En.Citatepedia^®.ro

When you write.

When you write
You hunt for words
Capture them and put them where you
Want them to
Symbolize
An idea, words are symbols too
And these words can be more than that,
Like the word love
Symbolizing how you feel
About her
It can be more than that
Love as a word can go beyond
Its symbolism of
Affection
It can be demanding
About other words
Time
Money
Effort
And if you are true enough it
Can mean vulnerability
And nudity
One by one you remove every
Cover of yourself
From shirt to pants to brief
And there is more to that still
What you write
Any word for that matter
May demand that you remove
Your mind
Your eyes
Your soul even

So that in the end what you write demands
That you become completely
Nothing. Try it.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
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Home Alone Happy Without Working Computer

Home alone happy without working computer
I take my pen in hand
And slowly write these words –

Let the world click and paste and post
I am out of it for now-

I have before me an evening of any book I like
Of any page I want to write
-
Peace of Mind is one place of attention at a time-

Here weighing each word as I write
I am at home with my inner self-
I hear my own thoughts
I correct them at my own pace.

So many words and so many pages
Have been written in my life-
Now in this one
I am wholly at home
Peaceful, quiet happy
Each word a small blessing
As I write it-

This is the only poem I know
The only page I see
The only place of attention
I give myself and my soul to
At this moment.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poem Life

what is...

a poem...?

some word

speaking...

some word

crying...

some word

trying...

some word

hitting...

some word

danching...

some word

loving...

some word

colling...

some word

lifing...

some word

loughing...

all the words

are poem...

feel free

your heart free..

love free

to write+ speak...

with freee...

making a poem

life your style...

poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The power of words

Sometimes when you had
an idea for a poem
you didn’t jot it down
and let it be
to fade away into the naught
as if it really didn’t matter
or your words had lost their power

or was there a hidden fear,
something that you didn’t
want to talk about
or something that you didn’t
want to appear,
something that you were afraid
would kill your luck
or disturb your thoughts?

When we spoke at times
you would sarcastically say
go and write a poem about it
and I wonder if you really
didn’t care about writing
or just not about me
or was it jealousy?

Sometimes when the words
of a great poem came to me
you would demand that I immediately
do something for you
to proof my love
and not give me the opportunity
to capture the sacred words.

Yet, as time went by
and I had to leave
the words came back to you
and great verses appeared
and you said that I could string out
poems to the nth power
and wanted me
to write great messages as well
and I was afraid that card like lines
would kill the magic of words in me.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writing

My words they no longer flow like a calm river
They rip, through, delicate flowers wither
Not in a long time have I wrote pure gold
One more worthless word and I'll explode

So I write these words to help express
That to me my writing can no longer impress
If the letters I write turn to heavy stone
Maybe I should try changing my tone

Even when words sing a merry tune
When the words hit me like a monsoon
I look back and scowl at scribbles and letters
And know there is a need for them to be better

So I try to write something funny, add humour
Rhythms with big cats, small rats, lions and pumas
But it all seems to lack that special spark
Something with a vicious bite and a gentle bark

Let's try and make it dark, murder and death
Something that literally stops ones breath
Words that hide the killer, build suspense
But this dark angst and pain is all pretence

A rhyme about love, happy and quite light
A poem about everything that can go right
Maybe just maybe it will all fit together
But these words take too long, almost forever

I guess I'll just carry on in this infuriating way
I'll continue writing the words I just can't say
So when I feel the need to write I'll let it all out
Then you will find out just what I will write about

poem by Rebecca Pepper
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Interactive

I write some lines and you read each word
A word excites you and you take it up to
Seed your fields where you grow your own
Shrubbery of words with tendrils climbing
I look at your garden of words and there is
This word growing into a flower attracting
Me I pick it up this sensual flower and I
Seed it in the lines of my mind now another
Bunch of words like ripe grapes I take one
Swallow it and savor the taste of its sweetness
More lines of words in my throat sliding
Through the lining of my esophagus so smooth
Going straight inside the veins leading to my heart
Sweet, so sweet I could have written the usual
Lines of “ I love you, I miss you” but I couldn’t
There is this roadblock, this writer’s block
The lines stopped, the words are stunted
I stutter, I retreat to my eyes, to see
The face of this woman I love, her eyes
Are gentle, she smiles at me, and waits
For this beautiful silence that gives her life
You stand there, looking for a hint, another
Word to seed the lines waiting to be written.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Untitled 15

there is a mountain of words
an ocean of words
a continent of words

there is a rain of words
a flood of words
a river of words and true to their being words

they also disintegrate as syllables
on the other hand some form the clauses
conditions and terms
some make sentences and paragraphs

a world of words full of words
i am not a word and i am buried in a mountain of words
a sea of words i drown
a continent of words i am condemned to walk all the days of my life

too may words my ears do not listen anymore.
my eyes do not like to read anymore.

i like something not having to do with words.
what about a touch? what about a picture?
what about a kiss?

why don't people just make love without saying a word?
let us start touching the hearts of people
to avoid this war of words that lead us to our own perdition.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Write This Down

Write this down
Write this down
I never saw the end in sight
Fools are kind of blind
Thought everything was going alright
But I was running out of time
cause you had one foot out the door
I swear I didnt see
But if youre rally going away
Heres some final words from me
Chorus:
Baby, write this down, take a little note
To remind you in case you didnt know
Tell yourself I love you and I dont want you to go
Write this down
Take my words, readem everday
Keepem close by dont you letem fade away
So youll remember what I forgot to say
Write this down
Ill sign it at the bottom of this page
Ill swear under oath
cause every single word is true
And I think you need to know
So use it as a bookmark
Repeat chorus:
Stick it on your frigerator door
Hang it in a picture frame up above the mantel
Where youll see it for sure
Repeat chorus:
You can find a chisel, I can find a stone
Folks will be reading these words, long after were gone
Oh I love you and I dont want you to go
Baby write this down

song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Something Visual

Something visual and so vivid
Are still hard to write

One shot in film
Would have been easy

To picture curves
And tangential lines
That even criss-cross
Using words
Is a big challenge,

Like
Capturing a crocodile
On a fish net, it would even
Be harder using words
To capture illusive motions
Of white milk spilt on
Monochromatic tiles,
Or
The leaping of a fish
On the pond trying to
Eat a moth or a dragonfly
Hovering on a blade of
Grass and what about
Air,
Invisible getting
Inside my lungs, that
Feeling of life moving
Inside me,
And
What about
Blood running in the veins
To remove numbness of
My fingers,
All
These
Are challenges in words
In what to write,

To a jumping fish
Capturing, swallowing
A blue dragonfly,
Or
The air rushing
To my lungs,
Or
To the
Blood rushing to my numb
Fingers,
All these give a feeling
Of relief,
All
These somehow
Return life, and it makes
Us all feel good…

Something visual in words
Motions captured and colors
Brushed in word, in words
Something visual
And life-giving
To be caged in words,

Such will be your big challenge.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words

I write there, and then you write they’re
I write who, and then you write whom
I misspell my words, too me you then curse
Then you call me a stupid loon.
You call me names, from which I refrain
Then I am off to a different room.

I forget punctuation's, It gives you frustrations
I don't use a contraction, you give me verbal action
Then I misspell a word, you call me absurd
I give you my silence it’s my only reaction.
You call me a name, my innocence I proclaim
My humility is seems, is your only satisfaction.

I sit at my typewriter, I still am a fighter
As I close my eyes, words still materialize
Words are my friends, rhyming is my sin
Maybe someday that, you will realize.
I finish another poem, to the world I show them
I write another verse, it becomes my universe.

You are my inspiration, my poems your creation
You correct what I write, it gives you such delight
You enjoy to respell, at words which you excel
You tell me they are wrong, I know you are right.
But you still are my friend, I hope it will never end
I am the poet, your a wordsmith and you show it.

Randy L. McClave

poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A poem for you...

I write a poem for you today,
to get a place in your heart for ever
A poem that could tell you my love for you
I write my poem with emotion and affection
for you to understand my deep thoughts for you
A poem to love and a poem to understand its soul
A poem to enjoy and a poem to understand its happiness
A poem to think and a poem to understand its way of life
A poem to learn and a poem to understand its content
A poem to sing and a poem to understand its melody
A poem to cry and a poem to understand its sorrow
There are poems I have written but this is specially for you
The poem could tell you how important you are for me
There are words comes out freely from my mind to write poem
but there are no words to find my love for you
Those words can not missed as I miss your love today
Let me have all those words put in to my heart and
say I love to write a love poem for you

Ravi Sathasivam / Sri Lanka

Copyright ©2004 Ravi Sathasivam

poem by Ravi Sathasivam
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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How The Words Are Taking The Man

let me start with one word
another word takes in another
and they begin to talk to one another
i let the third word go
and they will ask another one
to equalize both sides
they will soon invite other words
until they will make a crowd
and the words get so many
now with mouths and no ears

like the drink the words take the man
and after so man y words have been uttered
you begin to regret every word that got in
so many and now you feel so empty.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words

Words are my weapon
words are my shield
Guns and knifes just ruin lives
so words I keep concealed
Words are all I have here
they help me struggle on
Words are here forever,
when all I have is gone
In my thoughts or in my poems
Words will help ease my brain
I write down what is on my mind
Expressing love or feeling pain
Not that many I can trust
But words I can depend
Words wont turn there back on you
Words are my only friend

poem by Nic Hillen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Words of Fire

Words of Fire,
Words of Power,
With the force of a steam train,
With the speed of a bullet,
You hit me.

You knocked me off my high horse,
Upon the ground I lay,
Unable to move,
Such is the power of your word,
You hit me.

When first I read your word,
Words of Fire,
Words of Power,
The threat of culpable damnation,
The gift of undeserved salvation.

You are the living Word,
The only word,
Who was,
Who is,
Who is to come.

Words of Fire,
Words of Power,
Words of Eternity,
Words of Fire,
That burn within my heart.

From my youth,
My hair now grey,
Those words of Fire,
Those words of Power,
My life maintained.

poem by Steven Reeve
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It Is Me

He sat in his own world
writing down the stories
that came to his mind.
He never watched time,
for him there
was no time.

He wrote stories of love,
of mystery and suspense.
He wrote of everything
that popped into his head.
He was not a lonely person
as his characters kept him company.

He wrote things
for every writing sphere,
but there was one thing
he could not write
which may come as a surprise
to everyone.

He could not write a letter
no matter how hard he tried.
His mind went completely blank
whenever he tried.
Yet he could write
just about everything else.

He could write songs,
he could write stories at will.
He could write poems
on everything,
but writing a letter
was something he could not do.

Now all who read this
might take it as a joke,
but it is very true
every word I have spoke,
and how would I know that.
The answer is simple it is me.

19 April 2008

poem by David Harris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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