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Rice tastes good when it is cooked properly, and talking is good when it is said at the right time.
Rice tastes good when properly cooked, and talking is good when the opportunity is ripe.
Rice
On table plateful cooked rice,
Still the steam emits.
On chair I did cling,
Waited my wife curry to bring.
Beyond the plate, I behold
The farm wet with solicitude
Where the peasants
Sow the seeds.
Hot rice brings to the mind,
The paddy plants pined,
And the debt cankered peasants,
Whose sweats the balm to welted awns.
Held the rusty scythes,
And bent like the scythes,
The darkened women sang throat opened,
And the folk song my core vibrated.
Cooked rice still steamy,
And white purely,
As the mind of farmer,
The climate and price fall boiled ever.
Born to toil in the soil,
Farmers return to the soil,
To feed the worms,
Hanging on a rope hopeless.
When my dear curry brought,
I painfully thought:
No life without rice,
And without the peasant no rice.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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Rice Being Cooked
warm
steamy
bubbling
knocking the lid of the pot
vital
bright
shiny rice makes a living room
sweet as many times as I bite
fun as family gets together eating
mom, I want to see you
smelling rice being cooked
Prayer To Pipal Pillaiyar
Gorgeously pregnant with varieties of dumplings
Vadas, appams, puffed and flaked rice
Cooked, baked chickpeas and raw rice idlis
Payasam with ghee-fried cashews and raisins
Added to the core of sweets
Fruits of jack, jumblem, mango, banana, wood-apple
Guava and of modernity simla apple, pineapple
And tangerines; Also on availability whole sugarcanes
Main offering of potful of cooked rice
With little dal purified on with ghee
Whole and halved coconuts, betel and areca
Little water from panchapaathra....Pillaiar
Signalling to nap, Your paunch belched uptrunked
This peepal tree on this tank-resort
You chose to sit under for rest..
Gentle breeze peepal tree strokes so sweet
Mind-sweeping and You're in a pleasant mood
Delicacies bulge though in real bulges your omniscience
In full prostration seeking Your blessings oh Lord!
poem by Indira Renganathan
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A warm fire is better than delicious cooked rice.
Cooked rice grains sticking to the soles of the feet.
Fundamental Of Liar Chapter CXVIII: I’m Just Talking To Myself
I’m not talking to you
I’m not talking to anyone
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not grumbling
I’m not cursing
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not insane
I’m not in trance
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not mocking
I’m not threatening
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not sharing secret
I’m not hiding something
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not mad
I’m not in rage
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not jealous
I’m not envious
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not afraid
I’m not in pessimism thought
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not whining
I’m not complaining
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not depressed
I’m not in foul mood
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not blaming
I’m not accusing
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not in denial
I’m not in confusion
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not informing
I’m not warning
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not against you
I’m not rebelling
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not help you
I’m not assist you
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not running some plot
I’m not in a mischief plan
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not in great grudge
I’m not in revenge mind
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not suspicious
I’m not curious
I’m just talking to myself
I’m not saying sorry
I’m not saying thank you
I’m just talking to myself
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Farmer And The Stray Dog
the farmer arrives
bringing with him his
viand and rice
places it in the corner
of his hut,
the stray dog
gets in through its
sense of smell
and finds its catch
the farmer's
viand and rice
the catch is taken
far away
the farmer
is not angry for soon
a woman with a long
black hair arrives
bringing him
his broiled fish
and newly cooked rice
the woman is not
his wife
and there they are
under the shade of
the mango tree
the stray dog watches
as this story unfolds
to the final chapter
inside the hut
on such a very dark night
the dog is clever
and it knows the ending
the farmer is not angry
for dogs. mind you,
never tell.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Day I Hate Rice
The day I hate rice
Is several rare day in a year
When I don't eat rice
I don't want to eat rice
I don't want to see it
Because I hate its taste
And I hate to think about it
If I have the day I hate rice
Then you'll know that I don't feel well
I'm bored of this procession
I want to run from this life
Because I begin to hate myself
...just a little while
And everything will be back to normal again
That's the meaning of
The day I hate rice
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Evening Hunger
When hunger came
I went to kitchen
Cooked rice
Made a soup of chicken
Hunger lessened
Had a glass of wine
Felt not comfortable
To have the food alone
Took the mobile phone
Called to him
Who lives same as I
Welcoming sudden invitation
He is to come
Prepared the table for two
Second glass of wine
Toasted with the friend
We had a happy time
Talking about problems
Transcendent solution
To the boarding evening
Tomorrow
How it will be
Hunger is not the curry for meal all the time
Wine is not the friend for loneliness all the time
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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Just Because
Just because you did
Doesn't mean that you should
Just because you can
Doesn't mean that you could
Just because you are able
Doesn't mean you would
Just because you sat
Doesn't mean you should‘ve stood.
Just because you spoke
Doesn't mean that you thought
Just because you looked
Doesn't mean that you sought
Just because you argued
Doesn't mean that you fought
Just because you dreamed
Doesn't mean that you wished not.
Just because you cried
Doesn't mean that you wept
Just because you had
Doesn't mean that you kept
Just because you cleaned
Doesn't mean that you swept
Just because you said yes
Doesn't mean that you accept.
Just because you gathered
Doesn't mean that you own
Just because you gave up
Doesn't mean that you were alone
Just because you saw
Doesn't mean that you were shown
Just because you expiate
Doesn't mean you should atone.
Just because your old
Doesn't mean that you have flaws
Just because you won
Doesn't mean you have to applause
Just because you waited
Doesn't mean that you paused
Just because you were you
Doesn't mean anything, because.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
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Talkin Talkin
Talking, talking
It doesnt really matter
If you know my name
It doesnt really matter
If you see things the same
As I do
It doesnt even matter
If Im tied and tense
It doesnt even matter
If Im still making sense
Over you
Im just talking, talking
Talkin, talking
Cos Im only talking, talking
Talking, talking
It doesnt matter
What the people
All around you say
Be careful how
You listen
They dont know you
The way that I do
And if you wanna
Talk about it baby
Thats alright
Its better if I say it
Than to sit down
And write it to you
Im just talking, talking
Talkin, talking
Cos Im only talking, talking
It can be that
Youre here with me
When Im standing out
On my own
The words of love
That you gage
When we were alone
It doesnt matter
If you want to
Rock and roll all night
I know youre gonna
Be there when the
Feeling is right
The feeling is right
The feeling is right
Im just talking, talking
Talkin, talking
Im just talking, talking
Talkin, talking
You know Im just
Talking, talking, talking, talking
song performed by by Moody Blues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Bad Day, That Is What It Is
there is no gas for the stove
and the fish is half-cooked
the rice smells like rotten worms
and the kitchen looks like
a garage full of junk
she is still praying
and you wonder if breakfast still exists
you pack your things
and move out trying to spell out
other women's names
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Inspired by Issa - your rice field, my rice field
your rice field, my rice field
the road between that leads
to our dreams in tokyo
your rice field, my rice field
the road between that leads
to our sons in tokyo
inspired
your rice field
my rice field
the same green
-Issa,1815
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Globalization, as defined by rich people like us, is a very nice thing... you are talking about the Internet, you are talking about cell phones, you are talking about computers. This doesn't affect two-thirds of the people of the world.
quote by Jimmy Carter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Indifference During Breakfast
you keep on talking
words flood in my ears
as i eat breakfast of egg
and white rice and
coffee,
i keep watching TV
Mt. Mayon spewing lava
another massacre of
innocent lives in Maguindanao
an attempt to bomb
another plane by
a Nigerian terrorist
i am engrossed.
keep on talking.
i will pretend
that i am your listener.
God only knows
you exist.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Glued To The Script
Stylish.
Impeccable taste.
And that shows in her public appearances.
Flawless diction.
Eloquent with undeniable intelligence.
Extremely cool under pressure.
And...
You must agree,
She has an engaging personality.
'And...
You must agree,
She has been noticeably absent of late.'
Give her a break.
Cut her some slack.
You know she has been traveling the world,
Patching up indifferences.
And easing volatile tensions at that!
'Who?
Who are 'you' referring to? '
Secretary of State!
'WHO?
I thought you were talking about Michelle Obama! '
She does not yet have a title.
She doesn't command an elected position.
'I know and she's doing all of that without having it!
You can not be talking about that Rice woman? '
Look...
Who said anything about expectations of her being effective?
For eight years she has done what she was suppose to do.
Give the 'image'!
After all...
Can you say,
Her deception revealed one hint of being disloyal?
Can you?
She was glued to the script!
Her smile and demeanor...
A class 'act'!
'...tress.'
Well...
Let's just say,
She was the best looking one who took centerstage.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Varied Menu
Chicken and rice.
Fish and rice.
Rice and chicken.
Rice and fish.
Varied menu - 'ish!
Nice jungle place.
There's plenty of space.
Fresh clean air
But that dietary pair,
Fish or chicken
.....Not again!
So more trekking with a frown
Back to Georgetown.....
poem by George BernardBloodyShaw
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He's Not Fond of Rice
She dresses nice and speaks with falsities.
But she's never without spring water.
She wants to give impressions like she's queen of deities.
But true leaders listening in are getting bored(er) .
She shops without stopping for those TV ops.
In the finest silk tailored suits.
And her hair doesn't move' cause it's glued!
He's not found of Rice.
Me neither.
It gets gummy on the plate when it's thickened.
Not too many cook it right.
And overnight it has lost many their appetites.
Some might like their Rice,
But I dislike it when it sickens.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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