Writing
When words we want, Love teacheth to indite;
And what we blush to speak, she bids us write.
poem by Robert Herrick
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Related quotes
An Assurance
Say that I should say I love ye,
Would you say 'tis but a saying?
But if love in prayers move ye,
Will ye not be moved with praying?
Think I think that love should know ye,
Will you think 'tis but a thinking?
But if love the thought do show ye,
Will ye lose your eyes with winking?
Write that I do write you blessed,
Will you write 'tis but a writing?
But if truth and love confess it,
Will ye doubt the true inditing?
No, I say, and think, and write it,
Write, and think, and say your pleasure;
Love, and truth, and I indite it,
You are blessed out of measure.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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Another Of The Same (A Report Song In A Dream)
Say that I should say I love ye,
Would you say 'tis but a saying?
But if Love in prayers move ye,
Will ye not be moved with praying?
Think I think that Love should know ye,
Will you think 'tis but a thinking?
But if Love the thought do show ye,
Will ye loose your eyes with winking?
Write that I do write you blessed,
Will you write 'tis but a writing?
But if Truth and Love confess it,
Will ye doubt the true inditing?
No, I say, and think, and write it,
Write, and think, and say your pleasure;
Love, and truth, and I indite it,
You are blessèd out of measure.
poem by Nicholas Breton
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The word of God teacheth lowliness of mind; it teacheth us to know ourselves.
quote by John Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Young Poets
You speak for the lakes, the trees and the birds
You say what they'd say if they had the words.
Make PEACE and be proud, choose well every choice
Speak HOPE and speak loud, you are Nature's voice.
Speak with respect now, for jungles and streams,
Speak for all wildlife and dream giant dreams.
Speak with great courage, speak up and speak out,
Write with a whisper or write with a SHOUT!
Stand up young poets for clean air and rivers,
Free verse or lyric; your message delivers...
Truth to the future citizens of earth,
Speak of your freedom your friends and self worth.
Speak for tomorrow and though you're still young,
Speak for the Forest, your pen is her tongue.
The world waits to hear your songs still unsung
Words posses power, you can write the wrongs
Teach us and lead us with Poems and with songs.
Speak now for nature, for trees and for birds,
Defenders of Earth choose carefullly your words!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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Words between words
Words between words
~
I try and say most things subtle
To slip words between words
In the hope you will read and hear
Sometimes I speak with blunt honesty
Sometimes wish I just didn’t speak
Sketching in secret characters
Telling stories built on fantasy
When a subtle look reveals
The obvious biography
Those words between words
What I write, what I speak
I understand words more than people
Words always seem easy
We all have things we wish to say
Some are said, others kept
All that is written then spoken
Are words between words
poem by Matthew Holloway
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Artiste
If I were a painter!
I would paint a picture of you,
If I were a songwriter!
I would sing of my love for you,
If I were an author!
I would write a story of love,
But I am only me
as you can see.
If I were a painter!
I would paint a picture of you,
I brush your hair,
with gentle strokes,
with a touch of brown,
and of you on your bed.
I'll make you blush and glow,
With a single stroke I can
make you smile again,
But I am only me
as you can see.
If I were a songwriter!
I would sing of my love for you,
I would write the words,
to tell you how I feel,
And maybe make this real,
But I am only me
as you can see.
If I were an author!
I would write a story of love,
a love that would bind
our two hearts,
write words of love for your voice,
as I let it wash over me,
of kissing your lips and the taste of you,
But I am only me,
as you can see.
RG/RR
poem by Robert Green
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A Fear Through Words
It is through fear I write this
Through fear I dare not speak these words
Or name the muse of who I pen them to
I hold a gentle and honest love to my heart
Such a love as yet untried and unknown
What good are my words when I cannot speak them
To my muse so beautiful so sweet, so divine
I fear I may lose them so completely
That I stay silent, bide my words so well
And watch with abject despair
My muse, object of my whole desire
Grow more distant with each passing day
And I fear I may lose all together
By speaking these words, these cursed words
I asked myself once, what I search for
Is it what I want or what I need in life
And there I saw my muse, a world of beauty
More than I could imagine or ask for
A gentle heart and loving nature
Those warm soothing eyes I look to
Do not see me as I would wish
I fear if they were to, see my innermost soul
My passion and my love for them
They would turn away and be lost completely
Which is why I write with fear
These words I dare not speak
poem by Matthew Holloway
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0008 A Love Poem in a New Old Language
Wilfrid Chin Sue says that poetry
is about ‘about’, and thank you Wilf
for that, and thanks too from us poets all
to e.e.cummings for reminding us
that lurking in the words between
the words we give most value to
like nouns and verbs and adjectives
are the words that hint,
about the presence of the subtle
so here’s a love poem about your about
because when it comes down or up
to it, it’s all about just what’s about
you – like the scent you loved to use
which brought and brings
you into an empty room
and the things you left about
which speak of you
more subtly even than your scent
and your near… ah yes, your near…that's never far from me
and your around
that made eyes light up, with life and joy and love
and your between
which I shall not speak
(about)
and the because of our true together
which I could write (about) endlessly
because of its endless, its inexplicable,
its because
which reminds me of your beyond,
which I would not write (about) in case
I wept, or failed, or failed and wept
oh so many other, being one
but most of all
I miss your
around
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Linen Papers
I write love letters
On linen papers
Longer, sweeter
They talk
Like radios
Words surreal
Of thousand raptures
They speak
Like televisions
They vibrate
Frequency of worship
I write you
These words
On linen papers
Earnest laughs
Of many delights
We often hear
Random I love you’s
We talk of them
On endless air
These words in love
We are the lovers
(written on August 12,2011 Singapore)
poem by Chester Maynes
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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
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When she passes, a sovereign beauty which I adore
When she passes, a sovereign beauty which I adore
A world witness how worthy of every wonder praised
The light that has kindled the heavenly ore
Oh my frail spirit by her from baseness raised
And being in vicinity of her huge brightness dazed
Other women I can no longer endure to view
But gazing still on her, I stand amazed
At wondrous sight of such divine hue
And ever when my tongue would speak of her commanding due
It choked and turn to stone with thoughts of astonishment
I wrote her some times her titles true
My pen ravished with fancy's wonderment
Then in my heart both when speak or write
She, the wonder that my comprehension cannot indite
Go Slowly To The End Of Your Own Life
GO SLOWLY TO THE END OF YOUR OWN LIFE
Go slowly to the end of your own life And do not remain there in silence
But speak continue to speak
Beyond the grave
As if you never died
Or never could die
And as if your life
Is a giving to others
Of words and thoughts
Others were helped by your giving.-
Write on beyond all and forever
Write write write
And never die.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Louder Than Words
I have heard you say the words many times,
but your actions tells me your words are just a lie;
because actions speak louder than words.
If you love me why don’t you hug me?
If you love me why don’t I ever remember a kiss from you?
You say you love but actions speak louder than words.
If you love me like you say you do
why when I need a shoulder to cry on you just shrug?
And when I need a cheering section your voice is silent?
You say you love but actions speak louder than words.
To love someone does not me to say it in a card
on a birthday, Christmas or Graduation day.
To truly love some one you show them with
a hug, a kiss or a call just to say hi.
Mom, you say you love then you need to show me;
because actions speak louder than words
For Whom Do We Write?
for whom do we write?
for us, we beg the world
to know what we are in the realm
and bounds of our words
our sadness & madness
our longing for love
unrequited our desire to
taste what passion is
that which the bed cannot
speak that which the
blankets cannot fully give in
to warmth and
lust.
for whom do we write?
we write for those passions
those explosions of suppressed
feelings long kept inside the steel
boxes of our hearts
we write for those lamentations
of love rejected and those
dreams that simply die
even before they were born
for those eggs
that never became chickens.
forgive me, but i write
because i have nothing else to do
about my life
forgive me for exposing the
truths
about us, this existential angst
lost in the labyrinths
of the empty
shell.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)
I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sonnet 34: Come Let Me Write
Come, let me write. 'And to what end?' To ease
A burthen'd heart. 'How can words ease, which are
The glasses of thy daily vexing care?'
Oft cruel fights well pictur'd forth do please.
'Art not asham'd to publish thy disease?'
Nay, that may breed my fame, it is so rare.
'But will not wise men think thy words fond ware?'
Then be they close, and so none shall displease.
'What idler thing than speak and not be heard?'
What harder thing than smart, and not to speak?
Peace, foolish wit, with wit my wit is marr'd.
Thus write I while I doubt to write, and wreak
My harms on ink's poor loss; perhaps some find
Stella's great powers, that so confuse my mind.
poem by Philip Sidney
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Sharing Eve's Apple
1.
O Blush not so! O blush not so!
Or I shall think you knowing;
And if you smile the blushing while,
Then maidenheads are going.
2.
There's a blush for want, and a blush for shan't,
And a blush for having done it;
There's a blush for thought, and a blush for nought,
And a blush for just begun it.
3.
O sigh not so! O sigh not so!
For it sounds of Eve's sweet pippin;
By these loosen'd lips you have tasted the pips
And fought in an amorous nipping.
4.
Will you play once more at nice-cut-core,
For it only will last our youth out,
And we have the prime of the kissing time,
We have not one sweet tooth out.
5.
There's a sigh for aye, and a sigh for nay,
And a sigh for 'I can't bear it!'
O what can be done, shall we stay or run?
O cut the sweet apple and share it!
poem by John Keats
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Occhi Verde
Love, love, love
my dear, don't blush
look me in the eye
and say that.
Green eyes swallow many things beyond belief:
Love which prevents my answer
forbids your question.
Don't fidgit, dear, stand still.
Don't blush, don't go dumb.
Green eyes drown many uncertainties.
Confess the small crimes with heart-felt rue.
Let the big ones speak for themselves.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Sickening Words
The feeling of being sick
Surrounded by these emotions
With no name
They fill me up and
Consume me
Until...
I can't breathe
I can't speak
Only cry to myself
In pain
Sickened by the words
I can't say
I choke as I try to stop
Those dangerous words
I can never say
Nor can I ever write
I would be the unknown face
Behind a millon Works of Art
Famous yet Unseen
But I can't speak
I can't tell
I can't go against
Then no one believes
Or knows that
I'm Sick
Of myself and these
Words
poem by Jessie Li here
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To Afraid to Speak
There are words that my mouth is too afraid to speak.
I fear if I speak them then all that I know will be destroyed.
But then again I am also afraid if I don’t speak them I will never grow.
And without growth all I hold dear could fade away.
What should I do?
Should I live in fear and never speak the words?
Or should I take a chance and speak them in hope of growth instead of destruction?
I don’t know.
Who would believe a man as brave as I am would be afraid to speak three little words…?
“I Love You”