Moves on the paper
With the spead of our ideas
A source of writing.
haiku by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Related quotes
Books won't stay banned. They won't burn. Ideas won't go to jail. In the long run of history, the censor and the inquisitor have always lost. The only sure weapon against bad ideas is better ideas. The source of better ideas is wisdom. The surest path to wisdom is a liberal education.
quote by Alfred Whitney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Power of Ideas
The power of ideas are immeasurable
They are the hidden treasures which lies
Deep within each and everyone of us
When we take the time to mind them we will find
That they are more precious than diamonds
Ideas which may seem insignificant
Has tremendous power within them
They are the genesis the initiation the foundation
Of all invention and everything which
Is created by humankind
The power of ideas are immeasurable
They have got the power to move mountains
To overcome any obstacle and to make
The seemingly impossible possible
Ideas are the levers which moves and the axis
On which the world revolves
The power of ideas are immeasurable
The power of ideas...
poem by Anthony Shurland Phillander
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Source Of Confort
God is a source of energy
God is a source of light
God is a source of love
God is a source of peace
God is a source of comfort
God is a source of hope
God is a source of freedom
God is a source of praise
poem by Aldo Kraas
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The Love Letter
She wonders how to begin her letter
She knows he will read each word
Greedily for any hint of love. She knows
He will sniff the paper for any scent of her
She leans an elbow on her writing desk
And clutches her pen tight. She has got
As far as, Dear John, but then the words
Stopped coming. Before she had sat down
To write, the words flowed through her
Mind like a rushing stream, now nothing
She sucks the end of the pen. Say what
You would if you were face to face, her
Mother always said. She tries to imagine
He is there before her and what she would
Say if he was, but still no words will come
He writes to her so fluently when he writes
He always seems to know what to write
And how to put it into words. She tries again
Puts the pen nib onto the paper, gripping
The pen tighter. She reads what she’s written
Dear John. The pen moves, the words begin
To flow, her hand moves across the page
The images come into her mind as she writes
The things that they said last time they met
The things they did, she blushes slightly
That almost being caught out by the maid
In a state of undress. She pauses the pen
And sits gazing at the painting on the wall.
She looks back at the paper and starts again
The words tripping over themselves to be put
Down in ink upon a page; the images open up
In her mind, the colours, the smells, the events
The pen now stops. The love letter is written
The writing done. She looks at the words
Then she seals it in an envelope and writes
His address. She pictures him reading it: in bed
In his room, sleepy, in a state of his usual undress
poem by Terry Collett
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An Old Flame
The writing faded on the page
The paper yellowing with age
An age of innocence then died
The blurring marks where once i cried
The memories flow back to me
Why did she ever have to leave?
The writing fading from the page
The sadness now becomes of age
The paper's corner now a flame
I shall not see those words again.
poem by David Keig
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Middle of Madness
I can hear every tick of the clock.
My body is showered from nervous sweat.
Oh no my pencil tip broke,
and I must stop to sharpen it;
all the while losing time.
My mind has gone as blank
as the paper which I’m writing on.
Tick – Tock goes the clock as time moves on.
Times up the voice shots;
My hand goes limp and my pencil falls to
rest upon the edge of the paper.
I let out a big sigh of relief, for the madness has subside,
For my mid-terms are done.
At Times I Have
At times I have happy ideas,
Ideas suddenly happy, in among ideas
And the words in which they naturally shake free...
After writing, I read...
What made me write that?
Where have I been to find that?
Where did that come to me from? It is better than me...
Shall we have been, in the world, at the most, pen and ink
With which somebody writes properly what we here jot?...
poem by Fernando Pessoa from The Collected Poems of Álvaro de Campos (1934)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Writing The Words
I’m writing this at your funeral.
As I watch all the people in tears.
I wish I could join them,
But I know I have to be strong.
I’m writing this on my hand,
No paper to get it down on.
I want to remember your funeral,
So I’m writing this to honour you.
I’m writing the thoughts that pop into my head,
Making sure they are only the best.
I have to remember,
Because I couldn’t live with myself if I ever forgot.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
As people dropp flowers onto your coffin.
I stand up to dropp my own,
Blue, unlike the others, because I know it’s your favourite.
I’m writing this through the ceremony,
Because if I listen to the words I’ll cry.
And I know I can’t, for you,
I have to keep it together.
I’m writing the words I want to say,
To make people remember how much love you gave.
Because I want them to know,
How much of it you gave to me.
So, I’m writing this at your funeral,
To stop myself from shedding a tear.
I’m writing this at your funeral,
So that I never ever forget you.
poem by Rachel Brewer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In A Spin
My inspiration has thrown me in a spin
instead of writing one poem a day
I have now been writing six or seven.
After a few weeks of that
you could say I need a break
or at least cut down a bit.
Of course that is easier said than done,
the poems still come tumbling out,
so out comes the pen, and paper
and I start writing again
always asking will it ever end.
Maybe one day the river will run dry
and I’ll suddenly have a drought.
30 January 2008
poem by David Harris
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And So I'm Writing...
I'm hard-pressed for time,
yet I do have the heart
And so I'm writing
Know not what to pen down,
have a paper to write on
And so I'm writing
May be I'll write about 'you and me'
Or may be of 'us and them'
Feel like playing with words
And so I'm writing
May be that starving beggar's hungry looks
Or that homeless Child's beckoning eyes
Are making me scribble these lines to you
And so I'm writing
May be you'll find my words vague
Or you might decipher a meaning
Intend to leave you in the oblivion
And so I'm writing
Whatever might be the impression I create
Wish to see its reflection on your soul
And leave an imprint on your mind
And so I'm writing
May be you and I've become immune
To the pathos of mankind
Or may be there's still
A dropp of humanity flowing deep within us
Wish to arouse 'The Human Being' in you
And so I'm writing...
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Blue Pen
A pen, what is a pen?
An instrument for writing, a tool, a path to wisdom?
Or is much more than that?
What means this blue pen to my heart?
I'm writing with this pen all my thoughts, my hopes,
I'm keep it in my hand to help my ideas flow,
This blue pen is the bearer of all my joy and pain,
And when i'm writing, its blue ink holds my dreams.
I'm writing with my blue pen,
Which he gave it to me,
To never forget and to write,
Our impossible love story in the book of life.
poem by Cristina Teodor
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writing (ii)
They look bright
As light falls upon them
They seem statesmen too
As they talk incessant
Let them use pen and paper
They will uncover their
Cleverness of hiding power
Writing is a fight between
The Powers of dark and light
The Difference between an elephant
And an ant.
Writing is the impressive enormity
Among the works of tiny trivialities
Writing is a question asked to realise
The blunt indifference
Writing is like putting the sun
At the centre of life.
poem by Abdul Wahab
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Moving round
The world is the paper
The sea is the ink
And I'm the sea
Full of thought
And emotion
And writing poems
On the paper-world.
The tree the bird
The cloud the air
The light the earth
Are ingredients of poems
I'm writing the poem
My poem moving round
The life's circle
You are to read and read.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Acting is more fun than writing. Writing is harder, more like having a term paper.
quote by Owen Wilson
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Writing fiction, there are no limits to what you write as long as it increases the value of the paper you are writing on.
quote by Buddy Ebsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Back Again
For days my world seemed empty,
as the words had flown
never it seemed to return.
Then I woke up this morning
and they were back again.
As if by magic,
my pen did not want to stop writing again.
The words are flowing again
like water from a full open tap,
so fast sometimes
that I can barely get them down on paper
before the next lot come around.
Where they being stored for just this certain day?
I do not care for the answer
only that they are back again
and my pen is overflowing
once more with new ideas.
All I can do is hope they will not go away again,
at least for a little while.
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The purpose of writing is to inflate weak ideas, obscure pure reasoning, and inhibit clarity. With a little practice, writing can be an intimidating and impenetrable fog!
quote by Bill Watterson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Worthwhile Writing
I was writing on a paper
Suddenly I started writing on minds
Then the reaction from the readers
Made it worthwhile!
poem by Asif Andalib
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Come Alive In Writing
I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -
I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-
I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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