The Dog barks to keep itself, not the village.
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When the dog barks
When the dog barks
Don’t crack, I remark
Watch your back
Maybe it is about to attack
A dog is commonly your loyal slave
But your master when it is brave
It can be your best friend
It can be your worst enemy
When the dog barks
Get ready on your mark
It senses you in the dark
When the dog barks
And you don’t talk back
It will sense the courage you lack
When the dog barks
You may need to give it a whack
To set it on the right track
Before it embarks
On a mission with its mates in a pack
When the dog bites
You must put up a fight
When the dog bites
Think hard, do what is right
When the dog whines
Even you should know it’s not fine
Copyright 2006 - Sylvia Chidi
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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When a dog barks at the moon, then it is religion; but when he barks at strangers, it is patriotism!
quote by David Starr Jordan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If the dog barks, go in; if the bitch barks you had better stay outside.
Global Village
Global village
Though we are all human
we are made to be different
by forces beyond our clout
Yet they want remake us
in a new image of their choice
in a village too big to be safe
The world they now call
a single village in the globe
with a big brother to match
As long as we are second class
within that large village fashioned
we would be subjected to
someone’s standards
someone’s culture
someone’s technology
someone’s understanding
someone’s world view
someone’s theories and concepts
They try hard in harder ways
to make us part of that village
but we know we are different
and shall strive to leave outside
that fashioned unsafe village
poem by Yusuf Adamu
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Always Remember
always remember that when
a fake dog
takes a poise on your sofa
at the middle of your
living room
or your study
try looking
try listening carefully
it never barks.
it is your silly puppy without a mommy
that barks
in the mirror. barking at its image
waggling its tail
the fake ones
do not bark, remember that, and i know that you know
that i know about this plasticity
between us.
it is you that barks
almost every morning when i begin to write a poem
and all the while for years and years
i have always been silent.
that is the difference between us.
and let me tell the obvious. do not be hurt.
i am fake and you are true.you are angry and i never was once.
you breathe. i don't anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Barks of Trees are best gathered in the Spring, if it be of great Trees, as Oaks or the like, because then they come easiest off, and so you may dry them if you please, but indeed your best way is to gather all Barks only for present use.
quote by Nicholas Culpeper
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Village Idiot
Did you see the lad, on the corner
He was standing drinking wine
Wears his overcoat in the summer
And short sleeves in the winter time
Takes his holidays, down at the bookies
Well he knows how to pick a horse
Village tramping round the countryside
He wears a smile, but he doesnt say much
Village idiot, hes complicated
Village idiot, simple mind
Village idiot, he does know something
But hes just not saying
Dont you know hes onto something
You can see it, you can see it in his eyes
Sometimes he looks so happy
As he goes strolling by
Oh village idiot, hes complicated
Village idiot, hes got a simple mind
Village idiot, must know something
But hes just not saying
Well you all know hes onto something
You can see it in his eyes
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inspired by Issa - My Home Village
my home village
the virgin mary still stands
young as ever
my home village
old friends like me
away from home
my home village
old friends live in
new homes
inspired by
my home village-
the winter rain targets
a standing Buddha
-Issa,1816
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Hypocrisy And Ignorance...
cutie the little chihuahua
lives inside the bath tub
near the music room of
tom,
the whole night the chihuahua
barks asking for
a hot-dog
for supper but cruel tom
listens to rock
and hears nothing about the tiny barks
of the tiny dog,
the following morning
tom gets wild
why his tiny dog died
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Village Green
Out in the country,
Far from all the soot and noise of the city,
Theres a village green.
Its been a long time
Since I last set eyes on the church with the steeple
Down by the village green.
twas there I met a girl called daisy
And kissed her by the old oak tree.
Although I loved my daisy, I saw fame,
And so I left the village green.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And now all the houses
Are rare antiquities.
American tourists flock to see the village green.
They snap their photographs and say gawd darn it,
Isnt it a pretty scene?
And daisys married tom the grocer boy,
And now he owns a grocery.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And I will return there,
And Ill and daisy,
And well sip tea, laugh,
And talk about the village green.
We will laugh and talk about the village green.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Cleaning Agents
Anger or sorrow is the outcome
When one’s interest is affected.
Anger barks out and sorrow sheds tears.
Barks and tears are cleaning agents.
(23.05.2011)
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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french Fries -context-2nd World War-1940-fall Of France
An owl hoots, hoots, hoots, hoots
A dog barks, barks, barks, barks
Then some boots, boots, boots, boots
Uproots, uproots, uproots, uproots
The night lurks, lurks, lurks, lurks
Red wines bespatter,
French fries berserk, berserk, berserk, berserk
As the tall neighbours jerk, jerk, jerk, jerk
There rents the air some surrealists
The face of renaissance recaptured nationalists
No ikebana for my darling in Paris
As scenaries take on cemetaries
And greenaries take on apothecaries
Some invitations dugging heccatomb
Our menu-guns, missiles, mortar and a bomb.
Some toddler girls hanging for apricots
Uproar the gargantuan mascots
Come bigots,
Come faggots,
All yield in to the zealots
Ablaze relaxes a man
In some shabby agonized catamaran
His cries laughed away;
His worries withered away;
Is he the last to give in?
For Paris to Berlin.
04/03/2009
The Story Of Ali Rıza And Ahmet
How strange is the story of
Ali Rıza and Ahmet
One lives in the village
The other in the city
And every morning
The one in the city goes to the village
And the one in the village to the city
poem by Orhan Veli Kanik
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Metaphors of a Magnifico
Twenty men crossing a bridge,
Into a village,
Are twenty men crossing twenty bridges,
Into twenty villages,
Or one man
Crossing a single bridge into a village.
This is old song
That will not declare itself . . .
Twenty men crossing a bridge,
Into a village,
Are
Twenty men crossing a bridge
Into a village.
That will not declare itself
Yet is certain as meaning . . .
The boots of the men clump
On the boards of the bridge.
The first white wall of the village
Rises through fruit-trees.
Of what was it I was thinking?
So the meaning escapes.
The first white wall of the village...
The fruit-trees...
poem by Wallace Stevens
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I don't believe in careers, I just picture myself always as one of those old actors from the 19th century who go from village to village in their repertoire.
quote by Antonio Banderas
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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GOSH...Another Elegy!
They came
From the vast desert
To the shores of an expansive sea
G
O
S
H!
Giridhar
Om
Shivam…
I can’t understand anything
Not a single word
I’m from a village!
That’s Giridhar’s declaration
At the first encounter
The cynosure of his village
A would be first engineer form the village
Sent to learn the ship building with
Contributions form the entire village
Easy, you can! You will!
And he proved himself!
First few minutes of the class were his:
Spoke of his village
His family
Himself
His friends…
Shivam and Om fared pretty well though
On an evening of fun and frolic
When the moon up above was
Increasing its radius and radiance
The volleyball that stealthily hid their destiny
Changed its course in the air
And decided to float on the waves
Teasing the three to follow it
The hardy desert boys
Lured by the watery net
Were thrown up by the sea
Stiff and frozen a few days later!
Mam, see I now can speak…
Man, see I now can speak…
Giridhar’s voice repeatedly
Wakes me up from sleep…
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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The Vixen
Among the taller wood with ivy hung,
The old fox plays and dances round her young.
She snuffs and barks if any passes by
And swings her tail and turns prepared to fly.
The horseman hurries by, she bolts to see,
And turns agen, from danger never free.
If any stands she runs among the poles
And barks and snaps and drive them in the holes.
The shepherd sees them and the boy goes by
And gets a stick and progs the hole to try.
They get all still and lie in safety sure,
And out again when everything’s secure,
And start and snap at blackbirds bouncing by
To fight and catch the great white butterfly.
poem by John Clare
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In 1978, the tradition of running from village to village with a message was revived. that first run was from Davis to Los Angeles, a distance of 500 miles.
quote by Dennis Banks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Get along with the village headman, plunder the village.