Related quotes: there is a little pain...

A Little Discomfort

there is a little pain
that goes on and on
and on,
a prick at the finger
tip, a pressure on the
toe, something steps
at you,
an idea
a discomfort of your
mind,
you write it
it rebels
the description is
short of what it
really is

and this is always
everyday
at dawn you wake
up
some luminous
letters are dancing
above your
head
glowing like
fireflies
tumbling and
whirling and
staring
at times

you write about it
again
but they melt
like your
dreams

on the floor
there is nothing
left

some dusts you
breathe
from the
dark carpet

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Why Do I Write

I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go

I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain

At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down

I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it

I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
I write just because I am

poem by Wilfred Mellers
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I Write And I Will Always Write

i write not because i want to be famous
fame has its own place to take care of itself

i write not because i want to educate
people educate themselves and most of them are educated enough

with or without me
with or without my poems

i write not because i want to express my feelings
or display all my emotions like some sort of fireworks on the 4th of July

(maybe for quite a time i was that
a man making a ventilation
a fume looking for an opening
a pressure looking for a window
a failure seeking a redemption
a penalty asking for a reprieve
a criminal begging for pardon
a rebel detained and wishing for
pardon...

a ship looking for a destination
an island asking for its own place under the sun
a sigh desperately waiting for the mouth

whatever...

but now i begin to think so deeply
why do i write? and why do i write everyday?

and why poems? why not a novel or a short story?
or an essay on the fate of men
the conflicts within them
the wars that they have to face everyday
their deaths and
resurrections

their erections and negations
the women and their seductions
the world in its glory
history and its memory

i write because i owe my life to poetry
it has saved me from my misfortunes

i write because i want to thank the poems
i write because

i just want to say: thanks,
to express this eternal gratitude
now, that

i am still alive.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dancing In The Sunshine Of The Dark

Lets get the message across
Crazy christan nightmare men
Dont come here in the house of pain
Or we will cause you misery and shame
When I get you in these arms
The partys over...
6.30 in the morning
Wake up its time to go
A priest, a smile
Names in a file
Last act of the show
Can you hear them coming
Keys ring cross the floor
Dont worry bout tomorrow
Cause you know what they came for
And here we go
Here we go
Dancing in the sunshine of the dark
Here we go
Dancing in the sunshine of the dark
Two cops youve sent to heaven
And now its time to follow
You dont mind they should have known
A bullets hard to swallow
One last wish is granted
Kind of last romance
Lock your cell take off your shoes
And then you start to dance
And here we go
Here we go
Dancing in the sunshine of the dark
Here we go
Dancing in the sunshine of the dark
Yeah
Someones gonna miss you
Throw flowers on your grave
Dance your soul out of your body
Smile brother be brave
Five steps to the gallow
And a direct slide to hell
Enjoy your last steps in the light
Before you leave the cell
Here we go
Yeah
Dancing in the sunshine of the dark
Here we go
Dancing in the sunshine of the dark

song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Always, After Something, Comes A Void

always, after something is done,
a word written
on paper, filling in the blank sheet
with something, there is always that
void, which comes next, asking

why? and telling you
there is still something left out there
and you must look for it

a pin? a button, or a lock of hair
things getting smaller
than your nail and you
try to voice it out

tonight? No. Tomorrow morning.
No. At dawn when everything is
silent and you have all the power
to think, and grope and
dig and crawl into the recesses
of your brain.

write me, write me, i am almost
dead. Says the letters scattered
on your bed.

you want to sleep. They fly like
fireflies above your face
and they dance in circles.

you are tired. Your eyes
close like the rock that
kept the dead body
of Christ.

yes. at 3 a.m. again.
leave me.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The style of writing The style of writing The style of writing The style of writing The style of writing

Write long but not to be lengthy.
Write short but not to be ambiguous
How you write highlights what you write.
Write and keep in mind for whom.
04.02.2003

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Write Me

Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.

song performed by by Aerosmith
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Words

words comfort me
like fairies in my forest
at night
when everything is dark
and cold
and lonely
words are like fireflies
on the trees
perhaps
on this therapy
i have become a slave
to words
everyday they command
that i write them
forms of worship
terms of endearment
and for such love
and affection
i have become a word
myself
man of letters
sounding like
syllables

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thoughts Whirling

The need to write
Get rid of these mixes mass of thought
What to write?
Yes, something is amiss!
Talking is not enough
Yet thoughts whirling in my head
Unaware of revelling in the words
Which flow from this pen?
Still no words
Not sure what to write
Yet here it is
A whole massed mess of words
For all to read
Thought this medley of words
Brought some calmness
Shoulders more relaxed
Fragments of each thought
Clear as daylight
This muddled mass of thoughts
A verse created
By, a whirling mind

poem by Persian Khushi
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Thoughts Whirling

The need to write
Get rid of these mixes mass of thought
What to write?
Yes, something is amiss!
Talking is not enough
Yet thoughts whirling in my head
Unaware of revelling in the words
Which flow from this pen
Still no words
Not sure what to write
Yet here it is
A whole massed mess of words
For all to read
Thought this medley of words
Brought some calmness
Shoulders more relaxed
Fragments of each thought
Clear as daylight
This muddled mass of thoughts
A verse created
By, a whirling mind

poem by Persian Khushi
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Write

Write, keep writing lot
Write, write before you forget
Write, make it as reminder
Write, write before words disappear
Write, for you to contemplate
Write, write before your mind changed

poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Lost In The Music

the music you write
makes my mind soar
the music you write
makes me want to dance
the music you write
is like a lullaby
the music you write
makes my heart jump
the music you write
makes me want to hear it again
the music you write
is like a shooting star
the music you write
makes me fall in love with you
the music you write
is like a shower in a drought
the music you write
is like a dream that i don't want to wake up from
i get lost in the music you write

poem by Brittney Crozier
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The Wicked Postman

Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?
The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.
Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother
to come home from school.
What has happened to you that you look so strange?
Haven't you got a letter from father today?
I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.
Only father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.
But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.
Tomorrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.
I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find
a single mistake.
I shall write from A right up to K.
But, mother, why do you smile?
You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!
But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.
When I finish my writing do you think I shall be so foolish
as father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?
I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.
I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.

poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Why I Write?

I write poems for myself and I write for the readers
I write for the masses and I write for the leaders
I write to imprint my thoughts in people's mind
I write to make the bad guys helpful and kind
I write to light up our path to Great God
I write for everyone home and abroad
I write to preserve values new and old
I write to make my ink precious like gold
I write for peace and I write for progress
I write to make the world a better place
All major issues I want to address
I write to see smile on God's face

poem by Asif Andalib
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That Naked Birthday Cake

the best hour to think
is this

3 o'clock
when it is still dark

when finally dusk breaks
the famed virginity of
a morning
light

it is the perfect
time when your mind
is like glass
with frost

and you write your pains in bold letters
using your index finger

no one reads it
and then the mist outside
as it is still very cold
covers all the letters again

the way you like
the icing so sweet that your dear mother
once put
on your naked birthday cake

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Some Stories

some stories
about ourselves
are also the stories of
themselves
and then we write
these stories and
pretend that these are
but some short stories
from our mind

now in different names
and places
we read them and then
we wish that some of
these short stories
are not true at all

sometimes for those
we want to be
we want to believe
them to be true

wishes and hopes and
regrets, what if? what if i
chose that rather than this?

we poets write about pain
and joys and we tell sometimes
that we only fake them

deep inside we are silent
we prefer just to be left alone

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Here I write about myself

Here I write about myself
and at times my personality is far too strong
my leadership wants to take control
wants to cut into conversations,
wants to teach people,
wants to get involved,
to make a better place out of the world
and all the time I am learning
how other poets brew their words

and maybe my spirit
is just too bold
and I am looking right through the enchantment
of beautiful ladies

and marsh right through
until I get my target
as if determination
locks her claws around me

and to one I stay true
as if I am a saint
and her soul is driving me deeper.

I know no fear
as war has changed
my humanity

and when I write poems,
I am myself,
at other times a spectator
who measures out time and space,
keeps book of the pain,
tear through rottenness
and illustrate beauty

and in vain I try
to walk in the steps
of the big word master,
as a true follower

but with my own talent
and the whole time
my feet comes down
like military boots in the right pace
but following a different march
as if I do not know
how to parade my poems

l’Envoi
and here I write about myself,
about how my life is

and when I get home
I listen to the voices
of Dylan Thomas,
Douglas Livingstone
and every great poet
that I can lay my hands on,
see what are written in their works

before I grab a glowing hammer
and hit words into forms
as if I can melt
thunder and fire together
to words that stays crackling.

poem by Gert Strydom
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How Do You Write Poetry

There is a question I am often asked,
of which I have no answer for at all.
The question is a simple one,
how do you write poetry?
To be honest I haven’t got a clue.
With me the words just trickle out
one after the other,
if they rhyme that is great
and if they don’t, I just scratch my head.
I cannot tell anyone how to write,
for me it’s just a natural thing.
I write almost everything,
novels, short stories, poems and songs.
I have even written a couple of plays,
but that was a long, long time ago.
However to tell anyone how to write,
I would not know where to begin.
The answer I give to the question is simple;
write whatever you like good or bad.
It’s yours and be proud of it
no matter what anyone else has to say.
The more you write the better you will get.
However, the most important thing
that you should always remember and that is
that you write, write, and write!

9 November 2011

poem by David Harris
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