"“it’s like I hardly see the sky someday”" – 4495 rezultate
0.02 secundeMeilisearchDan Moldoveanu
'Somebody at one of these places ... asked me: "What do you do? How do you write, create?" You don't, I told them. You don't try. That's very important: not to try, either for Cadillacs, creation or immortality. You wait, and if nothing happens, you wait some more. It's like a bug high on the wall. You wait for it to come to you. When it gets close enough you reach out, slap out and kill it. Or if you like its looks you make a pet out of it.' - Charles Bukowski
17 poezii, 0 proze
DBDaniela Maria Benea
I was born in Cluj-Napoca on the 11th of September 1970. I have learned to read, write and love over there. In 1991 I moved to Brisbane, Australia. I hold a bachelor degree in International Business. Later on I followed a couple of courses in Psychology. I mainly write in Romanian, that's what makes me feel closer to the places I left. However I do write in English, sometimes it feels like the words find me better this way, or maybe it's the other way around. I read many English books, biographies, poetry, etc.
19 poezii, 0 proze
Duca Horia
So why did I do it? I could offer a million answers, all false. The truth is that I'm a bad person, but that's gonna change. I'm going to change. This is the last of that sort of thing. I'm cleaning up and I'm moving on. Going straight and choosing life. I'm looking forward to it already. I'm going to be just like you. The job, the family, the fucking big television, the washing machine, the car, the compact disc, and electrical tin opener, good health, low cholesterol, dental insurance, mortgage, starter home, leisurewear, luggage, three-piece suite, D.I.Y., game shows, junk food, children, walks in the park, 9:00 to 5:00, good at golf, washing the car,choice of sweaters, family Christmas, indexed pension, tax exemption, clearing gutters, getting by,looking ahead to the day you die.
1 poezii, 0 proze
Radu Contes
The beginning of my childhood was profoundly marked by one of my grandfather’s passions – literature. For him reading, living, the writings of so many did not seem to be enough, so he began writing his own stories that still echo in my memory and in my heart. I remember that one day I went to him and asked “What are you writing about?”. Looking at me for only a second and returning his eyes at the ink stained notebook he answered: “My life”. Regretful, I confess that that was the last dialogue we had. After that I began reading, reading everything he was writing. Two years after his death, I had met someone who changed everything. I stopped reading and began writing myself. It was such a new feeling. It seemed to be never ending. It still feels. Since the first time, you may think I am exaggerating, but it really was the first time I saw her when I felt this sudden urge of writing. Words like “Thank you” seem meaningless compared to the things that you have done for me.
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ITIoan Tițian
Prenume: Ioan Nume: Tițian email: maa_eendo@yahoo.com Photo: by Me ... 1 Does the Eagle know what is in the pit? 2 Or wilt thou go ask the Mole? 3 Can Wisdom be put in a silver rod? 4 Or Love in a golden bowl? (by W. Blake) ... I ne'er was struck before that hour With love so sudden and so sweet. Her face it bloomed like a sweet flower And stole my heart away complete. My face turned pale, a deadly pale. My legs refused to walk away, And when she looked what could I ail My life and all seemed turned to clay. And then my blood rushed to my face And took my eyesight quite away. The trees and bushes round the place Seemed midnight at noonday. I could not see a single thing, Words from my eyes did start. They spoke as chords do from the string, And blood burnt round my heart. Are flowers the winter's choice Is love's bed always snow She seemed to hear my silent voice Not love appeals to know. I never saw so sweet a face As that I stood before. My heart has left its dwelling place And can...
6 poezii, 0 proze
SMStephenie Meyer
Stephenie Meyer\'s life changed dramatically on June 2, 2003. The stay-at-home mother of three young sons woke up from a dream featuring seemingly real characters that she could not get out of her head. \"Though I had a million things to do, I stayed in bed, thinking about the dream. Unwillingly, I eventually got up and did the immediate necessities, and then put everything that I possibly could on the back burner and sat down at the computer to write—something I hadn\'t done in so long that I wondered why I was bothering.\" Meyer invented the plot during the day through swim lessons and potty training, and wrote it out late at night when the house was quiet. Three months later she finished her first novel, Twilight. With encouragement from her older sister (the only other person who knew she had written a book), Meyer submitted her manuscript to various literary agencies. Twilight was picked out of a slush pile at Writer\'s House and eventually made its way to the publishing...
12 poezii, 0 proze
VVVeronica Văleanu
All expression of energy in this universe must end where it began. Walter Russell I am a survivivore. And for a survivivore, its predatory condition is strictly related to consuming its own survivals. Born - every time I was signalled to. Married, two children. Printer.s Devil Review, vol.2, no.2 Chicago Poetry Review, Poetry Cram 14, Journal of Modern Poetry Randomly Accessed Poetics World Poetry Reading Series, Featured Poets Ygdrasil, A Journal of the Poetic Arts, vol.XXII, issue 3 ...as I said: Nobody can live real poetry. You have to survive it.
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DMdan marius
"Well, I've been a disclaimer for twenty-four years Poor mother drowned in a pillow of tears Im well known in story, famous in song The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong The black sheep, the blemish, the one who went wrong My crime is discomfort, my mind ill at ease Old crow on my shoulder, my favorite disease My siblings, my rivals might tend to my wake Grieve me not brothers, I was mother's mistake Grieve me not brothers, I was mother's mistake And all the grand expectations of an epic of wealth Leave me long to crawl back to the womb Well, I've tasted your grace, placed it back on the shelf Drag your pedigree wives to your tomb Drag your pedigree wives to your tomb Well, I came from this city, a victim of peace But I've grown far too filthy to attend to the feast So I'll take to the hills to live savage and free I don't need nobody, nobody needs me I don't need nobody, nobody needs me" http://www.obliothedagger.blogspot.com/
289 poezii, 0 proze
MBMircea Braslasu
Dedicate these lyrics memory my son Valentin Catalin Brăslașu, the writing about his life from birth (28-10-1981) until death (08-07-2000), but after his death. This describes both his life and my life, but more strongly to the shock of finding veștii that my son died in a tragic car accident at age 18 years 8 months and 10 days shock from which I left with sequelae , traumatized throughout their lives. I am Brăslașu Mircea, born com.Sângeru, jud.Prahova. In 1979, on December 31, I married, from this marriage two children resulted: Valentin-Catalin-Adrian and Gabriel. In 1993 after 14 years of marriage I broke the exclusive fault of the former spouses. In the divorce we have been entrusted to educate and increase a child so-Catalin Valentin (it was 12 years) was heard by the court expressing its desire to remain with me, the fact that the account, and Gabriel (he had 6 years) was given his mother. After he finished vocational school (1999), Catalin's exam at the evening high school,...
19 poezii, 0 proze
John Willy Kopperud
It\'s All Over Now, Baby Blue Bob Dylan You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last. But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast. Yonder stands your orphan with his gun, Crying like a fire in the sun. Look out the saints are comin\' through And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. The highway is for gamblers, better use your sense. Take what you have gathered from coincidence. The empty-handed painter from your streets Is drawing crazy patterns on your sheets. This sky, too, is folding under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. All your seasick sailors, they are rowing home. All your reindeer armies, are all going home. The lover who just walked out your door Has taken all his blankets from the floor. The carpet, too, is moving under you And it\'s all over now, Baby Blue. Leave your stepping stones behind, something calls for you. Forget the dead you\'ve left, they will not follow you. The vagabond who\'s rapping at your door Is standing in the clothes that you...
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“it’s like I hardly see the sky someday”
de Cristian Laza
Parcă e dimineață, sau cel puțin așa mi se zice, “scoală bă, jegosule, că iar ai dormit in pișat” nu merge să-l mai mint că nu mă mai ține vezica, acu vede și el sticla de lângă mine. Deocamdată...
Dracula
de Bram Stoker
Chapter 13 - Dr. Seward\'s Diary The funeral was arranged for the next succeeding day, so that Lucy and her mother might be buried together. I attended to all the ghastly formalities, and the urbane...
The Sphinx
de Oscar Wilde
In a dim corner of my room for longer than my fancy thinks A beautiful and silent Sphinx has watched me through the shifting gloom. Inviolate and immobile she does not rise she does not stir For...
Portrait of a Lady
de T.S. Eliot
Thou hast committed— Fornication: but that was in another country, And besides, the wench is dead. The Jew of Malta. I AMONG the smoke and fog of a December afternoon You have the scene arrange...
Albert Einstein\'s Words on Spirituality and Religion
de Albert Einstein
(The following quotes are taken from The Quotable Einstein, Princeton University Press unless otherwise noted) \"My religion consists of a humble admiration of the illimitable superior spirit who...
Carte haiku
de Cristina-Monica Moldoveanu
Conținutul (strict versurile, imaginile fotohaiku fac parte dintre cele postate de mine mai demult pe acest site) cărții mele de haiku Umbra unui fluture, publicată în februarie la Editura PIM....
L\'Ile inconnue. Barcarolle.
de Théophile Gautier
Tell me, my young pretty, Where would you like to go? The sail unfolds its wing The breeze is coming up! The oar is of ivory The flag of silk The rudder of fine gold For ballast I have an orange For...
Interview with Enrique Iglesias
de A.M. Rika
Enrique Iglesias reaches for the stars with his feet on the ground Enrique Iglesias is the boy next door, someone who grew up doing things quietly, but effectively. Dreaming of becoming a pop star...
Daydreamer
de Calin Alexandru
Everyday is so much more amazing Waking up right next to you And it feels like I\'m daydreaming \'Cause it\'s always sunshine when I look at you! I play games with you trying to resist, Trying to...
20 gold buttons
de Ohm
I dreamed of meeting you in a long black dress with 20 gold buttons a big smile on my face and a big blue moon shining in the sky just the look in your eyes melted five buttons off the bottom of that...