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A writer

Out of what, does a writer write?
Out of hatred, out of denial,
Out of failure, out of perversion,
Out of insult or out of neglect.

Why does a writer write?
To vent his anger, anguish and agony.
To bend his feelings in catharsis.

From what does he write?
From borrowings, being inspired,
Or pouring old wine into a new bottle.

For what purpose does he write?
For an applause, to show his skills
And to earn a place and money.

Why at all must he write?
For an idler, what else can he do?

What lacks in one’s writing?
His concern for you lacks.
Your vow to pursue it lacks.

He writes and forgets
You read and forget.
When you are gone and when he is gone
The relevance to his writings is gone.
Bubbles are formed and burst.
12.04.2007

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Writer- a must?

Out of what does a writer write?
Out of hatred or perversion;
Out of denial or deprivation.

Why does a writer write?
To vent his anger or hatred.
To cry out from pain or lust.

How does a writer write?
By borrowing or distorting.
By modeling or duping.

For what does a writer write?
For an applause and a place.
It alone suits him, an idler.

What is the use of a writer?
For him to flaunt his skill.
For readers to idle away

Does the society need a writer?
Does a woman need cosmetics?
Writer is a part of civilization
16.05.2007.

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The culture demands writers?

What for do you write?
For an applause.
What from do you write?
From borrowings.
Why should you write?
To get pleasure in catharsis.
Why do you chose writing>
Most suited to an idler.
Do you write to cure the society?
No.
Do you write to save the society?
No.
Then, why?
Writings to people
Are cosmetics to women.
The culture demands them
16.05.2007

poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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To be a writer

They say, when you have nothing to say
Do not say anything
They say when you have nothing good to say
Do not say anything
He is not convinced
He wants to be a writer and to be one he must write
What is in his mind
To be a writer he must write and write and write
Even when there is nothing to write
Even when there is nothing to say even when nobody listens
Even when the word is dead even when there is no sense at all
Even when he gets blind and deaf and mute even when his fingers are cut even when his mind is blank even when his consciousness is lost
Even when you are angry even when you say what is written is nothing
But trash, dung, cadaver, corpse, poo, pee, even when there is nothing
Anymore,
He writes because he is a writer and no one can stop him now.
he is
he is writing
he is writing always
he is writing always whatever that needs to be written

and here you are foolishly reading. thanks to you, audience of one.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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I Write And Write And Write And Write

I WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE

I write and write and write and write
I write and write and write and write
I write.
And all this writing and all these words and all I am
Forever unheard.

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Whatevah

write
till it does not hurt anymore

write
till all the happy moments are consumed.

write
till all the aches are justified

write
till all your revenge is dissipated

write
till all angles are examined

write and keep on writing
till all of you is hidden, till all of you is folded back

write and keep on writing still
because you are your writer and there is no one who knows you well

except yourself, and what they know shall only be
skin deep

because you want it so,
you are the king in the jungle of your uncertainties
the Tarzan hitting his chest before Jane came and ruined it.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Most Writers

Most writers 'twould seem have moments of self doubt
But they never go short of things to write about
And to become a top writer of one a big ask
And to succeed as a writer for many seems too daunting a task.

Most writers do not write for wealth or for fame
And despite lack of success they pen on just the same
For every one hundred thousand writers perhaps one writing millionaire
Amongst the ranks of the wealthy the writers are rare.

Few writers can hope for to scale success height
For the love of writing they only do write
Few writers get published and fewer know of success
But in their writings on paper their thoughts they express.

Most writers will never know wealth and renown
And they are not even well known in their own Hometown
They never will be known beyond their home shore
They write for the love of it and little more.

poem by Francis Duggan
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What I want to write

What I want to write
I could not write.

I could not write
Tiger tiger cat cat
And the difference they behaved.
I could not write
The sky and its fall
On our forehead.

What I want to write
I could not write.

I write how I loved
How flower blosom
How fruit ripe
How stream flow.

I could not know
How I write
And I write
What I want to write
I could not write.

poem by Gajanan Mishra
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I Want To Write A Sad Poem Today

how i wish to write a sad poem today
for instance: wilting grasses and dried river beds
stinging heat of the sun
cinder like sands of the shore
heat waves, and melting ice caps
something like there is no place that is cool
to my senses,
how i wish i can write the poem about a mad woman
and a husband that always follows her laughter,
how i wish not to be affected by such a sad poem

but i am
and i do not wish to add insult to injury for writing it
and so
i quit, i will not write a sad poem about other people,
that will be too much,
i decided not to write about it anymore.

i will forget about it. I will write something much better.

i will write about
nothing at all.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Four Main Types of Writers (personal opinion)

The Lonely Writer

Some writings tell me
This person is lonely
And is reaching out
For the touch of a friendly comment
These writers are sad, solitary,
Isolated, but good persons
And quite often very good writers

The needy juvenile writer

Some writings contain words
Or language meant to shock
And to offend.
These writers are lonely also
But in a different way.
These writers are simply saying
Like a little child
“hey! I exist! Someone better
Acknowledge me! ”
These writers can often write well
But usually don’t, can’t, or choose not to

The Spite Writer

This writer can be of either gender
But seems to be in a female majority
They’ve been spurned or rejected
Two-timed or lied to.
And they are going to vent their ire
In the most public way they can.
These writers can also be very good writers
But too often let their anger get in the way.

The Religious Writer

These writers show people passionate
And zealously devoted to singing the praises
Of the Lord and goodness and charity.
They’re probably austere, honest people
Who almost always write very well.
For the most part these writers seem
To want to spread the word and
At the same time tend to be rather singular
In the subject matter of their writings,
Rarely attempting other genres.

poem by David Whalen
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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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Write Erase Write Erase

this is what happens to this poem
when you have nothing to write
tonight....write, erase, write, erase

you are waiting
for an inspiration that does not come

you keep on waiting and then something comes
you write it, you think about it, you read it and you find nothing
worth the letter you assign to it
then you erase it and you are honest enough to admit that there is nothing
beautiful
not even a purpose, and then you write the word again, you ponder, there is
nothing worth its existence
there is nothing to grow in that word chosen
you erase it again, you write it and then there is this space of thinking,

what is it? you ask. what is it really?
it is this denial.
this negation of
what you are
that keeps you writing.

you stand by the window. Look out
the road. You see a dog, and it is howling again
to the moon
and to the wrong tree
it is barking.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The writer must earn money in order to be able to live and to write, but he must by no means live and write for the purpose of making money.

quote by Karl Marx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Writing Poetry

Some people write poetry
to fulfil their dream,
others write it as a personal diary.
While yet more write to protest.
Some write sonnets
for unfrequented love.
Some bring laughter
to sad faces somewhere,
while others dwell on memories
that they would like to share.
Some write of love, while
others write of God.
Write as you will on anything,
but the main point is that you write,
and give joy to all that will read.

poem by David Harris
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Emphatically Expressed

A writer doesn't write to attract readers.
Maybe gossip columnists do.
To sell images and ruin a few.
But a writer who is true,
Writes because that is what writers do.

I wrote years before anything I wrote was read.
It wasn't to impress.
Those issues express about me,
Have long been put to rest in my head.
If something I write is read...
I hope a connection is made from what I've said.

Some also make claims they too like to write.
And I say to myself,
'Liking and loving are different appetites.'
No one who 'is' a writer takes it 'light'.
And those who feel this way...
May stay up night after night,
After many a sleepless night.

And it isn't for fame or money.
Trust me on that.
And I thank God what I do isn't done for the glory.
That's another story.
However,
When my contributions do become discovered...
It will be 'seen' there is some depthness meant.
Something within me that seems never to be solved.
Something with content I can not just dissolve.

And there is nothing to glorify,
When someone who writes for nourishment...
To feed others,
Do not think themselves to eat or drink.
Not when a thought comes to possess their minds,
With a desire to be completed.
Coming with a sensation one should heed.
And most of the time this is the writer's deed.

Whether the one who 'writes' gets a wink of sleep,
Or blinks.
And no matter if what is written is accepted,
Or thought to be rejected and stinks!
This kind of discipline...
Does not seek to reach for that attention!

Unless,
Money becomes mentioned.
And only then,
Of course...
What I have just emphatically expressed,
You have my permission to ignore.
Since my intention will take upon another direction,
To excite my need to explore...
With a more deepened Introspection.

I do write.
But biting into a good meal,
Intrigues!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Questions

Write me what you're wearing! Is it warm?
Write me how you lie! Do you lie there softly?
Write me how you look! Is it still the same?
Write me what you're missing! Is it my arm?

Write me how you are! Have you been spared?
Write me what they're doing! Do you have enough courage?
Write me what you're doing! Is it good?
Write me, who are you thinking of? Is it me?

Freely, I've given you only my questions.
And I hear the answers, how they fall.
When you're tired, I can't carry it for you.

If you're hungry, I have nothing for you to eat.
And so now I leave the world
No longer there, as if I've forgotten you.

poem by Bertolt Brecht
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