Culture Poems
Apollo Belvedere
by Robert William Service
A-sitttin' on a cracker box an' spittin' in the stove,
I took a sudden notion that I'd kindo' like to rove;
An' so I bought a ticket, jest as easy as could be,
From Pumpkinville in Idaho to Rome in Italy;
An' found myself in seven days of mostly atmosphere
A-starin' at a statoo called Appoller Belvydeer.
Now I'm a rum-soaked sinner, an' religion ain't my plan,
Yet, I was flabbergasted by that gol-darned Vattyican;
An' when I seed Saint Peter's dome, all I could do was swear,
......
Lover's Gifts Xxii: I Shall Gladly Suffer
by Rabindranath Tagore
I shall gladly suffer the pride of culture to die out in my house,
if only in some happy future I am born a herd-boy in the Brinda
forest.
The herd-boy who grazes his cattle sitting under the banyan
tree, and idly weaves gunja flowers into garlands, who loves to
splash and plunge in the Jamuna's cool deep stream.
He calls his companions to wake up when morning dawns, and all
the houses in the lane hum with the sound of the churn, clouds of
dust are raised by the cattle, the maidens come out in the
courtyard to milk the king.
......
Homeward Bound
by Henry Van Dyke
Home, for my heart still calls me;
Home, through the danger zone;
Home, whatever befalls me,
I will sail again to my own!
Wolves of the sea are hiding
Closely along the way,
Under the water biding
Their moment to rend and slay.
......
The Library
by Ray Rivera
I've traveled the world
through books I've read
at the public library.
I learned of continents and their cultures
of people I've never met
by reading books
at the public library.
Read about philosophies, art, music
and of medical wonders
by reading books
......
The New Hieroglyphics
by Les Murray
In the World language, sometimes called
Airport Road, a thinks balloon with a gondola
under it is a symbol for speculation.
Thumbs down to ear and tongue:
World can be written and read, even painted
but not spoken. People use their own words.
Latin letters are in it for names, for e.g.
OK and H2S O4, for musical notes,
......
My poem....
by Norhan Al-jaf
My poem.....
You think you kill me with your hateness. You hate murderously; in blood, in humanity.
Your poison has no place in our society.
The venom that seeps from your mouth have always been heard but will not pierce through and kill me.
Is it faith or fear? Is it your submission to a deity or one to your community?
Are you listening to the valid speech of god or the invalid words of your closest enemies......those opportunists, tearing your daughters. Those women with compassion, resilience, love and ambition.
......
A Snowball From Sal’s
by Jeffrey Pipes Guice
When my chips are down
And I’m feeling blue...
My car has a flat
And da rent is past due...
My wife just left me
And she took my dog...
My thoughts are all confused
Cuz my head’s in a fog...
......
The Mardi Gras Indians
by Jeffrey Pipes Guice
Right after the turn of the century
The Mardi Gras Indians came alive...
The tribes came from all over the city
From the different wards where they still survive...
Downtown Indians use sequins and feathers...
Uptowners use feathers, rhinestones and beads...
The main part of every costume is the patch...
A message from the heart is what it reads...
......
The Flambeau Nation
by Jeffrey Pipes Guice
Here come the flambeau
on Mardi Gras night...
Bringing dark parades alive
by sharing their light...
When the sun goes down
and the nights get cool...
The Flambeau Nation
is the Mardi Gras rule...
......
The Colorful Now
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
On the museum walls, a many hued color explosion,
As in varicolored gardens where beauty is spoken,
Or emerald forests where strange wildness thrives,
Scarlet macaws, blue frogs and orchid bee hives!
On nameless city streets, a steady fashion parade,
And sunshine orchards where luscious fruit is made.
Circuses and carnivals, with clowns and balloons,
And seeing flamingos dancing, on golden afternoons.
......
