Padua
pilgrims
students
art culture
Cognoscenti
The Eight
Byzantine domes
most richly
decorated Basilica
Gothic art
Giotto’s frescoes
Basilica del Santo
Capella degli Scrovegni
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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Related quotes
It was the basilica of gossip, the Vatican of inside dope.
quote by Robert Hughes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Consolation
How agreeable it is not to be touring Italy this summer,
wandering her cities and ascending her torrid hilltowns.
How much better to cruise these local, familiar streets,
fully grasping the meaning of every roadsign and billboard
and all the sudden hand gestures of my compatriots.
There are no abbeys here, no crumbling frescoes or famous
domes and there is no need to memorize a succession
of kings or tour the dripping corners of a dungeon.
No need to stand around a sarcophagus, see Napoleon's
little bed on Elba, or view the bones of a saint under glass.
How much better to command the simple precinct of home
than be dwarfed by pillar, arch, and basilica.
Why hide my head in phrase books and wrinkled maps?
Why feed scenery into a hungry, one-eyes camera
eager to eat the world one monument at a time?
Instead of slouching in a café ignorant of the word for ice,
I will head down to the coffee shop and the waitress
known as Dot. I will slide into the flow of the morning
paper, all language barriers down,
rivers of idiom running freely, eggs over easy on the way.
And after breakfast, I will not have to find someone
willing to photograph me with my arm around the owner.
I will not puzzle over the bill or record in a journal
what I had to eat and how the sun came in the window.
It is enough to climb back into the car
as if it were the great car of English itself
and sounding my loud vernacular horn, speed off
down a road that will never lead to Rome, not even Bologna.
poem by Billy Collins
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Consolation
How agreeable it is not to be touring Italy this summer,
wandering her cities and ascending her torrid hilltowns.
How much better to cruise these local, familiar streets,
fully grasping the meaning of every roadsign and billboard
and all the sudden hand gestures of my compatriots.
There are no abbeys here, no crumbling frescoes or famous
domes and there is no need to memorize a succession
of kings or tour the dripping corners of a dungeon.
No need to stand around a sarcophagus, see Napoleon's
little bed on Elba, or view the bones of a saint under glass.
How much better to command the simple precinct of home
than be dwarfed by pillar, arch, and basilica.
Why hide my head in phrase books and wrinkled maps?
Why feed scenery into a hungry, one-eyes camera
eager to eat the world one monument at a time?
Instead of slouching in a café ignorant of the word for ice,
I will head down to the coffee shop and the waitress
known as Dot. I will slide into the flow of the morning
paper, all language barriers down,
rivers of idiom running freely, eggs over easy on the way.
And after breakfast, I will not have to find someone
willing to photograph me with my arm around the owner.
I will not puzzle over the bill or record in a journal
what I had to eat and how the sun came in the window.
It is enough to climb back into the car
as if it were the great car of English itself
and sounding my loud vernacular horn, speed off
down a road that will never lead to Rome, not even Bologna.
poem by William Taylor Collins
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Friday Night (Life Poem)
Chica cailiente, straightest hair,
Image rich, asset poor tonight,
Sexy sirens, seeking Mr. Right.
On this Friday in Santo Domingo.
Single fathers with kids, eager
To earn a weekly happy moment,
For all the mistakes of the past,
On this Friday in Santo Domingo.
The other men are here hunting,
Searching, looking everywhere,
But, into their partners’ eyes,
On this Friday in Santo Domingo.
The girls here are too young,
The men are twice their age,
Desperately looking for love,
On this Friday in Santo Domingo.
poem by Ian Beckett
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Santo
By the old seaside
Aint no place far to go
I dont know
I dont know
Aint no place far to go
Its a dollar, she say
Te amo le mas
Te amo le mas
Santo(4x)
Hey ya boy
How ya doin
Come here boy(? )
Here she come a slitherin
-duh, duh, grunt, duh-
Here she come a slitherin
Che cha chu bah che cha(? )
Te amo le mas
Te amo le mas
Santo(4x)
Buzzard eels(? )
Buzzer bikinis(? )
Eat your rouge(? )
A chini weinies(? )
A warm gardeda(? ? )
Da mamacita
-duh-
A poutin grandma
In a corner
A passin time
Hey, hey(? )
Praying to far to(? )
Santo(4x)
song performed by by Pixies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I hate the word gothic but I would like to try doing something like that. A gothic sound, not rock, but gothic. There's a difference.
quote by Kelly Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Great Lament Of My Obscurity Three
where we live the flowers of the clocks catch fire and the plumes encircle the brightness in the distant sulphur morning the cows lick the salt lilies
my son
my son
let us always shuffle through the colour of the world
which looks bluer than the subway and astronomy
we are too thin
we have no mouth
our legs are stiff and knock together
our faces are formeless like the stars
crystal points without strength burned basilica
mad : the zigzags crack
telephone
bite the rigging liquefy
the arc
climb
astral
memory
towards the north through its double fruit
like raw flesh
hunger fire blood
poem by Tristan Tzara
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Racism and the Culture Of Racism
We must be aware…..,
Of the Culture Of Racism….,
It’s a slur and a swear….,
The Culture Of Racism….! ! !
Can’t turn your back….,
On the Culture Of Racism….,
Or you’ll feel the whack…,
Of the Culture Of Racism….! ! !
It’s hard to believe….
The Culture Of Racism….,
That’s why we all grieve….,
The Culture Of Racism…! ! !
We must face the facts….,
On the Culture Of Racism ….! ! !
Cause we’ve seen the attacks…..,
Of the Culture Of Racism….,
It follows us all…,
The Culture Of Racism….,
But we must stand tall….,
Against the Culture Of Racism….! ! !
Can we control or stop it….,
As long as it’s been livin’….? ? ?
That’s the priceless question….,
On the Culture Of Racism…! ! !
poem by Trade Martin
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Our Lady of Health, Vailankanni (Lourdes of the east)
Devotees walk upon their knees,
On sandy paths that's burning hot,
Unmindful of the scorching sun,
To see the Mother miraculous.
They show their faith and gratitude,
Through arduous journey from their homes;
And have a glorious glimpse of her -
The Virgin Mary, Christ's mother.
Throughout the year, millions throng here,
To see the one, who calmed the sea,
for sailors who had prayed for help,
and built a chapel, thanking her!
The shrine has turned Basilica,
Attracting pilgrims world-over;
Promising miracles to those,
Who put their trust on Mother dear.
Many come here to tonsure heads,
Or bore ear-lobes of their children;
As part of pilgrimage of towns,
To cope better life's ups and downs!
Many come here for inner peace
Of heart and mind, eluding long;
And purify their soul by grace,
By Mary's intercession fast.
Some come to spend their holidays,
To take some rest, and watch the sea!
The mystifying place has ways
To tread road to eternity!
Masses are said so frequently;
The church choir sings good melodies;
The lights and décor - feast to eyes,
that feel on earth, heavenly scene!
With gifts and offerings galore,
The pilgrims share testimonies
Of miracles that Mary wrought,
Healing the sick, diseased, infirm!
Candles are lit throughout the day;
Flowers are offered by pilgrims;
Prayers and hymns resound always;
Incense ascends heaven's stair-ways!
The Mother with her baby boy
Smiles heavenly to one and all,
And promises miracles, joy,
To those who pray, heeding her call!
The Indian Lourdes of the east!
Is spreading bliss and piety,
As Jesus lovingly obeys
His Mother's wishes, and requests!
Oh, what a way to get things done,
from Jesus Lord, Mary's own son!
The Queen of heaven and of earth,
God-blessed remains for Christ Lord's birth!
The tsunami that hit the coast
just stopped, short of the Church's steps!
Nature could not profane the place
of sanctity of Christ's Mother!
The place is much better these days,
As tall buildings afill landscape;
More pilgrims pray with piety
To Blessed Mary Ev'r Virgin,
Reciting rosaries to get
through Mary, favours from Jesus;
Purifying heart, mind and soul,
To enter God's abode - Heaven.
poem by John Celes
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Lovely St Lucia! ! !
sun
rum
food
music
orange
yellow
green
whi te
exotic
pleasure
freshness
adve nture
beaches
heritage
natural
be auty
culture
cuisine
history
frie ndly
soothing
begging
enticing
fe eling
thrilling
amazing
stunning
enchanting
experiencing
stimulating
improving
exploring
echoing
embracin g
surrounding
breathtaking
cayenne pepper
okra, squashes
sweet potatoes
corn, beans
outdoor sports
vibrant nightlife
unique activities
paradise on earth
countless restaurants
holiday destination
best-kept secret
golf courses
Sulphur Springs
Anse Chastanet
Anse La Raye
Anse Cochon
Gros Islet
Gros Piton
Ti Kaye Village
Tovaille Waterfall
Morne Coubaril Estate
Fond Doux Estate
Forte Charlotte
Minor Basilica
Marigot Bay
Rodney Bay
Pigeon Island
Almond Morgan Bay
Jazz Performances
Literature Lectures
The Fish Friday
The Carribean
poem by Ahmad Shiddiqi
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The Headless Friar of Santo Tomas
In my alma mater, Santo Tomas
We had heard of a mysterious tale
Of a gentle, young Spanish friar who was
A sight that turned anyone very pale.
They said he was a handsome novice
And that time, his superior took fancy.
But the events after that were amiss,
When this friar was lost into mystery.
They say he had been beheaded
By civilians the Spanish called 'Indios'
Though no one believed what was said,
And presumed the circumstances - devious.
Through the years the old building there saw
The appearance of a friar without head,
Frightening students in this age and so
There were masses and prayers for this dead.
It seemed the solution was ineffective-
For soon the appearances became many,
The building had seemed quite conducive
And the ghosts there included the nunnery!
At graduation, we avoided that building
For fear the friar will greet us 'Congrats! '
And had sighed much relief at the leaving
Santo Tomas, and its ghostly 'frats'.
-
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
February 17,2010
Philippines
poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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You Decorated My Life
(debbie hupp/bob morrison)
All my life was a paper once plain, pure and white
Till you moved with your pen changin' moods now and then
Till the balance was right
Then you added some music, ev'ry note was in place
And anybody could see all the changes in me by the look on my face
And you decorated my life, created a world where dreams are a apart
And you decorated my life by paintin' your love all over my heart
You decorated my life
Like a rhyme with no reason in an unfinished song There was no harmony life meant nothin' to me, until you came along
And you brought out the colors, what a gentle surprise
Now i'm able to see all the things life can be shinin' soft in your eyes
And you decorated my life, created a world where dreams are a part
And you decorated my life by paintin' your love all over my heart
You decorated my life
song performed by by Kenny Rogers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Life
My life is a Corinthian acanthus leaf
On an intricately carved classic column
Enchanted pellucid palace
Silent opaque sandglass
On an amethyst shelf
Byzantine transition
From circle to sphere.
My works are gothic objects
Frail violins
Of crystal madrigals
Bizarre rococo laces
In a darkly rich coloured interior
And sometimes as I stare at them
They are strange and unknown to me
Like my own hand and fingers
At three o’clock A.M.
poem by Paul Hartal
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The Culture Of Stupidity
Open your naive eyes…..,
To the Culture Of Stupidity….,
It’s all around you….,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….! !
No way to escape….,
From the Culture Of Stupidity ….,
It haunts and stalks you…,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….! !
It’s hard to believe it….,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….,
That so many can’t see it….,
The Culture Of Stupidity …! !
As liberals keep shying away…..,
From the overwhelming threat…..,
Of radical terrorism today…..,
How long will The Culture Of Stupidity go on….? ?
My answer is as simple as this….,
The Culture Of Stupidity shall live on…..,
As long as humankind and liberalism will exist…! !
poem by Trade Martin
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More students have a better knowledge of pop culture than of the Constitution.
quote by Charles Bowen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Culture Of Stupidity
Open your eyes…..,
To the Culture Of Stupidity….,
It’s all around us….,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….! ! !
We can’t escape….,
From the Culture Of Stupidity ….,
It haunts and annoys us…,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….! ! !
It’s hard to believe it….,
The Culture Of Stupidity ….,
Why so many can’t see it….,
The Culture Of Stupidity …! ! !
So tell me, The Culture Of Stupidity ….,
How long will it go on….? ? ?
The answer is as simple as this….,
The Culture Of Stupidity shall live…..,
As long as humankind will exist…! ! !
poem by Trade Martin
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Tatooed Lovers
Hey Babe
How can we forget?
Those paradise days
In the city of Paris!
Seine river cruising
Eiffel tower dinner
Shows after shows!
Le Moulin Rouge
Le Crazy Horse
Le Crazy Girls
Le Femme
Le Lido de Paris
Le Paradis Latin
The great Parisian shows!
We were happy
L'Open Hope –on
Hop-off Tour
The Louvre Museum
Mona Lisa
The 'Arc de Triomphe'
Avenue des Champs-Elysées
Place de la Concorde
Sacre Coeur Basilica
Notre Dame Cathedral
Centre Georges Pompidou!
Going to La Defense
Versailles
Having Champagne
At Champagne
Hi Babe
How can we forget Paris?
The tattoo lovers we knew
They lived and danced
Above the studio
Where we lived! .....
poem by Kp. Shashidharan
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What is Culture
What is Culture?
What we think of in Rumbek
What we think of in Jerusalem
What we think of in Moscow
All different things we think, say,
Do and make at different places at the same time
What differentiate a man from insects, birds and beasts?
If you don’t have a culture
You’re a housefly
If you don’t keep your culture
You’re a beetle or cockroach
If you adopt a culture
You’re a tick
If you hate other’s culture
You’re a toad
If you don’t hate or love other’s culture
You’re real man
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Hurt My Soul! ! !
Ohhhhh My Soul Hurts! ! ! ...
My soul feels so much pain
When people would threaten people for their money
Or when people would give up their culture to a more dominant culture.
When a proud black man gets threaten, beaten, arrested or even killed
by the police. Why? because he fits the criminal image.
it hurts my soul how families don't have fathers
their teachers won't teach their students
because of their color of their skin or when straight A students
dropouts because of the so called 'Cool' kids and it hurts my soul
but the most thing of all when people across the globe
becomes bitter and selfish
or when young kids has no futures because no one didn't make them a
path to start they become criminals or
known as the menace to society
or maybe just become bums on your corner begging for change
and it just brings so much pain to my soul
as this continues on i strive to become opposite of
what they are...An Dark Echo To The World
poem by Compton Wright
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Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder” (The Billion-Dollar Question)
We must all stay aware…..,
Of the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder….,
It’s been increasing for years….,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !
Can’t dare turn our backs….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
It’ll sneak up and kill us…,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !
It’s hard to believe and conceive….
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
That’s why so many are blind….,
To the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder …! ! !
We’ve seen the bloody attacks…..,
Of the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
So we must face the facts….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !
Yes they’re after us all…,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….,
Their radical religion condones it….,
The Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder ….! ! !
Can we control it or stop it….,
So it won’t go any further….? ? ?
That’s the billion-dollar question….,
On the Insane Culture Of Mass-Murder …! ! !
poem by Trade Martin
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