Bowl
Bowls
of chipped
enamel
singing loudly -
Rain brought us huddling together for warmth.
On primus stove, sheep offal is cooking;
dunking bread husks
bowls in use) :
Only
meal.
poem by Suzette Crous

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Lemon Cake
The radio plays
Sunny afternoon, it's The Kinks
She's in the kitchen, cooking.
All chaos reigns,
flour, butter, mixing bowls
her, trying to make lemon cake.
She sings loudly
as chefs do in restaurants,
cafes and bakery shops.
It's a lemon cake
like her ma' used to bake
She sings loudly
and the radio's blares,
the telephone rings
and the dog barks.
The neighbour, next door,
throws her watering can about
in protest of the racket.
Fresh lemons fill the air
as I watch from the cat basket
my whiskers twitching
fur bristling, back arched
my eyes -
on the cat flap.
poem by Ruth Walters

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Wine Of The Fairies
I am drunk with the honey wine
Of the moon-unfolded eglantine,
Which fairies catch in hyacinth bowls.
The bats, the dormice, and the moles
Sleep in the walls or under the sward
Of the desolate castle yard;
And when ’tis spilt on the summer earth
Or its fumes arise among the dew,
Their jocund dreams are full of mirth,
They gibber their joy in sleep; for few
Of the fairies bear those bowls so new!
poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Facta, Non Verba
what was done was done
they cannot be undone,
for what matters most what
what was done & not just what was said.
unfinished poems, pauses, words still
looking for the fulfillment of their meanings
like open bowls looking up to the skies
for rain
or sunshine
or plain nothingness
poem by Ric S. Bastasa

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TheAborgines
TheAborgines
PartOne
TheTeacherCome
The men gathered around the teacher come each one thronged and bowed they all had grey hair everywhere the eye could see they held out bowls of wooden hidden insides full of seaming things to eat. Perhaps the fireplace was inside one of the huts perhaps the food was only cold just fruit and nuts. The Teacher sighed then began to speak as each man placed his bowl at teachers feet. He pointed all around the village there here and everywhere until alarmed the men begin to quiver and beware until the Teacher cried out loud “How can eye make them understand to make a sign to make them understand the day time.” He tried his watch. He held up a calendar with all the days of months he even pantomimed the passing of time he tried the whistle of the loon to signal dark; then his eyes light up at something he just thought and so he drew there in the sand seven circles then one more there then starting over with his pidgeon speaching he tried to reach the men again with teaching. Day Day Day Day Day Day Day Day he said this eight times once for each circle pointing to make his point across the men in the glen between the huts were nodding understanding. They understood the teacher. He pointed at the first circle again and just said TODAY and got all excited when they nodded yes they were absorbing all the words then he said day to all the others but the last circle he called NEXT WEEK in a loud loon like voice. There was a hush and then the Spokesman for the tribe said to him in perfect English TIME. The teacher froze. For every aborigine had pulled a watch out from the leather thong and one of them cried out in perfect English as the Spokesman had thus done why that is April Twenty Ninth. The aborigine men all begin to dance now like the loon from side to side they all begin to eat the contents of the bowls at teachers feet the bowls of wisdom which contain the portions of the last teacher come to entertain who also tried to teach them time. For the aborigines were cannibals educated with intelligence complete with watches from the arms they used for cooking meat in pots from bowls they grab the portions out filled with teachers time and time again they come to teach them men the time in land of loon the teacher come?
poem by Charles Hice

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Sestina
September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.
She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,
It's time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle's small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac
on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.
It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.
But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.
Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop

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The Rain
(rock the joint)
Me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
Supa dupa fly (uh-huh)
Supa dupa fly
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
(uh-huh) me i'm supa fly (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window
When the rain hits my window
I take and {inhale, cough} me some indo
Me and timbaland, ooh, we sang a jangle
We so tight, that you get our styles tango
Sway on dosie-do like you loco
{singing} can we get kinky tonight?
Like coco, so-so
You don't wanna play with my yo-yo
I smoke my hydro on the dee-low
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (say what?)
Yeah..
Beep beep, who got the keys to the jeep? v-r-rrrrrrrooooom!
(uh-huh) i'm drivin to the beach
Top down, loud sounds, see my peeps (uhh)
Give them pounds, now look who it be (who it be)
It be me me me and timothy (me me!)
Look like it's bout to rain, what a shame (uh-huh)
I got the armor-all to shine up the stain
Oh missy, try to maintain
Icky-icky-icky-icky-icky-icky-icky..
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
(uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (say what? uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (yeah)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
I feel the wind
Five six seven, eight nine ten
Begin, i sit on hill's like lauryn
Until the rain starts, comin down, pourin
Chill, i got my umbrella
My finger waves be dazed, they fall like humpty
Chumpy, i break up with him before he dump me
To have me yes you lucky
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (ha, uhh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (against my window)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (what?)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh, uh-huh)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (what?)
(like that baby)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (can you stand the rain?)
(uh-huh, stand the rain)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (what?)
(can you stand the rain?)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (can you stand the rain?)
(uh-huh, can you stand the rain?)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (what?)
{singing} 'gainst my window (uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain!
{singing} 'gainst my window (huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (hmm..)
{singing} 'gainst my window (yo)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (why not, break it down like dat)
{singing} 'gainst my window (break it down baby)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh-huh)
(yeah like that, uh-huh)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! (uh, huh)
(uhh.. misdemeanor)
{singing} i can't stand the rain! ..
{singing} i can't stand the rain! .. * fades out *
song performed by by Missy Elliott

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Obadiah Bell
I am fit and I am well (so said Obadiah Bell.)
I take life as it come from day to day,
I have never been a scorner
Of the 'trouble round the corner,'
For it may be lurking half a life away.
No false vision ere bewitches
Me with dreams of fame or riches,So I'm fairly well content and free of strife.
With my job and friends and my garden and my fowls, and my club and my bowls
and my pipe and my books and my dog and my family and my wife.
And, since I seek the safer things in life,
Most especially my family and wife.
On occasion, vagrant fears stir me with the passing years,
A sudden qualm, a flash of half-felt fright;
But I know my limitations
As a savior of nations:
And who am I to put the world aright.
So, when qualms like these assail me,
What I find may never fail me
As, contented as I may, tho' life I jog,
Are my job and friends and my fowls and my club and my bowls and my pipe
and my family and my wife and my books and my garden and my dog,
And, when I'd dissipate some mental fog,
Most especially my garden and my dog.
For a man can tell tell (so said Obadiah Bell.)
When what he has may one day disappear:
So I thank what gods there be
That all they gave to me
Has stayed with me for yet another year.
And I do such as I can
To assist my fellow man
And wish him blessed as I am with my lot
With my family and my wife, and my job and my bowls and my pipe and my
dog and my club and my friends and my little garden plot;
And, when I think of all the joy I've got,
Most especially my friends, and which is not?
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis

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Those who play at bowls must look out for rubbers.
Australian Aboriginal proverbs

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Those who play bowls must look out for rubbers.
Australian Aboriginal proverbs

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I was so lucky to walk away with two Super Bowls and know that the last year was positive.
quote by John Elway

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end of summer
school bell rings-
empty cereal bowls
I would have loved to have played for Joe Gibbs. Look at his record of winning three Super Bowls.
quote by John Elway

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If you have a complete set of salad bowls and they all say Kool Whip on the side, you might be a redneck.
quote by Jeff Foxworthy

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Dancing In The Rain
Cool breeze, a little sneeze
a beautiful walk, a lovely talk
a evening sky so breathe taking
a romance in the making
just you and I
a light shower, pop the umbrella
cozy under it, to stay dry
feeling your warmth
hearing you giggle like a kid
we start to play in the rain
dancing and singing
getting wet, we don't care
romancing n the rain
bring love and joy
being a kid with you
is like being in the rain
singing and dancing
to the end of time
holding and swaying
humming and kissing
wet from the rain
brings your beauty out
so gorgeous and so sexy
I dance a thousand dances with you
in the rain
poem by Michael Peterson

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What Life Demands I Be!
if i wake up in the morning,
and the guns of war are silent.
if the hungry bowls are filled,
and the homeless have a place to lay down.
if all people are treated equally,
regardless of color, religion, or beliefs.
if dignity be restored to the common man.
if men and women respect each other,
and the art of living is just that.
if forgiveness comes as easy as breathing,
and caring becomes the way...
then i will know this journey is over,
and will lay down in perfect peace.
if not....
i will wake up standing,
fighting, believing, singing....
i will be what life demands i be!
poem by Eric Cockrell

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Forefathers
Force the design of a matter of doubt
To be useless.
The lessening of your number of people
Is like a fire of wood crackling
With heat.
The hot stove is cooking my meat of venison,
Relished by my children of the woods.
The design of food is exceptional by the maker of us,
He is the forefather, and she is the foremother,
Reaching our hearts with the stove and the woods
And the sylvan animals of beauty and belief.
poem by Naveed Akram

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I've done a lot of Super Bowls and appeared in a lot of big, big events and places and the Masters and what have you, but there was nothing as intimidating as speaking with Billy Graham.
quote by Pat Summerall

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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93 Poetry In Motion These Hands
These hands hold small bowls
Of muted laughter
Rising with soft edges
Against the sky
August 12,2008
poem by Dorothy Holmes

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My Faithful Mother Tongue
Faithful mother tongue,
I have been serving you.
Every night, I used to set before you little bowls of colors
so you could have your birch, your cricket, your finch
as preserved in my memory.
This lasted many years.
You were my native land; I lacked any other.
I believed that you would also be a messenger
between me and some good people
even if they were few, twenty, ten
or not born, as yet.
Now, I confess my doubt.
There are moments when it seems to me I have squandered my life.
For you are a tongue of the debased,
of the unreasonable, hating themselves
even more than they hate other nations,
a tongue of informers,
a tongue of the confused,
ill with their own innocence.
But without you, who am I?
Only a scholar in a distant country,
a success, without fears and humiliations.
Yes, who am I without you?
Just a philosopher, like everyone else.
I understand, this is meant as my education:
the glory of individuality is taken away,
Fortune spreads a red carpet
before the sinner in a morality play
while on the linen backdropp a magic lantern throws
images of human and divine torture.
Faithful mother tongue,
perhaps after all it's I who must try to save you.
So I will continue to set before you little bowls of colors
bright and pure if possible,
for what is needed in misfortune is a little order and beauty.
poem by Czeslaw Milosz

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I've been very fortunate to be involved in all the Super Bowls, to see some World Series, to cover heavyweight championship fights; I've been to the Olympics and seen every sporting event there is.
quote by Will McDonough

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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