The Bench By The River
It’s six thirty on Sunday morning
and I’ve been here since three.
I don’t sleep much now-a-days,
but that don’t bother me.
The flies are here as usual
taking salt from my skin
whilst I’m having breakfast
of blood red wine and gin.
I remember when I was married
I had food three times a day.
Now, I eat when I’m hungry,
but not much comes my way.
I live in a one room bed sit,
which is big enough for me.
I don’t give parties anymore,
besides I’ve got no settee.
Two chairs, and one’s my table,
a sleeping bag on the floor.
A cup, a glass and a tooth brush,
don’t need anything more.
Another bottle is approaching
along with friends of mine.
We’ll continue having breakfast,
at least until lunch time.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Related quotes
Sunday Morning
Sunday morning silence, curtain stay closed late
No one thinks of kitchens mornings in a filthy state
Dishes cups and beer stains, ashtrays on the floor
Sunday morning papers are left outside the front door
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
(sunday, bloody sunday rest)
Glass of fizzy water helps to start the day
Sit and listen to sunday silence, problems fade away
Sunday cars and drivers break the morning air
Uncollected milk outside reveals theres no one there
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Sunday school and sunday roast
Sunday papers sunday post
Sunday morning sunday rest
Sunday sermon sunday best
Bathrobes hang in waiting, windows steaming up
Somewhere in the sink downstairs lies an unwashed cup
Tea and toast for breakfast clear away the plates
Wash-up prepare for cooking sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
Sunday lunch awaits
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I am blessed because...
I am blessed because I wake up every morning with breakfast ready on my table,
when there are people waking up to hunger.
I am blessed because I wake up with clothes to wear,
when there are people shivering in the cold.
I am blessed because I wake up knowing that I don't have to walk to school,
when there are people who don't have a school to go to.
I am blessed because I get to eat even if it's not time for breakfast, lunch or dinner,
while some people wonder when the next meal will come.
I am blessed because I am living such a comfortable life, playing sports, joking around with friends, using the internet and sleeping whenever I want,
when some people are using their last bit of strength to make sure they survive hunger, illness and pain.
I am blessed because I have friends to talk to when I'm in pain, to laugh with when I'm in joy and to be my aid when I'm in need,
when there are people who feel sad, sorrow and pain without anyone
to lean on.
I am blessed because I have a caring Mum, an awesome Dad and a loving little sister, while there are people who will never know who their parents are.
I am blessed because I know I am loved by God.
The people in pain, the people in hunger, the people in sorrow,
the people who lost everything, the people who kill, the people who
steal, the people who hate, the people who persecute, the people who is the worst of all humans, are loved by God too. They just need to know it.
I am blessed, are you?
If you think you're not, remember this, God loves you, no matter who you are.
You just need to know it. =
Because I Cannot Sleep Tonight
because i cannot sleep tonight
i have to pay the price
my morning and noon tomorrow
shall be my night
and the whole day i will sleep too
not speaking to anyone
not having breakfast
and lunch
another dinner for one on a candle light
they will all be sleeping
and i will be working
like a vampire have i become
thirsting for blood
wanting more flesh
shying away from the ordinary hustle and bustle
of this world
i wake up when everyone sleeps
i sleep when everyone wakes up
and soon they will all complain
and bury me
alive
because i have refused to learn how i must live
with them
and of course, they will not like it, tomorrow morning
the rules will be posted in the ref
they know i still need a drink, and the cold water
is stored in the ref
they are away on a trip, and they will wait
as always.......wanting to understand, wishing that i change....
i am still thinking, if i better get lost and be not found forever
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Would You Like Orange Juice With That?
Flies ZOOM across the room,
Then with one sneaky snap,
The flies become breakfast
For the Venus flytrap!
YO! The Venus flytrap!
YO! The Venus flytrap!
Another fly must die
And flap its final flap,
Blood and guts for breakfast
For the Venus flytrap!
YO! The Venus flytrap!
YO! The Venus flytrap!
Eats a piece of Fly-Pie
And then he takes a nap!
A nap after breakfast
For the Venus flytrap!
Snappin’ and clappin’
With a ZING and a ZAP!
Flappin’ and nappin’
And yappin’ as we tap
a-rap-rap-rappin’...
YO! The Venus flytrap!
poem by ToddMichael St. Pierre
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Breakfast
A dinner party, coffee, tea,
Sandwich, or supper, all may be
In their way pleasant. But to me
Not one of these deserves the praise
That welcomer of new-born days,
A breakfast, merits; ever giving
Cheerful notice we are living
Another day refreshed by sleep,
When its festival we keep.
Now although I would not slight
Those kindly words we use, 'Good night,'
Yet parting words are words of sorrow,
And may not vie with sweet 'Good morrow,'
With which again our friends we greet,
When in the breakfast-room we meet,
At the social table round,
Listening to the lively sound
Of those notes which never tire,
Of urn, or kettle on the fire.
Sleepy Robert never hears
Or urn or kettle; he appears
When all have finished, one by one
Dropping off, and breakfast done.
Yet has he too his own pleasure,
His breakfast hour's his hour of leisure;
And, left alone, he reads or muses,
Or else in idle mood he uses
To sit and watch the venturous fly,
Where the sugar's pilëd high,
Clambering o'er the lumps so white,
Rocky cliffs of sweet delight.
poem by Charles Lamb
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5. School Dinners
I remember in the fifties, I stayed for my school dinners
At six sided tables, with six chairs to match
I remember on walls, having all the art class winners
Whilst the dinner ladies served our food by batch
I remember lots of water, in a very large glass jug
With a glass for every diner in its place
I remember as I poured, it would give out a sudden glug
Causing droplets that would often hit your face
I remember smelly cabbage, with lots of lumpy mash
A tray sliced up with equal bits of pie
I remember thick brown gravy, it landed with a splash
That could blind you if it got you in the eye
I remember all the puddings, with custard steaming hot
You could only have if finishing your greens
I remember all the groaning as we finished off the lot
And the sickly taste from piles of butter beans
I remember taking turns, to have the custards skin
Had to scrape it off before the stuff would pour
I remember in the fifties, that none of us were thin
As the puddings kept us going back for more
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Cycle Of My Life
wake up in the morning
remembering some dreams
take a walk in the oval
and come back for breakfast
then take a bath
dress myself
then go to the office for work
the whole day is spent
within the walls and closed glass windows
then come back for home
eat dinner
pray and sleep to bed
dream and at dawn have little sex
with wife
and sleep again and wake up in the morning
and take a walk and take breakfast and
back to the office again.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Get Up
Here's to the morning
Think that I'm bored and crazy
Yes I have been to get up when I give in
I need my second wind and I just cant take it anymore
I just cant take it when your lying on the floor
Get up [x4]
Cause I'm bored
Get up [x4]
Get up off the floor
He gets the usual 1,2,3
Ooo ladidadida why'd you hit me
Get up
Cause I'm bored (ya)
Come entertain ya
So stupid its contagious
Mess that I've been
I get up when you get in
It makes more sense to win
I just cant fake it anymore
I just cant it and I heard it all before
Get up [x4]
Cause I'm bored
Get up [x4]
Get up off the floor
He gets the usual 1,2,3
Ooo ladidadida why'd you hit me
Get up
Cause I'm bored
Ohh dont be so dramatic
I know you almost had it
Wohhh
I tried to show you but you wont go down to her
(Get up, get up, get up, now)
Get up off the floor
Get up [x4]
Cause I'm bored
Get up [x4]
Get up off the floor
He gets the usual 1,2,3
Ooo ladidadida why'd you hit me
Get up [x4]
Cause I'm bored (ya)
song performed by by Unwritten Law
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lunch and Dinner
I have breakfast and lunch and dinner,
Munching away forever and ever;
The religion of some is furious and solid,
Yesterday it was bigger than today
But my day is always happy with fury,
Its speed is falling everywhere,
Velocity is the vector of your liking
For you know the directions
We possess.
Our breakfast is taken in fullness,
My lunch is ever so strange
And supper chanced itself.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Sunday 4: 44 A.m.
the church bell sounds.
you wake up.
you wash your face.
comb your hair and
wear the best dress
on sunday.
you look again
in the mirror to check
if all about you is well
and presentable.
you take the rosary
and the prayer book.
you read the gospel.
you mumble your prayers,
you thank your husband.
you take the puppy.
you smile again in the
mirror. you thank God.
now you open the gate
and head for the nearby
church and hear mass
and the usual sermon
of the parish priest.
90% of your life
is devoted to religion.
10% is devoted
to anything else.
you have aged.
you still mumble.
i still wonder whether
it is you who misunderstands me
or i misunderstanding you.
everything seems to be
mangled and mingled.
when you come back
breakfast is ready and
everyone in the house
pretends that there is nothing
wrong with the table, or the
cover, or the broken pieces
of the glass.The maid is
quick in sweeping them
away from the door into
that thick grass beside
the window of this house.
sunday morning is still
our morning. A nice one.
the sun has come and
we are planning for another
picnic in the nearby beach.
there will be no questions.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Thirty Frames A Second
Today I saw a film going backwards
Thirty frames a second
Was a man I recognised
Say who you are
I lost my job
Security
Self confidence
Bank account
Identity
The league of youth
Coming backward at me
Thirty frames a second
Say who you are
Go back to father
Father wheres my food?
You food is on the table
That cant be food
Its dirt
Say who you are
Look at my skin
Look at my face
Look at my arms
Getting younger
Going backwards
Thirty frames a second
Say who you are
I crash my car
Collapse in town
Young immigrants
And legionaires
Fighting back back backwards
Thirty frames a second
Say who you are
Some friends of mine
I thought were dead
A coming back
What are you doing coming back
Jack
Say who you are
Feel Im going backwards
Thirty frames a second
Lyrics : j kerr music : simple minds (c) emi publishing ltd reproduced without permission
song performed by by Simple Minds
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Learned... This Hunger and Thirst
one who sleeps on the floor
cannot fall,
in the morning one wakes up
with thirst, the one
that even you drinking
water and wine
in dreams
never gets satisfied, there is
this hunger that continues
to be hungry, that no
bread in breakfast
or bacon or scrambled egg
can satiate,
there is this soul that you cannot
touch, but
gives you that feeling of you being here
and yet not really here
as though your one foot is in the ocean
and the other
is on the mountain trail
always looking for the
right way to finally find what you are really seeking...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Those Were The Days
We Ain't Lovers No More
We Don't Laugh No More
We Don't Play No More
We Don't Make-Up No More
We Don't Kiss No More
We Don't Hug No More
You Don't Please Me No More
You Don't Touch No More
Give Me Chills No More
We Don't Go Out No More
We Don't Kick It No More
We Don't Dance No More
I Remember
Walking Through The Park
Just Shooting The Breeze
Kissing In The Shade
Those Were The Days
Lounging In The Den
Breakfast In the Bed
You Let Me Have My Way
Those Were The Days
If You Don't Want Me No More
Don't Come Round No More
Just Don't Call No More
Don't Come Knockin' Up At My Door
After Ten Or So
What You Knockin' For?
We Don't Kick It No More
You Ain't Cute No More
You Ain't Fly No More
You Ain't Got It Like That No More
See In Your Clothes You Don't
I Still Remember
Walking Through The Park
Just Shooting The Breeze
Kissing In The Shade
Those Were The Days
Lounging In The Den
Breakfast In the Bed
You Let Me Have My Way
Those Were The Days
Those Were The Days
Those Were The Days
I Said Those Were The Days
I Said Those Were The Days
Those Were The Days
Those Were The Days
What's Up With This Baby?
You Done Changed On Me (You Done Changed)
This Ain't The Way It Used To Be
song performed by by Aaliyah from Aaliyah
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For The Happy Housemaid...
early morning
the housemaid turns on the radio
in full volume that the
neighbors know that
she is already awake
and cooking breakfast
the house smells fried
egg and bacon and
steamed rice
when i come out my room
she smiles and
turns off the radio and
says that breakfast is
ready
only to be told that
no one likes to eat breakfast
(unlike the two the housemaid
likes it much to eat all these matters
alone by herself,
she is attuned like a loud radio
early morning
and she does not mind what
the housemaids' neighbors say)
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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Hunger (John 6: 1-15)
I'm nobody
I'm just a child without family
I'm nobody
And I'm hungry
So I search for the crowd
To beg for mercy
May they have some food
Other than words of enemy
I'm hungry
And there's a crowd in front of me
They are walking into the same direction
To the mountain, near Tiberias I see
They are following for one man
He sits down and begins to tell a story
Story that I never heard in my life
Where the world is felt more joyful and merry
He doesn't shout or speak loud
But the wind carries His calm voice to every
As speaking to His children in their night bed
His face looks so bright and free
From a far distance
I continue to listen to His story
And slowly
I'm not anymore so hungry
His story starts to fill my heart with warmth
His presence covers my body with safety
And for the first time of my life
I feel more love and energy
And then suddenly
He raises His head and looking around of many
He talks to His friends about something
I hope it'll be soon or I will remember that I'm hungry
He comes again to the top
And blessing the bread and fish He carries
I'm not moved when the food is shared
I know it won't enough for any
I'm nobody
And no one will notice my small body
I keep watching from distance
Even though I'm very hungry
But then somebody comes closer
And drags me into the small circle
I don't know them and they to me
But strangely I don't feel lonely
I don't know when I'll eat again
I don't remember the last time I ate properly
But it doesn't matter anymore
At least now I won't be hungry
The food is keep coming from everywhere
They continually offer it to me
And for the first time of my life
Somebody really smiles to me
That moment I start to realize something
Many cheer and laugh heard in the party
How everybody eats and talks together
They are like in one big of family
Some people said it is miracle
Some other said God is there
I'm not truly understand
But I'm glad that I am here to see
Not because the food I get
But for the strength to live
Not because the vision I find
But for hope I allowed to have
And when the crowd starts to disappear
I still standing there like in trance
Maybe I won't see Him again
But I will keep this faith with me
I'm nobody
I'm just a child without family
I'm nobody
But now I won't be anymore hungry
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Making Breakfast - a study in consciousness
Breakfast. Slick operation. You could
make it in your sleep..
you’ve refined the quantities,
the cooking and the timing
like a pro..
and eating it – you’re even more
brilliant at that – you can
eat breakfast, read the paper,
listen to the radio or tv,
half listen to the wife and kids,
make and take those cellphone calls;
then bestow a salty bacon,
sweet marmaladey kiss on several lips
or cheeks – and off..
But today something gotten to you:
the sun is shining; all’s well with the world;
this isn’t Monday breakfast, this is
Saturday breakfast…
You find yourself making breakfast
as if you’d never made it in your life before;
you hear the cereal on its way
from the packet to the bowl;
smell the coffee before drinking it;
never has the toast been browner, crisper,
eggs more eggy, tomatoes so.. well, tomatoey;
sweet meeting salt in tasting mouth..
the world’s made new today; and
somehow, you feel as if
you know that much more about yourself;
some sure sense of direction
seems to fill your heart and mind;
you’re on good terms with
the Creation as of now.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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When Will Life Begin
Seven A.M., the usual morning line-up
Start on the chores, and sweep 'til the
floor's are
clean
Polish and wax, do laundry and mop and
shine up
Sweep again
And by then
It's, like, seven fifteen
And so I'll read a book
Or maybe 2 or 3 Ill add a few new
paintings
To my gallery
I'll play guitar and knit and cook
And basically
Just wonder, when will my life begin?
Then, after lunch, it's puzzles, and
darts, and
baking...
Paper-mache, a bit of ballet, and
chess....
Pottery and ventriloquy, candle-
making...
Then I'll stretch
Maybe sketch
Take a climb
Sew a dress
And I'll re-read the books
If I have time to spare
I'll paint the wall some more
I'm sure there's room somewhere
And then I'll brush, and brush
And brush, and brush my hair
Stuck in the same place I've always been
And I'll keep wondrin'
And wonderin'
And wonderin'
And wonderin'
When will my life begin?
Tomorrow night...
The lights will appear...
Just like they do on my birthday each
year...What is it like...
Out there where they glow...
Now that I'm older...
Mother might just let me go......
poem by Pawan Kumar 'Meonlafesta'
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The Young & The Old
Whoa oh
Staggering home everybody sings
All the old songs the cockney routines
All the old women, all the young men
Try changing places then back again
Old man in the morning,
Young man at night
Breakfast full of wisdom
Until you hit the lights
Knock back the drinks , hitch up your skirt
Fall over backwords undo your shirt
Everyone shouting what a terrible state
Age creeping backwards as it gets late
Old man in the morning,
Young man at night
Breakfast full of wisdom
Until you hit the lights
Have a quick short, forget about work
Have a couple more then you go beserk
Who cares about this morning, wise old man
The wisdom comes up later and goes down the pan
Old man in the morning,
Young man at night
Breakfast full of wisdom
Until you hit the lights
Then another round, forget whos turn
Waking up to feel your stomach churn
Whos in the chair and whos on the floor
Incoherants knocking on the door
Old man in the morning,
Young man at night
Breakfast full of wisdom
Until you hit the lights
Hit the lights
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homebound
before he left the U.S.
HE took pictures of himself sleeping
no one believes that it was him who took that picture
someone theorizes
someone was beside him
another lonely body to another lonely body on that winter time
but it is really true
he will always be alone
and will always be alone
he repeats it so many times that it has become the sound of the
monotonous loneliness that he is finally leaving
he took the pictures of his breakfast
some greens
his lunch something oily
and his supper
something like cheesy pasta
he took every detail of that lonely room
then he viewed them again
when he was on that 17-hour flight back home
before the plane landed in Manila
he deleted everything
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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