En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Writing Is My Strength

I love to write.
I can sit and write
for hours and hours.

I love to write poetry
on how I feel.

It’s so great to have
writing as your strength.

I like it when people
read it too

But.....WRITING IS MY STRENGTH!

poem by Lisa Parks
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Can Write Poetry All Day Long

I CAN WRITE POETRY ALL DAY LONG

I can write Poetry all day long
But what will it give me?
There is just so much others will listen to
If anything?

And what is the value of writing words to myself for myself
Even if I love them
And believe they are real poetry,
And know in my soul
That their music is real?

I can write Poetry all day long
Or think I am writing poetry
When I am not-

Am I writing poetry now?
I feel I am-
Within me there is the song and the sound
There is the music of poetry
But is it real
Or only my self- deception?

Can I write poetry all day long?
Can I write poetry at all?

I am writing poetry now
Or so I tell myself-
But as I write this
The music within
Is already fading
And I hear in myself
The silence of my own lonely sound.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Just Another One Of Those Poem Thingies...

Well as you can tell,
This is just another one of those poem thingies.

But I ask you,
'What is poetry? I mean,
Do people just write words in wierd orders.'

Well, poetry is an expression,
An opinion, well I guess it could be,
Anything,
From a very 'sensitive' piece of writing
To an essay that you wrote three years ago.

The definition that you find in a dictionary
Has nothing to do with poetry.
It is just a summary,
No an assumsion of what those fools writing the dictionaries
Think it is.

Poetry is whatever you want it to be.
So next time some person who thinks that they're too cool,
And that your so stupid because you like poetry,
Weather it's writing it or just reading it,
Tell them that they write it too,
Weather or not they consider it to be poetry,
It's their opinion and anything,
Can be poetry.

I have a love for poetry,
That can not be described.
I know,
That sounds obsesive.
But I really do love poetry.
I feel like I can say anything and,
It doesn't have to be serious,
I mean it can,
But it is not required.
Nothing is required of you when you write poetry.

It is relaxing,
A chance to step aside from life,
Even if it's just for a few minutes.
I do it for my own enjoyment an relaxation.
Why do you?

poem by Maddy Macleod
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Revolution Poetry Is....!

Are you writing words of rhythm according to thoughts?
Or are you coining words of thoughts according to rhythm?
Or are you writing poetry both working at the same time?
Asking so, if they ask me how to write poetry, what shall I say?

Poetry writing is natural, spontaneous expression from heart!
How can this be taught to anyone to write poetry ever at all?
Poetry is a spontaneous flow of words direct from heart ever!

I wonder many a time how am I writing poetry at all ever!
But this is happening to my great surprise since longtime!

Due to engagements ever poetry only I am able to write
Though my aim in the beginning was writing stories.....,
Novels, short stories and nonfiction articles of criticism!

Poetry books too I have completed writing so since long
But what a pity there is no reception for poetry books...!

poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Poet 2 Poet

We all have different writing styles, and we
May not all have grace and poise.
But when we do write, it’s all to make some noise.

We want to be recognized by the co-poets
All fair and true.
For writing our poetry is what we all like to do.

So I welcome all my co-poets who take this beautiful ride
And all their dreams and visions, they do find.

We do not only write what comes into our minds
But we write from the heart
And this is where poetry gets its start.

So continue to write all that you see and feel
Because these are human emotions.
That from us, no one can steal.

WELCOME ABOARD THIS TRAIN OF POETRY.

poem by Louis Rams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Poetry, That's What I Write

Parody of the classic song Money, That's What I Want

The best words on the page are here
Teaching you a hell of a lot more about life
Then just the birds and bees
Now you know words of magic
Words of wisdom
Given birth
Right here, right now
Oh, yes
Poetry, that's what I write

My wicked writing should give you such a thrill
So don't be shy
Go ahead and click on this link right here
My poetry won't pay your bills, no
But I can promise to give you some kinky thrills
Now you know
Poetry, that's what I write
Bright and beautiful
Perfect as can be
Poetry, that's what I write
Oh yeah baby
Poetry
Poetry, that's what I write

My poetry is the best
It's true
If you don't agree then I don't need you
You can kiss my sass
Now you know
Now you better read it
Oh yeah baby

Poetry, that's what I like
Poetry
Oh yes
Poetry, that's what I love
Poetry, that's what I write
Whoa

My poetry is the best
It's true
If you don't agree then I don't need you
You can kiss my sass
Now you know
Now you better read it
Oh yeah baby

Well, now read my poetry
Ooooh, oooh yeah my poetry
Read my
Love my
Poetry, oh yeah that's what I like
What I love
Oh yeah baby
Poetry, that's what I write
Yeah

2008 Ramona Thompson

poem by Ramona Thompson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

All That

I write
Without
Pain

I write
Without
Grief

I write
Without
Shame

How can I
Write ~
Without
All that?

For when
I write…
My poetry
Sucks -
All that
Out of me.

It's called
The
Writing
Therapy.

poem by Aparna Chatterjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Vote! | Copy!

~ O' Poetry I Read I Write ~

~ O' POETRY I READ I WRITE ~

Ms. Nivedita
UK
29 December,2009.

Poetry ~
I read I read I read
Without asking,
Knowing why?

Poetry ~
I write I write I write
Without asking,
Knowing why?

O' Poetry ~
Read n’ write
To share
Dare n’ bare,
Don’t care
Love to dye
By
Hi and fie.
.
O' Poetry ~
Life I buy
Never sell bye bye
All I’ll do until I die
Lo! I’m no hi-fi.

----

Copyright reserved by the author

poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Scribbles Transcribed

Some write for glory and for fame.
I write because I am obsessed
and wordplay is my favourite game.

I concentrate on poetry
Because I find it to my taste
and pass my time creatively.
I could not sit and watch T.V
and live my life vicariously.
That would drive me to insanity.

I have a wide vocabulary
which I love to exercise
Harmless but it amuses me.

What better way to pass the time
than writing formal poetry
I do not find it hard to rhyme

I’ll never be a household name
Which does not bother me at all.
I write for fun and not for fame.

My writing will not make me rich
I very rarely publish it
I merely write to scratch my itch.

My pad and pen accompany me
No matter where I choose to go
Though I scribble illegibly.

Record what takes my interest
and jot down anything I see.
When I get home I do my best.

To read the jottings I have made
which is sometimes difficult
as pencilled words tend to fade.

I find that if I persevere
for long enough I understand
enough to make it very clear.

I sometimes wish that I could write
In a clear and cursive script
If I had perhaps I might.

But I am too impatient to write
All of down the things I want to
My scribbling will have to do.

Thank God for printers and P.Cs
So when I post its legible
and you can read my verse with ease.

The feed back which you give to me.
I read with greatest interest.
And it improves my poetry.

My hand writing will never be
capable of being read
by anybody else but me..

(18-Jun-07)

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

0005 Letter to a Younger Poet

Thanks for your letter. Though
you’ve caught me at a rather awkward time –
I’m going into surgery tomorrow – a rather
risky op; so I’ll try to put all the answers that I’ve got
into this one letter;
I hope you'll understand...

and that helps me to make my first point to you:
write as if you, too, may not live
beyond tomorrow – write as if
it’s the last thing that you’ll ever write –
give it everything you’ve got,
hold nothing back;

or better still – write as if
the world will end for everyone tomorrow:
write so that in their last hours, too, this
will make them feel, will make them know
we’ve faced life fully, faced it so complete
that death is relatively unimportant now…

write as if it were only yesterday
that, in an air crash, all your family –
parents, wife or husband, partner, children, and best friend,
had lost their lives; write as if,
were you not to write,
your heart would break forever, or you would go mad...

write as if you’re writing somewhere
where there’s no such thing around, as ink;
you’ll have to use your own blood in the pen,
so use it carefully; so red, so living,
look at it… so beautiful, so precious,
and so solemn – use it carefully, don’t spill a drop…

write as if you’re borrowing every word
from the very centre of the universe, where suns and gods are made;
and need thus to account for every word
with your whole life, no less; know that every word
must be given back, cleaner, stronger, brighter
with your own power, than when you borrowed it;

write as if every poet that ever lived
is leaning over your shoulder, so that you
can feel their breath upon your neck as they say
‘Tell them all that we would tell,
but cannot now; tell them all of this’…
this, now, is how you must deeply be and speak;

write as if you are the only being on earth
who can tell them this; as if tomorrow, if tomorrow comes,
you shall visit them every one, at home,
and look them in the eye; write as if
you love them more than they will ever know;
write as if you were offering to live their lives with them;

write as if you were a force of nature in yourself:
as if whatever earthquake, hurricane or flood might do,
whatever law or love may greatly do,
whatever gods or men can speak, in fullest force,
this you may do, because the sound of poetry is such;
yes, write ‘as if’ – but know you really write ‘because’…

write as if – no, write because –
you know that only poetry can tell
all, that must be told, and must be known;
and as all hearts melt in the heat of your own love,
be in no doubt – and see that all are in no doubt too –
that life was never, never more serious,
never more glorious, than it is right now;

write all this.

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

No One Can Stop Us To Write

and they must know the reason why,
simple enough
we are writers and our essence is to write
for writing's sake
nothing aimed nothing gained nothing lost
we write because we are here
and we are here because we write
we write because if we do not
we no longer become ourselves
we lose our salt we become just like any
flesh, rotten, infected with bacteria
foul, and finally become just dust
on the corner of the road

we write and we keep on writing
because we are
we do not need the praise
or the condemnation
we do not need an audience
or an empty space

we write because we are
that is our essence and no one can stop us

except perhaps when the word is gone.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

She Is Sleepless, She Is Probing

They read your lines
They perhaps like you
They try to read you
In between
she is sleepless
And she pities you
she is probing
And she writes for you too
And you feel so honored

Comes our arrogance
You say you write
Only for yourself
For art’s sake
You say you cannot
Write for no other
You say you cannot
Stop writing
Your essence is just that
To write for no other

To write or you die

Be kind
Let them read you through the night
Let them follow you
Warn them though
They may have followed
A blind man eking his way through
His darkness

Without even a cane to feel his way.

The Virgin Mary
And Veronica
The crying mother
And the cloth to wipe a bloody face

Don’t stretch further
There is no Christ in me.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Closest Is Always The Most Fun

I like to do this irrational thing
Some spirit of irony beckons me forward
Into this folly and fun, so onward I charge, onward I fling
My heart's words into this inked paper, praying they are ignored
Because the subject I write of is right there
Yep she's right there
Right here
This is when and why I choose to write
Because she is right there
So I write, I like to write as she watches
In complete ignorance; or that's the idea
Maybe she does know, but probably not
No one can read my handwriting, no one can read my thought
She won't see through the metaphor
How could she know it's her, she'd never it is her who it's all for

I play this fun game of risk and love
Throw my inhibition and write when she's on my right
Haha, I can write whatever I want and no one
Will eve know, surely I have won
Surely they will not see it's about them
I even tell them I am writing
I even allude to what I am writing
So roll the dice, pick a card, buy a stock
Let's take the risk
I'll do it and you'll never know
Irony calls to me to make it more and more
Obvious, you don't even notice me
I dare you to notice this
I dare you.

poem by David Knox
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

On Books

Books are my first love, I’m so proud to read;
They give me knowledge and help life to lead;
Hours, days just pass by, by reading life-time;
Life would not be worth, if not for my rhyme.

Great are those people who write books all life;
Burning just candles, with Goose-quills in strife;
Tired of writing though day-long or night,
They keep on writing in such a bad light.

Books serve a great cause; their value can’t cease;
It takes years to write but reading is ease;
Book-makers struggle to print a few books;
And keep spending time to, improve their looks.

Some find their way to libraries in town;
Some remain untouched and nev’r taken down;
Silver-fish, Moths eat the books that are old;
Some are gone obsolete, some sold like gold.

Some are in tatters and must be rebound;
Books are Man’s best friends where solace is found;
Reading for long hours, does help you to learn;
Books give much knowledge and wisdom to men.

Read books with great care whose weight is in gold;
Serve generations though they may be old;
Source of much Info, deserving respect;
Books are life-partners whom you ne’er reject!

poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!