The worst thing about being a tourist is having other tourists recognize you as a tourist.
quote by Russell Baker
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The average tourist wants to go to places where there are no tourists.
The tourist may complain of other tourists, but he would be lost without them.
quote by Agnes Repplier
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tourism
Decisive tourist
Chancellor Adolph Hitler
Visits Paris
The final tourist
President George Bush
Visits Baghdad
poem by Jan Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tourist Plan
‘We have to rule on the Tourist Plan, '
Said Rogan Inchalot,
‘If we haven't come up with an answer soon
Then what have we really got?
The budget's stuck into overdrive
And the costs are going to balloon! '
(The future hung in the balance
On that Saturnday afternoon!)
‘We've always kept it a secret, ' said
The man called Iron Girth,
‘So what do we want with the tourists,
All those imbeciles, from Earth! '
‘We need to collar the dollars, ' said
Minerva Astropine,
‘We're never going to develop, if
We sit around, and whine! '
‘Our secret isn't as safe today,
With all those satellites,
It's becoming an inconvenience
Whenever we douse the lights!
The takings from the Casino drop
The punters stay in the dome,
We need to double our takings, then
Just send the tourists home! '
‘But what if they send their gangsters here,
Their armies, and their guns?
How will we ever defend ourselves,
You know how the story runs!
There's twenty million refugees
I heard a broadcast say,
All spilling over their borders there,
In search of a place to stay! '
‘They'll come out here in their feeble ships,
Break down, and S.O.S.,
While we'll be expected to rescue them…'
‘In their dreams! ' said Gunter Hess.
The meeting called for a show of hands
But was plunged in a sudden gloom,
They've shut the book on the Tourist Plan
For the Dark Side of the Moon!
poem by David Lewis Paget
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballad Of Skip Wiley
He's a man on a mission
Wild as a ricochet
Picture if you can
When the everglades ran
From the gulf coast to Biscayne Bay
He's gonna give it back to the gators
Lock the tourists up in theme parks and zoos
He says "join me for lunch at the reptiles brunch
Where the Barometer Soup is you"
He's crazy and dangerous
But who else can you trust
He's the outlaw in all of us
The environmental terrorist
Chorus
You can mess with the mouse in Orlando
Jilt a tourist in St. Augustine
You can shoplift all day at Blockbuster
But you can't steal the Orange Bowl Queen
No you can't steal the Orange Bown Queen
Verse
There were crimes of epic proportions
All part of Skip Wiley's crusade
Tourists were cackin' and tourists were packin'
While he and Skink cooled their heels in the shade
Then came the citrus sensation
"Welcome to the revolution" he said
With a pirate's persona he snatched the gridiron Madonna
And the big movers called for his head
He's crazy and dangerous
But who else can you trust
He's the outlaw in all of us
The environmental terrorist
Chorus
You can mess with the mouse in Orlando
Jilt a tourist in St. Augustine
You can rag on the Miami Dolphins
But you can't steal the Orange Bowl Queen
No you can't steal the Orange Bowl Queen (x2)
Well Skip's caper it kind of backfired
And got the orange juice barons rather upset
In the light of bad moods, these manhunts ensued
But Skip easily slipped through the net
He was last seen atop a mangrove
Perched like a wounded osprey
He was not meant to last, he belongs to the past
And I hope he gets there one day
He's crazy and dangerous
But who else can you trust
He's the outlaw in all of us
The environmental terrorist
Chorus
You can mess with the mouse in Orlando
Jily a tourist in St. Augustine
You can shoplift your days at Blockbuster
But you can't steal the Orange Bown Queen
No you can't steal the Orange Bown Queen (x2
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Ballad Of Skip Wiley
Hes a man on a mission
Wild as a ricochet
Picture if you can when the everglades ran
From the gulf coast to biscayne bay
Hes gonna give it back to the gators
Lock the tourists up in theme parks and zoos
He says join me for lunch at the reptiles brunch
Where the barometer soup is you
Hes crazy and dangerous
But who else can you trust
Hes the outlaw in all of us
The environmental terrorist
Ou can mess with that mouse in orlando
Jilt a tourist in st. augustine
Ou can shoplift all day at blockbuster
But you cant steal the orange bowl queen
No you cant steal the orange bowl queen
Spoken:
Thats unthinkable in the state of florida
What would the chamber of commerce say
This man is sick
Eah
There were crimes of epic proportions
All part of skip wileys crusade
Tourists were cackin
And tourists were packin
While he and skink cooled there heels in the shade
Then came the citrus sensation
Welcome to the revolution he said
With a pirates persona
He snatched the gridiron madonna
And the day groovers called for his head
Hes crazy and dangerous
But who else can you trust
Hes the outlaw in all of us
The environmental terrorist
Ou can mess with that mouse in orlando
Jilt a tourist in st. augustine
Ou can rag on the miami dolphins
But you cant steal the orange bowl queen
No you cant steal the orange bowl queen
No, no you cant steal the orange bowl queen
Spoken:
Well skips caper it kinda backfired
Got the orange juice barons rather upset
In the light of bad moves these manhunts ensued
Skip easily slipped through the net
He was last seen atop of a mangrove
Perched like a wounded osprey
He was not meant to last
He belongs to the past
And I hope he gets there one day
Hes crazy and dangerous
But who else can you trust
Hes the outlaw in all of us
The environmental terrorist (terrorist)
Ou can mess with that mouse in orlando
Jilt a tourist in st. augustine
Ou can shoplift your days at blockbuster
But you cant steal the orange bowl queen
No you cant steal the orange bowl queen
No you cant steal the orange bowl queen
Thats right
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Earle Birney
No agèd tourist you
Explorer guide and ever young
Who in a magic land
Where trembling minds step warily
Can see horizons out of sight
Of ordinary men
But are you not like us
Do we not follow where you lead
And are we really strangers in this realm
That seems so surely ours
You take our souls
And show them glimpses of themselves
Yet as a tourist guide
You hardly fill the role
You seek no token of our thanks
But what a gratitude there is
And envy too
For one whose youth cannot grow old
For one whose spirit never dies
poem by Roger Clark
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David, the marble sculpture....
the human
male sculpture of David
stands tall
naked to the tourist
amazed
to the greatness of
the marble
body
was it the story of this
man whose stone did not
miss Goliath?
was it the genius of his
creator who mastered
the curves and
balance via
the marble and the
chisel?
or is it this unending feeling
of the tourist
still unsatisfied about what
is lustful and
beautiful?
if you have seen and touched
it by now you must
have understood
what it is to be naked
admired
and then abandoned
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bareipani Waterfall Vavroovahana Patra
Bareipani waterfall looks beautiful;
Mind is delightful.
Second largest waterfall of India In Odisha entices tourists daily;
In Abhayaranya the waterfall lures poets, writers gaudily.
Tourists behold the beauty from a distance;
The wondrous spectacle provides pleasure, appreciate God’s creation desire it is bliss.
Bareipani flows naturally;
Poet enjoys the beauty enthusiastically.
Wondrous waterfall provides pleasure;
Melodious Beauty plays in the lap of Nature.
Beauteous is the high mountain;
Tourist’s mind enthuses beholding the fountain.
Poet beholds the beauty amazingly;
Mind remains in the world of peace gleefully.
Abhayaranya is wondrous;
Allures tourists, with pleasure.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tourist from Syracuse
One of those men who can be a car salesman or a tourist from Syracuse or a hired assassin.
-- John D. MacDonald
You would not recognize me.
Mine is the face which blooms in
The dank mirrors of washrooms
As you grope for the light switch.
My eyes have the expression
Of the cold eyes of statues
Watching their pigeons return
From the feed you have scattered,
And I stand on my corner
With the same marble patience.
If I move at all, it is
At the same pace precisely
As the shade of the awning
Under which I stand waiting
And with whose blackness it seems
I am already blended.
I speak seldom, and always
In a murmur as quiet
As that of crowds which surround
The victims of accidents.
Shall I confess who I am?
My name is all names, or none.
I am the used-car salesman,
The tourist from Syracuse,
The hired assassin, waiting.
I will stand here forever
Like one who has missed his bus --
Familiar, anonymous --
On my usual corner,
The corner at which you turn
To approach that place where now
You must not hope to arrive.
poem by Donald Justice
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Grammar School Days
Once I saw a black and white photo
taken by a Japanese tourist -
English schoolboys sauntering
down a street in London
on their way to grammar school.
The sky clear of bombers
overhead that September morning-
I thought of Polish schoolboys
as they ran pellmell through rubble
seeking shelter from the German
blitzkreig that same day in September.
Grainy newsprint photos of the dead
and dying in Warsaw ghetto streets
appeared soon enough and replaced
the image of English schoolboys
taken by the tourist on holiday.
A holocaust on the horizon
and we slept on in peaceful dream.
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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No One Here Is Roman
When in Rome,
Do what the Romans do!
'Yeah...
But no one here is Roman.
And I don't understand
One thing they are doing! '
That's okay neither do they!
Pretend you are a tourist.
Everyone else does!
And they have been pretentious,
Long before you noticed them.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Tale Of The Two Tubby Tourists
The Pedicab drivers of Gotham all say
You should ignore a 'Whale Hail'
because it just doesn't pay.
The city is hilly and
to pedal gets tough
when your passengers are,
shall we say, overstuffed.
Two tubby tourists out on the town
between them they weighed about
Eight Hundred Pounds.
They had wiped out the Sushi
at an all you can eat.
Much too lazy to walk
on their overstressed feet.
They hailed for a Pedicab
of which there's a multitude
Thats the sole explanation
for accepting their pulchritude.
Their ride started slowly,
but pleasant enough.
But then came a hill
and the going got rough.
He groaned and he struggled
as he trucked up the road,
but not even juiced Armstrong
could handle this load.
With two tubby tourists
ensconced in the back.
He slowed to a crawl
then stalled in his tracks.
Something had to give
with those two in the rear
The cab then turned turtle
chucking him in the air.
The two tubby tourist
were down on their backs
Their driver unconscious
and two tires flat.
An Ambulance came
and gave him first aide
The two tourists rolled off
and he never got paid.
If we banned too large colas
and sixty ounce beers
could we hope that these
land whales
might, one day, disappear?
Until then its risky
to pick such fares up
unless in a limo
or a truck thats Ram tough
poem by John F. McCullagh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Be As You Are
Never gonna look back
Once my feet hit the sand
I've had it up to here with this rat race
Need a smile on my face
I wanna go where I can lighten up the load
Drive a little while on the wrong side of the road
Get this laying low off to a flying start
Play my guitar in the Caribbean sun
Hang with the locals at the Quiet Mon
Where you can be a tourist, a beach bum, or a star
And be as you are
Gettin' stuck sure would be easy
In this palm tree paradise
Ambition fades with every wave
For the finer things in life
Maybe I'll just hang around here
Go home later next year
I wanna go where I can lighten up the load
Drive a little while on the wrong side of the road
Get this laying low off to a flying start
Play my guitar in the Caribbean sun
Hang with the locals at the Quiet Mon
Where you can be a tourist, a beach bum, or a star
And be as you are
I wanna play my guitar in the Caribbean sun
Hang with the locals at the Quiet Mon
Where you can be a tourist, a beach bum, or a star
And be as you are
song performed by by Kenny Chesney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Carousels Before The War
In the silence of the station and its insatiable yearning
To be filled with tourists and passengers
And bludgeon obliviously to the familiar feeling
Roused by scent and warmth of their far-flung home,
Another tourist loitered juxtaposed the ticket booth
Careening over the burning rails of nostalgia
Because the calendar pages holds a succinct
Concern for the macabre in inertia
Her coruscating soul was plummeting from her lips
Waiting for the sleeping train to stir and growl
This tourist stared at me unwaveringly
With the tackling of her foreign eyes, rolled the dice
Like a steely glacial wheel chafing with the rails
And I could have feigned a fuming act
But I knew very well who this tourist was
She lives in my sala, behind the crumbling wallpapers
I stared back into the voids of oblivion
And in her skyscraping eyes, I saw thoroughly
The war before the sunrise slithering
In the reflection of a gaunt and baffled man
I kept my luggage beside my prattling legs
Gorged choking with uniforms, a diary, and rue
The death is casted before the war had started
So I could never have heeded any less
And the blaring ominous noise of peril
In the colorless haze of the half-empty half-full station
Commandeers the scarce facial muscles
To feign a facile smile for a cordial departure
Before the struggle for subsistence
In a torpor war with the flustered brooding soldiers
The radio sent forth a cringing wave of dread
Drifting a jingle subdued by the pensive noise
Of wives and kids and colleagues and ghosts
The melody beckoned me to ride a carousel
And the station was a theme park where
The idea of heaven deems to be unavailable
But I let the carousing carousels go on and on
And stash its melody in a hidden place
Where it would fade but never go wrong
And the carousals and the carousels live on.
poem by Norman Santos
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I'm not a good tourist, I don't like tourism.
I miss my family, and I like being a tourist when I go back.
Better being a good tourist than a bad traveler.
aphorism by Ramon Eder, translated by Dan Costinaş
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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I don't mind being a tourist at all, and a gawker. I just walk around.
quote by Ann Robinson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Torquay
All ye lovers of the picturesque, away
To beautiful Torquay and spend a holiday
'Tis health for invalids for to go there
To view the beautiful scenery and inhale the fragrant air,
Especially in the winter and spring-time of the year,
When the weather is not too hot, but is balmy and clear.
Torquay lies in a very deep and well-sheltered spot,
And at first sight by strangers it won't be forgot;
'Tis said to be the mildest place in ah England,
And surrounded by lofty hills most beautiful and grand.
Twas here that William of Orange first touched English ground,
And as he viewed the beautiful spot his heart with joy did rebound;
And an obelisk marks the spot where he did stand,
And which for long will be remembered throughout England.
Torquay, with its pier and its diadem of white,
Is a moat beautiful and very dazzling sight,
With its white villas glittering on the sides of its green hills,
And as the tourist gases thereon with joy his heart fills.
The heights around Torquay are most beautiful to be seen,
Especially when the trees and shrubberies are green,
And to see the pretty houses under the cliff is a treat,
And the little town enclosed where two deep valleys meet.
There is also a fine bathing establishment near the pier,
Where the tourist can bathe without any fear;
And as the tourists there together doth stroll,
I advise them to visit a deep chasm called Daddy's Hole.
Then there's Bablicome, only two miles from Torquay,
Which will make the stranger's heart feel gay,
As he stands on the cliff four hundred feet above the sea,
Looking down,'tis sure to fill his heart with ecstasy.
The lodging-houses at Bablicome are magnificent to be seen,
And the accommodation there would suit either king or queen,
And there's some exquisite cottages embowered in the woodland,
And sloping down to the sea shore, is really very grand.
You do not wonder at Napoleon's exclamation
As he stood on the deck of the "Bellerophon," in a fit of admiration,
When the vessel was lying to windbound,
He exclaimed - "Oh, what a beautiful country!" his joy was profound.
And as the tourist there in search of beautiful spots doth rove,
Let them not forget to enquire for Anstey's Cove,
And there they will see a beautiful beach of milky white,
And the sight will fill their hearts with delight.
Oh! beautiful Torquay, with your lovely scenery,
And your magnificent cottages sloping down to the sea,
You are the most charming spot in all England,
With your picturesque bay and villas most grand.
And, in conclusion, to tourists I will say,
Off! off to Torquay and make no delay,
For the scenery is magnificent, and salubrious the air,
And 'tis good for the health to reside there.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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