In display, not for sale
Flowers, in different coloured petals, are in display,
In a vase, upon a podium, in a banquet hall
For the visitors to see, breathe and vanish.
Likewise are brought ladies in extravaganza
By their men to the visitors’ wistful eyes
And taken back with envies gathered.
22.09.2000, Vijayavad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Related quotes
Visitor Clever Theme Words
my visitors are voices clever words
my visitors arrive anywhere anytime
my visitors script film opera words
my visitors mirror parody depths mime
my visitors initiate connect life dots
my visitors represent patterns to define
poem by Terence George Craddock
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When you are poor, you will have no visitors even if you live in a crowded city; once you become rich, you'll be surprised by visitors from alleged relatives even if you live in a remote location.
Mine, their envy
Those things still I keep in my showcase
Not that I remain ever under their spell
But that they still can charm the visitors,
Whose envy is my pride. I am in strides.
07.02.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Engineer Life
i have nothing to bring you
always words, which sometimes i think over with regret,
there was a time when i first met you, i brought you bars of
chocolates, which you set aside, and i thought you prefer flowers
which i brought the following night when you needed to see me,
only for a while you smelled the petals and put those flowers in a
vase, and they looked so pretty with limited light from the window
city lights, and you did not say anything, but i know what you wanted
i opened my heart, i unwrapped my body with all its drippings,
i give you my lips, i brought you all my sighs,
my manifold sorrows, my misgivings about a life that has no eyes
for me, and then i give you words again,
you have felt the whole of me, and you love me and i love you
in return,
quid pro qou,
just that brief moment, and then both of us are gone
because life has constructed for us two paths
that never once again shall
meet.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beautiful Nairn
All ye tourists who wish to be away
From the crowded city for a brief holiday;
The town of Nairn is worth a visit, I do confess,
And it's only about fifteen miles from Inverness.
And in the summer season it's a very popular bathing-place,
And the visitors from London and Edinburgh finds solace,
As they walk along the yellow sand beach inhaling fresh air;
Besides, there's every accommodation for ladies and gentlemen there.
Then there's a large number of bathing coaches there,
And the climate is salubrious, and very warm the air;
And every convenience is within the bathers' reach,
Besides, there's very beautiful walks by the sea beach.
The visitors to Nairn can pass away the time agreeably,
By viewing Tarbetness, which slopes downwards to the sea;
And Queen Street is one of the prettiest thoroughfares,
Because there's splendid shops in it, and stocked with different wares.
And there's ornamental grounds, and lovely shady nooks,
Which is a great advantage to visitors while reading their books;
And there's a certain place known as the Ladies' Beach,
So private that no intruder can them reach.
And there's many neat cottages with gardens very nice,
And picturesque villas, which can be rented at a reasonable price;
Besides, there's a golf course for those that such a game seeks,
Which would prove a great attraction to the knights of clubs and cleeks.
The surrounding scenery of Nairn is magnificent to be seen,
Especially its fertile fields and woodlands so green;
Besides, not far from Nairn, there's Cawdor Castle, the ancient seat
Of the noble Thanes of Cawdor, with its bold turrets so neat.
And its massive proportions is very imposing to see,
Because the arched entrance is secured by a drawbridge and a fosse;
And visitors will be allowed all over the grounds to roam,
Besides shown over the castle if the Earl is not at home.
The scenery surrounding the castle is charming in the summertime,
And the apples in the orchard there is very fine,
Also the flower-beds are most beautiful to see,
Especially in the month of June, when the birds sing merrily.
Then there's the ancient stronghold of the Bays of Lochloy,
And visitors when they see it will it heartily enjoy;
And a little further on there's the blasted heath of Macbeth,
And a hillock where the witches are wont to dance till out of breath.
And as the visitors to Nairn walk along the yellow sand,
They can see, right across the Moray Firth, the Black Island so grand,
With its productive fields and romantic scenery,
And as the tourist gazes thereon his heart fills with ecstasy.
And Darnaway Castle is well worthy of praise,
And to oblige all visitors there are open days,
When they can see the castle where one thousand warriors in all
Oft have assembled in the Earl of Randolph's Hall.
And in conclusion I will say for good bathing Nairn is the best,
And besides its pleasant scenery is of historical interest;
And the climate gives health to many visitors while there,
Therefore I would recommend Nairn for balmy pure air.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Piece By Piece
Sitting on a corner street
Children playing at my feet
See the smiles on ice cream faces
Feel myself begin to sink
As the wind blows though my skin
Leaves me open to temptation
Cause nothing ever lasts forever
Were like flowers in this vase together
You and me its pulling me down
Tearing me down piece by piece
And you cant see that its like a disease
Killing me now its so hard to breathe
Sucking back a cigarret
Thinking about new regrets
Trying to be someone youd like to be
Passing faces on the road
Where the hell can we still go
Leaves us open to temptation
Cause nothing ever lasts forever
Were like flowers in this vase together
You and me its pulling me down
Tearing me down piece by piece
And you cant see that its like a disease
Killing me now its so hard to breathe
Its so hard to breathe
But its worth fighting for, its still worth fighting for
Its worth fighting for
Cause nothing ever lasts forever
Were like flowers in this vase together, you....
You and me its pulling me down
Tearing me down piece by piece
And you cant see that its like a disease
Its killing me now its so hard to breathe
You and me its pulling me down
Tearing me down piece by piece
And you cant see that its like a disease
Its killing me now its so hard to breathe
song performed by by Feeder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Zoo Gorilla
Zoo Gorilla
There was a big, bright ape at a zoo in Sweden who
disliked being looked at when walking about in his
enclosure minding his own business. To get visitors
to move on he threw stones at them. Bad ape, bad
for business the wise zoo administration concluded.
A tranquilizer dart flew through the air and the ape
was rendered emasculated; one cannot have hostile
apes at a zoo, they should behave like cuddly giants.
Visitors who go to the big ape's enclosure, a at zoo
in an arctic town not too far from of Stockholm, do
not stay long; nothing much to see other than a fat
primate that only sits there and eats bananas.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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A Spirit’s Tale
They brought back saddle
without the warrior.
Wrinkled eyes of a broken mother
frozen with tears, pick up the pieces of carpet
woven with blood.
Lotuses are disappearing
from the serene lake; migrated to seeds.
There are no visitors.
Who was losing the battle?
Have not you heard about militancy
and mutilated god? We gave him
our sons and daughters, still he was hungry.
The mankind celebrates the decline,
mourning hills,
dances with the bones of ancestors.
poem by Satish Verma
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Flowers In A Vase
A bunch of flowers
Sat in a vase
Colourful and lonely
A mind looks at them
Wondering
What is it they have to say
Are they a thank you
Or a gift of love
Are they an apology
Or given in remorse
Perhaps they are for nothing
Given to bring a smile
The mind looks on
Wondering for a while
The flowers sit in their vase
Unmoved by thought
Or the reason given to them
A little water at their base
To keep them fresh for a while
They are the end of the day
Just flowers in a vase
poem by Matthew Holloway
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I am alive—I guess
470
I am alive—I guess—
The Branches on my Hand
Are full of Morning Glory—
And at my finger's end—
The Carmine—tingles warm—
And if I hold a Glass
Across my Mouth—it blurs it—
Physician's—proof of Breath—
I am alive—because
I am not in a Room—
The Parlor—Commonly—it is—
So Visitors may come—
And lean—and view it sidewise—
And add "How cold—it grew"—
And "Was it conscious—when it stepped
In Immortality?"
I am alive—because
I do not own a House—
Entitled to myself—precise—
And fitting no one else—
And marked my Girlhood's name—
So Visitors may know
Which Door is mine—and not
poem by Emily Dickinson
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The Visitors
I hear the doorbell ring and suddenly the panic takes me
The sound so ominously tearing through the silence
I cannot move, Im standing
Numb and frozen
Among the things I love so dearly
The books, the paintings and the furniture
Help me...
The signals sounding once again and someone tries the doorknob
None of my friends would be so stupidly impatient
And they dont dare to come here
Anymore now
But how I loved our secret meetings
We talked and talked in quiet voices
Smiling...
Now I hear them moving muffled noises coming through the door I feel Im crackin up
Voices growing louder, irritation building and Im close to fainting crackin up
They must know by now Im in here trembling in a terror evergrowing crackin up
My whole world is falling, going crazy there is no escaping now, Im crackin up
These walls have witnessed all the anguish of humiliation
And seen the hope of freedom glow in shining faces
And now theyve come to take me
Come to break me
And yet it isnt unexpected
I have been waiting for these visitors
Help me...
Now I hear them moving muffled noises coming through the door I feel Im crackin up
Voices growing louder, irritation building and Im close to fainting crackin up
They must know by now Im in here trembling in a terror evergrowing crackin up
My whole world is falling, going crazy there is no escaping now, Im crackin up
Now I hear them moving muffled noises coming through the door I feel Im crackin up voices growing louder, irritation building and Im close to fainting crackin up
(I have been waiting for these visitors)
They must know by now Im in here trembling in a terror evergrowing crackin up
(I have been waiting for these visitors)
My whole world is falling, going crazy there is no escaping now, Im crackin up
(I have been waiting for these visitors)
Now I hear them moving muffled noises coming through the door I feel Im crackin up
(I have been waiting for these visitors)
Voices growing louder, irritation building and Im close to fainting crackin up
(I have been waiting for these visitors)
They must know by now Im in here trembling in a terror evergrowing crackin up
(I have been waiting for these visitors)
My whole world is falling, going crazy there is no escaping now, Im crackin up
(fade)
song performed by by ABBA
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Best If Gravelled
Under the bushes,
Is where they swept and kept their dirt.
It was under the bushes...
Priorities fed to ignore any weeding grew.
It was under the bushes everyone knew,
From where the soiling of the lawn began.
And there under the bushes,
They can be seen digging deep...
Burning the midnight oil,
And not getting a bit of sleep...
To bury any traces of denial.
But the maintaining of the lawn,
Manicured as visitors expect...
Would be best if gravelled,
As many disgusted visitors suggest!
And quickly under the bushes,
A working continues...
To smooth over the dirt,
With a time released scenting...
Hopefully used for all to forget,
The influence of the bushes...
And the planting of them all regret.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Mapping The Reef
It wasn't so long ago, that Google mapped the earth;
Now they are mapping the world, way below the surf.
Very soon, we'll all get the chance to virtually explore
The Great Barrier Reef, on the Pacific Ocean's floor.
Visitors will soon be able to explore the hidden depths,
Without all the aggro of getting their hair soaking wet.
Around the Great Reef, they will soon be able to roam,
Without ever having left the comfort of their cosy home.
They'll be able to explore the Reef on a computer screen;
Eco-tourism: they'll hit the very heights of going ‘green.'
By their virtual visit, The Reef won't be further disturbed;
But the visitor's excitement will be very seriously curbed.
Nothing can ever quite beat experiencing The Reef for real;
Nothing can ever replace the excitement, or the total thrill.
This massive coral reef, boasts so many amazing features;
It bursts with life, in the forms of both plants and creatures.
Being there, in person, you can watch the coloured fish hurtle,
And spot other creatures, such as, giant clams and sea turtles.
Nothing quite beats seeing it all with your very own eyes:
You'll experience the sheer wonder, and the adrenalin highs.
If visitors get the chance to experience The Reef ‘in the flesh',
By its outstanding beauty, they will not fail to be impressed.
To see The Reef, in real life, not everyone will get the chance,
But now, thanks to Google, we'll all be treated to a virtual glance.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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2000 Miles
Theres something I need to say
Im not sad youre gone away no way
Wont be calling information
Or waiting at the railway station
You walked out of my front door
I wasnt then but now Im sure
I need to be at least 2000 miles away from you
2000 miles away from you
2000 miles away from you
2000 miles away from you
2000 miles away from you
Had to get me to the church on time
To say that silly I do I do nursery rhyme
Youve been bitching at me for awhile
Say hey now baby dont you cramp my style
Dont go beating me like that
Im glad I wont be coming back
I need to be at least 2000 miles away from you
2000 miles away from you
2000 miles away from you
2000 miles away from you
2000 miles away from you
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We Arrive To Leave As Visitors
Either way the finger points,
Or the wind blows...
Change is here to stay.
And those with nostalgic wishes,
Hoping for a return of every yesterday lived...
May discover they are regarded no more than twigs,
Discarded from trees...
Only The Creator has made to allow them to breathe.
We arrive to leave as visitors!
With many disrespecting the act of this fact.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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In a rural district God has created the most lovely rose
In a rural district God has created the loveliest rose
where the hillocks in the distance touches the sky,
she sprouts out in the veldt
and skip springbok agile as if no man can master her.
In her kitchen there are batches of rusks
and the outer door is locked
until the last baking pan comes out of the oven,
where visitors then rush to get some as booty
and when you visit her you have to be watch your wits
or she will twist you around her little finger
as she’s a vixen, who confuses every suitor
and her beauty leaves everyone dumbstruck
and her teasing overlooks nobody
as form far she has many visitors
bringing gifts and every kind of flower
that she takes at times or do not accept at all
and like a agile lizard
she’s prepared for any eventuality
and knows her hiding places
but to beauty she brings new meaning.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Zero Options
At first I thought I was day dreaming,
but very soon I realised I was not.
The man I was looking at died weeks ago
from an overdose of cocaine and pot.
The man I once knew saw me staring,
his pupils were gone from his eyes.
He was obviously a dead man walking,
and I hadn’t the time to ask him why.
My mind was in chaos with the situation;
it was unreal and just couldn’t be true.
But it was, and to prove it, I saw him,
but why, and what was I to do?
For a week I was edgy and scared witless,
and hoped I’d never see him again.
The early hours brought a knock at the door,
and someone out there spoke my name.
I looked through the door’s spy-hole,
and it was the man who was dead.
I told him this wasn’t the time for visitors,
and to come back at mid-day instead.
He said it was urgent that he spoke with me,
and I was to go with him right a way.
If I didn’t the consequences would be terrible,
and the ‘evil one’ would have the last say.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Artificial Flowers
Artificial flowers to me are out of place.
You put them in your home
in a decorative vase.
They have no scent.
They look unreal
and collect too much dust.
Artificial flowers I suppose
are better than none.
But I'd rather have a petaled stem
even if it was just one.
A rose, a lily or violet
breathe like you and I.
Artificial flowers don't
even know how to die.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Reminiscence
A rose reminiscent of my father's garden
I found growing by a pathway outside my home- as well as
Another just lying upon the sidewalk-
I collected them and brought them home and
Placed them in a vase my mother always loved.
My mother and father always loved the springtime and
On this rainy Saturday afternoon,
I find it hard to believe they have been gone for twenty years.
My mother's spirit was as delicate as the petals on these roses-
My father's, as strong as their thorny stems that upheld them and
My own spirit, by them, always misunderstood.
Flowers are blossoming everywhere-
Daffodils and wild violets growing every place I look and
Cherry blossoms and dogwood seemly decorating the trees-
Bring back the fonder memories of my mother and my father-while
The rain and the sky so gray and overcast
Bring back memories of the sadness of being misunderstood.
It has been nearly forty years that
I had made my own special world in which to live and
In this world flowers grew not only just in the springtime months-
But all year around and in every place.
The real world was then, to me, a place I never lived in or comprehended, and
As long as I kept my mind alive inside the world of my imagination-
At that time, I believed that I had not a thing to fear.
Roses reminiscent of my father's garden,
Placed in the vase my mother so loved-
Upon this rainy Saturday day in March, evokes a few tears in my eyes and
Just for the moment I think of the laughter and good times we had together-
These thoughts are interrupted by memories of all of the anger, sadness,
Mistrust and disbelief that now overshadow memories of
These few pleasurable moments we not so often shared, and
I take these roses from the vase that sits alone upon the table,
Open my picture window and throw them to the rain, and
As my tears cease to fall and dry away- I say goodbye to all unhappy memories-and
As thoughts of my self-made world disappear,
I am thankful that I have a life in this world here alive, and while
I watch the rose petals flutter about in a gentle spring like breeze-
I leave thoughts of discontented past times behind me and
I realize that I have just been set free.
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Stewardship
you claim ownership
based on hardship, this land, this house
this car
you touch the skin of your forehead
reminding those who see you
emaciated
of the sweat and
the hairs lost
there is that time
when the car breaks down, the house
foreclosed (as it is on mortgage)
when the land does not bear
any fruit
someone takes it
you begin to read the trend
you ask how is this happening
you can't take this
you cannot breathe and sleep
someone tells you, this is life, welcome
stewards all are we, we pass, we were just visitors here
all these never for all the times
belong to us
we only discover and then
they find their own ways back
to the real owner.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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