The busy man has few idle visitors: to the boiling pot the flies come not.
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Visitor Clever Theme Words
my visitors are voices clever words
my visitors arrive anywhere anytime
my visitors script film opera words
my visitors mirror parody depths mime
my visitors initiate connect life dots
my visitors represent patterns to define
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Busy
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the old woman needs help
to find her way home.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the dove is too slow
to fly out of the way.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy
but the children crossing the street
are too many.
I am busy
you are busy
we are busy....
I am busy
you are busy
we are...
busy.
poem by Marites C. Cayetano
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Busy Bodies
So you think that you have seen her
When youre lying in between her
And you tell me that you dont care
Busy bodies getting nowhere
Evrybodys getting meaner
Busy bodies
Caught in the concertina
You check her outline
Break her regulations
You watch her legs through several
Service stations
Busy bodies
Very busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere
Now youre ready for the merger
With the company youre part of
And you do the dirty business
With your latest sleeping partner
Youre becoming
Automatic
Busy bodies
Out playing with the traffic
You want attention
You try my patience
With the best intentions you are nothing but a nuisance
Busy bodies
Busy busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere, nowhere, nowhere
Now youve given your performance
Though the matinee was idle
And you find that a wave of her right hand
Could seem so tidal
Just a second
Satisfaction
Busy bodies
Temporarily out of action
You wash and brush up
You want to dress up
You want to kiss her
But shes busy with her makeup
Busy bodies
Very busy
Getting nowhere
Nowhere (x6)
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Idle boats
There lie the idle boats
unattended underbellies
exposed in burning sand
paint chips boiling under an unwatered sun
There lie the idle fishermen
sodden drunk on cheap rot gut
curled in a leaf shade
bonito dreams, marlin sails
There lie the dead fish
rotting and stinking
unable to feed in the churned sea
unable to breath in black sludge
There rises the new land
shiny in high profile beams
news shores, new journey to wealth
graph mountains of increment
poem by Winston T. Gylles
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Sanary
Her little hot room looked over the bay
Through a stiff palisade of glinting palms,
And there she would lie in the heat of the day,
Her dark head resting upon her arms,
So quiet, so still, she did not seem
To think, to feel, or even to dream.
The shimmering, blinding web of sea
Hung from the sky, and the spider sun
With busy frightening cruelty
Crawled over the sky and spun and spun.
She could see it still when she shut her eyes,
And the little boats caught in the web like flies.
Down below at this idle hour
Nobody walked in the dust street;
A scent of a dying mimosa flower
Lay on the air, but sweet--too sweet.
poem by Katherine Mansfield
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The Barreness Of A Busy Life
Beware the barrenness of a busy life.
(Socrates)
bored as barren
a body that is bone-dry,
a walk in the desert,
dry as dust,
moistureless existence
lips parched,
a thirsty soul,
a life waterless
busy, busy, busy,
that is what you are.
beware, for soon
in seeking life
busy, busy, busy,
you lose it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When you are poor, you will have no visitors even if you live in a crowded city; once you become rich, you'll be surprised by visitors from alleged relatives even if you live in a remote location.
He that is busy is tempted but by one devil, he that is idle by a legion.
The busy man is troubled with but one devil, the idle man by a thousand.
He that is busy is tempted by but one devil; he that is idle, by a legion.
Thomas Fuller in Gnomologia (1732)
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In display, not for sale
Flowers, in different coloured petals, are in display,
In a vase, upon a podium, in a banquet hall
For the visitors to see, breathe and vanish.
Likewise are brought ladies in extravaganza
By their men to the visitors’ wistful eyes
And taken back with envies gathered.
22.09.2000, Vijayavad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Against Idleness and Mischief
How doth the little busy Bee
Improve each shining Hour,
And gather Honey all the day
From every opening Flower!
How skilfully she builds her Cell!
How neat she spreads the Wax!
And labours hard to store it well
With the sweet Food she makes.
In Works of Labour or of Skill
I would be busy too:
For Satan finds some Mischief still
For idle Hands to do.
In Books, or Work, or healthful Play
Let my first Years be past,
That I may give for every Day
Some good Account at last.
poem by Isaac Watts
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How doth the little buissy bee
How doth the little busy bee
Improve each shining hour,
And gather honey all the day
From every opening flower!
How skilfully she builds her cell!
How neat she spreads the wax!
And labors hard to store it well
With the sweet food she makes.
In works of labor or of skill,
I would be busy too;
For Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.
In books, or work, or healthful play,
Let my first years be passed,
That I may give for every day
Some good account at last.
poem by Isaac Watts from Divine Songs Attempted in Easy Language for the Use of Children (1715)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Hate and Anger In Me
Why is there so much hate
Brewing inside me?
Bubbling and boiling,
Threatening to spill.
Why is there so much anger,
Burning inside me?
Hitting and shouting is,
All I seem to do nowadays.
All around me there are people,
Busy with their lives.
Why does it irritate me so,
To see them?
Is isolation what I want?
But i don't like being alone.
How do i get this feeling,
Of crying all the time to go?
poem by Anushna Satapathy
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Too Busy
Too busy rushing to get to the next 'high'.
Kept addicted and detached.
To busy too disconnect,
From anything associated with accountability.
Too busy entertaining delusions kept met,
With no regrets of dismissing a seriousness.
Too busy they are protesting,
A reality of life just met and upsets.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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