Obituary:
Alphabetical order
British Museum.
haiku by Jonathan Robin (10 January 1993)
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Life Need Not Be In Its Order As You All Perceive It
jostle
and juggle
why should it be
1 to zero?
or january to
december?
or a to z?
we love order
but order really does not
amaze me
this world is in chaos
and in its wantonness
wild has become so beautiful
untamed
uncategorized
we all shall now enter the picture
and fit in
no sizing no numbers
nothing less and nothing more
just what we are
and no alphabetical names.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dictionary - opinion expressed as truth in alphabetical order.
quote by John Ralston Saul
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I was terrible at straight items. When I wrote obituaries, my mother said the only thing I ever got them to do was die in alphabetical order.
quote by Erma Bombeck
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Hungry Joe collected lists of fatal diseases and arranged them in alphabetical order so that he could put his finger without delay on any one he wanted to worry about.
quote by Joseph Heller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If people don't like Marxism, they should blame the British Museum.
quote by Mikhail Gorbachev
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If an army of monkeys were strumming on typewriters, they might write all the books in the British Museum.
quote by Arthur Eddington
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When I die there may be a paragraph or two in the newspapers. My name will linger in the British Museum Reading Room catalogue for a space at the head of a long list of books for which no one will ever ask.
quote by C.S. Forester
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We went to the British Museum, and I was looking up my family in the books - pages and pages on it.
quote by Nicholas Lea
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Pagani’s, November 8
Suddenly discovering in the eyes of the very beautiful
Normande cocotte
The eyes of the very learned British Museum assistant.
poem by Ezra Pound
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The Museum of Nothing
Although the museum had nothing on exhibit...
The people not believing this,
Would still come in droves to visit.
They would stand in line to wait.
And pay their fee to gain entry.
And inquire, once inside...
Why was nothing there,
To sustain them with pride.
And from room to vacant room,
They walked behind the tour guide!
So the board of directors,
Decided to please them all.
And changed the name of the museum!
The museum was renamed,
The Museum of Nothing.
And people came in the Winter,
Spring, Summer and Fall.
And 'nothing' it was affectionately called.
Although the museum had nothing on exhibit...
The people not believing this,
Would still come in droves to visit.
They would stand in line to wait.
And pay their fee to gain entry.
Some adjusting to the nothingness.
While others stood for hours,
Just to stare as if in disbelief.
Addicted to anything said to them.
And clearly easy to deceive.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Questionable
Give me a home for sparrows.
An outcry was rising,
why do you go from aphids to moon.
Midnight and a howling.
I am scared of hungry wolves
roaming in alleys.
Two small mounds and a
split code. There was left nothing
in alphabetical order.
Dry aquarium. Why did the fish
leave for the veins of glass? Lights
were out in search of a dark corner.
The corpse was unbuttoned,
why do you wash your food before eating?
poem by Satish Verma
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Museum Of Idiots
They built this whole neighborhood out of wood, out of wood.
I guess I'll still be around when they burn, burn it down.
I will be standing around when they burn it down.
Here in the Museum of Idiots.
Honey, I'm there when you need me, please believe me, please believe me.
I'll still be right where you left me, if you manage to forget me.
Where we met is where you may forget.
Here in the Museum of Idiots.
If you and I had any brains, we wouldn't be in this place.
Chop me up into pieces if it pleases, if it pleases.
And when the chopping is through, every piece will say, "I love you."
Every piece of me will say "I love you."
Here in the Museum of Idiots.
Every piece of me will say "I love you, you you"
Here in the Museum of Idiots.
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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visiting Hiroshima
1>Peace Memorial Museum.
two buildings
the museum surveys the history of Hiroshima
and the advent of the nuclear bomb.
main focus August 6; the dropping of the bomb
and its outcome in human suffering
personally it upset me
2.Cenotaph for the A-Bomb Victims
Between the Museum
and the A-Bomb Dome
an arched tomb
for those who died
because
initial blast
and then
of exposure to radiation
3. The Register
Below the arch is a stone chest
holding a register
of these names,
there
are over 220,000
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Endless Poem
In a modern museum
In an old synagogue
In the synagogue
I
Within me
My heart
Within my heart
A museum
Within a museum
A synagogue
Within it
I
Within me
My heart
Within my heart
A museum
poem by Yehuda Amichai
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Polyacrostic Palimpsest - Life's Karma's given light, our dream here gleams
Notes on Polyacrostic Palimpsests.
Acrostic: Verse in which certain letters form a word or message
Polyacrostic: Several acrostics within the same composition
Acrostics to be found below – in alphabetical order:
Palimpsest: A manuscript on which more than one text is written
with earlier writing, or one level of meaning, partially visible.
I: plain text - in black
II: Complete acrostic palimpsests highlighted
poem by Jonathan Robin
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St. Sebastian
Slender arrows,
pierce me through.
I wanted to forgive,
but too quickly
they flew.
My mind fades.
I rise to you.
**
ref: St. Sebastian, Andrea Mantegna 1456-59, Kunsthistorisches Museum
(viewed at the De Young Museum, San Francisco)
poem by Steven Federle
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0408 The Phoenix Museum
A sightseeing phoenix a sign espied:
'This way to the Phoenix Museum';
A little homesick, went inside;
Looked for friends; but couldn't see 'em.
In hindsight, the title's
Just a little rash;
The Phoenix Museum
Is now a pile of ash...
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I received an OBE from the Queen, which probably doesn't mean anything in America but is quite nice in England - the Order of the British Empire for services to drama.
quote by Joan Collins
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Saturday Myth
My daily routine is
To offer morning prayers
In a temple
Run and maintained by a
Board of Trustees
That Saturday I went
With all devotion and enthusiasm
But only to see a display
That the temple will be non-functional
As mother of one trustees
Passed away and temple will be open
For public only after the obituary rites are over
It struck me then
There is a myth in this part of the country
That Saturday obituary noting
Does not go single
Some such reporting will also be soon heard
Returned home with disappointment
And telling myself that
Someone else too is dead somewhere
By the time I reached home
I received a call
Informing me the demise of
A first cousin of mine
Who is younger to me
Myth or message?
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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