September travel
September Travel
I’ve packed my suitcase ready to go to Norway in
September, extra jumpers, wooly socks and two
bottles of whisky; well, I’m only staying there for
four days, but there might be a war breaking out.
Booze is very expensive in Norway so I can’t go
into bars, but sit in a tiny hotel room drink good
whisky from a glass in the bathroom, the one used
to brush ones teeth in the morning.
I will be walking around in streets where no one
knows me, there will be rain and I have no umbrella,
and I will end up in one of those expensive bars,
just standing there drinking and talking to no one.
I have unpacked my suitcase, and opened one of
the bottles and sit in my favourite chair drinking
a drop, I will not be going back to Norway this year,
the dog is old and can’t be left alone in a kennel,
poem by Jan Oskar Hansen
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Related quotes
Norway
The wonders of Norway!
Age should speak and,
Many years ought to teach wisdom;
Look to the heavens and see,
The clouds are higher than you.
Of the deep sleep that fell unto man while,
He slumbered on his bed;
Oh Norway! Beautiful as you are,
I need to visit you again.
The wonders of Norway,
My days passed swifter than a courrier;
The wonders of Norway,
A momentary perception of joy;
The wonders of Norway,
Out of the handsome came beautiful;
My ears have heard of you and,
My eyes have seen you too;
I need to visit you again.
Can you pull Babylon with a fish hook?
Bring forth the blind who have eyes;
Can you walk on your head?
Bring forth the dearf who have ears;
Visit and know the wonders of Norway,
It will always be with you.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Bottles To The Ground
You know it when its over
Doors are closing feel the
Sober staring at you
You better take
One last good look
One more round and
Its bottles to the
Ground smashing
Of the glass what a supersonic sound
You gotta pull the
Plug when its time
To die bottles to
The ground
Theres a suitcase
On the sidewalk
Theres a record in
A milkcrate, shell be
Staying youll be
Trowing wiskey
Over one lip
One more round
Then its bottle
To the ground
Smasing of the
Glass a perfect
Imperfect sound
You gotta pay the
Piper when the rats
Are gone whoa whoa
All bottles
To the ground
song performed by by NOFX
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Norway, norway
Norway, Norway,
Rising in blue from the sea's gray and green,
Islands around like fledglings tender,
Fjord-tongues with slender,
Tapering tips in the silence seen.
Rivers, valleys,
Mate among mountains, wood-ridge and slope
Wandering follow. Where the wastes lighten,
Lake and plain brighten
Hallow a temple of peace and hope.
Norway, Norway,
Houses and huts, not castles grand,
Gentle or hard,
Thee we guard, thee we guard,
Thee, our future's fair land.
Norway, Norway,
Glistening heights where skis swiftly go,
Harbors with fishermen, salts, and craftsmen,
Rivers and raftsmen,
Herdsmen and horns and the glacier-glow.
Moors and meadows,
Runes in the woodlands, and wide-mown swaths,
Cities like flowers, streams that run dashing
Out to the flashing
White of the sea, where the fish-school froths.
Norway, Norway,
Houses and huts, not castles grand,
Gentle or hard,
Thee we guard, thee we guard,
Thee, our future's fair land.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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I am living in Norway, where I am under the care of the best cancer doctor in Norway and I can be closer to my family.
quote by Grete Waitz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Comfort Of A Drunken Mind
Lipstick on an empty glass
A Memory of a smile
In my time, don’t you know?
Young girls vied for my attention
Always posing, Heartbreaker to women was I.
God, I will never see her smile again
Her voice silent to me
Inside I am a flower without rain
A musician without music
My love waits in a queue,
Full of fools, and whiskey bottles
Ahhh another drink
Yes tomorrow, will be better
I remember her stare,
Sitting on that chair,
That damn chair.
Drink Darling?
My Blossom of the night,
A smooth talker me.
I broke her dreams
Now Petals on a stormy sea
I remember her scent
Now washed away on the hurricanes breath
Called Whisky
Ahh another drink, she won’t leave me?
Damn that empty chair
To bed, the morning will bring her back
The bottle sleeps
And the sandman paints his illusions
Dreams invulnerable to reality
The glow of dawn, incinerates these imposters
Fabricated in the monsoon of a drowning brain
Cornflakes and Barley wine, a man’s breakfast
What now, a snifter I think and another thought?
Love has left this empty chair
Where dreams and happiness dwelt
Where futures were planned
And where love flowed, intoxicating our lives.
Still, the empty glass remains.
Ahh, another drink, and another illusion to comfort my soul
The bottle is my love now,
And the empty chair, my sentence.
That damned empty chair
Ahh did I tell you, once I was a heartbreaker?
Come Share a drink with me friend?
poem by Steven Cooke
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There was a Young Lady of Norway,
Who casually sat on a doorway;
When the door squeezed her flat,
She exclaimed, 'What of that?'
This courageous Young Lady of Norway.
by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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Time For Clearance
Time for Clearance
I was in Norway once, the paradise of social democracy,
I saw many beggars, mostly Roma people who
the inhabitant wanted to get rid of or send them out of
town in the woods where they were not seen. If you are
beggar you got to beg where the people are, foxes and
sheep and have nothing to give. There is a strong sense
of nationalism in Norway. The police did not hesitate to
round up Jews and send them to concentration, and when
the war was over most of the police officers continued in
their work upholding the law. Norway as a nation has never
looked at itself and taking tally of the nation´s behavior
during war years, instead it is lauding the few who resisted
the Nazi occupation and made them into icons. They shot
Quisling but it didn´t stop what made a quisling possible.
Still has not done so. Oil made Norway rich, yet there
is poverty amongst the low paid and incomers for whom
there is little charity. The dark side of Scandinavia- violence, -
hate against people who are different from them… those
who do not fit into the nice, but untrue picture the country
have of herself.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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At Hansteen's Bier
God, we thank Thee for the dower
Thou gavest Norway in his power,
Whom in the grave we now shall lay!
Starlit paths of thoughts that awe us
His spirit found; his deeds now draw us
To deeds, as mighty magnets play.
He was the first to stand
A light in our free land;
Of our present the first fair crown,
The first renown,
At Norway's feet he laid it down.
We his shining honors sharing,
And humble now his body bearing,
Shall sing with all the world our praise.
God, who ever guides our nation,
Hath called us to a high vocation
And shown where He our goal doth raise.
People of Norway, glad
Go on, as God us bade!
God has roused you; He knows whereto,
Though we are few.
With Him our future we shall view.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Drinks
Drinking lots of whisky
Can be rather risky.
Drinking gallons of gin
Can lead you into sin.
Drinking tons of brandy
Doesn't actually make you randy.
Drinking loads of rum
Can make you rather dumb.
Nothing rhymes with vodka,
Tough! ! !
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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A dance with Chopin
i hate it when they mangle your
bubbling notes at hotel lobby
cafe, and parks when you have to
give way to the staccatos of stilettos,
tinkering of glasses, chatterings and slurpings
of japanese on their steamy noodles
or two italian men loud about their just
concluded summer holidays
it is like drinking tea with a mix of whisky
you are finest at the break of dawn
as scintillating streams of sunshine
and piano notes work hand in hand
to tune up the day with a good allowance
of morning mist touching up your favourite
bed of roses the soft breeze lifting ever so wildly
the strands of hair over your forehead they
move like your fingers a maestro over the ivory bars
the music drives us wanting for more as the day
dawn crisp and clear to spill all its goodness
sparkling like metaphors of your riveting pieces
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Fun of September!
End of summer
And beginning of winter
Is September!
Sand melting heat
And sand wetting rain
Occur in September!
Full grown fruits
And fully blossomed flowers
You see in September!
Heat in the morning
And rain in evening and night
Town gets in September!
Summer holiday ends
And all festivals begin now on
From September on!
September begins
Fast pace of the year ever
With all festivals!
They being Ganesh Chadurthi,
Navrathri, Diwali, Christmas,
New Year and Pongal are...!
Time moves fast
As no boredom ever shows
Head from September!
Fun of September
Starts Autumn, Rain and Winter
All in one....!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Melancholy 1
Melancholy
On an impulse I went to see my daughter, who lives in a hilly town
with bad roads. My ex girlfriend walked in, she is an unfinished love
story, sun tanned and beautiful, but she had been drinking, and
didn’t see me. She wanted to drink some more, people tried to stop,
her, she shrugged them off, unsteadily walked out to find a tavern or
two. Later that evening I booked into a hotel and could hear her tipsy
laughter in the bar. I didn’t join the set, but went up to my room.
It turned out she had a room next to mine and later I endured her
having sex with a man she had picked up somewhere. Met her in
the breakfast room next morning, her casual lover had long since gone
and she appeared glad to see me. We chatted about the old days,
held hands and her eyes were sea green. We made love in my bed,
she was warm and giving as always; tremor in her hands she had
a whisky and fell asleep in my arms.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Cold Black Night
Written by jeremy spencer.
It was a cold black night and the rain was falling down
Cold black night and the rain was fallin down
I went out lookin for my girl,
I knew she wasnt nowhere around
She left me early that morning, with a suitcase in her hand
She left me early that morning, yes, with a suitcase in her hand
And she took off on a train this mornin
And she was meetin some other man, yes
She used to treat me real good and I wonder why i
Didnt treat her right
Yes, ah, you know I wonder why I didnt treat her right
And now all I can do, is walk those streets both day and night
song performed by by Fleetwood Mac
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I want to travel. Maybe I'll end up living in Norway, making cakes.
Nostalgia
The heat is unusual even the olive grove
looks tired, old trees gasping waiting for
sundown. Yet the evening is still hot and
no breeze soothes tired leaves.
Every august I tell myself that next year
I´ll go to Norway to cool down. But what
I´m going to do there, it will be raining and
I never had an umbrella.
In my old home town I will be walking up
and down streets trying to catch the old
magic, that perhaps wasn´t there in
the first place, there were moments when
on Sunday forenoon, I used to walk to my
aunt´s house, we smoked cigarettes, drank
coffee and ate coco macrons.
On my walks I will only see young faces of
a new generation who has not in common
with me, and it will sadden me to see old
building torn down and replaced with new
shining office edifices ….And I will take
the first plane back to Portugal where my
elderliness is not a handicap.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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I'll tell you the truth: I had a double brandy before the game but, before, it used to be four bottles of whisky. Not any more. I was fine. I had a glass of wine after the game. But it was just a mouthful.
quote by Paul Gascoigne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Baltic Fog Notes
Seven days all fog, all mist, and the turbines pounding through high seas.
I was a plaything, a rat’s neck in the teeth of a scuffling mastiff.
Fog and fog and no stars, sun, moon.
Then an afternoon in fjords, low-lying lands scrawled in granite languages on a gray sky,
A night harbor, blue dusk mountain shoulders against a night sky,
And a circle of lights blinking: Ninety thousand people here.
Among the Wednesday night thousands in goloshes and coats slickered for rain,
I learned how hungry I was for streets and people.
I would rather be water than anything else.
I saw a drive of salt fog and mist in the North Atlantic and an iceberg dusky as a cloud in the gray of morning.
And I saw the dream pools of fjords in Norway … and the scarf of dancing water on the rocks and over the edges of mountain shelves.
Bury me in a mountain graveyard in Norway.
Three tongues of water sing around it with snow from the mountains.
Bury me in the North Atlantic.
A fog there from Iceland will be a murmur in gray over me and a long deep wind sob always.
Bury me in an Illinois cornfield.
The blizzards loosen their pipe organ voluntaries in winter stubble and the spring rains and the fall rains bring letters from the sea.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Stop Drinking
(Lightnin' Hopkins, additional lyrics by Van Morrison)
You gotta stop drinking that wine sonny boy
You gotta stop drinking that wine sonny boy
If you don't stop drinking that wine
It's gonna poison your mind
You gotta stop drinking that old wine sonny boy
You drink Champagne it's gonna be better for you
You drink Champagne it's gonna be better for you
Everybody's going out
Going out to enjoy
You gotta stop drinking that wine sonny boy
You drink whiskey just have a tiny wee drop
You drink whiskey just have a tiny wee drop
You drink whiskey have a tiny wee drop
'Cos you just don't know when to stop
You gotta stop drinking that wine sonny boy
You gotta stop, bop, bop, bop
Gotta stop, bop, bop, bop
You gotta stop drinking that wine sonny boy
Everybody else going out
Going out to enjoy
You gotta stop drinking that wine sonny boy
Gotta stop, bop, bop, bop, bop
You gotta stop
Stop drinking that old wine sonny boy
If you don't stop drinking that wine
It's gonna poison your mind
You gotta stop drinking that wine sonny boy
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just One Drink.
He knew that if he had
just the one drink
that he'd be back
on the wagon again
back to the shut up room
and dead head
and stinking bed
and the woman off again
and the door slamming
and her voice echoing
up the from the hall
as her footsteps faded
come on
the guys said
just the one shot
but no he had to stay strong
keep the booze away
from hand and lips
and hey Joey come on
just a drink with me huh?
one lousy drink with a pal
whose lady's left him
for some other guy
no
he said
I can't have one drink
I don't do one drinks
I got to stay strong
got to look at the big picture
so his friend said
shrew you Joey
I'll find others
who'll drink with me
and off he went
and Joey sipped his lemonade
and looked at the bottles
behind the bar
looking back him
saying silently
ha ha ha.
poem by Terry Collett
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Lesson 1
Lesson 1
Acrostic
Try at least to go
right, not be right, since no one is
always right. While
value can be found in the everyday, as long as you traverse the roads of
every village, city, meadow, mountain or sky,
leaving behind empty bottles and full memories.
Drink clears the smog inside your head;
repeat this saying like you’re praying it. Drink
in pubs and wine bars as though they were temples,
newly built by the religion of joy, to please and
keep us closer to our souls.
Eat not just food, but good recollections too
at your travel trips and drink sessions, by grabbing
time before time grabs you.
poem by Ndrek Gjini
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