Sabbath
Early in the morning
they sit rather proper in the benches
and sing out joyously
and read the Word
and rolls of notes
are in the offering plate.
Sometimes I see them look
at people in the street,
as if they are a little beneath them
and circle around
a blind beggar.
Dressed in church suits
and designer dresses
I see them in the cafe,
the chain store,
restaurant
and even at the movies.
They are buying bread and milk,
sometimes a bottle of wine
and husband and wife
and at times
all of their children with them
are peacefully
going through the shops
or wait for tickets
in a row.
Every thing happens
as if they do not have
another time
for all of these things
and in the restaurant
jokes are told
that even people
at other tables can hear
and I wonder where and why
man has lost
his respect for God
and of His day.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Creep Hymn
The creep
Goes to a restaurant
And order the food to eat at the restaurant
But when the food comes he eats a little bit of the food
Just so he can taste it
And he tells everybody very loud that the food that he order
Taste like shit
And then he takes the plate and throws it on the floor
But he lives the restaurant without pay
The waitress from the restaurant looks everywhere for him in the Restaurant
Sorry waitress he is gone out of the door
And he run away so that you couldn't catch him
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Restaurant fragments
That day we were in Burgundy’s
and somebody played the notes
of “Ballade pour Adeline”
on the piano
and it was peaceful in that restaurant
while a waiter brought the menu
and I ordered a bottle of white wine for you
and drank a glass of golden Hunters.
You were busy with your notebook
and were searching for a shopping list
as if suddenly it had disappeared
but everything was inter-textual
and our life played out in small happenings.
Much too quickly the time between us
was running out
so as if you already
had other greener pastures
and you were busy with the list
of things that we have to buy
and the quietness of the restaurant
came to lie in my heart.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Weird people follow you in the streets, you can't sit alone in a restaurant or a cafe and read a book in peace, and I think everybody values those moments of being alone.
quote by Winona Ryder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Someday Morning
As the early morning filters through
My shuttered window pane
I look about and realize
That things are still the same
These flowers in a glass
Mark the hours that have passed
As I lay sleeping
And I can hear my footsteps ringing
Down the empty morning street
And the concrete that I walk upon
Is cold beneath my feet
A single winging dove
Reminds me of the sleeping love
That I am leaving
cause everyone must someday do his own thing
cause everyone must someday do his own thing
And I have a brand new song to sing
In the morning skies the stars
Begin to sputter and to fade
As the night surrenders all its claim
On shadows it has made
A watchdogs hungry bark
Is the mornings first remark
Upon my walking
And everyone must someday do his own thing
And everyone must someday do his own thing
And I have a brand new song to sing
And Im told that if I try
That I can do most anything
Well then I would like to sing a song
And make this morning ring
As the morning turns to day
Hear the waking city say
Who is that singing
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Early morning ride
Early in the morning
hawkers are standing next to the street
and they sell flowers, newspapers,
cigarettes and sweets.
At church square two doves are pairing
on uncle Paul’s head,
while people walk to and fro
and some are in lines
to buy bus tickets
It’s another thing when you are
stressed out
and are scared,
to be late at a new job.
a Bus stands with a closed door
making fumes,
while the driver is walking around inside
and already there are a large number of people
lining up in a queue.
a Pair of love stricken young people
are holding hands
and talk about the previous nights
party and drinks
that they enjoyed
and I try to see the route
to know were I have to get off.
School children tease each other
as far as we go
and time gets wings
and rushes by
and suddenly
I have to disembark.
poem by Gert Strydom
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In Sandringham
In Sandringham by the Pacific sea
The Town is quiet on this August sunday
Most of the shops for the weekend have closed
And dark rain clouds hang low above the bay
But Sandringham is not always like this
In Spring and Summer 'tis a busy Town
On sundays shops are open people crowd the street
From mid morning until the sun go down
But I would prefer Sandringham like this
I sit here in quiet cafe sipping tea
And only a few locals to be seen
And loudest sound the rolling of the sea.
The silver gulls outside the cafe door
They wait for handouts chips and scraps of bread
But man made food not much good for their health
It slowly kills them so it has been said.
I love the sea side towns on days like these
The streets are quiet and few people to be seen
And the loudest sound the rolling of the waves
And a soul soothing tranquility reign supreme.
In Sandringham by the Pacific sea
The Town is quiet on this August sunday
Most of the shops for the weekend have closed
And dark rain clouds hang low above the bay.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Wait of Water - (Villanelle)
a shift in the tectonic plate
early morning siren screeches
across the ocean people wait
awakened to this twist of fate
tsunami warning, clear the beaches
a shift in the tectonic plate
minute by minute news updat
listen to the experts speeches
across the ocean people wait
all trying to anticipate
how far this devastation reaches
a shift in the tectonic plate
don’t live in a complacent state
lessons Mother Nature teaches
across the ocean people wait
as the local pastor preaches
although his prayers come too late
a shift in the tectonic plate
across the ocean people wait
poem by Charlie Parant
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Restaurant
Restaurant; trattoria; tapas-bar;
weinstuben; sushi; cafeteria; eaterie; drive-by; gastro-pub…
what’s in a name? A meal by any other name
would smell as good…
In 1765, M. Boulanger (well named) , a humble
soup-vendor, opened an establishment,
whose soups and broths he rightly called
‘restaurant’, for they were restorative…
Watch this old French film: its very flickering
and jerking seems to give it life: waiters
in their long aprons, whisk in and out
to serve these terrace tables which we’re watching
as that accordeon wheezes, or
the barrel-organ evocatively, endlessly,
rolls out its sentiments..
black berets; scarves; thoughtful Gauloise smoke;
the girls, neat hair; that simple chic
that rich and poor Parisiennes seem alike to share;
this contented man, almost a stereotype
(and yet, he lives a life..) , rather overweight,
has evidently just emptied his plate,
lights his cigar; complacent? Or,
in so civilised a measure,
restored to his former self?
This pair of lovers, evidently
having had a tiff, their coffees yet undrunk,
talk into each other’s pleadfire eyes,
reaching in them for a heart;
ah, now she stretches out her hand
across the table to seek his;
the accordeon plays its triumphant banality:
their love, restored..
See there, at the furthest table,
that heavy, bereted, pipe-smoking man
who writes intensely; looks up briefly;
curtly indicates to that young girl
to sit with him, but not to interrupt:
isn’t that face familiar, at this Left Bank table?
Is he restoring a familiar world
to sing the barrel-organ’s tune;
or looking into a nothingness,
a being, a becoming, which will
in time, shatter all café-table minds,
steal waiters from their life of service,
yield Calais’s burghers to Hamburg’s faster food? …
or will the world read; worship for a space;
and then, from black-clad existentialness,
restore itself to brighter mental dress?
Café tables, open to the warm Spring air:
so old a tune, perhaps; but love is there..
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Well, I got people that help me with the restaurant. I don't have to be at the restaurant 24 hours a day.
quote by Mickey Gilley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Innocent White Civilian People Were Slaughtered (In Answer To Don Mattera)
Innocent white civilian people were once walking
on Church Street in Pretoria; they were men,
women and children
busy with their daily lives,
some just having gone shopping,
some meeting a loved one in a restaurant
others returning from school
and they were doing nobody any harm.
By orders of Nelson Rolilahla Dalinbunga Mandela,
without any kind of alarm or warning,
a car bomb was set and exploded thundering
throwing shrapnel, making glass fall like rain
and black people took pride
at the sheer slaughter, at the falling,
the maiming, the decimating and dying of innocents
and that day remains a bitter thing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pizzeria
I was serving Pizza to the tables
A Restaurant in Venice, Italy.
An old man came in a Gondola with a pipe in his mouth.
I greeted him and he ordered a dish.
I said; 'You resembled Signor Alberto Moravia.
'If I am not mistaken the movie 'A Ghost at noon or Contempt', filmed by Jean-Luc Godard, is that your novel? '
After the meal he just smiled and gave his name card and left the Restaurant leaving all his change on the table.
As soon as I woke up early in the morning
I grumbled with my wife about the name card.
Then she jumped at me and cried; 'You Rasputin must be having a date with a tart? '
I just kept quiet and thought of my strange dream.
* I remember in my school days our film society arranged an Italian film festival, slightly come to my mind some film cut-outs of Jean-Luc Godard & Vittorio De Sica.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Bottle Of Red Wine
(by bonnie bramlett and eric clapton)
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
I cant get up out of bed
With this crazy feeling in my head.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
You hear what I say?
Gonna love you anyway.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
I went to an all-night get together
And everyone I knew was there.
Had the love that would last forever.
Everywhere I looked, I saw you standing there.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
I cant get up out of bed
With this crazy feeling in my head.
I said get up right now, oh oh.
I said get up right now.
Feel so bad this morning; got a terrible headache in my head.
Do me a favor, baby, do me a favor please.
Please get up; get your man a bottle of red wine.
Get up, get up; get your man a big big bottle of red wine.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pulling Life On The Mercy Of Others
The smoky restaurant on the roadside
Was waiting for its first customer
Ready with local South Indian menu
The owner was turning impatient
Pulling out and pushing in
His cash box
Hotel waiters standing close
To their areas of service
I was watching all of them
Positioning myself outside the premises
I was too keen to see their first customer
This hotel serves you the best
Among all the such outlets
In this part of the city
It may be business strategy, I do not know
The quality of the food initially served
Turns less acceptable to me as time passes
That is why, I come very early in the morning
So that I get the good stuff
I took off my eyes from the staff
And looked left and right on the road
For a prospective first eater
No one has to come yet
My hunger kept growing
And mouth started watering
As I lost in my plight
I saw a customer to my delight
Stepping up the restaurant and to my pleasure
He took a seat and he ordered too for a regular menu
I know I have to give time for him to eat
And then only my time to eat comes
I do not require keeping a look at him
I go by an audio signal which marks his finishing eating
I started watching the vehicles crossing fast in front of me
The people who go for a morning walk
The vegetable vendors and the milkmen
A paper boy almost rode his bicycle on me
I was smart in negotiating his rashness by jumping to safety
I heard the sound I was waiting for
The fall of the banana leaf with a thud into the dust bin
This leaf served as an eating plate for the first comer
My job now is to jump into the bin
And to eat the left over on the leaf
Some small slices of food items
And the left over spicy side dishes are enough
To take care of my hunger
At times it happens that I stay for more leaves to fall
One good thing is that this shop is newly opened
I do not face competition from other friends of my tribe
Though I bear the look of a Pomeranian
I am only a street dog pulling life on the mercy of others
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Manifestations
she comes
late tonight
and tells you
she is very tired
that she was
with her aunt
and in the
restaurant
where
they ate
early dinner
where they
drank
light beer and
smoked
some marlboro
and they were
laughing
on some jokes
that i told you
the other day
about married
people who
do not make
do
anymore as
often as they
want to
on the
early part of
their marriage
the honeymoon
that you
do not want
to remember
anymore
and then she
kissed you
goodnight
on your cheek
slightly and she
went straight
to your
bedroom
turned the air
condition
on and then
wrapped herself
with thick
wool blanket
and closed her
eyes and
slept
with all the
lights
on
she curled
like a puppy
that
we bought
yesterday
you guess
she must
be very
lonely in this
kind of
misery
the time
is 9: 30 p.m.
it is
saturday
and it is
raining
and there
is no one
in the house
anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sound Of Grecian Music
The sound of Grecian music where the Greek diners eat
From the Athenian restaurant it floats across the street
And a beautiful Greek songstress with the music sings along
One could listen to the music and the singer all night long.
Greek music and Greek poetry is in a class of it's own
And the legends of Greek history by history not outgrown
And there is life in Greek music it has a bubbling sound
It makes you want to shake your feet and to it dance around.
And when the diners have drunk and eaten the dining tables are put away
And the dancers will be dancing till the small hours of the new day
They sing as they dance in a Greek ring around the timbered floor
And enjoy themselves as the Greeks do for three hours or even more.
The marvellous sound of Grecian music from the Athenian restaurant nearby
Is food to the soul and senses and something to enjoy
To the quiet street on a friday night such happiness they bring
Till the small hours of the morning they laugh and dance and sing.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Pretoria,20 May 1983
It was an autumn day
and times will never be like that again:
We who are in love
having a lunch at a restaurant
and the half carelessness
after the promotion that I got,
the war days on the border
that for me is over for the here and now
and then, we just miss the bomb
that explodes in Church Street
and know we are living in times of war
and see the innocent
of any sex, age,
language and race
murdered, maimed, blown to pieces
and of some, just pieces are left
and somewhere our old world
has lost its meaning and has gone insane.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Family life
At home
Husband
And wife...
Some time fighting...
Word's to words...
With bad words...
Sometime hit
The husband wife
Mistakes...
Wife was crying...
Husband was woory...
Wife also
Lovingely hit...
Husband also take easy...
At night husband
Wanted wife
For sex...
Wife will say
Backpain acting
Going for
Hear with life
Every day
At familylife...!
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
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Bredon Hill
In summertime on Bredon
The bells they sound so clear;
Round both the shires they ring them
In steeples far and near,
A happy noise to hear.
Here of a Sunday morning
My love and I would lie,
And see the coloured counties,
And hear the larks so high
About us in the sky.
The bells would ring to call her
In valleys miles away:
'Come all to church, good people;
Good people, come and pray.
But here my love would stay.
And I would turn and answer
Among the springing thyme,
'Oh, peal upon our wedding,
And we will hear the chime,
And come to church in time.
But when the snows at Christmas
On Bredon top were strewn,
My love rose up so early
And stole out unbeknown
And went to church alone.
They tolled the one bell only,
Groom there was none to see,
The mourners followed after,
And so to church went she,
And would not wait for me.
The bells they sound on Bredon,
And still the steeples hum.
'Come all to church, good people,' -
Oh, noisy bells, be dumb;
I hear you, I will come.
poem by Alfred Edward Housman
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The bad part about being recognized is that when I walk into a restaurant and sit down, I've got to eat everything on the plate, whether it's good or bad. People would take it as an insult if I did otherwise.
quote by Paul Prudhomme
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Bobby
(reba mcentire, don schlitz)
Bobby pleaded guilty to the charges that they read
As they led him from the courtroom, a young voice turned his head
A little boy, dressed in blue, was standing at the rail
He said I hope they kill you, I hope you go to hell
They put bobby in a jail with forty other men
They all knew what he had done, they were glad to take him in
Theyd all seen the headlines about bobby and his wife
How they loved each other, and how he took her life
Day after day, he sat alone
Night after night, theyd hear him sing his song (hed sing)
Chorus:
Baby, Ill take care of you, Ill never let you down
No harm will ever come to you as long as Im around
I am not afraid of what people say or do
The only thing I fear is being here...without you
The little boy dressed up in blue grew up to be a man
When he fell in love himself, he came to understand
How it was that bobby took the life they both adored
Cause bobby couldnt stand to see her suffer anymore
He took out the papers from the trunk beneath his bed
And all the years just disappeared as through his tears he read
The stories of the accident that robbed his mamas mind
And the man who held her in his arms and chose to cut the line
And the one about the man who sits alone
Year after year, singing his song (hed sing)
Repeat chorus:
The young man drove his car up, and parked outside the gate
They led him to a cold gray room, the guard told him to wait
When the gaurd brought bobby in, the young man finally knew
He still missed his mama, but hed missed his daddy too
And when the guard left the two of them alone
He took bobby in his arms, and the young man sang the song
Daddy, Ill take care of you, Ill never let you down
No harm will ever come to you as long as Im around
You have taught me not to fear what people say or do
The only thing I fear is being here...without you
song performed by by Reba Mcentire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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