Painful Writing
sonnet #11
painful writing
living can be through introspection
searching for the meaning in my life
yet this does not imply perfection
pleasure versus pain is still in strife
i am in growing and creating
in the making ever unfinished
the writer prevented from writing
life passing by not truly engaged
pain prevents me from writing freely
and then i write to escape the pain
still needed by someone uniquely
for together we have smelt the rain
when there is nothing left to explore
being opens up in death a door
poem by Derrick Hubert Schnabel
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Related quotes
I Come Alive In Writing
I come alive in writing
Even if the writing means nothing to anyone else-
I come alive in writing
Even if I am totally deluding myself as to its value-
I come alive in writing
Even if at times while writing there is an underlying hopelessness and despair -
I come alive in writing
As if writing is what God has given me to do-
I come alive in writing
As if through it I can truly give to and help others-
I come alive in writing
As if life has meaning through it-
I come alive in writing
Even when I sense the writing is not good or great
As I would wish it to be.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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When In Pain
when in pain
i prefer silence.
but i keep on writing.
and writing.
and writing.
and writing.
when in pain
i prefer always the silence
of the stars.
makes me feel like i am a star.
this silence, this pain.
when in silence, like the stars,
the pain gets too peaceful
like the stars
and then the pain subsides like
an ebbing tide
like an anger subsiding into
a still undisturbed mind
when i shine like a star
i remember the pain and it does not pain anymore.
silence kills the pain
like a distant star on a dark night like this one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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My Blue Pen
A pen, what is a pen?
An instrument for writing, a tool, a path to wisdom?
Or is much more than that?
What means this blue pen to my heart?
I'm writing with this pen all my thoughts, my hopes,
I'm keep it in my hand to help my ideas flow,
This blue pen is the bearer of all my joy and pain,
And when i'm writing, its blue ink holds my dreams.
I'm writing with my blue pen,
Which he gave it to me,
To never forget and to write,
Our impossible love story in the book of life.
poem by Cristina Teodor
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And So I'm Writing...
I'm hard-pressed for time,
yet I do have the heart
And so I'm writing
Know not what to pen down,
have a paper to write on
And so I'm writing
May be I'll write about 'you and me'
Or may be of 'us and them'
Feel like playing with words
And so I'm writing
May be that starving beggar's hungry looks
Or that homeless Child's beckoning eyes
Are making me scribble these lines to you
And so I'm writing
May be you'll find my words vague
Or you might decipher a meaning
Intend to leave you in the oblivion
And so I'm writing
Whatever might be the impression I create
Wish to see its reflection on your soul
And leave an imprint on your mind
And so I'm writing
May be you and I've become immune
To the pathos of mankind
Or may be there's still
A dropp of humanity flowing deep within us
Wish to arouse 'The Human Being' in you
And so I'm writing...
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Alone, Writing A Poem With A Song
I was alone listening to a love/sad song
Searching, thinking ideas with imagination
To create a story in a form of a poem
Holding my pen and start writing it down
Since I like the lyrics with meaning so i sing along
Imagine life living alone with only a song
No one to talks to wh hears my opinion
Through song I express my emotion
Writing a poem which replies all my questions
And share to people that would give inspiration.
While writing a poem with a sad song
Something came across my mind
Remembered those things I had in my past
Which never get lost, I hate it but it last
My life which is filled with sufferings, I wish it would cast.
Alone, writing a poem with a sad song
My eyes covered by tears and let it fall
I cried and shout out loud to ease my pain
Just like a cloudy sky and pours as rain.
I keep on repeating the whole song till I finished my poem
Feared to forget the words and its definition
I happened to memorize the lyrics and become a favourite
A song that has been part of my life
And makes me live though I am alone.
eplies
poem by Judith Kempis
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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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Not The Poem Then
NOT THE POEM THEN
Not the poem then
Although it can be the poem
Writing
Simply writing
This is the duty and the meaning
And the release from meaninglessness
And the ‘enabling me to go on’
The poem is only one form of it
It is the writing which matters
My life has been this
This writing
Even if it is a poor poem now
As I write these words
I live.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The Pain in a Woman
Where is the pain, the pain in a woman?
Is it in her eyes, in the way that she looks?
Is it in her face, the way that she frowns?
Is the pain in her hands, the way that they tremble?
Is the pain in her voice as it quivers?
Is the pain in her writing in letters of pain?
Or is the pain in her heart that’s eating her away?
You need to know her in order to know where to look,
In the difference of the action that she took.
poem by Adnana Saric
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When I'm writing about reality, I'm writing about death. When I'm writing fiction, I'm writing about life.
quote by Ralph Peters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What Will I Do Today And What Will I Do Tomorrow?
What will I do today and what will I do tomorrow
And what will I do for the rest of my life?
Write and write and write
Until I can no longer write –
And even if this writing is never known?
And even if this writing is wholly lost?
And even if this writing is not really worth very much?
And even if it is known only a little?
And even if others are highly critical of it?
And even if it seems vanity of vanity and only vanity?
Write and write and write
To the end of my life.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Donna's Story
I spend alot of time writing poems, telling my story
Most are kind of sad, doesn't offer much glory
My best friend is my paper and my pen
It brings me back to places I have been
Some hold sorrow, some hold cheer
Some hold memories, that are very dear
In some I write about great pain
But most of all, I don't write in vain
If one of my poems can touch your heart
Then, I consider my writing some kind of art
I would like to touch, the lives that have been hurt
Want everyone to know that they must stay alert
Pain and fear isn't a choice for many
In all my years, I've sure had plenty
So if my words can help you heal
Maybe my new life, you can feel
Don't pity me, because I've been made whole
I've taken back my life that other's stole!
poem by Donna Nimmo
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Is This Call Pain
standing here across the see
the sea waves crash the rocks and end in the end
the clouds passing by and get over again
a day end with no coming back again
i wander to my self why my pain will never end
see new life coming and never come the same again
see old man dying and never line again
year in life passing by and never come again
i ask my self why my pain never leave me
why my pain never end
is it me the pain
is what i am made of the pain
suffer and endure all my life
what i am mistaking
nails tear my heart
evil wispier in my ears
healing is never use to me
Gods healing useless any more
every thing end except pain
every thing is false except pain
pain of my heart pain of my soul
i am living with pain i am the pain
poem by Aryabod Siharyvani
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Pain and Hurt
born in to pain and hurt
growing in pain and hurt
living in pain and hurt
sleeping in pain and hurt
waking in pain and hurt
cuting in pain and hurt
bleeding in pain and hurt
crying in pain and hurt
i know nothing other then pain and hurt
i use drugs to end the pain and hurt
but all i get is pain and hurt
is there nothing other then pain and hurt
in this painful and hurtful world?
poem by Anna Sprague
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Pattern
He writes
The same
Pattern of
Poems…
Every day.
Just pain,
Pain…
And more
Pain.
Perhaps
His endless
Pain…has
Driven him
Insane.
So,
To him
Writing
Anything
Other than
Pain…
Seems simply
Inane.
poem by Aparna Chatterjee
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Pain
Pain—sharpen but yet dull and painless.
So numb to the pain given to my body that instead of rejecting it, my heart automatically accepts the pain.
Like medicine to the soul, pain seems to be my healer.
Pain seems to bring together life and death.
Pain seems to soothe the soul because without Pain I would be weak: timid: short: and unfulfilled.
You see pain is needed to make a person stronger.
Pain is needed to make a person un-afraid of hurt.
Pain is needed to make a person stand up, be proud and walk tall because they are more certain of the future.
Pain is needed to make one feel more fulfilled.
All because of these feelings my heart becomes full but it brings me back to the root cause: PAIN.
This 4 letter word causes hearts to be crushed relentlessly. It dishevels emotions once grounded and bruises egos. Pain.
Pain. My painkiller.
Pain. My happy endings.
Pain. My way out.
Pain. My life.
poem by Crystal Tutson
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Planning to write is not writing. Outlining, researching, talking to people about what you're doing, none of that is writing. Writing is writing.
quote by E.L. Doctorow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pain
The pain caused by my family and friends is the pain that would never go away
The pain in my heart is the same pain that kills me each and everyday
The pain in my soul runs like a hungry wolf
The pain in my eyes is transparent like rain in the sky
The pain that is in my mind looks like a flower with no life
This pain is death in my life because it killed me last night
poem by Adilene Cadenas
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Dear Friend
i always love to write, as early as
gradeschool when we were classmates
while you were playing and chasing and stumbling
i just sat on the grass of the playground under a tree and scribble anything
and read a lot about some stories with lots of pictures
and colors of fairies and kings and queens and butterflies and bees,
i do not stop writing, in fact, writing has become my life
that without words i may die an instant death
i dream that i have written novels and stories and lots of poems
i wake up with some ideas like some seeds that i want to sow
and grow in the field and see them become shrubs and trees and forests
and i keep on this life writing and writing and writing and writing
for writing's sake and i wish i may live longer so i may write
some more, some sequels of my love stories and suspense thrillers
and write finally all the poems that are inside my mind
hanging like ripe grapes and creeping like vines on my fence
as i am writing now as you always want to read me
until such time my friend that i will die, or end my life myself (who knows?)
(i will not talk about it now, it is something bizarre and makes me
shiver, but who knows, well you know, all are but possibilities and nothing
but possibilities in this vast wide world of realities and dreams)
there is something i must say somehow
there is something that i must have forgotten, i have not written about myself
i have always written about them, about you, about the world,
please do not refuse me, stop playing with your life,
gradeschool ended
a long time ago, i have one and ultimate request:
write the story of my life, because it is you who only knows about it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When I Write About Giving Up Writing
WHEN I WRITE ABOUT GIVING UP WRITING
When I write about giving up writing,
I am not giving it up
I am instead trying to find another justification for continuing-
I am not giving up then-
If the whole effort is futile
If in the end it will mean nothing
If I despair of it even as I continue it
Still
I will not give up.
I cannot give up.
What else do I have, after all, except the writing?
After all these years of giving my life to it
What other work could ever mean so much?
Even if I fail in it
It is who I am
And what I can do.
I am writing again now
What else can I do?
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Writing Is Like A Diet
It is not easy to write.
Even if one likes it...
Writing is like a challenge.
An obstacle to face.
And when confronted,
To make use of it...
A discipline applied,
Is what it takes!
It is not easy to write.
Even if one likes it.
Those who do may not sleep,
At night.
Or discover they have lost an appetite.
Writing is like a diet.
And accepting it becomes a way of life.
Those who ask how writing is done...
Usually have no idea,
Of what they must overcome.
Some believe writing is nothing but fun.
But those committed...
Know writing is more like a spouse,
That can be quiet as a mouse.
Then at other times a shouting occurs...
Heard from the inside,
With a wish to come out!
Writing is like a diet.
And accepting it becomes a way of life.
It is not easy to write.
Even if one likes it!
Writing is like a challenge.
An obstacle to face.
And when confronted,
To make use of it...
A discipline applied,
Is what it takes!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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