Cactus Hostess, Her Dialogue
you may sit
as we welcome you
mr. honored guest
but all we have
is a cactus chair
you may sleep
but all we have is a cactus bed.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Les Cactus
Le monde entier est un cactus
Il est impossible de s'asseoir
Dans la vie il n'y a que des cactus
Moi j'm'pique de le savoir
Aie! aie! ouille! aie!
Dans leur coeur il y a des cactus
Dans leur portefeuille y a des cactus
Sous leurs pieds il y a des cactus
Dans l'heure qu'il est il y a des cactus
Aie! aie! ouille! aie!
Pour me defendre de leur cactus
A mon tour j'ai pris des cactus
Dans mon lit j'ai mis des cactus
Dans mon silp j'ai mis des cactus
Aie! aie! ouille! aie!
Dans leur sourir' il y a des cactus
Dans leur ventr' il y a des cactus
Dans leur bonjour il y a des cactus
Dans leur cactus il y a des cactus
Aie! aie! aie! ouille! ouille!
Le monde entier est un cactus
il est impossible de s'asseoir
Dans la vie y a que des cactus
Moi je me pique de le savoir
Aie! aie! aie!
song performed by by Vanessa Paradis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No one is useless
Cactus is full of thorns.
Rose is a real charm.
Cactus guards in fence.
Rose has in it a defense.
Rose must not scorn
The cactus for its thorn.
15.04.2001, Vijv
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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I have learned the difference between a cactus and a caucus. On a cactus, the pricks are on the outside.
How spiny the cactus raised itself
how spiny the cactus raised itself
into the desert
how red the sand
burnt under the mid-day sun
how scorched the scorpion moved
across the red sand
and in that silence
a sudden whirlwind blows
a red, red cloud of sand
from the dunes rises
how spiny the cactus raised itself
into the tempest:
and yet
and yet
the tempest was subdued and fell
as happened long ago and now
and still
and spiny the cactus raises itself
into the desert
and the red sand
burns under the mid-day sun
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
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A Flower of Cactus
You could not ask for,
And I dared not offer you,
the small inglorious flower of cactus.
Instead I brought you tulips and roses,
to fill our lives with transient happiness.
In the darkness we hid our face.
Thus passed years,
Times we shed silent tears,
For having not dared the most precious -
A small inglorious flower of cactus!
poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay
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Ode to my dying Cactus (Rough Draft)
Oh my most enduring cactus!
With more thorns than my years!
I shall water you for the last time
It shall be with my tears!
I recall the joy you gave us!
A representation of love’s endurance…
(And the ferocity it may bring)
I vividly remember, when my senile
Grandmother placed you by the
Light switch, and mother, In a fit
Of anger over some lost remote,
Or sheer grumpiness, smacked
What she thought was the switch!
She screamed so loud, you would
Think the claws of hell had impaled her heart!
And I remember the hours put into
Removing your teeth from her
Palm, consoling her, soothing her agony-
Yet we never blamed you, dear cactus!
Only ourselves.
You did not ask for much
(In fact, it didn’t look like you wanted much either)
Just a place to stand, a pot to grow in,
And a once and a while accidental high five- how do ya do?
You lived in front of numerous light switches
Slept often by the handle of the microwave
Even made your way into our bathroom once!
(I’d rather not speak of that one)
But ode to you, my dying cactus,
Ode to each and every thorn!
Ode to the memories you left us
For you depart at morn.
poem by Lazarus Knix
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Good times, bad times & my cactus Christmas tree
My first Christmas tree, thirty years ago
Upon my arrival in Las Vegas
Shall always be remembered so,
As one of my greatest
My pickup truck was my home
My refuge and my castle
I was totally, absolutely alone…
But… it wasn’t such a hassle
I drove into the desert one day
To see what I could see
And lo and behold beside the road
Found my perfect Christmas tree
It was a three inch tall cactus
All attitude, prickly and brash
And I proudly installed it
Upon my ol’ trucks dash
I used cigarette cellophane
As tinsel you see
Stuck tight to the spines
Of my lil’ Christmas tree
Many times it fell off
My prickly lil’ friend
When I would start off too fast
Or career round a bend
Though small, and deceptive
It was easy to find you see
Usually stuck quite painfully
Upon my bony right knee
It was all I had that christmas
And I was lonely you see
Just me and my ol’ pickup truck
And my cactus Christmas tree
Childhood memories are nice…
But the one I’ll most remember will be
The one in which, all there was in my world
Was just me…my ol’ pickup
And my cactus Christmas tree
poem by David Whalen
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Cactus Seed
Radiant notes piercing my narrow-chested room, beating down through my ceiling— smeared with unshapen belly-prints of dreams drifted out of old smokes— trillions of icily peltering notes out of just one canary, all grown to song as a plant to its stalk, from too long craning at a sky-light and a square of second-hand blue.
Silvery-strident throat—
so assiduously serenading my brain,
flinching under
the glittering hail of your notes—
were you not safe behind… rats know what thickness of… plastered wall…
I might fathom
your golden delirium
with throttle of finger and thumb
shutting valve of bright song.
II
But if… away off… on a fork of grassed earth
socketing an inlet reach of blue water…
if canaries (do they sing out of cages?)
flung such luminous notes,
they would sink in the spirit…
lie germinal…
housed in the soul as a seed in the earth…
to break forth at spring with the crocuses into young smiles
on the mouth.
Or glancing off buoyantly,
radiate notes in one key
with the sparkle of rain-drops
on the petal of a cactus flower
focusing the just-out sun.
Cactus… why cactus? God… God… somewhere… away off… cactus flowers, star-yellow ray out of spiked green, and empties of sky roll you over and over like a mother her baby in long grass. And only the wind scandal-mongers with gum trees, pricking multiple leaves at his amazing story.
poem by Lola Ridge
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Flight to Catalina
On a darkening planet
speeding
toward our death,
we pierce a rosy cloud
& hit clean air,
we glide above
the red infernal smog,
we leave the mammon city
far behind.
Here - where the air is clear
as nothing,
where cactus pads
are prickly as stars,
where buffalo chips
are gilded by the sun
& the moon tastes like a peppermint-
we land.
'Have we flown to heaven?'
I inquired
(& meant it).
The airport was a leveled
mountaintop.
We took the cloudbank
at a tilt
& bumped the runway
just ten degrees from crashing,
certain death.
If I'm to die, God,
let me die flying!
Fear is worse than death-
I know that now.
The cloudbanks of my life
have silver linings.
Beyond them:
cactus pads,
clear earth,
dear sky.
poem by Erica Jong
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Cactus is bitter only to him who tastes of it.
Botany lab
keeping everyone on heals
cactus
haiku by Putholi Arumugham
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Potter
The name is Potter, hi there
I'm sure getting hotter, minder
I told her strict she could see my prickled cactus back in the confines of
my home
She didn't say yes, but she didn't say no, said just go get a cactus of her
own
Nigger in the woodpile, ?mindout?
Trigger as a docile, find out
Roll up, roll up, come and see my ?fingermass singermass? songs like you
never seen before
Roll out, old town, to the place in town it's a case of a pound and a race
to the bedroom-door
Roll up, roll up, come and see my ?fingermass singermass? songs like you
never seen before
Roll out, old town, to the place in town it's a case of a pound and a race
to the bedroom-door
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Portraits
We can always do better,
Art discover, Art adventure,
Like a prickly cactus,
Needles poke, we practice.
There comes a time when we live on glory just as cactus lives on the water accumulated in its stem.
aphorism by Valeriu Butulescu from Immensity of the Point, translated by Eva A. Ziem
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Painted Desert
[ jerome augustyniak/natalie merchant ]
The painted desert can wait till summer.
Weve played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When Im sure the rains have ended, the blooms have gone,
Everyone killed by the morning frost.
Is a cactus blooming there in every roadside stand
Where the big deal is cowboy gear won in japan?
The painted desert can wait till summer.
Weve played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When Im sure the rains have ended and the blooms have gone,
Everyone killed by the morning frost.
Is a cactus blooming there upon the northern rim
Or in the ruins of the hopi mesa dens?
You met a new friend in the canyon, or so you wrote.
On a blanket in the cooling sand you and your friend agreed that
The stars were so many there they seemed to overlap.
The painted desert can wait till summer.
Weve played this game of just imagine long enough.
Wait till summer?
When I am sure the rain has ended, the blooms have gone,
Everyone killed by the morning frost.
Was a cactus blooming there as you watched the native boy?
In flagstaff trailer court, you wrote the line:
He kicked a tumbleweed and his mother called him home where the arizona moon met the arizona sun.
I wanted to be there by may at the latest time.
Isnt that the plan we had or have you changed your mind?
I havent read a word from you since phoenix or tucson.
April is over will you tell me how long before I can be there?
song performed by by 10000 Maniacs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Shanghai: 8 days
through the eyes of a fish
one copes up with mirage
in the desert where you do not
really belong,
how you survived the heat
must be a miracle
with cactus as food
i am definite about you
how i wish i can have the hands
of the squid again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Flower To Auroville Mother-31
Brahmakamalam, Nishagandhi
(Orchid cactus, Jungle cactus,
Night blooming cereus, Dutchman's Pipe)
(Epiphyllum oxypetalum)
Who knows, may be she's on a penance..
In silent bloom in nightly spiritual exile
To self hers alone known of her presence..
But I hunt and wait in all her secret while
In eerie hours rising slender her u-neck
Bearing seemingly her musing closed face
Awaits from its leafy platform a beck
As I try awaiting Nisha's florescence
My patience's prediction there she blooms
Flashing perfuming stunning rich all around
Like a goddess attired from heavenly looms
Bleaching my mind, heart, soul fully deterged
Spellbound! all words of wonderment retreat
Booming Bijagarba re-impregnated in awe
Symbolised therein the microcosmic portrait
A pollen forest and a spider stigma as Brahma
'Behold in repeats', decrees my conscience
I see and perceive insatiably wide-eyed
Brahmakamalam with dynamic mutiple petals!
But lo, what destiny before the Sun she's to end?
poem by Indira Renganathan
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There once was an upcoming actress
Whose voice tones resounded like cactus.
Her resonance so sour,
That after an hour,
Her voice coach abandoned her practice.
quote by by Steven B. Taylor (20 September 1997)
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