Bungalow
Bungalow
Bungalow
By the sea
Bungalow
In the sea air
Climbing rose
Time to spare
Luxury accommodation traps the sun
So were working every hour that God made
So we can fly away
Saving it all up for you
Bungalow
Bungalow
Silver shore line
In the gorse
You can be mine
Standing prime position for the town
Working for this vision through our lives
So we can fly away
Saving it all up for you
Bungalow
Bungalow
You wait and see
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Continuing Story Of Bungalow Bill
Hey, bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
He went out tiger hunting with his elephant and gun
In case of accidents he always took his mom
He's the all american bullet-headed saxon mother's son.
All the children sing
Hey bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
Deep in the jungle where the mighty tiger lies
Bill and his elephants were taken by surprise
So captain marvel zapped in right between the eyes
All the children sing
Hey, bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
The children asked him if to kill was not a sin
Not when he looked so fierce, his mother butted in
If looks could kill it would have been us instead of him
All the children sing
Hey, bungalow bill
What did you kill
Bungalow bill?
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cut & Paste
you surf tonight
you see a bungalow beside a lake
abandoned
you do not like what is happening there
the birds are mute
and the ants cannot climb the
star apple tree
so to change at least some things
you cut
the bungalow and place it beside
a rail way where a train moves
to another new destination
you want motion and
a song
you cut some notes from a music website
and put them
inside the throat of the mute bird
and so it begins
to sing
for all the lonely ants in there
and they too, begin to dance and build
their little kingdom
the bungalow appears like a some pieces
of assembled wood
dead
you paste some smoke from a busy chimney
you put some live fishes on the lake
and you look at what you have done
you smile
you are putting life to everything
and finally
you copy a picture of yourself, you cut
and then
paste it there
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flower Girl And The Bargain
Her dreamt-bungalow
Is her caravan
Loaded with a tiny thousand count
Just stringing routine
On to her phonetical 'lee pooyee'
(Malli poo, Jasmine) ...
She decks up fragrant
Crowned herself the queen
With her little three princesses
Of her dream-bungalow
I bargain up to her resentment
Against the hiked price
Hers is ten rupees, mine is five
Per hundred counts two
Or three rupees only townside
Grumbling her tone shrieks
On her vain profit unfit her dream
My final compromise anyway
Five rupees...
And home-grown mangoes some
poem by Indira Renganathan
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Aspiration
Aspiration.
Aah divvent like the winter neets
because wor netty’s doon the yard
It’s caad and damp and has ne leets
and varry often frozen hard.
Aah’d rather use the chamber pot
that hides beneath the double bed.
Aah sometimes wish that aah had got
a warm dry inside loo instead.
Me sister hes a bungalow
that has a bathroom and a loo.
Noo she is rather posh you know
and looks doon on the likes of me.
She married weel, hor man was rich
an left hor weel provided for
Hor life hes gone without a hitch
She had ne bairns but I hed four.
But varry soon aah’ll qualify
and get an aad folks bungalow.
A modern hoose that’s warm and dry
The aah’ll be good as her you know.
The airs and graces she displays
impress hor neighbours but not me.
Cos aah recall wor childhood days
which she forgets conveniently.
Me sister is a proper snob
but she’s the only one aah’ve got.
Aah only wish she haad her gob
not taak a lot o tommy rot..
24-Dec-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Don't build the bungalow on an inch of ground.
A Cut Above The Rest
My great-grandfather was a soldier
and Rebecca was his loving wife.
They were wed in what was then India
and she was accustomed to army life.
They lived in an Indian army bungalow
on the outskirts of the city of Lahore.
Whilst the Major was away on duty
a guard kept their home secure.
One evening as the sun was setting
an open window let in the breeze.
The manservant lit the oil lamps
then retired to the bungalow’s eaves.
As Rebecca sat quietly reading
the sound of a thud came from outside.
From the wall she took her father’s sword
and stood behind the curtain as if to hide.
With the sword raised high and ready
she was in a position to take a swing.
Nervously she stood there waiting
for whatever the night would bring.
From behind the closed curtains
a hand and then an arm poked through
and then with a swipe of the sword
she severed the wrist in two.
A loud scream of pain followed,
as the man left his severed limb behind.
When Rebecca later told the story
she said the burglar left more than he could find.
poem by Orlando Belo
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My wish
Car and bungalow my daddy's wish,
Necklace and bangles mummy's wish,
I have to undergo medicine, my parent's wish,
To sleep for some more time is my wish!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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The bungalow had more to do with how Americans live today than any other building that has gone remotely by the name of architecture in our history.
quote by Russell Lynes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coal Bins
Chicago, the South Side,
long before Barack Obama
those I'd love see live
anywhere they like
are those so black
they up long planks
in the heat of summer
wheelbarrow coal
so bright it pours
in a silver seiche
down chutes
through windows
of bungalow basements
crashing in coal bins
of new masters
poem by Donal Mahoney
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A Hut Leaned Against a House
A hut leaned against a house
counting its days
winter after winter.
One winter
snow shattered its roof;
another winter
rain felled it.
Someone bought the house
and
raised a bungalow instead.
One upon a time
a hut was there;
now
it is sod.
poem by Dina Nath Nadim
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What is Success?
Success is not merely becoming wealthy.
Success is not only working for remaining healthy.
Success is not going after fame and name.
Success is not living life for such mind game.
Success is not just taking career to the top.
Success is not staying in a bungalow at the hill top.
Success is working hard for your dreams you believe.
Success is perseverance and efforts till you achieve your deal.
Success is having consideration for everyone.
Success is a strong desire and to live to help each one.
Success is to follow the religion of humanity.
Success is to always remember all pervading divinity.
Success is to follow the principle, “Live and let others live.”
Success is to accept others as diversity of nature; beautiful and alive.
Success is working for happiness of the world, a dedication.
Success is to love everyone unconditionally without any expectation.
poem by Dr.nutan Pol
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Kansas
I feel like I just woke up
from a bad dream
And it's so good to have you
sleeping by my side
Although I'm not so sure
if I even know your name
Hold on, baby, hold on
We can go gliding through the air
Far from the jeers and lies
Yeah you are the one
I'm talkin' to this morning
With your mind so fine
and your friendly body lying
In my bungalow with stucco
With glory and sunset spa
Hold on, baby, hold on
It doesn't matter if you're the one
'Cause we'll know before we're done
song performed by by Neil Young
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Very strange animals
I know of a bird who can't stand heights
and a Moth who hates bright lights.
There's a Camel who detests the heat
and I saw an Elephant with tiny little feet.
I've witnessed a snail run very very fast
and a Sloth become an Olympic gymnast.
I've heard of a Polar bear who's allergic to snow
and I know a Giraffe who lives in a bungalow.
I've seen a Rabbit driving a sports car
and been served drinks by a Zebra in a bar.
Did you know a Gorilla lives in my street
and his mate a Lion who won't eat meat?
Yes these animals are strange and a bit queer
but I wrote this and I'm Rudolph the Reindeer!
poem by Kevin Halls
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Sand bag
The bigamous chauvinist politician son tells his poor father
While his concubine on the treadmill to reduce her bad cholesterol,
'Hey! Old man please do not enter barefooted and all the way you bring dirty sand into our bungalow.'
Poor father returned to his shack and on his way back he picked a fistful of sand from the premises and kept in his holey satchel as a keepsake.
*Damned politics;
The one and only career that doesn't require qualifications but hypocrisy?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Grave Yard
Don't be proud at me
Comfort grave
Alas...!
Be gentle and calm
Truly!
If thou art my ancestors
Altar of worship
Please look upon their praise
Never lean on that usage
All me thine;
In thee shall pension haves
Never call crusade on us call
For thy diplomatic syringe is robust
Whose confide in thine?
Anonymity not parochial
Ain't got nothing for man
Be very mindset
Please!
Always call on caution
Give to us our regards
And have us...
Peace prostrate coexistence
After all!
We shall still
Come into thy estate
To have a definite bungalow
poem by sanusi samuel Akanni
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Builders
They dig and dig to excavate
All their wet hopes... then
To heave their comforts of bricky dreams
Step by step upping... then
To untie their turbanned head
Spread to recline and lunch... then
To chat and sing to the transistor hopefully
Joking for an Ambassador car... then
To complete the stair-flight back with their tools
Heaving their hopes in air for a month or so... then
The mason back to his bungalow
His family back to next excavate hopes and Ambassador car
poem by Indira Renganathan
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In Brief - A Lifetime's Work
First a teacher and
A lecturer
In French and in Spanish
In Durham
Then a lecturer
In charge of
Modern Languages
In Harrogate
Thirdly a curate
Also in Harrogate
In charge of nothing
But praying for everyone
Fourthly a roving priest
In Salta, Northern Argentina
Fifthly, a Vicar
Of San Salvador in Buenos Aires
Sixthly a school chaplain
In two different schools
Then a priest in charge
Of two different Churches
Finally, a welcome rest
In retirement in Kenilworth
In a bungalow in a close
In peace and in quietness
poem by James Hart
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Demure
I brood on comely thoughts,
With feelings of bungalow;
I sought the demure boy
Living with his house and stone -
A bucolic home, full of mystery.
This hounded this demesne,
Demure friendship with godly work.
I conflate the desultory times
With special times of the year.
I see a boy who had dalliances,
In the very use of the sun and stars.
My ebullience for his shame to prevail
Was astounding and supreme.
I brood on these attractive and comely
Thoughts,
Ones of the reality in this demure boy.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sad Poem
Five locked doors inside a demolished bungalow
Deaf mute on the stage with low-pitched sopranos
A Christmas card falling off from a 5- storey building
A fussy pussycat left with no choice
Broken glasses on my neighbor’s deathbed
Spanish guitar with lonely dead strings
The girl who wore black on her prom
A computer keyboard with missing keys
The violinist running away without a violin
The icing never hit the birthday cake before his interment
Withered petals in November
Lyrics about dreams that never were
The smiling child as the mother wept
Disconnection notice after the black-out
poem by Pete Zaesar Galula
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On Ode To Kittu
AN ODE TO KITTU
He gambolled by the gate
Closely watching me,
Guarding the bungalow
Kittu, the collie, was he.
His fur glinted and shone
In the bright morning sun,
His tail wagging nineteen-to-the-dozen
His pink tongue hanging out.
He bounded up to me
In uncontrollable glee,
Seeming to say, in his own doggy way,
“Where’ve you been, do please say.”
And then, one day …..
He was taken ill
By a disease so severe,
That he lost his usual charm
And all good cheer.
Doctors saw him
“No hope, “ they said,
“Only a few days more,
He’s on his death bed.”
Returning home
With no wag or whimper,
He lay prone on the ground
A mournful “WOOF” was all he could muster.
A few moments
Of twilight hours,
Before he slid
Into Eternal sleep.
Alas! Another Kittu
There shall never be,
One so loving and strong
Such a dear friend was he.
RASHMI P KUMAR
STD IX B
**********************
poem by Rashmi Pradeep Kumar
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