Not Here To Monitor, Edit Or Censor
'Why is it,
Some of your writings I can easily access.
And others I can not?
And why the inconsistency,
Of your name on diffent lists? '
I write, submit, that's it.
There is enough I have on my mind,
Than trying to figure out...
The logic of someone's organization.
I am not here to monitor, edit or censor.
Not getting enough rest,
Is what I do best.
I have written everyday since the age of seven.
And there are still naysayers who believe,
I can not chew gum and walk at the same time...
Without being assisted.
I am a writer.
I do not critique.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
To be a writer
They say, when you have nothing to say
Do not say anything
They say when you have nothing good to say
Do not say anything
He is not convinced
He wants to be a writer and to be one he must write
What is in his mind
To be a writer he must write and write and write
Even when there is nothing to write
Even when there is nothing to say even when nobody listens
Even when the word is dead even when there is no sense at all
Even when he gets blind and deaf and mute even when his fingers are cut even when his mind is blank even when his consciousness is lost
Even when you are angry even when you say what is written is nothing
But trash, dung, cadaver, corpse, poo, pee, even when there is nothing
Anymore,
He writes because he is a writer and no one can stop him now.
he is
he is writing
he is writing always
he is writing always whatever that needs to be written
and here you are foolishly reading. thanks to you, audience of one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Let Them 'Naysay' On
To the naysayers,
What can be said?
I believe they should be left alone!
We all have missions
Upon which we have embarked.
There is something we have elected,
To accomplish
On 'our' paths.
We seek to do that which we are here to do!
Aren't we?
And so are they!
So let's leave those naysayers to do what they do best!
Let them 'naysay' on...
With a satisfaction that brings a peace of mind,
If any of that they manage to find!
And we all know...
Accompanied by very little rest!
Within them there is an absence
Of that kind of mind!
And let us aspire to our own quests!
No one here should be seeking...
Requests from the naysayers' nests!
And on our time they would wish to take,
To indulge themselves and perfect their tests!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Four Main Types of Writers (personal opinion)
The Lonely Writer
Some writings tell me
This person is lonely
And is reaching out
For the touch of a friendly comment
These writers are sad, solitary,
Isolated, but good persons
And quite often very good writers
The needy juvenile writer
Some writings contain words
Or language meant to shock
And to offend.
These writers are lonely also
But in a different way.
These writers are simply saying
Like a little child
“hey! I exist! Someone better
Acknowledge me! ”
These writers can often write well
But usually don’t, can’t, or choose not to
The Spite Writer
This writer can be of either gender
But seems to be in a female majority
They’ve been spurned or rejected
Two-timed or lied to.
And they are going to vent their ire
In the most public way they can.
These writers can also be very good writers
But too often let their anger get in the way.
The Religious Writer
These writers show people passionate
And zealously devoted to singing the praises
Of the Lord and goodness and charity.
They’re probably austere, honest people
Who almost always write very well.
For the most part these writers seem
To want to spread the word and
At the same time tend to be rather singular
In the subject matter of their writings,
Rarely attempting other genres.
poem by David Whalen
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I Could Have Enjoyed A Very Nice Conversation Out There At The Mall
i can make choices
like i am thrown in an ocean of choices
everyday as i decide for myself
what to do really
i could have gone to the mall
shopping or just enjoying the walk there
seeing lots of people and meeting them
and knowing their names and
having fun with them
or get a date with someone else
have sex at the motel or have a ride
somewhere in the countryside where no one
knows me
i could have done all these but i am so foolish
for instead here i am writing this low key poetry
wanting to figure out what do i really want in my life
i can figure it out someday
and i will figure it out now as i have been doing
this thing everyday
every hour: i just love this stuff writing for nobody
(but you may read if you want
blogging for no one and surfing for more words
and idioms and looking for that part where i become
an idiot or the everyday moron on the screen
at You-tube or facebook or friendster)
well i guess, this is it:
just trying to be nobody but a writer like you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Desperation Sown
Do not shy away,
From what the naysayers report...
Everyday.
Listen,
And you will hear from them...
Comments made they wish you to believe.
A nonexisting reality...
They've conceived,
But desire for you to perceive.
Do not shy away,
From what the naysayers report...
Everyday.
And you will observe for yourself...
Acts of desperation sown to implant.
But noticed to go dismissed.
And they are livid and quite pissed,
By this!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Writer- a must?
Out of what does a writer write?
Out of hatred or perversion;
Out of denial or deprivation.
Why does a writer write?
To vent his anger or hatred.
To cry out from pain or lust.
How does a writer write?
By borrowing or distorting.
By modeling or duping.
For what does a writer write?
For an applause and a place.
It alone suits him, an idler.
What is the use of a writer?
For him to flaunt his skill.
For readers to idle away
Does the society need a writer?
Does a woman need cosmetics?
Writer is a part of civilization
16.05.2007.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Why to censor
The world is one.
One can go anywhere
as per sweetwill.
Why to censor?
It is the right of
everybody to express
views and news.
Why to censor?
One can eat drink
walk sleep as per
his conveniences
Why to censor?
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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A writer
Out of what, does a writer write?
Out of hatred, out of denial,
Out of failure, out of perversion,
Out of insult or out of neglect.
Why does a writer write?
To vent his anger, anguish and agony.
To bend his feelings in catharsis.
From what does he write?
From borrowings, being inspired,
Or pouring old wine into a new bottle.
For what purpose does he write?
For an applause, to show his skills
And to earn a place and money.
Why at all must he write?
For an idler, what else can he do?
What lacks in one’s writing?
His concern for you lacks.
Your vow to pursue it lacks.
He writes and forgets
You read and forget.
When you are gone and when he is gone
The relevance to his writings is gone.
Bubbles are formed and burst.
12.04.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A matter of opinion.
Some people say I am perverse
because I choose to write in verse.
The kind of stories I compose.
They think I ought to write in prose.
They have the right to I suppose.
But I won’t do as they propose.
I much prefer to write in verse
Because I think there’s nothing worse
Than badly written boring prose.
That is the reason why I chose.
To concentrate on rhyming verse.
I see no reason to reverse.
My original decision
to conform to your opinion.
I do not choose to write in prose
I am convinced that I would lose.
My rhyming capability
reducing my ability.
To write my words spontaneously.
I don’t expect you to agree.
Although I am compelled to write.
You’re free to exercise your right
To read or not as you choose to.
Though I confess I hope you do.
I know I can’t please everyone.
That is something that can’t be done
By any writer though they try
A truth no writer can deny.
Your comments are of interest
they spur me on to do my best.
We can agree to disagree
on which is best quite easily.
A poet must choose poetry.
But other writers are quite free.
to share their thoughts written in prose
Because they choose to I suppose.
If you should doubt my competence.
I will not choose to take offence.
You are entitled to your view
Please remember I am too
Sunday,02 May 2010
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Writer
Night Writer
Why not write now
No time can be righter
No one to tell you how
To live your life
Or design for you your lies
Does it suffice to have a wife
To tell you when it satisfies?
You've written before
Little at night, more by day
At night write more
You'll discover a way
To make stars into a sun
That will shine for you as gold
But gold is as good as gone
When you get to be this old
Poem writer
Up and write about modesty
It's what everyone talks about
That's you and your honesty
Who cares if the others doubt?
You came in time
But does time know who you are?
You have a claim on rhyme
But rhythm takes the measure by far
Into a new realm
Of words on words on words
They just overwhelm
Can't you hear what they've heard?
Maybe hearing loss
Is not the loss of hearing
Maybe it's that distant toss
When you hear the echo before the feeling
Now you're here and now
Now is the time's to write
Now's the time to fulfill every vow
Now's not the time to lose sight
Of what you might lose
If you don't write every night.
poem by Ragy Sandid
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Chew Chew Chew (Your Bubble Gum)
Ella Fitzgerald - Chew Chew Chew
[Instrumental Intro 55 seconds approx.]
[Ella]
Chew Chew Chew Chew
Your Bubble Gum
Chew Chew Chew Chew
Your Bubble Gum
Chew Chew Chew Chew
Your Bubble Gum
Chew Chew Chew Baby
[Repeated x2]
First you pop, then you stop
The gum gets big and round.
Blow your troubles,
Way like bubbles
When you hear that
Funny little sound [pop noise]
Chew Chew Chew Chew
Your Bubble Gum
Chew Chew Chew Chew
Your Bubble Gum
Chew Chew Chew Chew
Your Bubble Gum
Chew Chew Chew Chew Your Bubble Gum!
[Boys]
Listen Sis your havin fun,
Chewing on your bubble gum
Give us some and we shall see,
Just what fills your heart with glee
[Ella]
Boys your right Im havin fun
Chewin on my bubble gum
Bubble gum it makes me sing,
Here chew some to make you swing!
[Instrumental]
First you pop, then you stop
The gum gets big and round.
Blow your troubles,
Way like bubbles
When you hear that
Funny little sound [pop noise]
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Most Writers
Most writers 'twould seem have moments of self doubt
But they never go short of things to write about
And to become a top writer of one a big ask
And to succeed as a writer for many seems too daunting a task.
Most writers do not write for wealth or for fame
And despite lack of success they pen on just the same
For every one hundred thousand writers perhaps one writing millionaire
Amongst the ranks of the wealthy the writers are rare.
Few writers can hope for to scale success height
For the love of writing they only do write
Few writers get published and fewer know of success
But in their writings on paper their thoughts they express.
Most writers will never know wealth and renown
And they are not even well known in their own Hometown
They never will be known beyond their home shore
They write for the love of it and little more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Paperback Writer
(LennonMcCartney)
Paperback writer
Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book?
It took me years to write, will you take a look?
It's based on a novel by a man named Lear
And I need a job, so I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
It's the dirty story of a dirty man
And his clinging wife doesn't understand
His son is working for the Daily Mail
It's a steady job but he wants to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer
It's a thousand pages, give or take a few
I'll be writing more in a week or two
I can make it longer if you like the style
I can change it round and I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
If you really like it you can have the rights
It could make a million for you overnight
If you must return it, you can send it here
But I need a break and I want to be a paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer
Paperback writer, paperback writer (fade out)
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bouyant Madness
Everyday.
That's when I 'update' my thought process.
Everyday...
There is something to add,
To a perception...
Easily outdated,
By the rush of bouyant madness.
Everyday I pray,
'Dear God...
Is it okay if I go into a rage and cuss?
Is it okay if I raise my right eyebrow...
To give my left one a rest?
Is it okay if I should punch someone in the face!
Then beg for Your forgiveness, My Father? '
Everyday...
It seems I am straying further away,
From the ideals of Mother Teresa!
And yes...
It is 'everyday' that I 'update' my thought process.
To add to a perception,
Easily outdated...
By the rush of bouyant madness!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Writer and The Soldier
The Writer and The Soldier
By
Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
The writer writes a sad lament for the love that he lost long
ago,
The soldier mourns the loss of a fellow slain long ago.
The writer has lead and ink on his hands,
The soldier has blood on his.
The writer can wash away the pigments and with them his
memory’s go, but the soldier can only wash the blood on his
skin; he can not wash the blood on his heart nor
The memory’s in his mind,
Burned into his mind with canon fire and the cries of
His falling comrades.
Oh,
When the two meet, they give to each other much needed gifts;
The writer gives the soldier understanding and a few happy
tales to think of when tears try to strike him down,
And the soldier gives the writer a new sad lament to write, and
a new meaning to the word friendship.
Written August 14,2008
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
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I Can I Do I Do I Do
I have believed
with good reason;
for an observed
justified qualified;
period of time now.
That Those That Can Do!
That Those That Can’t! Just Talk About It...
Those that can
write
produce
create
enrich
this world
with wonder
of vision realized
Those that can’t
are critics...
have you noticed?
Some critics
are really
acidic?
Those that can’t
just talk
talk
talk
talk
about it
what they will do
When they are happy
in the mood
the time
is right
talk talk
but never do
The time is
always now
the time
to do to do
There is that
which is written
to enlighten...
There is that
which is written
to entertain...
Rarely
are they
one
and the
same
Critic
don’t be
at cross
purposes...
Be an artist
of critique
empower
to believe...
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Persistent With Your Insistence
Okay!
So I have been,
Predictably inconsistent.
And aware of this,
It is you that keep me reminded...
Of it!
And you have been,
Persistent...
With your insistence of my inconsistency!
And you say,
I have not been reliable?
I think you have mistaken my ability,
To keep you noticing what I do...
As something done not intended!
And correct me if I am wrong.
But, aren't you the one I can rely on to critique?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mindless Of Heart {Prosaic Verse}
And, yet still now, you are confirmed by the notion
that so long as the Mind be strong.....the Heart will
always follow...and because so...I find cause now, to
educate your own Mind...of the physics....and logics
of a sophistric mantra, that you ask me to believe to
be objective, factual, when in fact, I find its rationale
to be many yards short of such statue.... but further-
to be nothing less than solipsism............at its zenith.
For you see my dear, as much as you would like me
to claim 'Epiphany' to your logic and claim but alas,
I cannot and shan't, and I will cite modern medicine
as my ''weapon-of-choice'', in deflecting your flawed
theory in placing the strength of Mind.....over Heart.
Though the Human Brain, be clearly...the most con-
sistently fertile and operational organ in the Human
Body, it is only such by way of the continuous feed of
nourishment in the form of Human Blood....which is
solely delivered compliments.....of the Human Heart.
So you see love, it is the Heart that reigns en potentate
when it comes to our everyday existence and NEEDS!
On the other hand my dear, it is Passion that controls
both...And although I know that you could easily state
that it is 'I', now, who is not applying Logic and Reason,
I will simply refer to last evening and the smile on your
face and how your Heart pumped in rapid-pulse.... as
you shared your emotion's with brainwaves from your
left Hemisphere, which controls speech...SPEECH, that
was articulated, choired & echoed over and over again
clamorously L O U D! And the rest, well, let's just say...
i'll rest my case with my Mind on how my Heart pumps
perpetual Passion for you. (What a Line!) .....THE END
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Emphatically Expressed
A writer doesn't write to attract readers.
Maybe gossip columnists do.
To sell images and ruin a few.
But a writer who is true,
Writes because that is what writers do.
I wrote years before anything I wrote was read.
It wasn't to impress.
Those issues express about me,
Have long been put to rest in my head.
If something I write is read...
I hope a connection is made from what I've said.
Some also make claims they too like to write.
And I say to myself,
'Liking and loving are different appetites.'
No one who 'is' a writer takes it 'light'.
And those who feel this way...
May stay up night after night,
After many a sleepless night.
And it isn't for fame or money.
Trust me on that.
And I thank God what I do isn't done for the glory.
That's another story.
However,
When my contributions do become discovered...
It will be 'seen' there is some depthness meant.
Something within me that seems never to be solved.
Something with content I can not just dissolve.
And there is nothing to glorify,
When someone who writes for nourishment...
To feed others,
Do not think themselves to eat or drink.
Not when a thought comes to possess their minds,
With a desire to be completed.
Coming with a sensation one should heed.
And most of the time this is the writer's deed.
Whether the one who 'writes' gets a wink of sleep,
Or blinks.
And no matter if what is written is accepted,
Or thought to be rejected and stinks!
This kind of discipline...
Does not seek to reach for that attention!
Unless,
Money becomes mentioned.
And only then,
Of course...
What I have just emphatically expressed,
You have my permission to ignore.
Since my intention will take upon another direction,
To excite my need to explore...
With a more deepened Introspection.
I do write.
But biting into a good meal,
Intrigues!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Writer's Author
GOD had written a story
in a book called 'destiny'
all things and even not-a-things are listed
and won't be missed
even Shakespeare could write the beautiful romeo n Juliet,
the story of Othello, Hamlet
or even he could made the beautifullest sonnet
GOD had written about all writer and poet
GOD is writer's author
March 2009
poem by Arif Furqan
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