Another bookworm
can you fly
a paper predator
perching from a page
of a book that sells
not even for a dollar
asked the editor addict
armchained armchaired
smoking a Che heroic cigar
its wings them wisps
them wisps of deadly steam
rising up
striking down
to eat up another bookworm
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Related quotes
I even smoke in bed. Imagine smoking a cigar in bed, reading a book. Next to your bed, there's a cigar table with a special cigar ashtray, and your wife is reading a book on how to save the environment.
quote by Raul Julia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobody reads a mystery to get to the middle. They read it to get to the end. If it's a letdown, they won't buy anymore. The first page sells that book. The last page sells your next book.
quote by Mickey Spillane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm Sick Of It
I'm sick, sick, sick of cigarette addiction
I'm sick of movies and their dishonest depiction
That smoking is glamorous, sophisticated and cool
When what it really is is something that rules
The cigarette addict from morning to night
And all the hours in between, they can never take flight
From the constant nagging fear that they must inhale the fumes
Of a deadly poison that will lead them to their doom
A cigarette addict can barely do a thing
Without a cigarette, it's got them on a string
They have to smoke it now, it just cannot wait
And then, another and another, they've really taken the bait
A cigarette addict is as helpless as a lamb
On a frosty hillside with no mother to keep it warm
Their mind is so confused that they actually believe
A cigarette is their saviour, they are so deceived
(Sydney, Australia - 2003)
poem by Alessandra Liverani
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Smokin The Herb Again
Yo yo yo, yo, yo yo what
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Damn, I really wish I could find my sack man
Must have got eaten by pac-man
If I had it I could smoke again
Smoke with my friends to the very end
But now Im trying to comprehend
Whens the next time that Ill smoke again
I need to know, please tell when will we smoke again
I got a buddy, his name is ted
Hes got a problem going through his head
He doesnt know how to puff puff give
But I like so Ill teach him and Ill let him live
Everyday we teach him right
When he divides, we have to fight
But at the end of the trying day
We says its ok and we puff away
Just the other night, I saw you, you were smokin not sharing and being tight
But thats ok, you are my friend, well smoking until the very end
The lessons that we put out, we order you to try it out
Its nice to smoke, yea thats what were all about
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Hey, ho, hey ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho, hey, ho
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking everywhere
I smoke, you smoke, we smoke, they smoke, smoking all together
Smoking
Were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
Were smoking, were smoking, were smoking the herb again
song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Predator
She stalks the night like a predator
She sizes you up like a predator
She is avoided like a predator
She is feared like a predator
She is a lone creature like a predator
She seems heartless like a predator
She enjoys the day as people do
She likes a challenge as people do
She will avoid as people do
She fears as people do
She wants company as people do
She craves love as people do
poem by Lenore Lee
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Misunderstanding
('Als das Kind ein Kind war')
Wings were fretting
between
paper
sheets of
her biology
note-
book.
An eye
flicker,
between
mud&rain rustles
winged
cross-bearer
under
the left
page
of her
hand-drawn
inky
cells.
She might have forgotten her rusty wings,
or
It can just be a fly.
poem by Afrodita Nikolova
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Will Of The Wisps
catching own thoughts
will of the wisps
disappearing tails
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Academics Are Daft
Wanted to quote striking lines from a book
by someone called Richard D-v-np-rt-Hin-s
who left a teaching position delineating a
social history of drugs then saw no words
of his book may be quoted except by
express permission of the author
With trepidation I copied only part of the
author's name not daring to mention the
book's title for fear of being pursued for
quoting it - a light went up - no wonder
people don't read, worries about copy-
right means we can't do anything
With a text we come across, luckily I bought
this book through a library donation, paid only
half a dollar for it - so there, getting to read it
for next to nothing - I'm glad that most people
detest reading, intellectual snobbery protecting
author's rights makes it inaccessible
Being boring to boot except to a bookworm,
nobody else interested, keeping it exclusive
demanding payment for repeating any word
from it authors make sure nobody interested
in a factual account of cold facts - if they wish
to remain incognito, ignored by the masses
It is fine with me; I may not breathe a word
about this fellow's research and conclusions
he might as well have buried his gift under a
bushel for fear of anyone reading it without
paying exorbitant amounts and that for stuff
that is not entertaining - seems to me
Academics are rather daft - he used to be
a lecturer…
Saturday 19 May 2012
poem by Margaret Alice Second
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Sat There, Rude...
with a cocktail fork and a lemon wedge....
holding.a pamphloon...
unknown advertisers filled the front page....
...flexxed and fumed..promised utter worlds....
in a language written on flounder wraps and twisted to hold chestnuts.....
wisps of sky ledgers fled....no match for the grating sound of hollow metal on concrete.....
but there was the blue...
and the tree....
poem by that's how I intended to ... delilah contrapunctal
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Leave No Traces Fair
Leave no traces fair,
Nor flowers lily white,
No notes, nor wisps of hair,
Nor passions of the night.
Cling not to what you know,
Nor proud, nor humble be-
Let honors be bestowed
On ranks of vanity.
Seek freedom's inner essence
And light that shines in truth-
For fame conceals senescence
That clips the wings of youth.
March 10,2006
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Still The Stranger
Yesterday you were a smoke,
The wisps of clouds on your face
Barred my view of you.
I was fool enough to think
I could penetrate your layers.
Yesterday you were an unread book,
The cover on the hidden words
Barred my view of you.
I was knave enough to think
I could read you out to the end.
Today you are still the stranger
With a stranger that’s me!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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A Small Cigar
A small cigar can change the world
I know, Ive done it frequently at parties
Where Ive won all the guests attention
With my generosity and suave gentlemanly bearing
A little flat tin case is all you need
Breast-pocket conversation opener
And one of those ciggie lighters that look rather good
You can throw away when empty
Must be declared a great success
My small cigars all vanish within minutes
Excuse me, mine host, that I may visit
A nearby tobacconist
To replenish my supply of small cigars
And make the party swing again
I know my clothes seem shabby
And dont fit this hampstead soiree
Where unread copies of rolling stone
Well-thumbed playboys
Decorate the hi-fi stereo record shelves
If you ask me theyre on their way
To upper-middle-class oblivion
The stupid twits, they roll their only
One cigarette between them
My small cigars redundant now
In the haze of smoking pleasure
Call it a day
Get the hell away
Go down the cafe
For a cup of real tea
By the tube station, theres a drunk old fool
Who sells papers in the rush hour
I hand to him ten small cigars
He smiles, says, ''son, God bless you
A small cigar
Has changed his world, my friend
A small cigar
Has changed the world again
A small cigar . . .
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cigar
Some sigh for this and that,
My wishes don't go far;
The world may wag at will,
So I have my cigar.
Some fret themselves to death
With Whig and Tory jar;
I don't care which is in,
So I have my cigar.
Sir John requests my vote,
And so does Mr. Marr;
I don't care how it goes,
So I have my cigar.
Some want a German row,
Some wish a Russian war;
I care not. I'm at peace
So I have my cigar.
I never see the 'Post,'
I seldom read the 'Star;'
The 'Globe' I scarcely heed,
So I have my cigar.
Honors have come to men
My juniors at the Bar;
No matter - I can wait,
So I have my cigar.
Ambition frets me not;
A cab or glory's car
Are just the same to me,
So I have my cigar.
I worship no vain gods,
But serve the household Lar;
I'm sure to be at home,
So I have my cigar.
I do not seek for fame,
A general with a scar;
A private let me be,
So I have my cigar.
To have my choice among
The toys of life's bazaar,
The deuce may take them all
So I have my cigar.
Some minds are often tost
By tempests like a tar;
I always seem in port,
So I have my cigar.
The ardent flame of love,
My bosom cannot char,
I smoke but do not burn,
So I have my cigar.
They tell me Nancy Low
Has married Mr. R.;
The jilt! but I can live,
So I have my cigar.
poem by Thomas Hood
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Which editor? I can't think of one editor I worked with as an editor. The various companies did have editors but we always acted as our own editor, so the question has no answer.
I lived through a classic publishing story. My editor was fired a month before the book came out. The editor who took it over already had a full plate. It was never advertised. We didn't get reviewed in any major outlets.
quote by Anita Diament
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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An Owl Perching On My Guitar
One evening I met an owl out of the blue
He was perching on my guitar when I sang blues
I asked him about where he came true
To me he gave answer only few clues
That from a big realm it came by side
Where it was only shrewd king and his knights
Where he could find blossom so much right
Yes, it was colorful even in all nights
It was not only a dream he said for sure
But I said it was only a dream too sure!
Believe me I live my life now very cruel!
But the owl perching on my guitar was not all about poor
poem by Farisah Shadrina
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Bb King Medley
By the hourglass
* sweet little angel
I got a sweet little angel, I love the way she spreads her wings,
I got a sweet little angel, I love the way she spreads her wings, now,
She spread her wings around, I get joy in everything.
Asked my baby for a nickel, she gave me a twenty dollar bill, now,
I asked my baby for a nickel, she gave me a twenty dollar bill, now,
Asked my baby for a drink of liquor, she gave me a whiskey still, ah.
* its my own fault
Its my own fault baby, treat me the way you wanna do now,
Its my own fault baby, treat me the way you wanna do now,
Cause when you were lovin me little woman,
Ahhh, guess what? I didnt love you, no.
Cmon now.
* how blue can you get?
I been down-hearted baby, ever since the day that we met,
I been down-hearted baby, ever since the day that we met,
Our love is nothin but the blues, lord, how blue can you get?
Alright,
I bought you a new ford, you said I want a cadillac.
Bought you a ten dollar dinner, you said thanks for the snack.
Let you live in my penthouse, lord, you called it a shack.
Gave you seven children and now you wanna give em back.
Oh, I been down-hearted baby, ever since the day that we met darlin now,
Now our love is nothin but the blues.
Oh, how blue can you get?
song performed by by Allman Brothers Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Haze Machine
Like glycerine and water
becoming the haunting, gray
wisps of ephemera—
in the shadows
that the air has
recklessly clasped—
in the piceous sea
that curbs
the ruching horizon—
we are coetaneously
drifting where
the wind remains.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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I Am Humbled By The Beauty I See Each Morning
I am humbled by the Beauty I see each morning-
Today the sky has wisps of reddened cloudlight
And the green dawn is darkness still waiting for the sun-
But how beautiful God’s world can be
And how great the gift of the eyes
That love to see.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Dahlia
Dahlia and I were taking a bath
And dahlia was smoking a cigar
And she said to me
I bet youve never taken a bath
With a girl smoking a cigar before
And she told me all about her car accident
She was overdosed on valium
And she made an attempt to cross the west side highway
Dahlia, I know Ive done you wrong
Dahlia, I know Ive done you wrong
Dahlia, I know Ive done you wrong
But dahlia, you know youve done me wrong too
She wore an old camel t-shirt
With some magic of its own
And we listened to the stones
Sucking cherry charms blowpops
Sucking cherry charms blowpops
song performed by by Phish
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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