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Ray Bradbury

You fail only if you stop writing.

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You Don't Stop Writing Girl, Go Girl Go

You don't stop writing girl
You cannot stop, It is part of your nerves now.
Each vein looks for the proper word.
Each red blood corpuscle has become a syllable
For an imaginary poem in your mind.

Each beat of your heart recites a rhyme
A rhythm. A sonnet. A couplet.
Each curl in your cerebellum thinks of
An imagery. Another metaphor comes
And you grasp them with each breath.

You are alive girl. Go girl stop watching
The snow and make your imagination
Run wild like a snowstorm.

The sound of a snowfall. A snowflake
Layering on the side of your window pane
Speaks to you about this coldness
This beautiful sound of a very lonely song
Harking for Love.

Far away from your homeland
You weep for a while and then recover
Compose yourself and see your face in that mirror.
You are strong. You are as vast as the ten thousand miles
Away from us.

Go girl. Another poem knocks at the door of your heart.
Write it. Write about a chaff. The grain. The wheat germ.
Go girl. You are one of us, chosen not to speak
But to write.

I am waiting for your next poem. Gladly, I am.

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You Stop To Point At The Moon In The Sky

You stop to point at the moon in the sky,
but the finger's blind unless the moon is shining.

One moon, one careless finger pointing --
are these two things or one?

The question is a pointer guiding
a novice from ignorance thick as fog.

Look deeper. The mystery calls and calls:
No moon, no finger -- nothing there at all.

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How do you stop Nature

How do you tell the sky to stop being blue?
How do you tell the plants to stop growing?
How do you tell the sun to stop shining
Tell the planets to stop moving?
How do you stop what has already begun?
How do you take the blinkers off one who hangs on to them so?
How?
Why you ask?
Why does she want to stop nature
Well,
What nature is does not need to stop
But this is not nature
Yet it's still like the sky being blue.

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Thank You For Writing A Poem For Me

i am your fan
many years and more years to come
i shall remain
your avid fan

thank you for writing me a poem
about love
and sleepless nights
thank you for writing about the ward
the man bound in
straitjacket
that glass of water that has to be taken everyday
to slide the pills smoothly
in your throat
thank you for writing about the children
who shall still find their mothers
their homes
thank you for bearing with us all these years
when we ourselves
have nothing to write anymore
thank you for being there
always and forever.

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When Did You Stop Loving Me

When did you stop loving me
How long have I been a memory
Ive got to know for my own sanity
Tell me when did you stop loving me
Was it that night that you stayed out until dawn
You know that night has haunted me for so long
Or was your love already cold
Tell me please Ive got to know
Darling, when did you stop loving me
There was a time when you worshiped where I stood
Heaven knows Id bring it back if I could
I can tell when we make love
It aint me youre thinking of
Tell me when did you stop loving me
Darling, when did you stop loving me

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Why Don't You Stop

Stop. Stop.
Why don't you,
Stop. Stop.
Why don't you,
Stop. Stop...
Getting so offended.

Stop. Stop.
Why don't you,
Stop. Stop.
Why don't you,
Stop. Stop...
Your defending arguments.

Why don't you stop getting picky,
And...
Dropping petty bits,
To dip and to lip.

Why don't you stop getting picky,
And...
Dropping petty bits,
To dip and to lip.

Why don't you stop. Stop!
Why don't you stop. Stop!
Why don't you stop. Stop,
Your defending arguments to dip and to lip.

Why don't you stop getting picky,
And...
Dropping petty bits,
To dip and to lip.

Why don't you stop getting picky,
And...
Dropping petty bits,
To dip and to lip.
To dip and to lip.

Why don't you stop getting picky,
And...
Dropping petty bits,
To dip and to lip.
Why don't you stop! ...It.
Just stop it.
Why don't you stop! ...It.
And quit.

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How Do You Stop?

By dan hartman and charlie midnight
Hard bodies
Soft emotions
So fast
So smart
The world is at your feet
But what about your heart?
Fame and fortune cant hold you tight
In the late late hours of the night
How do you stop
Before its too late?
You choose and you lose
If you hesitate
How do you stop
Before its too late?
You think love will wait
So you dont hold on
And then its gone
Youve had success-
Lots of fancy friends
Youve tasted the good life
You thought it would never end
One day youre too young
Then youre in your prime
Then youre looking back at the hands of time
How do you stop
Before its too late?
You choose and you lose
If you hesitate
How do you stop
Before its too late?
You think love will wait
So you dont hold on
And then its gone
How do you stop a runaway train?
How do you stop the driving rain?
How do you stop the ripening corn?
How do you stop a baby being born?
How do you stop
Before its too late?
You choose and you lose
If you hesitate
How do you stop
Before its too late?
How do you stop?
Youre lost if you hesitate ...
How do you stop
Love from slipping away?
How do you stop
Before its too late?

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Would You Stop It? !

Would you let that love that's happening...
Be for you that fills a need?
Or would you stop it,
From not happening.

Would you stop it from not happening?

Would you let that love that's happening,
Be for you that fills a need?
Or would you block it,
From not happening.

Could you block it from not happening?

Conflicting feelings...
Bring on its own pain.
When one turns down what's needed
And they can't admit the needing.

Conflict of feelings,
Is...
What no one needs.

Not a conflict that has meaning,
With some feelings felt unseen.
When one turns down what is needed
And they can't admit the need.

Would you let that love that's happening...
Be for you that fills a need?
Or...
Would you block it,
From not happening?

Would you stop it from not happening,
If we both admit the need...
And let it happen.

Would you let that love that's happening...
Be for us what we need.
Or would you let that love that's happening...
Not to be seen.

Would you let that love that's happening...
Be for you that fills a need?
Or would you block it...
From not happening.

Or would you stop it from not happening.
Not to be ever seen.
Or would you block it from not happening.
Not to feel or be seen.
Or would you stop it from not happening.
Not to be ever seen.
Or would you block it from not happening.
Not to feel or be seen.

Would you let that love that's happening...
Be for you that fills a need?
Or would you block it...
Not to feel or be seen.
Or would you stop it...
Not to be ever seen.
Or would you block it...
Not to feel or be seen.
Or would you stop it...
Not to be ever seen.
Would you stop it? !
To block it.

I'm moving on...
'Cause my feelings felt can not be stopped.
I'm moving on...
'Cause my feelings for you can't be blocked.
I'm moving on...
'Cause my feelings felt can not be stopped.
I'm moving on...
'Cause my feelings for you can't be blocked.

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Alice Hoffman

I'm much faster now. When you only have a certain amount of time to write, after a while you learn to use your time well or you stop writing.

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I Just Can't Stop Writing....

I just can't stop,
Writing poem.
For not only to earn,
The worldly aim,
but, to hug life,
time and again,
I take the shelter,
of paper and pen.
the grief I get,
though I never hurt,
or, none ever hate...
Still, love gets blurred.
Poetess asked me,
to be in happy theme,
not to weep, or cry,
I can't do, it does seem..
Because, in my happy life,
I have the hobby to dive,
in the ocean of strife!
thus I want to survive!

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How can you stop writing?

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A limerick can be rather funny
when the syllables are on the money.
But when none of it fits
it can give you the shits
Would you stop writing limericks, sonny?

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It Is Over...

when the journey
is reached

having passed
many times the same river

when the feet no longer
feels weariness

when the soul rests
upon no thought

then you stop
writing

because everything is so perfect
and no word
no word can ever justify what

it is.

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Courtsey on line

I thought something wrong with language mine,
Why not forgive when committed on line?
In stead reminding a person why did he do?
Politely reminding and feeling woo,

Not all the times, you are so alert,
Words spoken may not be of expert,
Mind some where and answer not clear,
Backlash severe and insult fear,

Youngsters come on line and start firing,
You stop writing and intense reminding,
Though we like but cause not finding,
Better not use and start winding?

Amused at the behavior nut find no answer,
Never to talk again and firmly swear,
I think everything is going out of gear,
Is it sinister campaigning or smear?

My box is flooded so you immediately halt,
I feel the pain for her/his box at fault,
One thing is certain to succeed in goal.
Politeness is must and not keep face as coal,

What makes them to act in unreasonable manner?
Age will take them sooner or later,
Why not is lover than to be hater?
Prove as good server and not bad eater,

Neither short cut nor hastily diving,
Slowly building self and confidence reviving,
Not to be curt in replying answer,
Enemies may be more and friends less or fewer,

We have outlived or stretched more,
Never was scene witnessed this before?
I harp on this point just for reason,
Even nature does change and also season,

We are kind but not clear images,
Thread is slender but always hinges,
If we can adhere to and clearly adopt,
Humanity may shine with good rapport

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Stop writing Literature, You garrulous Indian

a life of toil for the man in the centre
a hub in the peripheral tireless wheel

where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man

no words cling now no words meant in blame
the tongue he lash the words they now tame

no shock of blast open laughter rock the hall
everyman there say there sure were a man

a man no fear cowed in communion to other
made for no gods made for no demons either

all men he know best when he see just once
no second thought resurrect the man if bad

so go tell the magi no trek in sight in sky
here a man be born here he so sure die

other no like see one so bright stand up high
other no like feel like sky fall low into ocean

what make ‘m i say with feeling so just
is sure he different he force hisself work

work work work work an' again work
he work nite an' nite so 50-hour in day

where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man

where you go from word born here now
turn and twist all whoring the alphabet

‘don't write anything you can get published'
so publish only what you can't call your own

writing like reading's a public coital act
so showing your work is exhibitionism

‘why don't you send your stuff around
keeping it to yourself's sheer masturbation'

reading-watching-listening's just voyeurism
so sending wares around is prostitutionism

where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man

he it was in minesweeper capture aurora borealis
message from extrasensory enter into he word

in Bengal waters alone he hear No-man cry
only in deepdown psyche water drip drip dry

then on land he no see reason to the fight
so he let he wrists spill he guts to the fill

then he take the world on all by he torn self
he spare no skin in dug-Malayan-jungle-out

what he do what he think he do he no tell
everybody meet man an' no see albatross hang

he no tell story like ol' mariner in dream
he go wake people from dumb dead trance

many many people high up no like this act
some call him stuckup other just ‘im damn

where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man

is all he do then what kind of working this
is big work man ‘cause most body dead sleep

where he go then where he go this working man
he go on waking people working at waking man

Dedicated to Eric Mottram,1924 - 1995

(© T. Wignesan 13-15 October 1995. Pub. in 'Radical Poetics (Inventory of Possibilities) ', London,1997.)

* Eric N. W. Mottram held a personal Chair, since 1983, in English and American Literature at King's College, University of London where he was first appointed as lecturer in American Literature in 1960. A prolific poet (34 vols.) and critic (15 vols.) , he also taught at Zurich, Singapore and Gröningen after obtaining a Double First in English Tripos from Cambridge in 1950. He was a recepient of the American Learned Societies award in 1965 and had also subsequently taught at North Western University and New York University at Buffalo. He edited 22 issues of the Poetry Society's Review in the seventies and was largely responsible for introducing Beat literature in Europe. He authored Algebra of Need on William Burroughs.

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We Are Considerate Only If You Give Us A Chance

give us a chance to know you better
read us too
do not attempt to please us
we will not require much for you to stop writing
if it is your cure
we will have the patience of reading every word
from you
every murmur
we will dip our own feet to every creek
that you create
we wish you happiness
please understand
we wish no ill
we ask no questions
what ill wind too has taken us here
to be with you

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Remiscing What You Surrendered...

you stop in a certain space
you spend time
sometime longer than what that space requires
then it gets crowded
space grumbles
and time wants to run faster like a leopard

at a certain point
you become a passive observer
like a marker of the road
you forget speech
because time does not give you words
you lose sight of corners
space is arrogant

it is only for a while
you gain flesh
you remember syllables
your bones get back that hardness
that it has surrendered
before
because space and time give you
love, and affection
and then suddenly strip you with it

it is not late
there is still a few fireflies resting upon
a crown of leaves

you glisten
now a meteor you move somewhere else
because you
do not fail to remember

going there is remembering.

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if you are on the same boat with me. Come.

as you read these lines
(let me tell you, there is nothing
significant, and i may advise you
to quit and may even ask
that you write your own
instead
it may be good for you
than continue to read
on the next line...

why not write
something about yourself and the
full moon and the lonely tree
that needs badly a
good company to pass the dark
night away)

why not just be
on your own,
solitude and self-introspection?
the secret journey to your heart
looking for
the place that is only for you

happiness, right?
eternal bliss, how about it?

you are curious about my boredom
the ennui of the century
perhaps you like to know how i deal
with the numbness of my being

every night every day
when slowly i die and feel so excited
about ending this ordeal and

how i cope with it

yes, the it.
this it. my it. this self....

attempting on
writing lines

whatever lines that come into my mind
words that try to please my senses
symbols that give me hope
figures of gods who may be able to say
something wise and
inspiring,
images. lots of images...

the image of the wind
on the wings of the seagulls

the colors changing on the horizon
like a swab of orange and red and black
or blood

or pastel green on the shadows of the hills
or the brightness of the sun when i stare at it and hurt my eyes
and then i close them
and see this world as all red
bursting red
like a sunset coming
and then fading away like a song
of a flute faraway


i wish i could stop writing
i wish that i could get a nice sleep
a restive mind
a peaceful state
a harmony of all my sense
up and down

but nothing seems to work right for me
i tried to sing the songs of love
but my ears say

liar! you do not have love in your heart
you do not know the feeling anymore

i tried drawing my thoughts and putting bright colors
on the images of green fields and blues skies
and stars and even seven moons of the other planets
but always they end up so displeasing

i am looking for the meaning of my life and if you are
on the same boat with me
then come and take the ride
on the stormy sea
no lamplight
no island to land
no north star to guide us


i ask you to quit reading but you are just like me
hardheaded human being insisting that there is meaning to all these
and the inability to stop
and be a quitter

quieter, i mean.
hopefully.

in the silence of the cat's feet
cautiously catching another prey
let me stop now. quit me.

Look at the sky. Do you see stars?

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May You Stop The War

You may stop destroying our lives
For what all thus fights
Even the stars on the sky deserted our nights
The sun above is crying sad
Wouldst you fear the God
Step back and look around
You may can see the bloody tears of mothers hearts
The cry of the innocence children's amongst fears
Would you fear the God for a while

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And Then You Ordered The Sun To Rise For Me

and so the sun did rise
upon your orders
to shine upon me,

what next? shall you move
the mountains? shall you divide the sea?
shall you fish for the stars and bring them inside a net for me?
shall you seal the blackholes of my heart?
shall you summon all the birds to sing for me?
shall you stop the planets from revolving?

even if you can, you don't have to.
there is only one thing that i ask of you.

write me a poem about 'such sweet sorrow'
that which Romeo said to Juliet on that famous night.

you know it well, your heart once bled.

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