En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Insect

Insect.

On my blue lined writing pad a tiny insect walks,
it appears lost and hesitates before crossing a line,
lost in this vast wilderness of the unwritten.
I try to blow it off the paper, but somehow glues
itself to the paper and will not budge.
I cannot touch it tiny as it is I will surely squash it.
Nothing I can do for now, leave it to its own devise,
go watch TV. When I returned it has gone, a sheet
of paper with nothing written on is a lonely place
and has no story to tell.

poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poem About Excitement To Something Huge And Spread Like Space

i am tiny, like a nit

wit, and i look at you

spread like wall paper on the wall

something is beautiful there
like a face

something in there excites me
like a pulse on my wrist

i am tiny and i feel so tiny
watching you

like a wall paper on the wall, you
are indifferent

i am excited like a chick hatching from
a shell

i am growing feathers
like a chicken

something in you is so huge like a world
that i have never been

i am excited like a puppy to my master
getting out of his car

i love this feeling, this tiny feeling
this world that is expanding

you are my world now, and i fall into
a regret,

when tiny becomes lost
and when the hands melt while groping for the
truth

about beauty that is lost
about existence that is deleted

simply because you are too huge
like space

and i, this atom, unseen,
colliding,
invincible, and now unknown.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper Boy

Roy orbison
I walk down to the blue side of town
Where there's no happiness, no joy
Down at the end of a long dark street
I saw a little paper boy
Paper boy paper boy
I've got bad news for you
Paper boy paper boy
Me and my baby are through
She was my love my one and only
I feel so bad i'm oh so lonely
I'm looking for my love
I've got my own headlines for today
They've been the same since she went away
"one dark haired angel disappears
She's been missing for a million years"
Paper boy paper boy
So long goodbye
Paper boy paper boy
Thanks for listening while i cry
I feel a little better now that someone knows
But i will go on looking forever, i suppose
I'm looking for my love
Extra extra read all about it
My baby's gone and i wanna shout it
I'm looking for my love
I'm looking for my love
I'm looking for my love....

song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
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Paper

Hold the paper up to the light
(some rays pass right through)
Expose yourself out there for a minute
(some rays pass right through)
Take a little rest when the rays pass through
Take a little time off when the rays pass through
Go ahead and mis it up...go ahead and tie it up
In a long distance telephone call
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on becuase its been taken care of
Hold on to that paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
Had a love affair but it was only paper
(some rays they pass right through)
Had a lot of fun, could have been a lot better
(some rays they pass right through)
Take a little consideration, take every combination
Take a few weeks off, make it tighter, tighter
But it was never, it was never written down
Still might be a chance that it might work out (if you)
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on because itll be taken care of
Hold on to that paper
Dont think I can fit it on the paper
Dont think I can get it on the paper
Go ahead and rip up, rip up the paper
Go ahead and tear up, tear up the paper

song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Upon this paper my life is written

Upon this paper my life is written,
a tree doubled over in pain.
The red ink flows over the skin,
full stops and commas are hair and stars:
eyes of sea left on ships,
destroyed houses, rusting girders.
This paper is as black as the storm,
destroyed villages where there is no fiesta.
This paper burns as reason does,
lightning in the sky flashes in its millions.
This paper is a sky where there is no God,
this paper is alone…
this paper does not fly…
this paper… it is I.

poem by Menotti Lerro from The Poetry of Menotti Lerro (2011), translated by Andrew Mangham, Maria Rosaria La Marca
Submitted by anonym
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And then the paper is dirty

You start with a clean sheet of paper
Write some words, scribble, draw some lines
Some curves, sharp lines, tangent to bold
Lines, and rough sketches of faces and
Bodies, thin lines that get crooked from
End to end of this limited space,
You doodle, you get wild with so
Many lines unimaginable, senseless,
The paper finally looks dirty,
And you do not like it, you crumple
It and throw it in a waste basket,

You get another clean sheet,
And this time, you think what is
It really that you want to make
Out of this new clean sheet of paper.

You think, you ponder, and you need
More time this time not to waste
This clean, glossy sheet of paper.

I think you are doing well with your life.
You see you are supposed to be careful

Every word is delicate and every paper
Is actually accounted.

Never mind guilt, set it aside for a while.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Bottle

I swam out to an island once
It wasn't that far off
A mile, perhaps a little more
For sure it twas enough
I went to see if I could find
A place upon the sand
Where I might sit in silence
And seek out the great I Am

And all the blues and all the greens
Began to come together
I wanted to take hold of it
And no not leave, not ever
For there are spaces in our lives
When doubt is held at bay
And just for half one second
Understanding comes our way

When He is me and I am Him
And heavens in our lungs
That measurement of great or small
Is equal cause we're One
And we can visualize a place
Where love is so divine
And hate and war and grief and death
Are tossed like sour wine

And just when I was at that place
Where God was in my hand
There came a wayward bottle
I could see and in it had
A rolled up peice paper
With a tiny rubber band

I didn't want to open it
Disturb this litte vase
But what if this was meant to be
Gods rightful time and place
So straight away the cork came off
And I began to wonder
Was it written by a castaway
Or some forlorn lost lover?

And on the piece of paper
Dated 1942
Was the story of a soldier
In a place called Vanatu
And while on base he missed his love
And he was feeling blue
And hoped the waves would make it drown
Till reading made it new

And on this little island
Where I went to find a cure
I realized all the time that'd passed
And he was dead for sure
I took the glassy capsule
With much thought to what'd occurred
And in my mind I saw myself
Pretending I was her

Written by Sara Fielder © 2011

poem by Sara Fielder
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper

Paper promises, Dunstead said,
paper cups, wallpaper being stuck

up on the wall for the next to last
time, paper tigers, paper to wipe

the ass and best of all paper to
create art, to have it from the heart,

to see it out there, being gazed at,
studied by some bearded guy with

glasses and paper money to buy
the next paper to create and then

if I’m lucky the muse turning up on
time and giving me the big nudge

in the right direction or some paper
picture of some nude dame giving

the long time wished for erection.

poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words on paper

Words on paper
~
Just words on paper
Where a story is told
An emotion revealed
Or a love laid to rest
Where a dream begins
An ambition is spoken
Perhaps a whim of fancy
Takes charge of the pen
To write what is written
Letters forming words
Shapley and beautiful
Expressions of a soul
Or a mind at play
There across the page
Words on paper
Written to have their say

poem by Matthew Holloway
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Written in Black Ink

Upon
The tear-stained
Paper

She writes

Writes,
Her story

Her experiences
Her life

Written in
Black ink

Upon
The tear-stained
Paper

She writes

Writes,
Her sorrows

People she lost
People who are gone

Written in
Black ink

She writes for
Days and
Days

Until
At last
Her masterpiece

Is finished

Her eyes Begin to
Close and
Oblivion Takes hold

And when she
Awakens
Her story will be written

Written in black ink

poem by Autumn Winds
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Blank Mocking Paper

I stare at this paper so white
I just don't know what's so right
I want to write on it
I would love to write a sonnet
I just am alone with the green lines
The red now just starts to shine
Blank as my mind is this sheet
Please can my pen and it just meet
Instead of me sitting here dumbstruck
As if I almost got hit by a truck
Ink blue as the sky not writing
Instead on its end I keep biting
I don't want to right about a caper
So I’ll just stare at this Blank Mocking Paper

poem by Zachary Clark
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Burnt Paper

it is a cut-out paper
thin
delicate white
sharp

it is my world
apart from yours

i stay away from
rain

put my paper feet
on wood

as you pretend to be
the woman of
my pen

you touch
but what you touch is just
my paper
me

i have no more flesh
no bone

the years have eaten them
all

it cut-out from a shape
of your desire

i am burnt.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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a poem for Rosie

the castle of paper
that we create from a
sheet of white
bond paper
stands on the brown
table
tall and proud so
they say
but we know Rosie
that this is just plain
creativity
could be a way of
expressing your
self's discontent of the
surroundings
the foul air
the heavy rain that
seems not to stop
the muddy path
to the market and the
church
betraying fate
and foolish friends
but you know Rosie
very well that nothing
lasts forever
the water paper
the paper castle
gathers dusts
and soon we are fed up
on this
i am going away and
you too
but we shall not
be together for i also
get fed up
on you as you shall soon
to me.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Dot On White Sheet!

Green leaves of spring are not there;
Colourful flowers of all seasons are gone;
Only white snow covers all in winter!
Winter snow thick or thin is white sheet
That covers all colourful things long!

Scrubbing snow on the road is a daily exercise
To clear route for all vehicles to go smooth;
All covered with fur cloth move in the street;
This white snow is like a white sheet of paper;
All the movements on it are the dots of scribble!

Writers are hungry of white paper to write on;
Poets are fond of writing poems on white sheet;
And the matters on white paper are men on snow;
But nobody likes winter as all are for colourful life!

poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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For You, My Dear, When You Are So Blank

white sheet. a paper. like you.
iwant to write something
just to fill this white sheet a little bit
some words. i can utter them.
but i like writing them
just to make this white sheet looking
full. like

'i love you'.

the rest need not be written.
i know you know and you know that i know.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Something

I'm writing in hope for something with sweet melody,
A rhythm that can be felt,
A beauty that can be read.
With words flowing like water over rocks,
Steadily without fault or obstruction.
A liquid in its purest state.

I'm writing in hope for something with sweet remembrance,
Like the scent of falling rain,
Or the memorable sound of a mothers cooing voice.
Something so memorable,
The slightest reminder sends you back to the exact moment,
Replaying in unbroken pattern of mind.

I'm writing in hope for something spectacular to happen,
For my words to form a feeling so deep they hurt,
For each image to be as clear as these words on this paper.
I want you to feel what I feel,
A feeling of lonely discontent,
Sitting alone in my own my own world, writing away.

I am writing this in hope for something to stick with you,
A message or a meaning that I've hidden inside a syllable,
A voice of reason that you have kept from yourself,
Silenced with the voice of your shallow desires.
A dream that you once had forgotten,
Lost in the darkness of the night.

I am writing this in hope for something to be brought to light.
Maybe a buried thought that you wish you never had,
Or an inner conflict that you hadn't noticed but feel tearing apart your skin,
Even an aspiration you promised to live up to but left to die.
Something so lost in the world of your mind,
Swallowed by deep chasms of thought and memory.

I am writing this in hope of telling a story.
The story of a world that can only be imagined in a dark room,
Hidden from the world and apart from anything else.
The story of a broken heart of a shortened life,
The story of the silent cries of a lost soul reaching for sanity.
My own story, perhaps, or even yours, is this your story?

I am writing in hope of making your thoughts and feelings dance,
A slow and steady music in the background,
Propelling your eyes left to right and back again.
Following the steps of each word,
The flow off each line and stanza.
An endless waltz with the reader and the writer, will you dance with me?

I am writing in hope of making an impression on your mind,
Maybe not an everlasting one, but even just a brief moment,
A moment of realization that you are now reading what I have written,
That for one moment in time our minds share the same space and thought,
Each word playing in our head the same as the other's.
Can you hear my voice, can you feel my thoughts?

I don't know why I am writing, or why I am writing what I am writing,
But I know that it has accomplished one thing,
It has given a purpose to something, if even just a piece of paper,
It has given worth to something that at one point was just a blank sheet,
Waiting for something to be etched into its surface, making it something.
I guess that's why I'm writing, I'm just writing; something.

poem by Bethany Maxwell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Paper-boat just on the Sea!

A paper-boat, I tend to be!
The sea of life is too stormy;
Afraid I am, it could sink me,
Before I can reach land’s safety!

But if He wants, the Almighty,
Could work miracles still for me;
And guide the boat to shore safely,
And keep me dry eternally!

A paper-boat just on the sea!
How can it float for long freely?
And when the sea becomes angry,
Can it escape its cruelty?

But all the same, I move slowly;
Nothing on earth can deter me;
Unless something so cowardly,
Drenches the boat mercilessly.

A paper-boat just on the sea!
I know I must make it surely;
And when I reach the shore, may be,
I will feel immensely happy!

A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Who else would want to be like me?
God is my guide and my safety;
In Him, I have strong faith truly!

A paper-boat just on the sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be;
A paper-boat, I want to be-
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-26-2000

poem by John Celes
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Blank Sheet Of Paper

I'm just a blank sheet of paper
This fool's about to write you a letter
To tell you that he's sorry
For the way he did you wrong
To ask for forgiveness
For leaving you alone
He's been looking down at me seems like forever
he takes the top on and off his pen
It's like he can't decide
Just what he wants to say
If he'd just tell the truth
I'd be on my way
Chorus
But he just stares at me
And i just stare at him
He don't know where to start
To say he doesn't want it to end
And now it's one hour later (four hours later)
I am still a blank sheet of paper
Sunlight is shining through the curtains
He's almost asleep pen in hand
There's a tear in his eye
That refuses to fall
If it would land on me
That would say it all
Repeat Chorus
And he just stares at me
And i just stare at him
He don't know where to start
To say he wants it back again
And now one broken heart later
I am still a Blank sheet of paper

song performed by by Tim McGraw
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A sensual scribble

I was the scribe who woke up at dawn
Finding a clean sheet of paper
And this glossy sort of ballpoint pen
Having the urge to write
Something sensual
My fingers spread the paper
On this table
Where there is so much disorder
Some paper clips and
Floppy discs scattered
Scotch tapes and mail openers
And some still unopened mails
That I did not mind
Not my priority

I was into something sensual
On this clean sheet of paper
On an urge to write
Grabbed this glossy sort of ballpoint pen
And start scribbling
Some lovely head notes
“My dear darling”
Careful strokes in curves
Sliding on paper
My fingers are wildly
Caressing to the shapes of
Sensual letters and words
And breathtaking sentences

“You know that you make me
Hot and you make me wild
And I always remember you”

And I am at the middle
Of so much longing
Using such letters

U and I
And w and e

Lots of ohs and ahs

And s and e and x
L and o and v and e

To make sense
Without pretense

Some exclamations
And pauses of commas and
Semicolons spread on some
Corners of this paper
With so much
Unstoppable anticipation

Somewhere in the center
I pierced this paper
With this glossy ballpoint pen
Writing something
Emphatic
Clinching
And I was at the height
Of my desiring and
So much liking
Something ecstatic
And calming
At the end

It was a beautiful piece
Of a scribble
Written at dawn

And I wrote at the end part there
“With all my love I remain
Your faithful slave”

And a postscript at the tip
Of my tongue
Written with a nip

“When will I see you again? ”

The letter shall be mailed at once
She will understand that pierce
Somewhere at the center something
That was ecstatic and she will remember
Every letter every word was an ember embedded.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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