Before dinner gongs
day after I pass away,
forgotten my songs
haiku by Jonathan Robin (05 June 2005)
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Ships Of The Night
Poems pass
in the night also.
Port starboard lights
burn bright also.
Poems pass stirred
hear wave slap night gongs?
Have you not heard
their salty soft saline songs?
Poems pass plotted
in navigated narrows; of lapping passage night.
Have you not heard
their soft spoken saline songs; by glow of candle light?
Poems pass navigated
in natant night also.
Daily cares contested
at last laid low below.
Poems pass
in shadow seamed night.
Poems pass
in nuptial nocturnal night flight.
Has not herald heard
silver shimmering saline songs?
Poems pass like flight of bird
as eternal endless night sails on.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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when you have forgotten Sunday: the love story
—And when you have forgotten the bright bedclothes on a Wednesday and a Saturday,
And most especially when you have forgotten Sunday—
When you have forgotten Sunday halves in bed,
Or me sitting on the front-room radiator in the limping afternoon
Looking off down the long street
To nowhere,
Hugged by my plain old wrapper of no-expectation
And nothing-I-have-to-do and I’m-happy-why?
And if-Monday-never-had-to-come—
When you have forgotten that, I say,
And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell,
And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang;
And how we finally went in to Sunday dinner,
That is to say, went across the front room floor to the ink-spotted table in the southwest corner
To Sunday dinner, which was always chicken and noodles
Or chicken and rice
And salad and rye bread and tea
And chocolate chip cookies—
I say, when you have forgotten that,
When you have forgotten my little presentiment
That the war would be over before they got to you;
And how we finally undressed and whipped out the light and flowed into bed,
And lay loose-limbed for a moment in the week-end
Bright bedclothes,
Then gently folded into each other—
When you have, I say, forgotten all that,
Then you may tell,
Then I may believe
You have forgotten me well.
poem by Gwendolyn Brooks
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UP in Baguio
at the Mirador
on top of the hill in Baguio
there we all lived
for a retreat of thirty days
in silence and prayer
at 6 p.m. before dinner
i sit calmly beside a glass window
overlooking the plains below
the pine trees and trails
winding are all gone now
covered by the fog
as though i am now
a resident of the clouds
i hear nothing but the
sounds of gongs
of the natives played
to please their
gods
that was in 1982
when Alan got so hysterical
that the doctor had to inject him to silence him
when Louie stepped out and run at midnight
under the rain crying like a child
when i started to write
the verses of my life because i have forgotten how to cry
how to run away how to be hysterical
when the fog has then become a secret friend
in those thirty days of silence and discovery
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Song of Wrongs
Some songs are trapped, while other songs are free
Some songs can linger, while others need a key
Some songs look Heavenward to find a place to be
While most songs have homes, some songs aren't so lucky
Which song would you rather hear
The song of hope, or the song of fear
The song that has everything, or the song that needs care
The song you care nothing for, or the song you revere
I'd like to listen to all of those forgotten songs
Not the song of rights, I want the song of wrongs
I want the song of solitude hiding in the throngs
I want the song that has no place to which it belongs
poem by Bianca Free
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Duet
Milestone:
All my troubles disappear,
When the dinner-bell I hear,
Over woodland, dale, and fell,
Swinging slow with solemn swell,---
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
Hippy:
What can bid my heart-ache fly?
What can bid my heart-ache die?
What can all the ills dispel,
In my morbid frame that dwell?
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
Both:
Hark!---along the tangled ground,
Loudly floats the pleasing sound!
Sportive Fauns to Dryads tell,
'Tis the cheerful dinner-bell!
The dinner-bell! the dinner-bell!
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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The Chronicles of A New Day part 1 5 years from now
5 years from now forgotten
maybe after so much time
out of the cage out of the pen
no longer trapped by word and rhyme
childish infatuations all but forgotten all gone away
no more saying this day how fey!
only today
here we... w...
at this time i ask how
could i get to this here and now where memories fade
where debts are paid
love songs forgotten away with the wind
now blowing blowing forgotten feeling blowing farther
is this my future?
poem by David Knox
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Dinner
i see how loneliness opens its mouth
and swallows you whole
there is this dinner
and you are
what is served to its hunger
and thirst and you do not even make a sound
when you are gone
into the deepest throat
of emptiness
there is no sound
there is only the willingness to be lost
and to be forgotten
loneliness ate you for dinner
and i will be its breakfast tomorrow morning
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pop Singer
Never wanted to be no pop singer,
Never wanted to write no pop songs.
Never had no weird hair to get my songs over.
Never wanted to hang out after the show.
Pop singer (writing) of pop songs.
Never wanted to have my picture taken.
Now, who would want to look into these eyes?
Just want to make it real - good, bad or indifferent.
Thats the way that I live and thats the way that Ill die (as a)
Pop singer (of) pop songs.
Pop singer, writing of pop song.
Never wanted to be no pop singer,
Never want to write no pop songs.
Never wanted to have a manager over for dinner.
Never wanted to hang out after the show.
Pop singer, writing pop songs.
Never wanted to be no pop singer, of pop songs.
A pop singer.
Never wanted to write no pop songs.
song performed by by John Mellencamp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Haven't Forgotten
I haven't forgotten when I meet you first!
I haven't forgotten when I greet you last!
I haven't forgotten your pretty face!
I haven't forgotten your smile and grace!
I haven't forgotten how we started chatting!
I haven't forgotten when we started dating!
I haven't forgotten our last walk together!
I haven't forgotten how I became a loser!
I haven't forgotten how it became too late!
I haven't forgotten when I understood fate!
I haven't forgotten that summer's northwester!
I haven't forgotten and won't forget ever!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Dinner Bell
Ive been leaving on my things
So in the morning when the morning bird sings
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket
til the dinner bell rings
Experimental dog*
Salivating dog
Good dog
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Ive been leaving on my things
So in the morning when the morning bird sings
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket
til the dinner bell rings
I dont want a pizza, I dont want a piece of (experimental dog)
Peanut brittle, I dont want a pear.
I dont want a bagel I dont want a bean I wouldnt like (salivating dog)
A bag of beef or a beer or a
Cup of chowder, corn, cake, or creamed cauliflower cause Im (good dog)
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Shoulder, bicep, elbow, arm
Forearm, thumb, wrist, knuckle, palm
Middle, pinky, index, ring
Dinner bell dinner bell ding
I dont know whether Id rather be having a bottle of vinegar (experimental dog)
I dont know whether Id rather be having an egg.
I dont know whether Id rather be having an order of bacon (salivating dog)
Or whether Id rather be having a basket of garlic bread.
I dont know whether Id rather be having some pie or (good dog)
Saving my appetite cause im
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the dinner bell)
Dinner bell dinner bell ring
Ive been leaving on my things (Ive been leaving on)
So in the morning when the morning bird sings (the morning)
Theres still dinner on my dinner jacket (on my)
til the dinner bell does the bell thing
Dinner bell dinner bell do the bell thing
Im waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding ding ding
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding ding ding
Waiting for the dinner bell to do the bell thing (waiting for the ding)
Dinner bell dinner bell ding
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Write About Light And Openess
let light fall upon me
let my hands open to Thee
let my mouth sing
the songs of love and praises
let me worship you
let me bow before you
My Lord, have i forgotten you?
You have not ever
forgotten me
i know.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Point Of View
Thanksgiving dinner's sad and thankless
Christmas dinner's dark and blue
When you stop and try to see it
From the turkey's point of view.
Sunday dinner isn't sunny
Easter feasts are just bad luck
When you see it from the viewpoint
Of a chicken or a duck.
Oh how I once loved tuna salad
Pork and lobsters, lamb chops too
'Til I stopped and looked at dinner
From the dinner's point of view.
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The Agony Of An Okada Rider
You have taken away my
means of livelihood.
My means of living confortable.
What is your gain
in my pain?
What is your fame
in my shame?
You say i take lives,
but you have forgotten how
many lifes i have saved.
You say it is a sign of poverty,
but were is the job opportunity?
You say i destroy roads,
but i can't remember seeing any
bike weighing more than a tipper.
You have forgotten how
i eradicate latenessless,
how i pass through traffic
jams without delay.
You have forgotten places
where your public transport
won't take.
Distance where human leg
would trek and ache.
You have forgotten the
helmet you gave.
You have forgotten.
Our little hope,
you have crushed,
leaving this memories
to linger on.
Now i to have to start all
over again.
From grace to grass.
poem by Enebeli Ifyprada
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Ridin High
Lifes great, lifes grand
Future, all planned
No more, clouds in the sky
Howm I ridin? Im ridin high
Someone, I love
Mad for, my love
So long, jonah, goodbye
Howm I ridin? Im ridin high
Floating, on a starlit ceiling
Doting, on the cards Im dealing
Gloating, because Im feeling so hap-hap-happy, Im slap-happy
So ring bells, sing songs
Blow horns, beat gongs
Our love, never will die
Howm I ridin? Im ridin high
Someone, I love
Mad for, my love
So long, jonah, goodbye
Howm I ridin? Im ridin high
Floating, on a starlit ceiling
Doting, on the cards Im dealing
Gloating, because Im feeling so hap-hap-happy, Im slap-happy
So ring bells, sing songs
Blow horns, beat gongs
Our love, never will die
Howm I ridin? Im ridin high
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gonging
Gongs are dropped by the people in black,
They are intrepid because of their colour.
A rich sound is displayed for the wicked in character,
Those who mingle with alien dress and desire.
Such a stupor is a jewel that it believed in noise
To travel through it and give mounds of coins.
Destroy never the wealth of a kingdom,
By selling it for a meagre price.
The richest men are slaves of the jewellery,
The crafty hands of gold and silver, and forever.
Gongs explode from first months
To the levers honest and true.
To be surprised is too absent from the search of clues,
Ones that decide too many lies untrue.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Songs of Praise the Angels Sang
Songs of praise the angels sang,
Heav’n with alleluias rang,
When creation was begun,
When God spoke and it was done.
Songs of praise awoke the morn
When the Prince of Peace was born;
Songs of praise arose when He
Captive led Captivity.
Heav’n and earth must pass away!
Songs of praise shall crown that day!
God will make new heav’ns and earth;
Songs of praise shall hail their birth.
And can man alone be dumb,
Till that glorious kingdom come?
No: the church delights to raise
Psalms, and hymns, and songs of praise.
Saints below, with heart and voice,
Still in songs of praise rejoice,
Learning here, by faith and love,
Songs of praise to sing above.
Borne upon their latest breath,
Songs of praise shall conquer death;
Then amidst eternal joy,
Songs of praise their powers employ.
Hymns of glory, songs of praise,
Father, unto Thee we raise;
Jesus, glory unto Thee,
With the Spirit, ever be.
poem by James Montgomery
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A Dialogue Between Two Predators
it starts like this: hello
is hello that important? yes
is dinner important to you? no, i just had one
dinner must be important to you
since you have had no dinner yet, yes
can i have you for dinner? me> for food?
i am not delicious.
but you may swallow me alive...big shark!
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Forgotten But Not Gone
Shes been good to me
Shes been as kind as a girl can be
But I get the feeling
She thinks that certain something is gone
Its the little things
Like the words to the songs she sings
Are a little different
And I can tell that Im not the one
Its just a matter of time
Forgotten but not gone
Im the invisible guy
Forgotten but not gone
It was my mistake
cause I gave less than I could take
And I never noticed
She wanted something I didnt have
And my roving eye
Drove her off to another guy
Now she doesnt see that
To keep from crying Ive got to laugh
And its so hard to believe
When I call her she turns away
Like she dont see me at all
And its so hard to believe
All that water under the bridge
Dont count for nothing at all
Its the same old line
Out of sight and youre out of mind
But I never thought that
Id see the day when she didnt care
But the jokes on me
I came home yesterday to see
Them in bed together
And making love like I wasnt there
It was a matter of time
Forgotten but not gone
I could have rolled up an died
Forgotten but not gone
Im the invisible guy
Forgotten but not gone
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Here on this ring of grass we have sat together, bound by the tremendous power of some inner compulsion. The trees wave, the clouds pass. The time approaches when these soliloquies shall be shared. We shall not always give out a sound like a beaten gong as one sensation strikes and then another. Children, our lives have been gongs striking; clamour and boasting; cries of despair; blows on the nape of the neck in gardens.
quote by Virginia Woolf
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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O, What A Short Story
From beginning to end it was a short tale
It follows like this, a once unspoken story
Dusk would come and we’d walk together
Down along the beach, we could stay for forever
The sand would squeeze between our toes
As we walked together, on the beach at dusk
Night would come and we’d eat together
Followed by talk of what the future would bring
A bundle of happiness, and a house together
We’d talk together, after eating dinner at night
Morning would come and we’d be off to work
What a night we’d had, but forgotten already
Fights would follow and a change would be made
We’d fight and fight, in the morning during work
By lunchtime the end would soon be near
Sick of the madness and unpredictable sadness
My bags would be packed before dinner came
I’d pack my bags, after lunch in sorrow
That dinner would be lonely, alone I’d eat
And I’d cry myself to sleep
Alone at a friends, a depression with no end
I’d finally sleep, after dinner I’d cry
My story would end at midnight that night
How could I bear to live, without my sweetheart?
I’d go peacefully in sleep, after taking those pills
I’d take my last breath, at midnight that night
poem by Alyssa Baker
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