The Museum In Calbayog
what could be inside these
burial jars,
some souls of our dead ancestors
perhaps
restless in our ignorance
these log coffins
and jarlets and cups and howls and saucers
and dishes back to the
14th century
coins, heirlooms
our wooden saints
the altars they constructed
chalices and monstrances
how can i not know?
how can i be an alien
to my own country?
they have plates
and saucers and spoons
how could they have
eaten on bare hands?
they have their God
and religious chalices
how could they be
pagans?
hey, i am thirsty
i need more drink
about my history.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Galaxy Paradise
You are so unpredictable
When I am not
You are so irresistible
That I cant stop
You say my name
And I start walking on heaven
What flying saucers did you come here on
What extraterrestrial planet are you from
Youre much more than life
Youre from galaxy paradise
What flying saucers did you come here on
What will they say when they find that youre gone
Say youll stay in life
Queen from galaxy paradise
You are so unforgettable
And I will not
Our loves far more than sensual
And twice as hot
You touch my hand
And I know that well love forever
What flying saucers did you come here on
What extraterrestrial planet are you from
Youre much more than life
Youre from galaxy paradise
What flying saucers did you come here on
What will they say when they find that youre gone
Say youll stay in life
Queen from galaxy paradise
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dancing The Manta Ray
Woooooo!
-grunt-
Do the manta ray(4x)
Your head can go real screw
With saucers chasing you
Dance the manta ray(5x)
Your head can go real screw
With saucers chasing you
This dont swim-
-this fly
Fly
Cmon
Your head can go real screw
With saucers chasing you
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You Tell Me Of Your Australian History
You tell me of your Australian history your ancestors were British and Irish pioneers
But your history in this Land is not an old history just two centuries and twenty years
And in time that may seem quite a long span though the combined life spans of three people nothing more
Your ancestors hardly were Aussies they came here from a distant shore.
The first Australians have lived in this Country for longer than most care to know
Their ancestors came here from Asia more than sixty thousand years ago
They are indigenous to this Country all others have links to elsewhere
Yet they still struggle for recognition and that to me seems quite unfair.
Dispossessed by the Northern invaders they never did get back their Land
And that they are now ruled by white people I find that hard to understand
You talk of the history of this Land as if it were only two hundred years old
But then suppose the history of the ancient Dreamtime by white people will never be told.
I was not even born in this Country which makes you more Aussie than I
And though I'm not Nationalistic or Patriotic my heritage I won''t deny
You talk of your pioneering ancestors but why talk of Human history at all
If the history of the first Australians you do not see fit to recall.
You tell me of your pioneering ancestors but one fact you tend to ignore
That they were not born in this Country they came here from a foreign shore
You''d swear by you the Human history of this Land was only two centuries old
But the true history of this great Country by your type will never be told
poem by Francis Duggan
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Fight Back, “The Land Of The Rising Sun”
A combined attack of a major earthquake and tsunami – for any other country it would have been a major blow
But the country in question is Japan, which is known for not letting any disaster make its morale low.
“The Land Of The Rising Sun”, Japan managed to stand up from the shambles of Hiroshima bombing
It is a strong-willed nation, for which fighting back a disaster with grit is not a new thing.
History bears the proof of the determination and courage that the Japanese community personifies
And there is hardly any doubt that the great country will overcome the present disaster with aplomb and ease.
The entire world’s sympathy, love and wishes are with you - our beloved Japanese friends, brothers and sisters
Fight back with your natural courage, by displaying for the umpteenth time the indomitable spirit of the Japanese mass.
Your ancestors faced Hiroshima bombing, and constructed a new Japan from the rubble of that devastation
Repeat that valour of your ancestors, and prove once again the resilience and buoyancy of your great nation.
(I wrote this poem on 14th March 2011 following the devastating Tsunami and earthquake in Japan that shook the world) .
The Nutcrackers and the Sugar-Tongs
The Nutcrackers sate by a plate on the table,
The Sugar-tongs sate by a plate at his side;
And the Nutcrackers said, 'Don't you wish we were able
'Along the blue hills and green meadows to ride?
'Must we drag on this stupid existence for ever,
'So idle so weary, so full of remorse,--
'While every one else takes his pleasure, and never
'Seems happy unless he is riding a horse?
II
'Don't you think we could ride without being instructed?
'Without any saddle, or bridle, or spur?
'Our legs are so long, and so aptly constructed,
'I'm sure that an accident could not occur.
'Let us all of a sudden hop down from the table,
'And hustle downstairs, and each jump on a horse!
'Shall we try? Shall we go! Do you think we are able?'
The Sugar-tongs answered distinctly,'Of course!'
III
So down the long staircase they hopped in a minute,
The Sugar-tongs snapped, and the Crackers said 'crack!'
The stable was open, the horses were in it;
Each took out a pony, and jumped on his back.
The Cat in a fright scrambled out of the doorway,
The Mice tumbled out of a bundle of hay,
The brown and white Rats, and the black ones from Norway,
Screamed out, 'They are taking the horses away!'
IV
The whole of the household was filled with amazement,
The Cups and the Saucers danced madly about,
The Plates and the Dishes looked out of the casement,
The Saltcellar stood on his head with a shout,
The Spoons with a clatter looked out of the lattice,
The Mustard-pot climbed up the Gooseberry Pies,
The Soup-ladle peeped through a heap of Veal Patties,
And squeaked with a ladle-like scream of surprise.
V
The Frying-pan said, 'It's an awful delusion!'
The Tea-kettle hissed and grew black in the face;
And they all rushed downstairs in the wildest confusion,
To see the great Nutcracker-Sugar-tong race.
And out of the stable, with screamings and laughter,
(Their ponies were cream-coloured, speckled with brown,)
The Nutcrackers first, and the Sugar-tongs after,
Rode all round the yard, and then all round the town.
VI
They rode through the street, and they rode by the station,
They galloped away to the beautiful shore;
In silence they rode, and 'made no observation',
Save this: 'We will never go back any more!'
And still you might hear, till they rode out of hearing,
The Sugar-tongs snap, and the Crackers say 'crack!'
Till far in the distance their forms disappearing,
They faded away. -- And they never came back!
poem by Edward Lear
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Future Years
A morbid beauty
Glows in resonation
Mercurial signs they read
Make real our minds
True fascinations
For now we're rolling
And kinda golden
As time keeps folding
We're old when our poor souls depart
Whereas cold cruel jokes now make you cry
One day you'll take them in your stride
All of the time we've resided here
You'll see our chalices rise
With ever endless tears
And illusions they fly
But someday soon will clear
Just sit back and recline
I'll guide you through the years
Through the future years
As they'll soon appear
Someday all too near
Now the distance clears
Bad ways which rule all the ways we go
Through black and the gloom
Consecutive days and plain afternoons
The things in life
They pass the time
While those all around are bored
Though we come down in real demise
Trek through all of the feelings with no tears in eyes
Kept fear veiled so it hides
Life's never forced or dry
So theres nothing inside me
I just seem alive
To the future years
As they'll soon appear
Dressed in slacks as we will
So its stars they steer
Just tie a silk sheet round your neck
And twist it till your face turns cherry red
All of the time we've resided here
You'll see our chalices rise
With ever endless tears
And illusions they fly
But someday soon will clear
Just sit back and recline
I'll guide you through the years
song performed by by Deady from Commencement
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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What To Do With An Empty Cup?
the presumption is
you have consumed the hotness of the tea
and now the cup is cold
and empty
at the state of emptiness
shall you break it? or shall you keep it instead
and not wipe it
because there is a mark of the lips
of the beloved
some do the cleaning
wipe out everything
the empty cup shines together
with the rest of the
utensils, spoons and forks and saucers
in the cabinet
the door of the cabinet is closed
and then they all do what has to be done
they move on
with the other more important events in their lives
from an empty cup
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Making the Choice Early Morning...
it is when you wake up
on a clear day
upon a very cold morning that
you are shown some solid choices
in the open
with all the pros and cons
as you sip your tea
and have a closer look at the cups and saucers
their gleam and pure colors
of white and blue
as sky and sand
the day is frank
and you are prepared now to take all the
risk
well calculated and
explained
then you grab one
and there is no regret
the light of the sun is warm
and the day is
as lovely as you can very well see
on both sides
of this
coin
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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You & The Clouds Will Still Be Beautiful
And every morning before Im awake
I walk around the world to make sure shes alright
And every evening fore I bolt the door
I give the stars a stir to make sure they will spin all night
For I see people who will scratch and spit and kick and fight
And I see nations war about whether right is left and whether wrong is right
And I know storms inside your head can amplify the blight
But no matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
No matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
And every troy with wooden horse
I take to peaceful waters but cant make him drown
And every bastille that gets stormtroopered
Hail to the chief comes rainin, rainin, rainin, rainin down
And Ive seen people conduct lightning down to a summers day
And Ive seen nations playfully hurl snowballs packed with stones and clay
And I know rain inside your head can seriously put a stop to play
But no matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
No matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
So let it rain
And when we see flying saucers, flying cups, and flying plates
And as we trip down lovers lane we sometimes bump into the gate
And I know thunder in your head can still reverberate
But no matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
No matter what the weather, you and the clouds will still be beautiful
No matter what the weather
Yeah
So let it rain
So let it rain
You know you still be beautiful
So let it rain
It doesnt matter what the weather you know youre beautiful
Just let it rain
Youre just, youre beautiful
So let it rain
Yeah, since the clouds all part the clouds just rose
So let it rain
From your pretty little mouth to your pretty little nose youre beautiful
So let it rain
It doesnt matter if the rain wants to fail if the rain wants to fall
Just let it rain
So let it rain
So let it rain
song performed by by Xtc
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Framed
The lots are a collusion of lawn tools
Rakes bark at sidewalks
Mowers ruminate, roaring in fescue
Pink flamingo statuary and black jockeys
Vie for spritz from rain birds
The straw hat ladies sit on wicker benches
In a garden of sculpted shrubbery
They sip tea from painted dragon china cups
glinting in the summer morning sun
Moving in arcs from laced limbs
The gentry and their servants
The fingers and the cup
Possessing themselves for eternity
“I’m thinking of a tuck”
“ I don’t think a tuck will do you”
“ My God your catty”
laughter erupts from calamity
from an assembly of uncommon alliance
“ I think body replacement would be more like it”
silence warps from light hearted bantering
the pulsing jets of rainbirds
the tinkling of spoons and saucers
“ Your roses are beautiful, just dreamy”
“ I could sit here forever “
poem by George Murdock
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Woman Gives Birth At Cafe, Refuses To Leave Until Latte Finished
There was a man crying, walking his dog
and a woman drove by
on a flat tire
They brought coffee to the tables
in large glasses on white saucers
There’d be long silver spoons
with which to stir in strong
dark espresso
floating in layers in the steamed milk
Don’t forget
the girl with long blond hair
fiddling with her key in a car door
outside, saying
“Oh! This isn’t even my car! ”
And yes, having conversations about
catching a man, seated in this same café
when you were young, not pregnant
not looking down the road to life very far
poem by Jerry Ratch
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When You Have Only Twenty Days To Live....
the numbers become
bold and
black,
each number
at first counts
a lot,
they diminish
until
you reach zero
but by the time
you reach
that number
before
zero when you
count in reverse,
you have already
grasped the
full meaning
of each day, and
when light shuts you
out,
you tell yourself
it does not
matter, and you
recall,
what do i really have
here?
a body, a pair of
hands,
a face, a set of
teeth,
food, sex, love,
relationship,
filial pity,
properties, house
cups and saucers,
if they do not break
they rot, or they
degrade you, or
they break away with
you and you have spent
so much time
repairing, forgetting
and excluding,
popping out and
shrinking it,
weakened by all these,
zero becomes so
beautiful
it takes you off
from so much hassle
from so
much misery
upon summing out
everything, everybody.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tribute Of The Freedom
I lie you for our freedom-
Giving salute to our ancestors
Not to make an ocean of blood
To escape from the cage of the slave-
To sing a song of my motherland-
Who says to you?
The day will not have a dawn
I lie you again for our freedom-
Every youth will sing altogether today
An anthem of the freedom
Put out the coffins of the youths.
Give me back our history
I lie you once more for our freedom.
The voice is rising up to the sky
Death or alive
We the one have give up the souls
It’s the tribute of the freedom.
poem by Kenebo Rajkumar
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Washing up
'Grab a hold of that dish-cloth our Peter,
And give me a lift with these dishes;
We don't have a genie in this house
To help us, by giving three wishes.
It's manual labour our Peter,
A straightforward job in the sink;
A mountain of mucky old dishes
And then we can go for a drink.
Our Ena is ever so fussy though,
The glasses, they MUST be done first;
The cups and the plates are then easy,
The large greasy pans are the worst.'
'Put plenty of 'fairy' in Peter'
Said Fred, 'it will save you from scrubbing;
We'll soon have them spotless and shining
And then me and you can go clubbing.'
'Grab a hold of that towel our Freddie,
This mountain is now just a hill;
Just two more, then a colander Freddie,
And then I'll be on to the grill.'
Soon the hill was as flat as a pancake,
The dishes were done and all dry;
Fred and Peter were happy as sandboys,
To the boozer their feet would soon fly.
'Hey Ena! they're done, we have finished,
I told you we wouldn't get vexed; '
'Hey Peter, and Fred! no you haven't,
I told you, the ironing is next.'
(Written Jan 1996)
poem by John Carter Brown
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When I Was Still A Youthful Wight
WHEN I was still a youthful wight,
So full of enjoyment and merry,
The painters used to assert, in spite,
That my features were small--yes, very;
Yet then full many a beauteous child
With true affection upon me smil'd.
Now as a greybeard I sit here in state,
By street and by lane held in awe, sirs;
And may be seen, like old Frederick the Great,
On pipebowls, on cups, and on saucers.
Yet the beauteous maidens, they keep afar;
Oh vision of youth! Oh golden star!
poem by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
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People who believe in flying saucers are the scrapings from the bottom.
quote by Nigel Kneale
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Lonely Teabag...
One solitary teabag
not enough for two to share
just one for the teapot
the caddy being quite bare.
No drawing of the water
no mashing of the pot
no teabag for each person
whilst shopping, I forgot.
With two saucers on the table
but no teacup at the lips
for the corner store's not open
to buy more *PG Tips.
It's tea-less in the cupboard
no tasty leaf to brew
so I will have a coffee
and make tea, just for you.
*trademark
poem by Howard Brace
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The Painted Cup
The fresh savannas of the Sangamon
Here rise in gentle swells, and the long grass
Is mixed with rustling hazels. Scarlet tufts
Are glowing in the green, like flakes of fire;
The wanderers of the prairie know them well,
And call that brilliant flower the Painted Cup.
Now, if thou art a poet, tell me not
That these bright chalices were tinted thus
To hold the dew for fairies, when they meet
On moonlight evenings in the hazel bowers,
And dance till they are thirsty. Call not up,
Amid this fresh and virgin solitude,
The faded fancies of an elder world;
But leave these scarlet cups to spotted moths
Of June, and glistening flies, and humming-birds,
To drink from, when on all these boundless lawns
The morning sun looks hot. Or let the wind
O'erturn in sport their ruddy brims, and pour
A sudden shower upon the strawberry plant,
To swell the reddening fruit that even now
Breathes a slight fragrance from the sunny slope.
But thou art of a gayer fancy. Well--
Let then the gentle Manitou of flowers,
Lingering amid the bloomy waste he loves,
Though all his swarthy worshippers are gone--
Slender and small, his rounded cheek all brown
And ruddy with the sunshine; let him come
On summer mornings, when the blossoms wake,
And part with little hands the spiky grass;
And touching, with his cherry lips, the edge
Of these bright beakers, drain the gathered dew.
poem by William Cullen Bryant
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I was very limited in what I could do with flying saucers, because they're just a metal disc. I had to try and put character in as if they were intelligently guided.
quote by Ray Harryhausen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Be Happy Altogether
yesterday the used plates and stained cups and saucers and spilled coffee and bread with molds
disturbed me
i was thinking about the bugs and the rats and the
bacteria and the disease
and death,
the whole night i could not sleep
i am bothered about the negligence of other people
their lackadaisical attitude and how i should have remedied situation and
cure the diseases of our society
it is a matter of social responsibility and
environmental if not political maturity
saying there is a time for making a difference
this morning my eyes sink inside my sockets
like marbles inside a black hole
and i entertain the idea of the possibility that i may finally
go blind because i think too much about what to do and how to do
things to make this world a better place to live in
and yet i have really done nothing and the possibility that i may have bad karma in the last analysis
is not a remote
happening
i realized that i am not enjoying my life anymore
concerned as i am about the disease
the cockroaches the rats and the
emerging sharp edges of the
sickle that death is carrying in my fields of hay
i make a conclusion that this is not good for me
after all i am part of this mess
that cockroaches infest that rats crawl and dirty with their tiny feet and stinking tail and that all these bacteria despite what science has been doing
still thrive upon their new shapes and wise mutations
that virus love this earth and will always be here to stay
and kill so many
and so....
i tell myself: stop the worrying
learn to accept what is here and then be happy altogether.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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