I Write Happiness Too, Once
happy lines
they come dancing
and singing
inside my paper
but soon
happiness
gets boring too
like
a bubble gum
in my tongue
then i write
about despair
tears
wetting my paper
and
blank stares
drying them
and i pretend
i am lost
to make things
more melodramatic
but soon
despair gets boring
too and
we get tired of each
other
we decided to split
despair and i
i and happiness
well, i learned
about feelings
now i decided
to write the truth
about existence
beyond feelings
i become
one observation tower
and you become planes
and passengers
and fields and clouds
and empty skies
just to see and write
without me
having any involvement
yes, the phenomenon
unfolding and here i am
plainly seeing all of them
and you and them and everything
and it will keep on going
till the end when my eyes close and cannot
therefore see.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Just A Blank Page In Front Of Me
I sit here at my desk
trying to figure out a line to write,
inspiration seems to have deserted me tonight.
I hear no strings of love;
feel no emotions deep,
just a blank paper in front of me.
Each word I write seems to stop there,
no further words follow.
I’m in despair.
What happed to the happy words I want to write,
the feelings I want to express?
Gone I’m afraid for tonight.
Let us hope they return
at tomorrows dawning light.
poem by David Harris
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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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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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But Don't Despair
Despair, if you must –
But how's it going to pull you through?
Despair, when you trust
Naught since then there's naught to do.
Despair, should you thrust
Aside your pride, your self-esteem.
And so despair, if it's dust,
The only substance that you deem.
Despair, when a gust
Of slightly breeze can break your stance.
And do despair, when lust
Is your interpretation of romance.
But don't despair, if you can care
About the plight of any other being.
And you can focus on the help,
Support, and altruistic further actions
For the seeing. Be believing,
As despair will start receding
All around – simply since you found
A way to steer you clear
From this: the very cause of your despair!
So give to others; give them all a helping lift:
Despair, you'll find will disappear –
And that has got to be a well-deserved
And saintly gift!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
Rain of despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
despair despair despair despair despair despair despair
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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All The Lines Of Despair
ALL THE LINES OF DESPAIR
All the lines of despair
Are only a game to me.
In my heart always
Is the joy
Of writing the words down.
Every poem is happiness to me
When I write I am free.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Once Again I Write...
This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
I write to save my sanity.
I write to ease my heart.
I write to cleanse my soul.
I write to feel alive.
I write to keep my mind strong and my thoughts clear.
I write my words of sorrow, despair, pain, and love, as well as words of wisdom.
I write so that one day someone will truly know me.
This paper, this pen is once again my inspiration.
It is the inspiration to what I see.
It is the inspiration to what I hear.
It is the inspiration to what I feel.
It is the inspiration to the art I create.
It is the inspiration to what I draw.
It is the inspiration to the love for my daughter.
It is the inspiration to the love for my husband.
This pen, this paper is once again my savior.
Once again I write to say thank you my timeless friends.
Thank you for saving me time and time again.
poem by Sara Jo Andrews
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Despair Is Darkness
DESPAIR IS DARKNESS
Despair is darkness-
Despair is death inside and death in the world and death in one’s own sad soul-
Despair is no way out -
Despair is the place where one is forever stuck -
Despair is the realization that one has done what one could – and one is not going anywhere else-
Despair is the admission of failure-
Despair is no sign of help anywhere around-
Despair is so much lost-
Despair is one‘s life is over-
Despair is regret-
Despair is the sense that one will never have the time to have another chance -
Despair is ‘it’s finished’-
Despair is no way out-
Despair is going down and more down and more dark and more afraid all the time -
Despair is the scream which hurts and does not stop the hurting -
Despair is the understanding that even Death will not save one -
Despair is that the pain will never end-not even with death.
Despair is no way out again and again and again- without end.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Despair Of The Early Morning
DESPAIR OF THE EARLY MORNING
Despair of the early morning
Despair of the darkness
Despair of the Despair
Despair of Old Age
Despair of the road closed
Despair of nothing to do
Despair of nowhere to go
Despair of endless errands
Despair of money running out
Despair of the message of Despair
One transmits to those one loves.
Despair that has to be resisted
Despair that the light of the day
Will help me overcome
Despair I will pray my way out of
Despair I will in the course of the day
Sometime overcome.
Not the great Despair
The unending Despair
The final Despair.
The small Despair of who I am and where I am now.
The Despair that still can be resisted,
By the writing of a few awkward lines
Early in the morning.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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My Shit Poetry
I would much rather stare at a blank page
Than read the shit poetry I write. Everything is
Lost in translation, coagulated
And dry, I write this. A formulaic
Thought is forgotten and skewed, I can't
Explain this. Head in my hands, anger through
My veins, despair and aggravation, this
Is what my shit poetry creates for me?
Or is this despair and aggravation why
I write this shit poetry of mine?
poem by Ryan Sanders
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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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Turning Emotions into Fiction
Another story I tell
Words are my weapons
With what I write
Pages worn, crumbled, and kind of worn
It's another creature creeping out from the night
It's the stars shooting across the twilight
I build a foundation for life
With feeling of anger, and rage
Its a scary thriller
With feelings of love and happiness
Its a happily ever after
With feelings of guilt and pity
Its a accidental murder she wrote
With the feeling, with so many feeling
How do I describe?
What I can't with my own tongue
Lips are sealed
Secret are buried
Never to be revealed
How can I be fully healed?
When I have no one to deal with it
Acceptance is only part of the bigger picture
I just can't see it all yet
But its their like a plaguing despair
Hiding within the air
I can taste it
Bitter as it can be
A sour apple is good for the mind
But only if you eat it slowly away
Pretend your okay
But the soul is still destroyed
Emotionally wrecked
A reality check
How come dreams taste so sweet?
Face it
Face the truth
Demons captured on the inside
The bottled up hate burns
Its still trying to escape
But all that falls
Are my tears of feelings that will soon disappear
poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
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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
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I Wanted To Write A Song Of Happiness For You
I WANTED TO WRITE A SONG OF HAPPINESS FOR YOU
I wanted to write a song of Happiness for you
But one cannot write a song of happiness
If one is so so afraid.
All I can write
Is the story of a small mind
That lost itself
In an endless universe
Which has no tears.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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I want to write
I want to write, something nice, but nothing comes to mind. Today words are unkind and will not come out from where they normally hide.
Today I want to write, write something nice, and make someone smile, to look forward to a lovely day and an even more an exciting night.
Words of the powerful mind, tell me where you hide, where in the world can I find, find you to create a masterpiece, burn paper with ink, write till I no more blink, as you take me to a place of so many tears, peaceful sleeps, sorrow, happiness, and enchanted dreams…
I want to write, something nice, but nothing comes to mind. Words have deserted me, why are they so unkind and will not come out from where they normally hide…
poem by Thato Maluleka
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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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Happiness...Despair
While happiness is the twin sibling of
despair, it is despair that is
the stronger of the two.
In life. happiness are but fleeting moments.
Despair lurks forever in the shadows
of our mind and our hearts...until the
final darkness.
A Poem For Those Who Are Sad
did Octavio say that happiness
and charm are cliches?
did he really mean that he
shall write about those who
labor in pain
about those who stopped
smiling because of the
harsh rain
about those who hide
because of the coming storm?
he could be right
not writing about the cliches of
happy days
for they have all enough
that make the sweet syrups
of their eating lives
let me write a poem for those
who are sad
for those who have less
let me write about the opening
of a flower
about the butterflies moving
out from their cocoons
let me write about the
end of the bitter days
for they have less and now
they may have more
through my lines
let me write about the
rising of the sun
the waking up of the boy
from his sleep
and the beginning
of his play on the yard
with his bike
let me write more
about what i really like...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cacoethes Scribendi
If all the trees in all the woods were men;
And each and every blade of grass a pen;
If every leaf on every shrub and tree
Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea
Were changed to ink, and all earth's living tribes
Had nothing else to do but act as scribes,
And for ten thousand ages, day and night,
The human race should write, and write, and write,
Till all the pens and paper were used up,
And the huge inkstand was an empty cup,
Still would the scribblers clustered round its brink
Call for more pens, more paper, and more ink.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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The time I discovered myself a Poet
I wouldnt say I was patient
but I have an interest in poetry
Is it the dawning of a new error
or will the sky be grey
I write how I see life and it is not always pleasant
I like to write abou experiences that I have been through
my poetry has changed as I ave changed
I see it as a hobby as I write in my grange
My poetry is mainly fiction but I also write about things that are true
I am not a person that would share alot of enthusiasim
poetry is a work of art
on each sheet of blank paper
I put my mark
Poetry is simple in this world of sin
I am not into shakesphere
what I write is authentic
the imagination on paper creates magic
a poem can change an atmosphere
I would like to say my poems mean something
my poems are meant to sting a mind
I want my poems to create pictures for people who are blind
poem by Natasha Browne
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It Was A Decision Made
Everytime I begin to write,
I have an encounter with reality.
Something within me validates with a scrutiny,
What there is I believe I am provoked to say.
As if to preview the doing before it is released.
I am often asked if I like to write.
And I never gave what I've been doing all my life,
That much thought.
I do not premeditate a doing.
It is as natural to me as using the bathroom.
It was not I that decided I would write.
It was a decision made.
It was not I that decided I would be creative.
It was a decision made.
It was not I that decided I was to be born.
But then...
Sometimes I feel a need to debate it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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