Quotes about lobby, page 6
A joy ride on mobike...! ! ! ! ! ! ! !
Arms around your waist,
And hairflying in the air,
That first joyride on mobike
On Delhi roads sealed our fate.
A lot can happen over coffee,
The best in town you will find,
As we walked hand in hand
Through a plush hotel lobby.
As we sat, you said say yes now,
What, we have just met, I protest.
I know for sure, it’s destined
Please just don’t ask me how.
Love at first sight,
I laughed out loud,
Happens in Mills and Boon,
As we slipped out at night.
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poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Media
Early stage of my childhood people treat me like 'masiha'
who is going to take care of different section of society.
little later i play important role in freedom struggle.
After independence i am learning, modern technique
gradually when i became full of youthful action.
My intelligent mind say taking care of people,
welfare and highlighting their problem is not my job.
Some sort of professionalism must be adopted by me.
Fastly acting on direction of my mind i adopted modern method
my object is solely and only motive is profit.
Huge amount paid to me for lobby particular section
I can make and destroy any one in few hour.
Those oppose me are always in trouble.
You can understand me i am visible in different form.
I love to make huge money,
please do not talk of highlight problem of people
I your own mature print media -- at your service for profit only.
poem by Ajay Srivastava
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Pigeons at Glasgow.
Why there are so many crippled, walking and limping on the yard?
Why are their joints ripped off, missing one in the middle?
How is she lost half of her leg, balancing as a ballerina?
Did he step on the mine's head, in the battle field of Afghan?
They are neither the enemy nor the friendly soldiers,
They are neither the arrogant nor the cunning creatures,
They are neither the noisy nor the clumsy scavengers,
They are the beautiful and humble pigeons.
I saw these mutilated pigeons frolicking in the lobby,
Where thousands of people walk everyday without folly,
To catch a train at Glasgow railway station in UK,
These poor little birds are wandering picturesque.
Who hurt these misfortune birds?
I looked up at the ventilators,
Where the nails are nailed,
That ripped the claws and legs of the birds.
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poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Rise and fall
There is rise and fall
Yet have to respond to a call
It is cycle that has to repeated
Surrender to soul and not to be cheated
Some may go early and some may go late
Nothing is certain and can not be attributed to fate
Earn the return as you sow the seeds
Yield the grain as you successfully feed
It is prime philosophy
Nobody can impose or work as lobby
There are set precedents of pure thinking
It makes men down with deep sinking
Not all may take it lightly’
Some may choose path very rightly
Some may push it till the arrival end
With only view to make last minute mend
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poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Doctors
I waited in the lobby as the television blared
While my mother was in surgery
Me wondering how she fared
Where the old ones in their wheelchairs
Pushed by strangers came and went
Wearing dressing gowns of cotton
With their dignity a-vent
And the doctors came to treat them
In their valuable time
Looking down upon these people
Without SEEING them, like mine
With their faces hid by masks
So you won’t know that they don’t care
Wearing paper shoes and paper hats
Such that you’d never dare
To waste their time by asking questions
And risk seeming like a fool
Just by virtue of the fact that they’ve
Had twenty years of school
But the sickly in their wheelchairs
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poem by Sara Fielder
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Oh the despair
oh the despair now that all hope is gone,
and the white doves have been silenced mid song.
the terrible whisperings of bleakness,
in full flowing despair, the room now dark where once it shone
all images of interest now seen through the eyes of a dog
the rainbows of inspriation discoulured by the all consuming fog,
every nerve every sinew every passage of thought,
blocked like that of a traffic jam in a tunnel,
the light of hope falllig then fading,
the still of the room vibrating inside me
it came from where, this despair,
waiting in its black hole ready to tear limb from limb,
there i sat shivering in the cold waters of the sea of misery,
even the fresh flowers on the farm house table,
drooped under the gaze of my hazy hollow eyes
who robbed me, why choose me what was so special about my plans
they was simple and un-affecting to all but me
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poem by Not Long Left
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The Skokie Theater
Twelve years old and lovesick, bumbling
and terrified for the first time in my life,
but strangely hopeful, too, and stunned,
definitely stunned—I wanted to cry,
I almost started to sob when Chris Klein
actually touched me—oh God—below the belt
in the back row of the Skokie Theatre.
Our knees bumped helplessly, our mouths
were glued together like flypaper, our lips
were grinding in a hysterical grimace
while the most handsome man in the world
twitched his hips on the flickering screen
and the girls began to scream in the dark.
I didn’t know one thing about the body yet,
about the deep foam filling my bones,
but I wanted to cry out in desolation
when she touched me again, when the lights
flooded in the crowded theatre
and the other kids started to file
into the narrow aisle, into a lobby
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poem by Edward Hirsch
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Our Ladies of the Chamber
“I’m a survivor, ” sez the
Blond from
AWAP, each time she tells her Ex-Wife’s
Tale besmirching miscegenation worse than
generations of
KKK propaganda, drowning unwanted children in self-serving tears, &
advocating:
- a definition of family based on lobby dollars, &
-opening private books to the public while
-closing public books to all.
“I’m looking out for The
Little Guy, ” claims
non-trad Margaret, securing a
Raise for lawmakers as
your street cracks &
crumbles, smoldering, refitting suits in the
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poem by Cretan Maineiac
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A Journey
I was hovering above my body
when someone shouted my name.
there was no living soul around,
but I wasn't alone just the same.
I lost sight of my former self
and I couldn't see the ground.
The sky was no longer above me,
but transparencies were all around.
The transparencies were ghost like figures,
who like me appeared to float.
They were all talking with each other,
but they never actually spoke.
The situation is completely mind boggling,
how is all this possible?
It's got to be different dimension,
an existence in an unearthly bubble.
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poem by Orlando Belo
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Remain Always Asleep
With an endless supply of money
multi-national companies
lobby Washington D.C.
to crush our civil liberties
Politicians' pockets lined
our Constitution undermined
by bills and forms our 'leaders' sign
Try to speak the Truth - get jailed or fined!
SO TELL ME...
is it Identity you're trying to find?
Outside yourself? Outside your mind?
Attach your spirit to little colors and little flags;
name brands; cigarettes; and high-priced tags
I see ya, Alpha, so stern - Proud and steady
You've climbed to the top and now you're ready
The American Dreams just within reach
-F$%k others - just as long as your life's a beach
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poem by Ray Quesada
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