Birthdays
Birthdays
The romantic dream of old age and serenity
Is a lie. Every day is getting more difficult,
The sun burns and rain gives pain in old bones.
Words do not flow as easy as before.
Time that appeared endless is now short and
We are aware of our mortality.
Yet we carry on trying to fill a blank page with
Thoughts...it is what we do while waiting.
We know life its wonder and bitter disappointment.
Death is a strange territory we are reluctant
to go there, even if we must.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
Blank Page
Blank page leave me be!
Blank page please stop taunting me,
reminding me of what I have failed to do.
Oh how I long to fill you,
to take up your very last line
with creative, riveting lyrics of mine.
Blank page stop harassing me!
I wish to show you my thoughts,
desires, emotions and all.
How difficult it is to answer your call.
Blank page how sweetly you whisper
tempting my pen to caress your paper.
I immaturely expect the verses to flow
then I realize that my thoughts are much too slow.
Blank page so often you defeat me
teasing and challenging until hours later
all that is left is the tiny dot
where my pen merely touched your paper.
poem by Shaqueena Celestin
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In The Dream Territory Of A Woman
In the dream territory of a woman
light and darkness
merge and unite
In the dream territory of a woman
all things ensue
except for man
In the dream territory of a woman
through the open window
rain enters, and
the breeze teases the curtains
In the dream territory of a woman
night passes on
but never rises the sun; and
there is an endless wait for the morning
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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So Much Insult And Pain
SO MUCH INSULT AND PAIN
So much insult and pain-
So much we all have to bear -
Life is not easy for any of us.
Yet we go on
Finding in our small pleasures
In acts of kindness,
Meaning and consolation.
Life is difficult -
Endless disappointment -
Efforts which go nowhere-
Work unrealized-
People we love
Unable to realize their dreams
However we would help them -
Life is difficult
Friends lost
Sadness-
And yet and yet and yet
When we are here
The ‘best we can do’- perhaps.
And that never- ending vague prayer to God,
To make it ‘alright’ somehow.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Easy and Difficult
Easy and Difficult
Easy to get a place in someone’s address book
Difficult is to get a place in someone’s heart
Easy is to judge the mistakes of others
Difficult is to recognize our own mistakes
Easy is to talk without thinking
Difficult is to control the tongue
Easy is to hurt someone who loves us
Difficult is to heal the wound
Easy is to forgive others
Difficult is to ask for forgiveness
Easy is to set rules
Difficult is to follow them
Easy is to dream every night
Difficult is to fight for a dream
Easy is to show victory
Difficult is to accommodate defeat with dignity
Easy is to admire a full moon
Difficult is to see the other side
Easy is to stumble on a stone
Difficult is to get up
Easy is to enjoy life every day
Difficult is to give its real value
Easy is to pray every night
Difficult is to find God in small things
Easy is to promise something to someone
Difficult is to fulfill the promise
Easy is to say we love
Difficult is to show it every day
Easy is to criticize others
Difficult is to improve oneself
Easy is to make mistakes
Difficult is to learn from them
Easy is to weep for lost love
Difficult is to take care of it so as not to lose it
Easy is to think about improving
Difficult is to stop thinking and putting it into action
Easy is to think bad of others
Difficult is to give them the benefit of doubt
Easy is to receive
Difficult is to give
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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A reluctant speech
A reluctant speech
~
I’ll make you a gift of my heart
My hand and soul an added option
I am reluctant to speak such words
For fear I may lose what little we share
You carry an extraordinary beauty
One of which very few possess
And there you stand in full abundance
Delighting my heart with ease
What beautiful thoughts are found
When I think to dream of you
I’d gift you the world, if I could take it
Rejoice in your smile and happiness
Protect you, when you are in need
How my heart would serve to honour
The romantic impulses I feel
This is all through you, a beauty felt
These words I reluctantly speak
For fear we may lose
What little we share together
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Writer and the Blood Inked Quil
The Writer and the Blood Inked Quill
By: Adam M. Snow
The candle flickered by a passing gentle breeze;
My quill dries up leaving not I at ease.
My words upon page now left to hang.
A reader's disappointment, now a writer's pang.
Misery held me as time stood still,
My heart has fallen because my mind is ill.
I stare at blank page as all words elude me,
I can't help to wonder, 'How could this be? '
Torment follows as night falls victim to dread;
My ink once black now turns blood red.
I wrote my soul upon each page,
As time ticks by with every age.
The word itself scream an agony scream;
I, the writer without a dream.
But what bedevils myself to write,
Elude me once more with the fall of night.
My nightly whimper comes with a toll,
My life upon the page, now bearing my soul.
poem by Adam M. Snow
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The fear...
Yet another blank page I see before me,
Waiting to be bathed in my words,
Emotions spill out like a fountain of feelings,
The emptiness scares me for what if I may not fill it,
What if I cannot bring the light of life to my dreams,
The loneliness of a barren heart failing me,
That I may fall deeper into complete nothingness,
Shall my dreams ever cease to be?
Will my words dry up and my heart wither?
Yet once again my story springs to life upon the page,
And my fear is but a memory...
Spread the love... The peace will follow...
poem by Cosmic Dreamer
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Tabula Rasa
this is a blank wall
or as you wish it, this could be a blank page,
or you may consider this
a blank mind of a child and
you will be teaching him
some things for the first time,
go, scroll, and find something,
do you remember now, why the child is still in pain?
why the walls are stronger? why the blank page still have stains
of blood in there?
some sad memories that refuse to leave?
don't lose hope, there are still more blank spaces of the mind
imagine it to be some kind of a sky
now, put the stars and the moon, and try wishing
someth ing nice and beautiful
like a boat filled with flowers and some light and then silently it sails
on a very peaceful sea like a fine silky cloth covering the dining table
to the place that you always dream to live
forever.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Kill To Breathe
Completing life with cold blank eyes
My final thoughts race through my mind
With some brief visions of what's to come
Is there a light, it is just done?
I'm running away from what I can't explain
A new location, strange vibration from a different time and age
On a trip, in a dream far away, forgetting the preceding day
I'm being chased, can't move
I'm running in place
Running away
These endless days
The words were said, but I can't hear these voices in my head
Am I running away
Can't move, I'm running in place
song performed by by Unwritten Law
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writers Block
The worst thing any writer can experience
is the most dreaded writers block.
Sitting in front of a blank sheet of paper
waiting and waiting for the words to come.
It is the curse of all writers
whether they are good or bad.
The frustration of trying to unblock their mind.
We try it with reading others words or soothing music
hoping to stimulate the little grey cells into working.
However it is never as easy as it sounds
as a writers block can sometimes last for years,
I know that from experience as
I have been down that road before.
Then the inexplicable happens and you pick up a pen
and that blank page is not blank anymore,
it is filled with words galore.
The torture is over and a new start begins.
You give a big sigh of relief as your writing begins again,
but being always weary in case that block comes back again.
14 January 2011
poem by David Harris
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Words Are Cheap
Words are cheap.
Can cheapen and demean.
Meaningless they flow
Flow as cheap wine
And as sour,
They have bitter taste,
Bitter as gall,
And as galling.
Spat out rat a tat tat
They fall from rancid mouths,
dropp on to barren soil.
Ah words they can slide slowly with care,
Red and fleshy from honeyed lips.
The serpent tongued temptress
Who drips poison in the ear.
Words shouted from the chorus
The strident clamour of the crowed.
The swelling cheer that vibrates the bone.
The chatter of those who fear silence
Who fill the passing hour with endless words.
Ah yes words are cheap
But at what price are they bought?
poem by Paul Brookes
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Ode to a Blank Page
Ode to a blank page
It’s blue seemingly thin lines flying across the page
Each producing a small space to place your thoughts on
Next lies the taunting red margin
Baring how sparsely you’ve done
You can strike the page with a single blow
Leaving a mark that did no good
Ode to a blank page
Why do you stare?
Taunting and shrieking in my ear
Emptiness fills the page
The blanks intimidate even the strong
How strong it is
To give a cut even to the toughest skin
Ode to a blank page
You know I’m jealous
How I despise all your characteristics
poem by Rachele ...duhh
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The Blank Space Inside Us
there are blank pages
some say that it is a must that something must be drawn
words to be written
thoughts to stifle, capture,
stuffed,
there is a day that you prefer
to keep a blank sky
a dark sky without stars
no light
when you close your eyes
you are at home with this blank page
words become
invincible
but they are all there
perfectly correct
well viewed by the eyes of your heart
somehow you go beyond
your every
day fences
move away, jump and run towards
an island of light
a patch of green grass
still no stars
pure blank
it is when you do not believe in the power of thoughts
when what preoccupies you
is nothing when you are finally one with all
space
it is too peaceful to even dropp a word
like a pin on
a shiny floor of tiles....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sweetness Of An Angel
In time some see the beauty of life.
A gentle kiss of joy that floods the soul.
Carry a song in your heart isn't easy to do.
Busy days and sleepless nights can take its toll.
Rough times can even make you feel blue.
As I remember the words of an Angel.
There is a time for everything, and it too shall pass.
As a child I sat in wonder! What does this really mean?
A whisper of encouragement, a hint of a dream.
Little did I know that it was words of wisdom.
That it would take me through many years of pain.
The sweetness of an Angel whispering through the rain.
\Happy Mother's Day Mom!
I miss you!
poem by Carlene Maddux
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Serenity
As I sit here and slowly close my eyes
I take another deep breath
And feel the wind pass through my body
I'm the one in your soul
Reflecting in the light
Protect the ones who hold you
Cradling your inner child
I need serenity
In a place where I can hide
I need serenity
Nothing changes, days go by
Where do we go when we just don't know
And how do we relight the flame when it's cold
Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing
And when will we learn to control
Tragic visions slowly stole my life
Tore away everything
Cheating me out of my time
I'm the one who loves you
No matter wrong or right
And every day I hold you
I hold you with my inner child
I need serenity
In a place where I can hide
I need serenity
Nothing changes, days go by
Where do we go when we just don't know
And how do we relight the flame when it's cold
Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing
And when will we learn to control
Where do we go when we just don't know
And how do we relight the flame when it's cold
Why do we dream when our thoughts mean nothing
And when will we learn to control
I need serenity [x2] x4
song performed by by Godsmack
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Red wine, rain and my thoughts
Red wine,
rain
and my thoughts
but there's something missing
how can I say I don't know
everywhere is desolate, and
every corner in this city
hides your image
that makes me more thoughtful.
Red wine,
rain
and my thoughts,
sometimes I can't take a breath
and I can't hold my tears,
day by day living in this city,
without you
that's just meaningless.
Red wine,
rain
and my thoughts,
you are endless hope
all I have in this life
that takes me behind of the worlds
where I've found you with all my heart
Red wine,
rain
and my thoughts,
red wine is my dream
that ornament whole my life,
rain is your voice
that's always in my ears,
and my thoughts is just you who is also me
red wine,
rain
and my thoughts
written by Turgay HINIZ, Agust 2007, Sydney.
poem by Turgay Hiniz
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Box Of Rain
Look out of any window, any morning, any evening, any day.
Maybe the sun is shining, birds are singing,
No rain is falling from a heavy sky.
What do you want me to do, to do for you to see you through?
For this is all a dream we dreamed one afternoon, long ago.
Walk out of any doorway, feel your way, feel your way like the day before.
Maybe youll find direction,
Around some corner where its been waiting to meet you.
What do you want me to do, to watch for you while you are sleeping?
The please dont be surprised when you find me dreaming too.
Look into any eyes you find by you, you can see clear to another day,
Maybe been seen before, through other eyes on other days while going home.
What do you want me to do, to do for you to see you through?
Its all a dream we dreamed one afternoon, long ago.
Walk into splintered sunlight,
Inch your way through dead dreams to another land.
Maybe youre tired and broken,
Your tongue is twisted with words half spoken and thoughts unclear
What do you want me to do, to do for you to see you through?
A box of rain will ease the pain, and love will see you through.
Just a box of rain, wind and water,
Sun and shower, wind and rain,
In and out the window like a moth before a flame.
And its just a box of rain, I dont know who put it there,
Believe it if you need it, or leave it if you dare.
And its just a box of rain, or a ribbon for your hair;
Such a long long time to be gone, and a short time to be there.
song performed by by Grateful Dead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Hate and pain, feelin’ it in my veins.
Hate and pain etched in my mind.
Love and hate are all the same,
Life and death are all our problems, but you treat them as there mine.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death are all the same in my mind.
Life and death are all the same,
Play with fire and get burned.
Accusations flying my way, will they ever stop?
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Slit the wrist and let it flow.
Life and death are all the same.
Life and death, when will it end?
Anger and frustration all boiling to the top.
Vengeance and Violence seems to be the only way.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, is it my turn yet?
Death is living again.
Death is bliss I will never discover.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, a new fire is born.
Death is an eternal fire being blown out.
Death is being free from the shackles of life.
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Slit the wrist and let it flow! !
Life and death, it’s all the same.
Life and death, it’s our destiny.
Death is the only escape.
Death is the forth stomach of a cow.
By Ariel Morris.
poem by Ariel Morris
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A Blank Page Blues
I know we have all done it,
sat in front of a pristine white sheet of paper
and got ready to write something down,
and then we are confronted
with the blank page blues.
The words of inspiration
then scurry and hide away.
You are left with pen in hand,
scratching your head
wondering what to say.
There is no cure for this syndrome;
writers get it all the time.
Some call it a writer’s block,
when nothing comes into your head.
You sit in front of a blank page.
You know what you want to write,
then someone disturbs you
and the words disappear out of sight.
How many times have we had that?
We sit down to write our masterpiece
and the telephone rings,
or someone shouts your dinner is getting cold.
You feel like screaming,
but you take it on the chin.
You lay down your pen,
answer the phone or have your dinner,
and when you come back,
the blank page confronts you.
Still you cannot write anything on it.
You stare at it for hours,
until finally you get tired
and journey off to bed.
Hoping and hoping tomorrow
a little peace, it will bring
and your words on that blank page
will really begin to sing.
10 May 2008
poem by David Harris
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Rain-Dreary Day
I'm chilled to the bone this rainy day.
It's been pouring and pouring my time away.
My words are circling again in my head
while the rain comes down and the worms are fed.
It's the change in temperature that's chilled me so.
It's my change in thinking that takes me low.
I'm a sun-lover whose words come alive
just like sunflower, they seem to thrive.
So I'll warm myself and layer my clothes
and use some tissues to warm my nose.
The warmth of the pen with its ink-like blood
will fill the page while the rain does flood.
And at the end of this rain-dreary day
I'll reflect back and find a way
to warm my bones and welcome my bed,
then cover up the words that were in my head.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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