Necessity
John Clare
wrote poems
on scraps
of paper,
erased them
with bread
he ate
afterwards.
When he ran
out of scraps
he wrote
in his hat.
When he ran
out of bread
he ate
grass.
poem by Jeffrey Harrison
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Related quotes
Love cannot survive if you just give it scraps of yourself, scraps of your time, scraps of your thoughts.
quote by Mary O'Hara
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I found the poems in the fields, and only wrote them down.
quote by John Clare
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Eating The Dogs Scraps
yesterday i brought home scraps for the dog and ate them
he watched me the whole time
i had dug hotdogs out of the garbage
brought them home
then i realized, 'when in Rome'
So i ate the dogs scraps
I ate the dogs scraps and i chewed em up right there
I ate the goddamn golf course leftovers i don't even care
Please Lord, for all my friends and family.
Please dont let me outlive this damn dog
I should've let the dog eat instead!
poem by jack Quehoff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At Work, And At Dreams
I went to work
and I worked hard
and it was humdrum, tedious
and so I wrote a poem
but you know, nobody pays for poems
You can dream
but you can't put bread on the table
so I went to work
and I worked hard
and it was humdrum, tedious
and so I wrote a poem
but you know, nobody pays for poems
You can dream
but you can't put bread on the table
so I went to work…
poem by Raj Arumugam
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No More
I wrote my name on the seashore
The waves came and it was no more
I wrote my name in the air
The wind came and it was no more
I wrote my name in the sky
The clouds came and it was no more
I wrote my name in the puddles
The sun came and it was no more
i wrote my name in the dust
The rain came and it was no more
One day Gabriel wrote my name
and alas! i was no more
poem by Humna Hamid
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Dear John
(vocals by john prine)
When i woke up this morning
There was a note upon my door
Saying " don't make me no coffee, babe
Cause i won't be back no more"
And that's all she wrote
"dear john", i sent your saddle home"
Now jonah got along in the belly of a whale
Daniel in the lion's den
I know a guy that didn't try to get along
And he won't get a chance again
That's all she wrote
"dear john", i sent your saddle home"
She didn't forward no address
No she never said goodbye
All she said was "if you get blue
Just hang your little head and cry"
That's all she wrote
"dear john", i sent your saddle home"
Now my gal's short and stubby
She's mean as she can be
If that little old gal of mine
Ever gets a hold of me
That's all she wrote
"dear john", i fetched your saddle home"
Went down to the bank this morning
The cashier said with a grin
I'm sorry for you little john
But your wife has done been in
That's all she wrote
"dear john", i sent your saddle home"
That's all she wrote
"dear john", i sent your saddle home
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dear John (I Sent Your Saddle Home)
(vocals by john prine)
When I woke up this morning
There was a note upon my door
Saying " dont make me no coffee, babe
Cause I wont be back no more"
And thats all she wrote
"dear john", I sent your saddle home"
Now jonah got along in the belly of a whale
Daniel in the lions den
I know a guy that didnt try to get along
And he wont get a chance again
Thats all she wrote
"dear john", I sent your saddle home"
She didnt forward no address
No she never said goodbye
All she said was "if you get blue
Just hang your little head and cry"
Thats all she wrote
"dear john", I sent your saddle home"
Now my gals short and stubby
Shes mean as she can be
If that little old gal of mine
Ever gets a hold of me
Thats all she wrote
"dear john", I fetched your saddle home"
Went down to the bank this morning
The cashier said with a grin
Im sorry for you little john
But your wife has done been in
Thats all she wrote
"dear john", I sent your saddle home"
Thats all she wrote
"dear john", I sent your saddle home
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Was It You Who Wrote Some Poems?
it happens in a crowd
or a party or a reunion
to be exact and short of
any dialogue
you ask,
was it you
who wrote some
poems?
and i say
yes
and i ask why?
and you say
oh i like every poem
there
and i ask
which ones?
the one about love
or passion
or compassion
or was it the poem
that hurts
and makes
one feel the
urge to kill oneself?
and you say
i like the
sad ones
those that
make me cry
and think
of my broken heart
and i say
i never wrote
sad poems
and you say
you swear
i have read
the sad ones
and i really cried
alone
and i say,
i never wrote
them
they write themselves
and i do not really cry anymore
and you say
really?
and i say: i am numb.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think I have already signed some scrap of paper for every man, woman, and child in the United States. What do they do with all those scraps of paper with my signature on it?
Poems are not bread
POEMS ARE NOT BREAD
Poems are not bread-
They are not money
In anyway-
You can write and read
A million of them,
And it will not pay
One small bill.
You don’t have to blame
The poems,
Because
You don’t make money.
But you have to know-
They are not going to save you-
In that,
either.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Lost poem
It was on this page, then gone
Like feathers blowing in the wind.
Where is the prose I wrote?
Not a letter is in sight.
I am looking with all my might.
Oh where is the prose I wrote?
Today I wrote a new poem,
Was it lost in cyberspace?
I hope not for I might not know it,
Even staring at me in the face.
Give me a break, my memories are at stake.
Oh where is the prose I wrote?
Writing A Valentine Comp Poem
Many years ago, I wrote a Valentine poem (the year was 1992)
for a competition on the local radio.
The first one I wrote seemed to me OK,
and then my wife told me that it was too long.
Out came the pen and paper
and I sat down and wrote another one.
I sent it in and lo and behold
it was read out on the radio
and neither of us heard it.
We did not even know
that it had been aired
until a box of heart shaped chocolates
came landing on our door.
Being such a kind person,
I’m going to share the poems with you.
They are called appropriately
Valentine Comp Poem 1 and 2.
Read and enjoy what this silly sod
would do to win a box of chocolates
for his love so true.
31 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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Bread Hair
Im a wigged-out daddy with bread on top
I dig an easy-bake granny with a whiskey mop
If you love me, you neednt the whole wheat crop
cause they had a useless battle andll never stop
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Im a pumpernickel-do for you, dough you do
Use a yarmulka of hallah bread if youre a jew
I belong to cayope*, I be the wheat for you
Yeast and flour, bake an hour, its annoying shampoo
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Drivin all my hope away
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Bread hair, oh boy, oh boy
Youre drivin all my hope away
Thats a gone rug, buddy
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bread is wiser
Butter is richer than bread
But can’t replace bread.
But butter is better with bread
For which is not sad the bread.
Wives are not wiser than bread.
05.02.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I Forgot The Poem I Wrote Today
I FORGOT THE POEM I WROTE TODAY
I forgot the poem I wrote today
I forgot the poem I wrote yesterday
I have forgotten all my poems-
No one rereads my poems
I do not reread them-
They will all be forgotten-
O Poems O World-
Will we ever know
What God Remembers?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Feathers on head
The one who sings on God does so for one’s bread.
The one who spells gospel does so for one’s bread.
The one who serves God does so for one’s bread.
You give them bread and keep them on your head.
16.01.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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It is not half cooked
Having heard and read, I wrote.
Having seen and felt, I wrote.
I wrote of love and romance
From experience and perception.
As I wrote I was soothed.
Don’t scorn my writings as half cooked.
10.10.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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My brother used to say that I wrote faster than he could read. He wrote two books - of poems - better than all mine put together.
quote by Laurence Housman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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International business may conduct its operations with scraps of paper, but the ink it uses is human blood.
quote by Eric Ambler
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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