Evening In Paradise
Evening in the village it is about nine o'clock nothing on TV except
men in nice suits and cuff links talking about the economy, they all
are experts yet disagree about everything banging hands on table,
getting red faced and angry, so I switched off. A motorbike is making
its unsteady progress through the village, Joao home from the bar,
dogs don't bark, know the sound it is only when he is trying to get
off and fall they bark a little, angry voices, and then utter stillness.
I stroll through the village only street every window is shuttered not
letting out light it is like they think they have to pay extra if it does.
I walk down to the main road and hope anything would come to pass
enveloped as I'm by tediousness. A car drives past I spend minutes,
wondering where it is going. Back home I switch the TV back on,
a drone attack an important terrorist has been killed, as have eleven
other mostly children, collateral damage, but we fight a global war.
I wished for and found my Paradise on earth and it is bloody boring.
poem by Oskar Hansen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Inspired by Issa - My Home Village
my home village
the virgin mary still stands
young as ever
my home village
old friends like me
away from home
my home village
old friends live in
new homes
inspired by
my home village-
the winter rain targets
a standing Buddha
-Issa,1816
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Back Home
Yeah yeah yeah
Well Im going back this summer to ohio
Im gonna seek out all my friends Ive always known
Im goin back to that farm that I remember
Well Im goin to spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Im gonna get up every morning before the roosters
Ill run downstairs fix my breakfast all alone
Ill milk those cows feed the chickens and the horses
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home (back home)
Ill eat everything that ma puts on the table
When I get back you wont believe how Ive grown
Ill hit the sack early everynight thinkin bout tomorrow whoa oh
Well Im gonna spend this summer back home
Back home, back home, back home
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Thats what Im gonna do thats where Im gonna be, thats this summer
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Gonna get up, gonna get up, gonna get up every morning
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Hey woo feels okay back home
Back home (back home)
Back home (back home, back home, back home)
Ill spend my summer (back home)
Back home
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Global Village
Global village
Though we are all human
we are made to be different
by forces beyond our clout
Yet they want remake us
in a new image of their choice
in a village too big to be safe
The world they now call
a single village in the globe
with a big brother to match
As long as we are second class
within that large village fashioned
we would be subjected to
someone’s standards
someone’s culture
someone’s technology
someone’s understanding
someone’s world view
someone’s theories and concepts
They try hard in harder ways
to make us part of that village
but we know we are different
and shall strive to leave outside
that fashioned unsafe village
poem by Yusuf Adamu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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song - The Lost Road
We stood together on the seven five
Backs to the fields and eyes wide to the light
My thumb hitched high to the random unknown
I didn’t know where and wouldn’t be shown
We’d learn soon enough we couldn’t go home
We sailed straight into yon white water thrill
Down where the furious waves rose and fell
With no going back, and no turning around
We didn’t know if we’d make it or drown
Or if something worse might soon bring us down
(chorus)
When you were the fire, you were the light
And I was a shadow stealing the night
You were the av’rage and I was the pass
I had momentum and you had the class
Out of the seeds of a circular street
I stood on illusion, you stood on your feet
Across the table we sat with our kind
Breaking the bread with our hands full of time
And gulping down the holy water of self
Too eager like chicks we leapt and we fell
From high window dreams down to the cold earth
I stand alone here o’er this city night
But somehow see only your village light
Off in the far distance beside the lost road
Down by the old Beech tree under the crows
Beneath the moon’s light where we used to stroll.
(chorus)
When you were the fire, you were the light
And I was a shadow stealing the night
You were the av’rage and I was the pass
I had momentum and you had the class
Out of the seeds of a circular street
I stood on illusion, you stood on your feet
Country Comfort
Soon the pines will be falling everywhere
As the village children fight each other for their share
And the six-o-nine goes roaring past the creek
As Deacon Lee prepares his sermon for next week
I saw Grandma yesterday down at the store
Well she's really doing fine for eighty-four
And she asked me if sometime I could fix her barn
The poor old girl she needs a hand to run that farm
Chorus:
And it's good old country comfort in my bones
It's the sweetest sound these ears have ever known
It's just an old-fashioned feeling fully-grown
Country comfort and a truck that's goin' back home
Oh it's goin' back home
Down at the well they've got a new machine
The foreman says it'll cut manpower by fifteen
"Hey but that ain't natural" old Clay would say
You see he's a horse-drawn man until his dying day
(REPEAT CHORUS TWICE)
Country comfort and a truck that's goin' back home
Whoa, it's goin' back home
Hey take me back home
And a truck, and a truck that's goin' back home
Any truck
song performed by by Keith Urban
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Puppy And I
I met a Man as I went walking:
We got talking,
Man and I.
'Where are you going to, Man?' I said
(I said to the Man as he went by).
'Down to the village, to get some bread.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met a horse as I went walking;
We got talking,
Horse and I.
'Where are you going to, Horse, today?'
(I said to the Horse as he went by).
'Down to the village to get some hay.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met a Woman as I went walking;
We got talking,
Woman and I.
'Where are you going to, Woman, so early?'
(I said to the Woman as she went by).
'Down to the village to get some barley.
Will you come with me?' 'No, not I.'
I met some Rabbits as I went walking;
We got talking,
Rabbits and I.
'Where are you going in your brown fur coats?'
(I said to the Rabbits as they went by).
'Down to the village to get some oats.
Will you come with us?' 'No, not I.'
I met a Puppy as I went walking;
We got talking,
Puppy and I.
'Where are you going this nice fine day?'
(I said to the Puppy as he went by).
'Up to the hills to roll and play.'
'I'll come with you, Puppy,' said I.
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Montserrat
Fires on the mountain, and the dogs bark.
Crash of the ocean swelling: crickets in the dark.
The temperature is rising. the village gets no sleep.
Its hardly surprising, given the hot company they keep.
Somebodys home in the ash-fall margins;
Somebodys life in the lost and found.
Breaking news from the hotel vue pointe.
Sinking feeling, sink another beer down.
Hey, jimmy. what you doing here?
Looking up at the high cloud cover, so far and yet so near.
Flying in with the chopper. lieutenant of the crown.
Tell the boys from that cnn, the good cops have come to town.
Angry island, no-ones listening. shamrock villa, green to grey.
Down in the swamp, iguanas glistening.
Toast tomorrow, if not, today.
Hey, jimmy. what you doing here?
You a scientist? you a newsman? or simply come to feel the fear?
The temperature is rising. and were in too deep.
There really is no point in disguising the hot company we keep.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Village Green
Out in the country,
Far from all the soot and noise of the city,
Theres a village green.
Its been a long time
Since I last set eyes on the church with the steeple
Down by the village green.
twas there I met a girl called daisy
And kissed her by the old oak tree.
Although I loved my daisy, I saw fame,
And so I left the village green.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And now all the houses
Are rare antiquities.
American tourists flock to see the village green.
They snap their photographs and say gawd darn it,
Isnt it a pretty scene?
And daisys married tom the grocer boy,
And now he owns a grocery.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And I will return there,
And Ill and daisy,
And well sip tea, laugh,
And talk about the village green.
We will laugh and talk about the village green.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Village Ghetto Land
Would you like to go with me
Down my dead end street
Would you like to come with me
To village ghetto land
See the people lock their doors
While robbers laugh and steal
Beggars watch and eat their meals-from garbage cans
Broken glass is everywhere
Its a bloody scene
Killing plagues the citizens
Unless they own police
Children play with rusted cars
Sores cover their hands
Politicians laugh and drink-drunk to all demands
Families buying dog food now
Starvation roams the streets
Babies die before theyre born
Infected by the grief
Now some folks say that we should be
Glad for what we have
Tell me would you be happy in village ghetto land
Village ghetto land
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Springtime
The red eyes of rabbits
aren't sad. No one passes
the sad golden village in a barge
any more. The sunset
will leave it alone. If the
curtains hang askew
it is no one's fault.
Around and around and around
everywhere the same sound
of wheels going, and things
growing older, growing
silent. If the dogs
bark to each other
all night, and their eyes
flash red, that's
nobody's business. They have
a great space of dark to
bark across. The rabbits
will bare their teeth at
the spring moon.
poem by Denise Levertov
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memories of False Bay!
On a more remote hour_
Far away from my native home,
The moon and the stars for me do shine;
In the blackberry brambles, crickets chant
Just as they did in the village.
The seagulls l hear in the back of my mind;
The lovely sandy beach of False Bay l envision;
The sound of mbira still chime in my head
And so does the mourning wild wind!
And the angry waves would come crushing against the shores!
O, Zame! Let these for me abide
Till l go back to my native roots...!
poem by Tafadzwa Matamba
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The High Life
She pinned her shapeless hat in place.
Then stood before the fireplace
and gazed into the mirror bright.
To make quite sure that she looked right.
Before she ventured down the street
to purchase what she needs to eat.
A weekly trip she undertook
and perhaps change her library book.
The library first and then she’ll go
around the village to and fro.
The simple things she wants to buy
the village shops can well supply.
She’s shy and seldom stops to speak
This is the highlight of her week
She nods to neighbours on the street.
She will stop soon to rest her feet
She will outside the baker’s store,
she’ll do as she has done before
Beneath an awning find a seat.
Have tea and cakes her weekly treat.
She’ll sit and watch the world go by
surprised at how the hours fly.
Then quite content she’ll make her way
back home. She has enjoyed her day
Once back at home she’ll feed the cat
and carefully hang up her hat
Then put her groceries away
thus ends another shopping day.
18-Aug-07
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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In the globalized world that is ours, maybe we are moving towards a global village, but that global village brings in a lot of different people, a lot of different ideas, lots of different backgrounds, lots of different aspirations.
quote by Lakhdar Brahimi
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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GOSH...Another Elegy!
They came
From the vast desert
To the shores of an expansive sea
G
O
S
H!
Giridhar
Om
Shivam…
I can’t understand anything
Not a single word
I’m from a village!
That’s Giridhar’s declaration
At the first encounter
The cynosure of his village
A would be first engineer form the village
Sent to learn the ship building with
Contributions form the entire village
Easy, you can! You will!
And he proved himself!
First few minutes of the class were his:
Spoke of his village
His family
Himself
His friends…
Shivam and Om fared pretty well though
On an evening of fun and frolic
When the moon up above was
Increasing its radius and radiance
The volleyball that stealthily hid their destiny
Changed its course in the air
And decided to float on the waves
Teasing the three to follow it
The hardy desert boys
Lured by the watery net
Were thrown up by the sea
Stiff and frozen a few days later!
Mam, see I now can speak…
Man, see I now can speak…
Giridhar’s voice repeatedly
Wakes me up from sleep…
poem by Indira Babbellapati
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Homo Podunkensis
As the poor ass that from his paddock strays
Might sound abroad his field-companions' praise,
Recounting volubly their well-bred leer,
Their port impressive and their wealth of ear,
Mistaking for the world's assent the clang
Of echoes mocking his accurst harangue;
So the dull clown, untraveled though at large,
Visits the city on the ocean's marge,
Expands his eyes and marvels to remark
Each coastwise schooner and each alien bark;
Prates of 'all nations,' wonders as he stares
That native merchants sell imported wares,
Nor comprehends how in his very view
A foreign vessel has a foreign crew;
Yet, faithful to the hamlet of his birth,
Swears it superior to aught on earth,
Sighs for the temples locally renowned
The village school-house and the village pound
And chalks upon the palaces of Rome
The peasant sentiments of 'Home, Sweet Home!'
poem by Ambrose Bierce
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It's So Nice To Be Home
Isn't it nice to be home again
Sitting around the fire with family and friends
Isn't it nice to be home again
It's so nice to be home
My little daughter's sleeping
And the boy is all right
My wife is so lovely
I'll love her tonight
Looking out the window at a new moon’s light
It's so nice to be home
I took old Blue out hunting on a Saturday
We didn't get home until the middle of May
A freaky winter storm went and blocked our way
Old Blue he kept me thinking and a talking 'bout you
And when Blue got down
I’d talk about Bobby and Sue
Together we did what we had to do
To get back home to you
It's so nice to be home.
poem by Steven Sabathie
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My dogs
bark at the neighbors,
bark at the UPS man,
bark at cars
and kids on bicycles.
they bark at the television,
the radio
and the stereo.
they bark at
the vacuum cleaner,
the dust mop
and the broom.
they bark at
anyone
who enters the house
uninvited.
and
when they’re not barking,
they’re sitting there
waiting
for something
to bark at.
good dogs.
poem by John Yamrus
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Ugliest Man In Town
Handsome guys get girls that are pretty
Other guys make it cause they're clever and witty
But the only love I ever got I got out of pity cause I'm the ugliest man in town
Yeah I drive down the street in a Roys Rolls car
Use hundred dollar bills when I light my cigar
But you know folks that really don't get you very far
When you're the ugliest man in town
There was a note on the doorstep where I was found
Is said this poor child weighs eleven pounds
So bring him up healthy and welthy and sound
Keep his back to the light don't let him turn around
Yeah all you women you're heartless and cold all you want is my silver and gold
Don't you know I've got a beautiful soul though I'm the ugliest man in town
Yeah I'm so ugly I gotta shave in the dark
The kids start to cry when I walk through the park
The clock stop tickin' and dogs start to bark whenever I come around
Oh oh oh I walk down the street the girls all hiss me
If I died tomorrow not one of them would miss me
Only reason they ball me is they can't stand to kiss me
I'm the ugliest man in town oh yeah the ugliest man in town
poem by Sheldon Allan Silverstein
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The Village
In the village where I usually stroll along and live
An ominous plot against me is put into high contrive
These villagers do not like whoever is not rich as their glamour
They hold deep rancor to whoever does not march and sing their hummer
I would not let you for long guess or think
What would happen if into their hand a silk noose will sink
Upon my fragile neck they will happily let it fall
As they push and tight me against an ancient stone wall
Once when my leg by the river was broken
No one stopped by to offer any help or even a token
Beneath an old oak by the village side
I sat in long weeping, in the whole village wide
There was no one to ask me why I wept
And so for hours under summer heat I kept
Brimming the water-lily cups with tears
Dry and cold as my immense fears
The other time when walking down village streets
A guy pass me by and kicked my butt as a treat
He laughed and encouraged his fellow to follow the same drag
But the other wished he could, since he was missing a leg
Those people of village friendly and kind
Those who will not put an obstacle out of a mockery sooth
In front of my legs since practically in truth
They are themselves disabled blind
And those who will not mock
Me are simply dumb, they use their look
And around they go to hide behind a rock
With some friends who are deaf and cannot rebuke
Oh gentle folks of hostess village who owe a grudge
To my calm and unintegrated distant existence
Stay on your own hellish folish trudge
In spite of my unprovoking persistence
Copy rights 2010
All rights resereved
The Crowing of the Roosters
Come to the village
and listen to the crowing roosters
up the branches of the trees
announcing the breaking
of a bright new day.
Come to the village
Walk the miles of the road
Have a pause from the roaring buses,
The dazzles on the streets
And the endless list of activities.
Come to the village
And learn from the roosters
Resting on the silent trees
Communing with nature
And speaking to man and woman
The great early morning of peace.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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