For Your Attention....
have a little time
to this page
it used to be a blank page
an emptiness, a void, a stare
it is calling for attention
its silence like roots call for more depths
it is not the normal page
that you open and leave
with your wet fingers
and dry tongue
listen with your eyes
let your ears see
this is this poem that perhaps
may not make you sleep....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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Unmarked Page
Unmarked Page
This blank page looks like a snow landscape
a plateau of possibilities, and thoughts not
yet born. II will leave it blank after all snow
will thaw to greenness and the plateau will
bustle of mice, men and Angora goats.
But I may write something on the left hand
corner just a small mark, nothing deep, just
to say halloo and then leave the blankness
to its own silence.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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No Poem In Here
this is a blank space reserved for an obituary of a dead poem
prose claims a space though in another glossy page.
plese turn to the next page
those non-poets like me please transfer to another room
this place is for dead poems for those who killed living poems this page this space is reserved for all of them.
we non-poets are moving out to another empty page
about to be added, if you can wait, mr. poet...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I write, the first blank page, or any blank page, means nothing to me. What means something is a page that has been filled with words.
quote by Guillermo Cabrera Infante
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Book Of Days
Your life is as a book
Written on the pages are the weeks
For you would give anything to take just one look
Into the next chapter, the next page
Each page is a new thought, a new dream
Sometimes it takes so long to pass that page
And sometimes nothing is as it seams
For you know you can not go ahead or back
You know you are where you are
You know you can't change that
As you read page to page, so near to fear
You write the chapters as you go, with each turn
Each turn, each move changes what's to come
And you know each moment could be the last
With this in mind you go so mumb
So numb to the touch, to the thought
You turn page after page
until you reach the 'end'
And only then, you are freed from the title
The title that has kept your thoughts bound, and tight
You turn the pages one by one
You take the pain, take the joy
Until you are done
And your story becomes another on the shelf of eternity
(1/24/2008)
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The Unwritten Silence
The blankness of the page
Stares back at me tormenting
With the wordless expression
Of an unwritten silence
The uninspired imaginings
Stir a void of nothingness
Denying ink drawn from the pen
Where dreamless ideas fail
The numbness of my thoughts
Search in vain for a muse
A potential line cast aside
Too cliché for a verse
The living edit of a poem
Still requires the first word
Yet nothing but stillness
The empty page before me
Torments in wordless expression
My unwritten silence
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Scribbles On A Page
Scribbles on a page…
scribbles on a page…
back of a yellow notebook
torn pages out
let me go home
God!
let me go home
Scribbles on a page…
scribbles on a page…
my little black writing pad
bent cover-spine
let me go home
God!
let me go home
(i think i need a break)
(i think i need to sleep)
poem by Michael Romero
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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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Blank Page
Blank Page
This new blank page, a word processor page, I cannot touch. I ought to leave it this
way, just look at it and dream of what I could have written on it. If I delet the words
I have written now, it will be blank again, no history, no crumbled up sheet of paper
in the wastebasket. For now it is too late but I might erase it when I come to an end.
My wife was in Johannesburg once for surgery, being born in Congo but light skinned
and travelling on a Portuguese passport, she boarded a bus for the blacks.
Great consternation, she was told by police to go on the white only bus since she
was Portuguese. Racism and anti Semitism are so stupid, it makes no sense, one race
thinks it is superior to others. Now it is the Moslems who are feeling the surge
of ignorance. We want them to be more like us and not Insist of doing their own things.
In Israel, for instance the European Jews feel vastly superior to Arab Jews, This in a state
that is an artificial construct. The culture of Europe in the Middle East. We know Israel,
as it exist today must come to an end. So there I said it, this white virtual sheet has been
befouled by an opinion no one wants to know about. So what do I do know? Erase this
page so it is blank again and I can write about the moon?
poem by Oskar Hansen
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What Is These All About?
at 9: 18 p.m.
the head gets the pain
another relief
swallowed
finally you go back
to where you
started
page one
when you said
you do not miss her
page two and three
empty
pages more pages
until you reach
that page where you cried
dried tears at the middle
of the blotted letters
you quickly run your fingers
close the notebook
you stand by the window
at par with the moon.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Author's Inspiration
My fingers do not type the words on the page; they do not draw delusions on a thin piece of white lined paper. They are not meant for the works of art to be used and unworthy for. My fingers are worthy enough to paint pictures inside your cognizance, more than painting a paintless sheet that means nothing to me. My fingers work as if every picture I paint in my mind, inspires them to write the unwritten page, to make it a master piece. But not every inspiration inside my mind, will take merely a second to create. It takes time, patience, and art to smear the writings onto a page. Author inspiration is from what comes from the heart; deep and dark, inspring and light - it's as if it was left inside its cage. No freedom, no light, no darkness, no being of a creature that the render of the paper, simply gave up on inspiring the little ones'. It's as if this mere creature was left within a white blank world. No colors to paint, no words to express. An author inspiration is formed when they see or hear other works of art, whether it's music to their ears, movies they wish to be in, life and feelings that they feel or positioned in, or other writings that they write something else about - but as an inspiration from them. An inspiration can be from anything from the outside world, from what happens inside one's life, to what creates such imagination within one's thoughts that coats the page with color and creativity. Anyone can be talented. Anyone can have an inspiration. You just have to feel and be it.
poem by Alicia Meyers
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When You Know There Is A Poem Within You
WHEN YOU KNOW THERE IS A POEM WITHIN YOU
When you know there is a poem within you-
You can go slowly and wait and listen to yourself,
As the words unfold within your fingers and on the page.
A poem comes
Because Poetry is who you are.
And when you are silent within yourself
Poetry says itself to you
I did not have to do anything,
I only had to listen,
And write this down.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Secret Leaves of My Notebook
Page after page, I wrote your name in my journal,
With flowers and bees drawn in rhythm of blue;
“I love you” I said in calligraphy of black and red,
But no page was ever torn to hand them to you.
Then I sketched your hair down to your shoulder,
And I adore your eyes staring at me so life like;
The curl of your lips that I couldn’t wait to kiss
Got your gentle smile that made me like a thief;
A thief full of wonder when he will ever get caught
By glints of those eyes just for once to lay upon his,
As he pretends to sip his coke just to steal them out
From the silence of your selfishness, he cries! Cries!
So, he jeweled your ears with rather less expensive,
Enough that he drew something as simple as gold,
For he was just a poor boy who cannot afford to give,
Rubies, diamonds, emeralds, pearl s were too bold.
He said, “I love you, ” hangs his heart on your neck,
With same name, same page, same sky, same trick,
And nothing changed and no leaf was ever ripped
In his notebook, you’re his love, his forever secret.
******************
poem by Efren Petalver Carranza
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Nobodys Diary
If I wait for just a second more,
I know Ill forget what I came here for,
My head was so full of things to say,
But as I open my lips all my words slip away
And anyway,
I cant believe you want to turn the page,
And move your life onto another stage,
You can change the chapter you can change the book,
But the story remains the same if youd take a look.
(chorus)
For the times weve had I dont want to be - a page in your diary babe,
For the good, the bad I dont want to see - a page in your diary babe,
For the happy, the sad - I dont want to be another page in your diary.
Perhaps if I held you I could win again,
I could take your hands wed talk and maybe then -
That look in your eyes I always recognise,
Would tell me everything is gonna be fine,
Youre gonna be mine
For a long time...
(repeat above chorus)
song performed by by Yaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nobodys Diary
If I wait for just a second more,
I know Ill forget what I came here for,
My head was so full of things to say,
But as I open my lips all my words slip away
And anyway,
I cant believe you want to turn the page,
And move your life onto another stage,
You can change the chapter you can change the book,
But the story remains the same if youd take a look.
(chorus)
For the times weve had I dont want to be - a page in your diary babe,
For the good, the bad I dont want to see - a page in your diary babe,
For the happy, the sad - I dont want to be another page in your diary.
Perhaps if I held you I could win again,
I could take your hands wed talk and maybe then -
That look in your eyes I always recognise,
Would tell me everything is gonna be fine,
Youre gonna be mine
For a long time...
(repeat above chorus)
song performed by by Yaz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just The Way It Is....
this morning i bring a book
under a tree
and i begin to read
every page
the sun comes up
the sun comes down
I've done my duty to keep the peace of this world
to try to understand what complications
mankind has made
i am simplifying what i can do to make this world
a place for us
page by page
word to word
cover to cover
tonight i will go back to my room
sleep on my bed
it will be cold and dark
just the way it is.....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Young
In the misery dictionary
Page after page after page
In the misery dictionary
Page after page
Where theres life theres gotta be hope
And where theres a will theres a way
One mans in is anothers out
I gotta get out today
Where theres life theres gotta be hope
And where theres a will theres a way
Amid divisions youre so low
You know I gotta get out today
In the misery dictionary
Page after page after page
In the misery dictionary
Page after page
And where theres a will theres a way
song performed by by Stone Roses
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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