Quotes about lobby, page 4
Encounter at St. Martin's
I tell a wanderer's tale, the same
I began long ago, a boy in a barn,
I am always lost in it. THe place
is always strange to me. In my pocket
the wrong money or none, the wrong paper,
maps of another town, the phrase book
for yesterday's language, just a ticket
to the next station, and my instructions.
In the lobby of the Banco Bilbao
a dark woman will slip me a key, a package,
the name of a hotel, a numbered account,
the first letters of an unknown alphabet.
poem by Ken Smith
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Behind The Window
Behind the window there’s a room
An untidy bedroom
A closed bathroom
A classy lobby
A busy kitchen
A tense meeting room
Behind the window there’s a life
A messy life
An ordinary life
A perfect life
A hard life
A fraud life
Behind the window there’s a face
A curious face
A lonely face
A smiling face
A tired face
A bored face
[...] Read more
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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The Flea
A flea that bit you had bitten me too.
The two bloods mingled for single blood.
The flea’s body is our marriage lobby.
Neither shame nor sin would accrue since than.
Nor would you have grown any weaker too.
By yielding to me and getting my blood
You would shed no grace nor honour either.
You will make me than the flea happier.
Your yielding to me will not do more harm
Than what the flea has done to you, dear.
[the verse of John Donne, The Flea, rewritten]
20.12.2007
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Obsessions Of The Lost Man
i
at the lobby of the manila hotel
you sit on one of the glossy chairs
you hold a square note in your hand
you want to tear it
you sit still and keep on waiting
for no one.
ii
you look at those things near you
closely scrutinizing the
big round Greek pillar
tracing the veins of the pastel brown marble
it speaks a history of this place
the previous war
where your father was the traitor
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bored: Ejusdem Generis
cups of coffee,
cigarettes, a chain of smoke
women, girls,
hotel lobby,
wine, gambling,
casino, and....
funerals and coffins..
now you are telling me you are bored with all these?
it is this relational thing: love to love
and care to care, a chain of concerns,
a rose without thorns, a candle light,
holding hands while strolling in the park
you will miss all these, because you are not at all willing
to start all over again.
try it. and then tell me if you are still bored.
hold my hands. just hold them. please.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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UNHAPPY WITH WHOM YOU ARE? (Spoof)
Japanese redo their eyes
Iranians redo their nose
Hollywood breasts resize
All lust designer clothes
Obese want to be slim
Slim desire bigger boobs
Buy memberships at gyms
While kids go down tubes
Lawyer’s want to be politicians
Politicians consult and lobby
Not toil, just blind ambition
Indeed, life to them is a hobby
They know not we’re all the same
Below the skin and in our hearts
Just have self esteem to claim
Place horse back in front of cart
[...] Read more
poem by Ray Lucero
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A Bomber Unspeaks
To find a safe god
he traveled inside the books
to develop the tradecraft of winning the world.
Fog squinted from the sky
and elite sun waited in the lobby.
Steel-pellets, flesh and body parts will follow,
to nip the blood. A door is flung open
for a pat-down. You understand the philosophy
of revenge? Take back the hundred lives
for a nail cut. A bewitching smile
and tantalizing fragrance of a bomb
makes a lethal mix.
From where to where we have come.
The scarved beauty and secret love;
some rare vision was giving the push.
poem by Satish Verma
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Three Short Poems
Three short poems
An Echo of a Song.
As vapour trail of past dreams
slowly evaporates in cold air
of reality, new dreams are born
and cherished, till they too are
given leave to perish.
Winter Forest.
Days of twilight, winter cold and starlit.
Witches dance on coruscated snow, in
the dell, as silent trees bear witness to
nature’s cruel beauty.
The copy
Droplets of star’s tears on a green
ephemeral sky, moon is oxidized;
nights are ghostlier than the print
of the Chinese lady, on a dull wall,
[...] Read more
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Hydrate or Die?
Hydrate or Die,
Stay strong or cry,
What is this I see before me,
18 christmas trees with one decorated and systematical placed in my lobby.
What use is bravery, if all my soliders die in an instance,
My day dreams are grey,
They are slightly faded,
Focused on nothing but getting wasted.
The highway is lonely, and in her fast, sad arms,
I submit my worries, while she kisses me softly.
My nights are endless and my streets are cold,
Being young just feels like getting old,
A flagrant crime covered by wants and needs,
Till your want grows deep, but your needs harvest weeds.
poem by Jolomi Amuka
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Vertebral
on a vertebral impingement
a nerve learns to shout
the meaning of pain,
recurring, excruciating,
penetrating every marrow
of the bone, sometimes
the whole arm becomes numb
like a bored man
assuming too much of the
chaos and having learned it all
assumes nothing, no responsibility,
not looking for any cure,
letting things as they are
inviting, welcoming and
accommodating, soon there
will be no problem
the guests are here
these pains in the asses...
silence is responsibility
do not inform anyone
[...] Read more
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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