2008: When You Let Sunlight Work On Your First Draft
We know why the old piece of paper is yellow
It's not because of overuse
With very little written on it
It's been set aside for so long
Not that anyone expected this page
To do anything by itself
He may have had high hopes
When he added a few black lines on white
If he had valued his work
Safely put it away
But it was left exposed
In a corner of the room
Right where the bright morning sun
Not slowed down by the thin glass
Did what he didn' t do
Finished turning the color of the paper
copyright 05-02-08
poem by Tom J. Mariani
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Related quotes
A Piece Of Paper
A diploma hanging on the wall
is really not you at all.
It's just a piece of paper.
A marriage certificate in your file
of when you two walked down the aisle
is just a piece of paper.
A birth certificate, signed and sealed
made you legal but concealed
that it's just a piece of paper.
A death certificate proves you're gone.
The truth is you've just moved on.
It was just a piece of paper.
All these papers that yellow with time
were really not worth one thin dime.
They were just pieces of paper.
Your life was never all those things.
Your life was when you took on wings
and soared with love for all.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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I Am Folding This White Paper
i am folding this paper
the way you want it
to every corner i give my sigh
in my mind
the paper shall be this bird
you want it to be
my friend, you always dream
of flight
and this paper soon shall
be what you want
to be
a bird with strong wings
gathering winds
taking in the big storm
today it is finished
and you shall take it
then in your wildest dreams
added in the layers of your
years
you shall fly away
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Author's Inspiration
My fingers do not type the words on the page; they do not draw delusions on a thin piece of white lined paper. They are not meant for the works of art to be used and unworthy for. My fingers are worthy enough to paint pictures inside your cognizance, more than painting a paintless sheet that means nothing to me. My fingers work as if every picture I paint in my mind, inspires them to write the unwritten page, to make it a master piece. But not every inspiration inside my mind, will take merely a second to create. It takes time, patience, and art to smear the writings onto a page. Author inspiration is from what comes from the heart; deep and dark, inspring and light - it's as if it was left inside its cage. No freedom, no light, no darkness, no being of a creature that the render of the paper, simply gave up on inspiring the little ones'. It's as if this mere creature was left within a white blank world. No colors to paint, no words to express. An author inspiration is formed when they see or hear other works of art, whether it's music to their ears, movies they wish to be in, life and feelings that they feel or positioned in, or other writings that they write something else about - but as an inspiration from them. An inspiration can be from anything from the outside world, from what happens inside one's life, to what creates such imagination within one's thoughts that coats the page with color and creativity. Anyone can be talented. Anyone can have an inspiration. You just have to feel and be it.
poem by Alicia Meyers
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Upon this paper my life is written
Upon this paper my life is written,
a tree doubled over in pain.
The red ink flows over the skin,
full stops and commas are hair and stars:
eyes of sea left on ships,
destroyed houses, rusting girders.
This paper is as black as the storm,
destroyed villages where there is no fiesta.
This paper burns as reason does,
lightning in the sky flashes in its millions.
This paper is a sky where there is no God,
this paper is alone…
this paper does not fly…
this paper… it is I.
poem by Menotti Lerro from The Poetry of Menotti Lerro (2011), translated by Andrew Mangham, Maria Rosaria La Marca
Submitted by anonym
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A Paper-boat just on the Sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be!
The sea of life is too stormy;
Afraid I am, it could sink me,
Before I can reach land’s safety!
But if He wants, the Almighty,
Could work miracles still for me;
And guide the boat to shore safely,
And keep me dry eternally!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
How can it float for long freely?
And when the sea becomes angry,
Can it escape its cruelty?
But all the same, I move slowly;
Nothing on earth can deter me;
Unless something so cowardly,
Drenches the boat mercilessly.
A paper-boat just on the sea!
I know I must make it surely;
And when I reach the shore, may be,
I will feel immensely happy!
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Who else would want to be like me?
God is my guide and my safety;
In Him, I have strong faith truly!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be;
A paper-boat, I want to be-
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-26-2000
poem by John Celes
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Nautical Terms
Nautical Terms
The night above me is like an elastic balloon, a plane penetrates
flies through and disappear only its engine roar remains and echoes
into the infinite. I can see its light, green for starboard and red for
portside. On a tramp ship I served on, the old captain, when he got
up on the bridge in the morning, open a locked drawer he only had
the key to; read on a piece of paper and closed the drawer again.
When he resigned, the first officer took over, he was curious about
the piece of paper, opened the drawer and found a folded piece of
paper. On it was written: right is starboard and left is portside.
It is good to meet people who know they are fallible.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Paper
Hold the paper up to the light
(some rays pass right through)
Expose yourself out there for a minute
(some rays pass right through)
Take a little rest when the rays pass through
Take a little time off when the rays pass through
Go ahead and mis it up...go ahead and tie it up
In a long distance telephone call
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on becuase its been taken care of
Hold on to that paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
See if you can fit it on the paper
See if you can get it on the paper
Had a love affair but it was only paper
(some rays they pass right through)
Had a lot of fun, could have been a lot better
(some rays they pass right through)
Take a little consideration, take every combination
Take a few weeks off, make it tighter, tighter
But it was never, it was never written down
Still might be a chance that it might work out (if you)
Hold on to that paper
Hold on to that paper
Hold on because itll be taken care of
Hold on to that paper
Dont think I can fit it on the paper
Dont think I can get it on the paper
Go ahead and rip up, rip up the paper
Go ahead and tear up, tear up the paper
song performed by by Talking Heads
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Reminder
A Message
Our old captain was pensioned off, he had been
the master on the same ship for ten years and at
sixty five he didn´t know where to go as his whole
life had been the sea. The first officer was taking
over. He had noticed the old man every morning
went on the bridge, opened a locked drawer and
read something from a folded piece of paper.
The first officer having sewed on an extra ring on
his uniform, now had four, was curious opened
the drawer. On the paper was written: starboard
is right and portside is left.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Paper
Paper promises, Dunstead said,
paper cups, wallpaper being stuck
up on the wall for the next to last
time, paper tigers, paper to wipe
the ass and best of all paper to
create art, to have it from the heart,
to see it out there, being gazed at,
studied by some bearded guy with
glasses and paper money to buy
the next paper to create and then
if I’m lucky the muse turning up on
time and giving me the big nudge
in the right direction or some paper
picture of some nude dame giving
the long time wished for erection.
poem by Terry Collett
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And then the paper is dirty
You start with a clean sheet of paper
Write some words, scribble, draw some lines
Some curves, sharp lines, tangent to bold
Lines, and rough sketches of faces and
Bodies, thin lines that get crooked from
End to end of this limited space,
You doodle, you get wild with so
Many lines unimaginable, senseless,
The paper finally looks dirty,
And you do not like it, you crumple
It and throw it in a waste basket,
You get another clean sheet,
And this time, you think what is
It really that you want to make
Out of this new clean sheet of paper.
You think, you ponder, and you need
More time this time not to waste
This clean, glossy sheet of paper.
I think you are doing well with your life.
You see you are supposed to be careful
Every word is delicate and every paper
Is actually accounted.
Never mind guilt, set it aside for a while.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Did You Read The Morning Paper
(Nickolas Ashford/Valerie Simpson/R. Monica)
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
There on the front page was a picture
Of a crowd as they watched a parade passing by
And through the haze of last nights sleep
Something familiar caught my eye
There was a couple looking so much in love, yes
They had a front line view
And as I pulled the paper closer
I realized standing next to her it was you
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Now I know why you've been working late each night
And no longer have desire to ever hold me tight
And your busy, busy schedule was all a lie
Oh, even the dream with a bonus, oh just another alibi
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Did you get the news today
Did you read the morning paper
Isn't the picture very clear
Where do we go from here
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headlines
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Oh, what now
Did you read the morning paper
Did you get the news today
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Did You Read The Morning Papers?
(nickolas ashford/valerie simpson/r. monica)
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
There on the front page was a picture
Of a crowd as they watched a parade passing by
And through the haze of last nights sleep
Something familiar caught my eye
There was a couple looking so much in love, yes
They had a front line view
And as I pulled the paper closer
I realized standing next to her it was you
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Now I know why youve been working late each night
And no longer have desire to ever hold me tight
And your busy, busy schedule was all a lie
Oh, even the dream with a bonus, oh just another alibi
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headline
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Did you get the news today
Did you read the morning paper
Isnt the picture very clear
Where do we go from here
Did you read the morning paper
Did you see the front headlines
Did you read the morning paper
Baby let me lend you mine
Oh, what now
Did you read the morning paper
Did you get the news today
song performed by by Diana Ross
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Juanita / Kiteless / To Dream Of Love
Your rails. youre thin.
Your thin paper wings.
Your thin paper wings.
In the wind. dangling.
Your sun. fly high.
Your window shattering.
Your rails. youre thin.
Your thin paper wings.
Sugar box. sugar boy.
Riding in. riding in.
Sugar box. sugar boy.
Handheld candle. sugar boy.
Your rails. youre thin.
Your thin paper wings.
Your thin paper wings.
In the wind. dangling.
Your sun. fly high.
Your window shattered in the wind.
Your coca cola sign rattling.
Resonator.
Homeless trees. gathering.
Outside your window bootleg babies call
To you and lie among the mosquitoes.
That summers fever coming.
Cats are gathering outside your window.
Homeless trees. bootleg babies calling
To you. lie among. lie among the mosquitoes.
Your rails. youre thin.
Your thin paper wings.
Get up in your sun. fly high.
Dangling. dangling.
Your window shattered in the wind.
The sun on your coca cola sign.
Your rails. your thin
Paper wings. paper wings.
Resonator ...
There is a sound on the other side of this wall.
A bird is singing on the other side of this glass.
Footsteps. concealed.
Silence is preserving a voice.
Walking in the wind at the waters edge
Comes close to covering my rubber feet.
Listening to the barbed wire hanging.
There is a sound on the other side of this wall.
A bird is singing on the other side of this glass.
Footsteps. concealed.
Silence is preserving a voice.
Silver chain. thrown away. broken wing.
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Written in Black Ink
Upon
The tear-stained
Paper
She writes
Writes,
Her story
Her experiences
Her life
Written in
Black ink
Upon
The tear-stained
Paper
She writes
Writes,
Her sorrows
People she lost
People who are gone
Written in
Black ink
She writes for
Days and
Days
Until
At last
Her masterpiece
Is finished
Her eyes Begin to
Close and
Oblivion Takes hold
And when she
Awakens
Her story will be written
Written in black ink
poem by Autumn Winds
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Juanita
Your rails
Your thin
Your thin paper wings
Your thin paper wings
In the winddangling
Your sun
Fly high
Your window shattering
Your rails
Your thin
Your thin paper wings
Sugar boy
Sugar boy
Riding in
Riding in
Sugar box
Sugar boy
Handheld candle sugar boy
Your rails
Your thin
Your thin paper wings
Your thin paper wings
In the wind dangling
Your sun fly high
Your window shattered in the wind
Your coca cola sign
Rattling
Rattling
Resonator [x8]
Homeless trees gathering
Outside your window bootleg babies call to you and lie among the mosquitoes
That summers fever coming
Cats are gathering outside your window
Homeless trees
Bootleg babies calling to you
Lie among lie among the mosquitoes
Your rails
Your thin
Your thin paper wings
Get up in your sun fly high
Dangling dangling
Your window shattered in the wind
The sun on your coca cola sign
Your rails
Your thin
Paper wings
Paper wings
Resonator, [x16]
Homeless trees gathering
Outside your window bootleg babies call to you and lie among the mosquitoes
That summers fever coming
Cats are gathering outside your window
Homeless trees
Bootleg babies calling to you
Lie among lie among the mosquitoes
Your rails
Your thin
Your thin paper wings
Get up in your sun fly high
Dangling dangling
Your window shattered in the wind
The sun on your coca cola sign
Your rails
Your thin
Paper wings
Paper wings
There is a sound on the other side of this wall
A bird is singing on the other side of this glass
Footsteps
Concealed
Silence is preserving a voice
Walking in the wind at the waters edge
Comes close to covering my rubber feet
Listening to the barbed wire hanging
There is a sound on the other side of this wall
A bird is singing on the other side of this glass
Footsteps
Concealed
Silence is preserving a voice
Silver chain
Thrown away
Broken wing
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Can I Forget You?
When I can no longer
depend on my muse
to guide heart and hand.
Pen and paper lying
beside me, not a word
forth coming.
Paper turning yellow
with age, my eyes close
for the last time, I
breathe my final breath
can I forget you?
copyright by heather burns
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Power Of The Media
Flying through the airwaves
Living through the printed word
Flasher in the living room
Guru of the seen and heard
Who decides what we get to hear
Fuzzy round the edges or making it clear
Blinding us with those facts
Chorus
The power of the media will make up our minds
The power of the media will take down our minds
Written on the black and white page
We cant believe what we read
Tarting up reality has become the new rage
Who said the truth is stranger than fiction
A few white lies for a nice little sensation
Buy up a paper you can influence the nation
Little box in the corner
A picture worth a thousand words
But who chooses which pictures we see
Who decides on the commentary
Keeping people in a state of confusion
Theres a thin line between facts and illusion
Diverting our attention from big brother in the city
When will we get to the real nitty gritty
song performed by by Howard Jones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shattered windows, Colors of white
Across the street is a new house with a room painted red, with no holes of white.
Next to me, a house purple, with its color pealing off, with holes of black and white
At the end of the street, an old house once yellow, what now remains white.
The sound of a hammer building a house, entering a place with a color unknown.
On the street,
Windows covered with ice
Some shine with light.
Some broken
Some fixed
Some lost, out of sight.
A house, two blocks from here.
Shines with lights of yellow, red, and green everywhere.
A wall keeping the wind from blowing anywhere.
The house next door, at the dawn of the day.
Paints its room black, and peals the color away.
The wall crumbles.
The wind blows across the colors of yellow, red and green
Breaks all the windows.
Turns the yellow to blue, red to black, and green to white.
The house two blocks away.
Adds a line of yellow red and green everyday.
To allow the house of blue, black and white to shine for us some day.
poem by Linda ErikssonBique
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An Old Flame
The writing faded on the page
The paper yellowing with age
An age of innocence then died
The blurring marks where once i cried
The memories flow back to me
Why did she ever have to leave?
The writing fading from the page
The sadness now becomes of age
The paper's corner now a flame
I shall not see those words again.
poem by David Keig
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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