Antigone
She lived in a bowl
On the kitchen countertop
At the end of a shaft of light
In the company of a waterwheel
Between the rim's frill
Where the glass thickened to a lip
And the bowl's bottom, carpeted
With Perl mutter shingle
Aligned, more or less
To cosmic north and south
Jeweled with yellow beads
Like the windows of an airbus.
Balanced in her heaven
By fins that beat dimly
A mouth that sucked in water
As if fueled by a rubber band,
Her eyes like ebony pin-heads
Her form horizontally striped blue-
Occasionally emitting a bubble
Or grazing at the waterline
She was a vertebrate all right
Highly evolved and alone
Little fish, little pond, big name-
Antigone. What became of you?
She lived in a bowl
On the kitchen countertop
At the end of a shaft of light
Antigone, what became of you?
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Related quotes
Away The Bowl
Our grateful hearts with temperance burn,
Away, away the bowl,
From dram shops all, our steps we turn,
Away, away the bowl;
Farewell to rum and all its harms,
Farewell the wine-cup's boasted charms,
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
See how that staggering drunkard reels!
Away, away the bowl;
Alas, the misery he reveals,
Away, away the bowl;
His children grieve, his wife's in tears!
How sad his once bright home appears!
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
We drink no more, nor buy nor sell,
Away, away the bowl!
The grog-shop's offers we repel,
Away, away the bowl.
United in a temperance band,
We 're joined in heart, we 're joined in hand,
Away the bowl, away the bowl, away, away the bowl.
poem by John Pierpont
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The Fish In The Fishbowl...
i see fish in a bowl
the size of the fish is just
enough for the bowl
and water is half-full
the fish swims freely and
breathes
air and lets it pass through
its lungs and three bubbles
rise up
and then disappears
at the surface
outside the house it is raining
heavily
the news of the river overflowing
the banks
is flashed on tv
warnings are given by the government
evacuation is eminent
carry only those which are necessary
foremost
save lives of the children and
the old sector
we are ready
we are not taking this fish bowl
the fish can take of itself
when we left
the fish flips its fins and breathes faster
releasing more bubbles on the surface of the water
it is the only creature i think
that is happy.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Storm...!
My tiny car
Is gliding on
The grey band
Dissapearing into
A white wall
Gelled water
Falling from the sky
Floating across
The windshield
Has transformed
The wiper blades
Into two giant icicles
Swooshing across the glass
Making creepy sounds
The whiteness
Has conceled
The world around
Making me a fish
Swimming in a
Bowl of milk
A fish swimming alone
In a giant bowl of curdling milk
Trying to reach to the glass wall
And press its eye on to the glass
To peek at the solitary face
Gazing at the glass bowl
With her chin resting on her hand
Waiting...
Waiting for me to
Emerge through the milky darkness
To show my face...!
[Ah... glass walls... cruel invisible separators...]
poem by Rowving Smith
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For John, Who Begs Me Not To Enquire Further
Not that it was beautiful,
but that, in the end, there was
a certain sense of order there;
something worth learning
in that narrow diary of my mind,
in the commonplaces of the asylum
where the cracked mirror
or my own selfish death
outstared me.
And if I tried
to give you something else,
something outside of myself,
you would not know
that the worst of anyone
can be, finally,
an accident of hope.
I tapped my own head;
it was a glass, an inverted bowl.
It is a small thing
to rage in your own bowl.
At first it was private.
Then it was more than myself;
it was you, or your house
or your kitchen.
And if you turn away
because there is no lesson here
I will hold my awkward bowl,
with all its cracked stars shining
like a complicated lie,
and fasten a new skin around it
as if I were dressing an orange
or a strange sun.
Not that it was beautiful,
but that I found some order there.
There ought to be something special
for someone
in this kind of hope.
This is something I would never find
in a lovelier place, my dear,
although your fear is anyone's fear,
like an invisible veil between us all…
and sometimes in private,
my kitchen, your kitchen,
my face, your face.
poem by Anne Sexton
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That Feeling
that feeling of being
a gold fish
inside a round glass bowl
where your world
is only water and
sand
and then hand takes
it and breaks the bowl on the floor
a gold fish wriggles
gasping for air
there is none
do you feel this now?
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Three Men of Gotham
SEAMEN three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.
Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be.--
In a bowl Care may not be.
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine.--
And your ballast is old wine.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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Seamen Three
Seamen three! What men be ye?
Gotham's three wise men we be.
Whither in your bowl so free?
To rake the moon from out the sea.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.
Who art thou, so fast adrift?
I am he they call Old Care.
Here on board we will thee lift.
No: I may not enter there.
Wherefore so? 'Tis Jove's decree,
In a bowl Care may not be;
In a bowl Care may not be.
Fear ye not the waves that roll?
No: in charmed bowl we swim.
What the charm that floats the bowl?
Water may not pass the brim.
The bowl goes trim. The moon doth shine.
And our ballast is old wine;
And your ballast is old wine.
poem by Thomas Love Peacock
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The Voice The Snake
(curly m.c./f.gregorian)
.
The first bowl on the earth
The second bowl on the sea
The third bowl on the rivers
The fourth bowl on the sun
The fifth bowl on the beast
The sixth bowl on the stars
The seventh bowl on the air
.
And the earth turned grey
Sea turned black
The rivers turned red
The sun turned cold
The beast turned pale
The stars turned fast
The air turned to poison
song performed by by Enigma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Voice & The Snake
(curly m.c./f.gregorian)
.
The first bowl on the earth
The second bowl on the sea
The third bowl on the rivers
The fourth bowl on the sun
The fifth bowl on the beast
The sixth bowl on the stars
The seventh bowl on the air
.
And the earth turned grey
Sea turned black
The rivers turned red
The sun turned cold
The beast turned pale
The stars turned fast
The air turned to poison
song performed by by Enigma
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Nonsense Poem - a Villanelle
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little worm hops in a hole
A little hat has lost its sole
A little petal has no peel
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little dog dances a reel
A little frog jumps on a mole
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little boat rings out a peal
A little bell loses its keel
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little rock slips on a seal
A little perch walks on a pole
A little fish runs on a wheel
A little card shakes on a deal
A little sigh fancies a meal
A little mouse sings in a bowl
A little fish runs on a wheel
poem by Alison Cassidy
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A World A Universe
to the pebbles below the fish
and the bubbles
the fish is the only
meaning of their existence
its scales are the suns
its tails meteors
its eyes the gods
and fins the winds
the bowl is the emptiness
the water surrounding is the fullness
to all of them
the world is perfect
their eternity is only
this moment
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Walk The Talk
where do you live?
i ask him
'i live there' he says,
pointing to a far place
it is a greenery, a forest opaque to the mist,
there is a path that leads there
on bare feet, and without any burden
to carry on
your back,
he says he is an honest man
and shall live with it for many years to come
he says he comes from a family of honest genealogy
and he thrives on simple living and word of honor
his face has a very gentle disposition
like that of the
common lamb
his words are soft
like a rose that you enclose with your hand
before he left for his intended journey
i had a bowl of rice and a
dried fish in my kitchen
i almost believe him
until my bowl of rice
and dried fish are all gone.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Stand Up
There is a heart alive somewhere there is a heart in the heart of a city
there is a beat a beating heart come with me now I want to find it
money, pressure, desperation monkey on the back beaten to submission
anxiety attack working for survival with one eye on the clock the faces
on the underground are in a state of at the bottom of a shaft at the
bottom of a mine shaft there is a sole survivor at the bottom of a shaft
at the bottom of a mine shaft a long distance driver there is a beat
that is still alive but it's HARD to find in the heart of the city we
move around in the underground in our endless grey we can ignore each
other all day!
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gold Fish Bowl
(Instrumental & sax into)
What will it take for them to leave me alone?
Don't they know I'm just a guy who sings songs?
I'm not promoting no hit record
And I don't have no t.v. show
An' I don't have no reason
To live in the gold fish bowl
I'm just doin' my gigs
An' I'm on an' off the road
Ev'rything I say is not meant to be
Set in stone
Just because they call me a celebrity
That does not make it true
'Cause I don't believe in the myth, people
So, why should you?
Jazz, blues and funk
That's not rock an' roll
Folk with a beat an
Little bit a soul
I don't have no hit record
I don't have no t.v. show
Tell me, why should I have to
Live in this gold fish bowl?
(Instrumental and organ)
Well, the parasites and psychic vampires
Feeding on the public at large
Projectin' the shadow
Onto everyone at us
Well, the newspaper barons
Are scum of the lowest degree
And they prey on ev'rybody
They prey on you an' me
I'm singin' jazz, blues and funk
Baby, that's not rock an' roll
An' folk with a beat
An' a little bit a soul
I don't have no hit record
I don't have no t.v. show
So, why should I want to
Live in this gold fish bowl?
(Instrumental & sax)
So why should I want to
Live in this gold fish bowl?
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Indian minor
It landed on the wall
that divided the front yard
from the back
where my yellow BMW
was sheltered under a roof
It was dark brown with a yellow bill
and sharp small black intelligent eyes
watching everything
much like a crow or raven.
Every now and then
it darted down
to land next to the bowl
with the dog’s pellets
pecking them up
as another bird would seed.
The dog would eat every now and then
and sometimes guard its bowl
lying there defying that bird,
but when ever it would go
that bird would
have its feast,
till one day
that I took that bowl away
into the dogs pen
and then that bird
sat screaming on that wall
as if I had stolen
his dearest possessions
from him
as if there was nothing else to steal.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Two Hermits
Upon a lonely mountain, there lived two hermits who worshipped God
and loved one another.
Now these two hermits had one earthen bowl, and this was their only
possession.
One day an evil spirit entered into the heart of the older hermit
and he came to the younger and said, 'It is long that we have
lived together. The time has come for us to part. Let us divide
our possessions.'
Then the younger hermit was saddened and he said, 'It grieves
me, Brother, that thou shouldst leave me. But if thou must needs
go, so be it,' and he brought the earthen bowl and gave it to him
saying, 'We cannot divide it, Brother, let it be thine.'
Then the older hermit said, 'Charity I will not accept. I will
take nothing but mine own. It must be divided.'
And the younger one said, 'If the bowl be broken, of what use would
it be to thee or to me? If it be thy pleasure let us rather cast
a lot.'
But the older hermit said again, 'I will have but justice and mine
own, and I will not trust justice and mine own to vain chance. The
bowl must be divided.'
Then the younger hermit could reason no further and he said, 'If
it be indeed thy will, and if even so thou wouldst have it let us
now break the bowl.'
But the face of the older hermit grew exceedingly dark, and he
cried, 'O thou cursed coward, thou wouldst not fight.'
poem by Khalil Gibran
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Fish In A Bowl
Everywhere I go
A thousand faces stare at me
Eating from the palm
A date from hand to mouth
Break a leg!
The shoes are on the bottom
On your way
But the wardrobe always stays wide open
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
Everywhere I go
All bob and weave
Or sew it seams
Aiming low in life
They keep their noses clean
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up
Fish in a bowl
An ordered life from start to finish
And my timing is out
All washed up
Stood on the shore
The wave is over
But Im all washed up...fish!
song performed by by Haircut 100
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Good Company
We sat in the kitchen all night drinking Irish tea
and talking till first light about women in literature
Kate, Cordelia, Wyfe of Bath, Antigone, Lady Mac
shrew, fond daughter, lively bawd, tough chick, bitch!
We talked for hours on end about women's roles-
how they talk & nag, play at love, fight male tyranny,
these shrews, daughters, bawds, women & wretches-
one loves a dad too well, one aids & abets Murder One
they talk, they nag, they play the field, they stand & die
one is tamed, a second hanged, another desperate
for love, one loves an aging dad, one inspires murder,
a loyal sister condemned, a cold-hearted queen dies!
Kate's tamed, Cordelia's executed, Wyfe seeks spouse #6,
Shakespeare's Taming fills the Globe, Chaucer's Tales
read in English, Antigone dies, a queen defenestrates!
Sophocles takes first and Macbeth's a great film!
Kiss Me, Kate is box office boffo! Wyfe's Tale a feminist rant!
Kate, Cordelia, Wyfe of Bath, Antigone & Lady Macbeth-
Sophocles takes home gold! Macbeth cops an Oscar!
We sat in the kitchen till first light drinking Irish tea!
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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The Bowl...
yes, this is a case
of a candle burning itself
on both sides
and below it
on two heads of fire
is a bowl full of
water
shaping what could
be the
truth
when the final shape
is taken
as usual
we go back
to that empty bowl
but less
the candle
the melted one
shedding off
lights
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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ET Came To Breakfast (Fun Poem 10)
My breakfast was going snap, crackle and pop,
when suddenly in the chair opposite something went plop.
I looked across the table and was astonished to see,
a little green man looking at me.
I blinked a couple of times,
even pinched myself to make sure it was real.
He was, you can believe,
and my breakfast he was trying to steal.
We pulled at the bowl,
no one getting the upper hand,
and then he stuck his finger in the bowl,
and sucked out the blinking lot,
milk and my snap, crackle and pop.
The moral of this story.
If a little green man comes to breakfast,
Get an extra bowl.
28 April 2007
poem by David Harris
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