On Writing
unlike those who have already names
encrypted in royal tablets
i, this candid, good-for-nothing
scribbler
servant of the simple words,
direct from the heart
a knife of my mind
stabbing sleepy somethings
and someone Else's
hereby offer you the most straightforward request
that for you to be one of us
there is only one thing to do
think for yourself and write for yourself
and do the things you like to do with sincerity
you may read much
a roomful of books written by those who had been there
centuries ahead of us
but always take note
you are either more or less than them
perhaps in reality
much lesser and this will be a big
dismay
a retrogression
a depression for not being one with/of them
in tone and performance
they are expert acrobats in the theater of words
as you begin this journey finally
relax, be cool, as i am telling you,
begin from the heart
walk with the free and open mind
let your hands fall freely
beside your thighs and then step outside the door
take that walk casually
as though you are heading for nowhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
You Want Me To Simplify My Life..to Be
to be just
simple and say clearly what i what you to understand
less words perhaps
no signs no picture even
just a glance or a touch or a tap on the shoulder
to be direct, candid, straighforward
to tell the truth, this truth and nothing but the truth
no words
how can i tell you? how can i give you the signs
how can i be direct and candid and straightforward
how can i ever tell the truth
when all these years i do not know anymore
about anything
when what i know is only to survive
at all costs
do you think that i still have the truth or the courage to tell you
about it
the truth? do you really need the truth inorder to live?
tell me, why and what?
learn first and teach me how
let us perhaps begin again from the time when we were born
from the time when we first give them our
big cry.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Love Letter
She wonders how to begin her letter
She knows he will read each word
Greedily for any hint of love. She knows
He will sniff the paper for any scent of her
She leans an elbow on her writing desk
And clutches her pen tight. She has got
As far as, Dear John, but then the words
Stopped coming. Before she had sat down
To write, the words flowed through her
Mind like a rushing stream, now nothing
She sucks the end of the pen. Say what
You would if you were face to face, her
Mother always said. She tries to imagine
He is there before her and what she would
Say if he was, but still no words will come
He writes to her so fluently when he writes
He always seems to know what to write
And how to put it into words. She tries again
Puts the pen nib onto the paper, gripping
The pen tighter. She reads what she’s written
Dear John. The pen moves, the words begin
To flow, her hand moves across the page
The images come into her mind as she writes
The things that they said last time they met
The things they did, she blushes slightly
That almost being caught out by the maid
In a state of undress. She pauses the pen
And sits gazing at the painting on the wall.
She looks back at the paper and starts again
The words tripping over themselves to be put
Down in ink upon a page; the images open up
In her mind, the colours, the smells, the events
The pen now stops. The love letter is written
The writing done. She looks at the words
Then she seals it in an envelope and writes
His address. She pictures him reading it: in bed
In his room, sleepy, in a state of his usual undress
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Purpose Of Metaphors
you like to be candid
and yet no matter what honest words
in the most simple terms
they still
refuse to understand what you really
want to mean
to say
you shall meet metaphors
those that go inside them
their tone and color and shape and scent
what you have
obviously
you begin to hide what they refuse to believe
dress them
and give them a new face a new set of arms and feet
and these all get near them
and shake hands with them
and then
they relate and begin to understand
you
how can they ever think of something else
beyond what you do not understand
you keep the emotion inside you
you give them a fragile butterfly from your mouth
and awed
they start to believe what pains you
in your hiding things
something new opens
a door, a window, a heart, a mouth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
She Is Rising
Those pretty feet are stuck deep in the ground
And all that junk just keeps coming
Must be the time to rearrange it all
Another place another time has called
She is rising above this world
She is heading for an open door
She is rising above this world
She is heading for an open door
Give it up let her in
All she wants is to begin
Give it up let her in
All she wants is to begin
One day he wakes up to a different drum
Rhythm coming from so far away
He had no time to tell anyone
His hips were moving to a perfect sway
He is rising above this world
He is heading for an open door
He is rising above this world
He is heading for an open door
Give it up let him in
All he wants is to begin
Give it up let him in
All he wants is to begin
Give it up let her in
All she wants is to begin
She is rising above this world
She is heading for an open door
Give it up let her in
All she wants is to begin
Give it up let her in
All she wants is to begin
Give it up (she is rising)
Let him in (he is rising)
All he wants is to begin (all I want is to begin)
Give it up (she is rising)
Let him in (he is rising)
All he wants is to begin (all he wants is to begin)
She is rising
He is rising
All I want
All I want is to begin
She is rising
He is rising
Give it up
We are rising
She is rising
She is rising
song performed by by INXS
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I Will Walk With You
Cover your heart, put on your mask
Dance with me slowly, is all that I ask
What is the hardest, falling or not
Knowing just where to begin or start
I will walk, I will walk, with you
I will walk with you
Lay down beside me, tell me your dreams
The view from inside is not what it seems
But no one will hurt you, not like before
Your last thread of forgiveness wont reach the door, noooo
I will walk, I will walk, with you
I will walk with you
I will walk, I will walk, with you
I will walk with you
I will walk, I walk with you
Pull up the curtains
Watch the night fall
Who has the answers when nobody calls
Now rely on fury, blame the sun rise last
Cause I was in love with you, but I cant change the past
I will walk, I will walk with you
I will walk with you (with you)
I will walk, I will walk with you
I will walk with you
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Walk Casually Into The Sun
As I walk along my chosen path I know there is work to be done.
As I walk casually into the sun
As I stare at the marquis that bares my name I wonder how long will my show run
As I walk casually into the sun
As I ponder each step and charted course to my next action I ponder, have I yet begun?
As I walk casually into the sun
As the road gets rocky does this mean a rocky road or just loose pebbles undone
As I walk casually into the sun
As I look down at my feet and then at the sky, I think where am I what have I become
As I walk casually into the sun
As a boy I was a wimpy kid knowing it did not feel right, myself, I would not shun
As I walk casually into the sun
As greatness goes, it is not always great, . Greatness always is, I am the one
As I walk casually into the sun
As a man the plan was always this, to be great you must do what you love
As I walk casually into the sun
As I am in the now I know this, be great for those you love only then will you rise above.
As I walk casually into the sun
poem by Vincent Tinto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Need to Write
I need to write a poem, but how shall I do it,
First of all shall I write standing up, or just sit;
Until I get comfortable, I won't be able to start,
All the words will be muddled up, and then it'll fall. Apart.
Now! I got it right, I will choose the title to write about,
No good getting frustrated, or even sit or pout;
Just need to relax, and then the words will come easy,
Cause if I try to hard, Then my stomach will feel queasy.
I know what sort of holiday would people like,
And as I start the poem, the hall clock did strike;
Oh! It is now is what I can do, write about the time passing,
And so I have the heading, the thoughts on paper lasting.
It's got colour, size, And description, and the taste of art,
It's come from my mind, emotions, and also from the heart;
It has vision, and thoughts about where I want to go,
Yes! I think it'll get some to agree, to me they'll show.
So if you have a problem to write a poem or story,
Just read this poem, as a help, it's a help from me;
Don't force the idea, or rush it through at all,
Just go have a cuppa, read an article or a friend call.
Eventually it'll come, the words will flow along,
You might even end up, turning it into a song;
Writing poems will be rewarding, just give a go,
And you might enjoy it, they may end up in a show.
poem by Margaret Haig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Poet To Be
A poet I claim not to be,
For words are never there.
In all the years I've tried to write,
I have no words to share.
I sit and think but nothing comes,
No inspiration here.
I want to write of anything,
But still no words I fear.
I read the works of other poets,
I wish I were like them.
How do they write such beautiful lines,
A poet, I'm not him.
I try to write from the heart,
From deep within my soul.
I try to write of the love I have,
But cannot reach my goal.
But why I ask, why can't I write,
Of love so pure and true.
Why can't I write about her eyes,
A mix of green and blue.
I want to write about her smile,
It brightens up my day.
I try to think of anything,
But words I cannot say.
I wish I knew how to write,
A poem with such bliss.
I wish I knew how to describe,
Her soft but tender kiss.
I cannot even begin to write,
How she holds me tight.
How her arms around me,
Makes everything just right.
A poet does not have to think,
The words flow right out.
When I sit and try to write,
I want to scream and shout.
I mean come on, how hard can it be,
To write about her hair.
Such long beautiful natural blonde,
That flows in the air.
I try to write about her laugh,
The words will not fly.
Time passes and finally,
I say it's soft and high.
It's been an hour and a half,
I'm here on verse twelve.
I had to go to Rhymezone,
To find out the rhyme is shelve.
A poet does not do that,
Go online to find a rhyme.
A poet has it in his head,
And can write at any time.
But a poet I am not,
For I cannot write of love.
How the girl I am with,
Is an angel from up above.
How I love her with all my heart,
And want to spend my life with her.
How her love for me is more,
Than I can ever be for sure.
As I draw near the end,
My mind is not so numb.
I realize I've just written of love,
A poet I have become.
poem by Adam McKim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Subconciously
at the surface is a roy
could be roy something else
you face him
beneath a roy could be a jerry something
that you have met but could not fully
remember
you are determined not to be confused
and so you focus on the road that the the yellow bus is taking you
it is nothing but imagination
you are in the house
doing nothing because writing is actually nothing
beneath you is someone else and it
(a thing or something) is telling you what to write
you are not alarmed
it is nothing it is nothing but words and words are nothing
as a matter of familiarity
beneath your mind is the heart
beneath that heart are so many things
you try to enumerate names
and more names
and places
until you reach a certain marker, shades of red,
pathways of veins, flowing blood, all kept and contained
within the sound system
and then you look at your hands
beneath it
someone so lovely and beautiful
someone you desired for long
beneath you
and then you stop.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Will The Words Come Back?
Words slip off our pen
like warm butter off a knife.
They fall in unison across the page
with everything we write.
Then one day the words don’t flow
in unison like they used to before.
They have no rhythm within them
and just become no more than words.
We look at what we’ve written
and there is no bounce in them.
The words become no more than words
once written by a creative hand.
There is no meaning in what they say
they have no heart anymore.
They are just words written on a page
with no rhyme or reason for them being there.
Some call it a writer’s block;
others call it stagnation of the mind.
The creative juices fall away to nothing,
no spark to be kindled,
no emotions to be released,
no protests to be made,
no stories to be assembled
like a jigsaw in your mind.
Just an empty pen with words
that don’t make sense anymore.
Struggles without feeling,
ideas leading nowhere
on a spiralling downward turn.
You are no longer a writer,
your creativity is gone
and the only question you have,
will the words come came back?
13 July 2009
poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wedded Bliss
Your world will get far worse if you are going to use that knife,
have you seriously thought of what you are about to do?
I mean this is stupid, is it the best way to begin a new life?
Your so called friend has filled your head with poisonous lies,
and I've told you many times about their lethal tongue,
but you never listened to me no matter how hard I tried.
It makes no sense to do this just because of what someone says,
you should judge me as you find me,
not on some persons words on another of their fantasy days.
Please put down the knife, do you really want to kill me?
You're obviously upset by what you have been told,
and you've already made up your mind that I'm guilty.
If there is any doubt in your mind that you have been told a lie
put down the knife right now and walk out the door,
that would be the perfect new beginning and just say goodbye.
Well, if you are leaving you'd better take your bags and things,
and if like you say you're never coming back,
you may as well take with you my wedding ring.
At least the hot tempered insults that you have thrown in the past,
along with your countless jealous accusations of betrayal,
and the dodging of missiles will finally come to pass.
Before you go, would you really have used that carving knife,
or was it just a blind to hide your latest affair,
so you could move out again for yet another new life?
poem by Tex T Sarnie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Silence Between
the silence between
words being written and read
seduces the mind to think
thoughts of creation anticipate
the blank canvas of the mind
which mirrors the open soul
calling out to listen
to the sound of pen upon paper
a mind at work
is a beautiful thing
and in writing seductive
words flow into sentence
a verse crafts itself
to be seen, felt
all in the aftermath
of the silence between
words being written
words being read
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
You Begin Again
Sometimes it's hard to believe
How simple life can be
Just when you think
You'll never reach the end
You're finally round the bend and see
There's no need to cry anymore
Life's better than before
Yesterday fades away into the past
The pain you thought would last
Is gone
[Chorus:]
And you begin again
Sometimes you lose, sometimes you win
But you begin again
Even though you're heart is breaking
In time, the sun will shine
And you'll begin again
You'll begin again
Life's bittersweet mystery
Never tells what will be
You can create your own reality
And make your dreams come true
It's really up to you
If you begin again
Sometimes you lose, sometimes you win
But you begin again
Even though your heart is breaking
In time, the sun will shine
And you'll begin again
You'll begin again
When you begin again
[Chorus]
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
I have a notebook with me all the time, and I begin scribbling a few words. When things are going well, the walk does not get anywhere; I finally just stop and write.
quote by Mary Oliver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
There Is No Poem To Begin The Week With
THERE IS NO POEM TO BEGIN THE WEEK WITH
There is no poem to begin the week with
Emptiness is the beginning
I try to think
I try to listen to some internal rhythm
I write words down
My thoughts are simple and self- referential
The green- yellow light is there outside my window
The world is moving
Am I writing a poem or simply writing whatever sentences come into my mind?
I sometimes think poetry never stops being written within me
At other times I believe I am just ambitious and pretentious
Today this is the beginning
These lines these words
A poem to begin the week with?
poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Words Can
Words can hurt
Words can heal
A simple word can mend a broken heart
Just put them out like some people do
The damage that is done
You can never undo
So think of what you are trying to say
Because some words never fade away
They are held in the heart or stuck in the mind
Coming to the surface from time to time
To raise us up or bring us down
Sometimes the words that hurt the most
Are the words we don't say
The ones that use to flow freely from our lips
Telling someone how much we care
Just don't come anymore
poem by David Kush
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The writers room
The writers room
~
the walls lined with books
a thousand written worlds
open pages litter the floor
ready to begin a new journey
light cascades through window
across the unused bed
a room alive does not sleep
pictures and tokens spread out
points of memory and inspiration
shelves climb to the ceiling
hoarding words and lives
a writers room, paradise
a place to sit read and write
inspiration comes from life
and life is about discovering
all that is beautiful
however ugly it appears
look through the pages
of an open mind
poem by Matthew Holloway
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Curious
Welcome to the great unknown
Take a journey into the O zone
Feed your fire, feel the burn
And I'm learning the thing that you learn
Let's play the game
And I'm sure that you'll be so glad that you came
You never know till you let go
And discover your potential
There's nothing wrong with being curious
Adventurous
Step out of your mind
If something inside makes you curious
Then free it up
Initiation begins
When you jump right in
This is the end, let's begin
Lose your fear like you're shedding your skin
Nothing's lost when all is won
So I'm do all the things that you done
Feel the sound
And try to write a simple rhyme of spinning round
Before I leave, you ought to know
The more you scream, the faster that you go
There's nothing wrong with being curious
Adventurous
Step out of your mind
If something inside makes you curious
Then free it up
Initiation begins
Free up your inside
You're gonna like what you will find
You're never gonna know until you try
There's nothing wrong with being curious
Adventurous
Step out of your mind
If something inside makes you curious
Then free it up
Initiation begins
There's nothing wrong with being curious
Adventurous
Step out of your mind
If something inside makes you curious
Then free it up
Initiation begins
When you jump right in
There's nothing wrong with being curious
Adventurous
Step out of your mind
If something inside makes you curious
Then free it up
Initiation begins
When you jump right in
song performed by by Holly Valance
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
As I Am Writing This
when i begin to write the words
i pause
for some regrets and i look
at another window
where life is
unfolding a scene
it is something lustful out there
but i watch closely
what is it in them that clicks
to a switch of my flesh
and then i write again
because outside it is colder
and the temperature is freezing
some muscles
and then i write again
closing another window
i go inside
and open another door
i find the words
but i stop right there
right here
the words that need only to
be spoken
they cannot be written.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!