely on honey
Oh say you love me every day of the year
And I know and I know
These things will keep me loving you dear
Say it again
These things will keep me loving you dear
Oh and I know these things will keep me loving you dear
Oh baby baby
Call me each night on the telephone baby
Oh send me a card when youre far from home honey
Oh hold me close to you baby every time youre near
And I know and I know
These things will keep me loving you dear
Oh, loving you dear
[ad lib to fade]
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear Diary
Dear diary, what a day its been.
Dear diary, its been just like a dream.
Woke up late. wasnt where I should have been.
For goodness sake whats happening to me.
Write lightly, yours truly, dear diary.
It was cold outside my door.
So many people by the score.
Rushing around so senselessly.
They dont notice theres people like me.
Write lightly, yours truly, dear diary.
They dont know what theyre playing.
Theyve no way of knowing what the game is.
Still they carry on doing what they can.
Outside me, yours truly, dear diary.
Its over. will tomorrow be the same?
I know that theyre really not to blame.
If they wernt so blind then surely theyd see.
Theres a much better way for them to be.
Inside me, yours truly, dear diary.
.
.
.
Somebody exploded an h-bomb today.
But it wasnt anyone I knew.
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Chornicles of a Dark Heart Part 16 The open book's monologue
Red what is it to you black the color of death? maybe maybe not? anyone here play video games? FOR CHAOS? ring any bells help spread the taint more quickly? what might an open book write
what would a open book draw
what would an open book think
open books are predictable
so predict what the picture means
why is black black? why is red O infused? what is the meaning only you know maybe only me...
(added years later)
Maybe I'm the book, and maybe you're the reader
but who is you? is it not everyone
since I'm open, for all to point at laugh at, out of malice or for fun
because they know my thoughts, they know i love her? !
what did i do?
i never said i love you! ! !
how can they know?
how did i reap what i did now sow? !
The worst part
about being an open book,
is an open book can't close itself, can't have a heart
anyone can know all from just one look
there seems to be something wrong with being too open and honest
but it's too late a book can't close itself
can't move by its own accord to a shelf
an open book can never rest
so now I'm the book, so since im there just read
just read.... and watch my heart, my purpose, my soul, my life, me
watch.... watch them bleed
poem by David Knox
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Open Book's Monologue (revisited the years later portion of part 16)
Maybe I'm the book, and maybe you're the reader
but who is you? is it not everyone
since I'm open, for all to point at laugh at, out of malice or for fun
because they know my thoughts, they know i love her? !
what did i do?
i never said i love you! ! !
how can they know?
how did i reap what i did now sow? !
The worst part
about being an open book,
is an open book can't close itself, can't have a heart
anyone can know all from just one look
there seems to be something wrong with being too open and honest
but it's too late a book can't close itself
can't move by its own accord to a shelf
an open book can never rest
so now I'm the book, so since im there just read
just read.... and watch my heart, my purpose, my soul, my life, me
watch.... watch them bleed
poem by David Knox
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The History Of You And Me
Everytime you think of me.
Write it all down in your diary.
And never forget you were mine.
'Cause you can write a book about love.
And you can write a book about history.
The history of you and me..
On every page that you write.
Move your pen, with those old memories of me.
Holding me in your arms.
'Cause you can write a book about love.
And you can write a book about history.
The history of you and me..
Try not to miss a word.
Don't miss a single word, about those old romantic nights.
The nights you spent with me.
'Cause you can write a book about love.
And you can write a book about history.
The history of you and me..
Yaahh! The history of you and me....
Love Song Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1990,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
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Dear Diary
Dear diary
Today I saw a boy
And I wondered if he noticed me
He took my breath away
Dear diary
I can't get him off my mind
And it scares me
'Cause I've never felt this way
No one in this world
Knows me better than you do
So diary I'll confide in you
Dear diary
Today I saw a boy
As he walked by I thought he smiled at me
And I wondered
Does he know what's in my heart
I tried to smile
song performed by by Britney Spears from Oops! ...I Did It Again
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part IV: Vita Nova: CXIII
TO ONE WITH HIS SONNETS
This is the book. For evil and for good,
What my life was in it is written plain.
These are no dreams, but things of flesh and blood,
The past that lived and shall not live again.
This is the book. I dare not bid you read.
Too much of my poor soul you would unlock.
Your own soul, if it tender were, might bleed.
I could not bear that you should only mock.
My life lies here. And yet in vain, dear heart,
The tale is told. One page it yearns to see,
One play where one best actor should find part.
But that, alas for love! shall never be.
Yet, if a sign you seek between these lines,
One hidden lies for you, a sign of signs.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Book
If I write a book,
Would I approach
You to write its
Review?
Why?
If my book is
Worth reading,
Wouldn't you be
Tempted to write
Its review?
Why should I
Use you for its
Marketing and
Publicity?
If you like my book,
You'll yourself feel like
Sharing with everybody
It's an instinct
That comes
Naturally…
We believe in
Loving and giving,
And so if we genuinely
Like something,
We'll recommend it
Or choose it for gifting
So if I write a book,
I'll never beseech you
To write its review
I would rather wait
For you to feel free
To read it and perhaps
Write its review…
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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The book, you understand, was not written for publication. It was the portrayal of my emotions, the analysis of my own soul life during three months of my nineteenth year. I wrote then all the time, just as I do now, but, though the book is in diary form, it is not a diary.
quote by Mary MacLane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I read a book
I read a book
Not to enhance my looks
I read a book
Maybe to avoid being a crook
I read a book
Not just to learn how to cook
I read a book
To ascertain how to defend my rights
Not just to acquire knowledge
Reading a book I pledge,
Is one of the roads to the light
I read a book
To understand how a kings territory
Is defended with pieces such as the rook
I read a book
So there will be no questions asked
When I count correctly what you took
I read a book
So that I play not ignorant
Now on life I’ve a different outlook
I read a book
So if I come up with all the right answers
I will know for sure it is not merely a fluke
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
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Words Which Hold Me Captive
Told Nici I had finished the first book, with starry eyes
she brought the second volume also, I have almost
finished the third one too, she said, and I could not
withstand the charm of this series written for teens,
beautifully sculpted to keep readers on tenterhooks
as hero and heroine were driven apart
Unwillingly at first, trying to withstand its spell, I began
to read, was sucked deep into the story world, every-
thing disappeared and I read until the second book
came to a discordant end, threatening tragedy, I would
have to read the third book also, no stopping this lovely
sheath of dreams from carrying my spirit away
No realism can penetrate or dispel the beautiful illusion
or destroy the magic words which hold me captive -
and I am such a willing victim…
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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The Golden Book
If life is an endless cycle,
How come it stops?
For there is no stop,
Merely a pause
Because the human mind,
Is an endless cycle of stories
Stories which are forgotten,
Remembered only when one reaches the light
The light being a golden book,
Of ones history of happiness
Within this book of eternity,
Lies a deeper truth
Life is forever
Life is endless
Life is eternal
Life is worth living
But life is limited, possibilities are endless
For life is short,
Merely a chapter in the golden book
(written by me and Andy Klenk)
poem by Paul Celano
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At that time, I had recently finished a book called Amazing Grace, which many people tell me is a very painful book to read. Well, if it was painful to read, it was also painful to write. I had pains in my chest for two years while I was writing that book.
quote by Jonathan Kozol
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Being A Poet
I find that I can compose a poem best,
When I am out walking, or am at rest.
When I am lying in my bed at night,
I think about what I am able to write.
Or when I’m out walking, or sat on a train,
Words and ideas, all rush round my brain.
Sometimes, ideas just appear in my head,
Or may be a result of something I’ve read.
At fellow passengers, on a train, I take a look;
Some chatter away, while others read a book.
But, me, I’m sat there, quietly composing verse;
With dozens of ideas, my creative mind bursts.
If I compose lines on my way into town,
I repeat them over, until I write them down;
If they are not written down straightaway,
Around my mind, other thoughts then play.
There are many things which inspire me to write,
Such as animals, the seasons, and the sky at night.
If I try to force ideas, they just do not flow;
The poem itself, I find, just will not grow.
I like to write on a layperson’s level;
In too much information, I do not revel.
Having chosen a decent subject or idea,
I then need to get my brain in to gear.
Of a subject, I like to consider all of the aspects,
But I keep my writing simple; not too complex.
To make a poem rhyme, words I may change,
But I only use words that are within my range.
In using unfamiliar words, I can see no point;
A nice poem, tricky words, can really disjoint.
Words, within my head, I keep batting around,
Until the perfect combination, is finally found.
With poetry, I really love the creative process,
But over time, I’ve become slightly obsessed.
Sometimes I find myself talking in rhyme;
That I am a poet, this must be a sure sign.
Of my finished poems, I often feel proud;
One day, I’ll be brave and read them aloud.
Into my swirling head, ideas continue to pop;
I love writing poetry and never want to stop!
poem by Angela Wybrow
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To My Friends and Critics
Come all you friends and critics,
And listen to my song,
A word I will say to you,
It will not take me long,
The people talks about me,
They've nothing else to do
But to criticise their neighbors,
And they have me now in view.
Perhaps they talk for meanness,
And perhaps it is in jest,
If they leave out their freeness
It would suit me now the best,
To keep the good old maxim
I find it hard to do,
That is to do to others
As you wish them do to you.
Perhaps you've read the papers
Containing my interview;
I hope you kind good people
Will not believe it true.
Some Editors of the papers
They thought it would be wise
To write a column about me,
So they filled it up with lies.
The papers have ridiculed me
A year and a half or more.
Such slander as the interview
I never read before.
Some reporters and editors
Are versed in telling lies.
Others it seems are willing
To let industry rise.
The people of good judgment
Will read the papers through,
And not rely on its truth
Without a candid view.
My first attempt at literature
Is the "Sweet Singer" by name,
I wrote that book without a thought
Of the future, or of fame.
Dear Friends, I write for money,
With a kind heart and hand,
I wish to make no Enemies
Throughout my native land.
Kind friends, now I close my rhyme,
And lay my pen aside,
Between me and my critics
I leave you to decide.
poem by Julia A Moore
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Open Book's Monologue Part 3: My Lie
Maybe a lie was told
Believed by all of you now old
If you read the open book
You'd see
The words 'I care nothing about how someone might look'
When searching for love for that girl that I want with me
Remember that and pay attention when the open book says looks are not
An issue
But realizing the lie, this book will need a strong tissue
For, the book will cry
And need support, no spine
Because if I care nothing about looks
Why do I want (maybe crave) to hold her or share a kiss?
How can this
Be true? Why does that matter? It should not!
I should be content with talking....feelings....not if she is hot
I tell myself if she is hot, such things matter to me not
But if that's true why do I want to hug or touch?
Why do I want the physical contact and such
How can I reconcile my claim, when once before
I loved a girl only for how she looked and that made her perfect
Without defect
How can I trust myself after that am I not something to abhor?
What can you do when a book you read does lie
That is the case with this open book, crafty and sly
I can't trust myself, but who else knows how I feel, who knows
Where my heart goes
And to where does it belong?
O how I long for the completion of love and affection
But how can I have that, when I can't handle it, I'm not mature
Plagued by imperfection
The flaw of my nature
What do I love? And what do I love about you?
But also if what I say even to myself can be a lie then just who
Just..... just who am I? ! ? ! ? ! ? ! ?
poem by David Knox
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My honey's mind
Where shall I find
The thing that makes her pleased?
O God! Where shall I find?
How can I steal my honey's mind?
Even birds will cry no doubt
Cause I am singing aloud
Even for me it’s hard to believe
I am trying to steal her mind! Have I become a thief?
How much I love her how to express?
Words are too few and life is endless!
Please take a look at my mind -
How many prayers come and go there
Because of my cares for her?
How can I forget the pain to hide truth?
And I am getting older fading away youth!
And I know nowhere
There’s no one like her
Because it feels so true that we are pair
Because inside my heart she is so dear!
poem by Asif Andalib
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