World's Strongest Boy

Strongest boy Richard Sandrak,

was born in the Ukraine,

went on Las Vegas Wrestling Stage,

6 years is a very tender age.

He starting lifting weights at age two,

building big muscles through and through.

Bench press 180 pounds,

in the gym he also squats and jumps around.

Like Arnold Schwarzenegger born in Austria,

went to California to become a movie star.

[...] Read more

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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World Strongest Boy

Strongest boy Richard Sandrak,

was born in the Ukraine,

went on Las Vegas Wrestling Stage,

6 years is a very tender age.

He starting lifting weights at age two,

building big muscles through and through.

Bench press 180 pounds,

in the gym he also squats and jumps around.

Like Arnold Schwarzenegger born in Austria,

went to California to become a movie star.

[...] Read more

poem by Christina Sunrise
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World Strongest Boy

Strongest boy Richard Sandrak,

was born in the Ukraine,

went on Las Vegas Wrestling Stage,

6 years is a very tender age.

He starting lifting weights at age two,

building big muscles through and through.

Bench press 180 pounds,

in the gym he also squats and jumps around.

Like Arnold Schwarzenegger born in Austria,

went to California to become a movie star.

[...] Read more

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Watching Something Else...

i spin some letters, mostly consonants
for fear that so many vowels can be too noisy

sometimes we dwell more on the algebraic
x and y
z comes in to add more anonymity to the equations
that we grapple with everyday

looking for answers
with already prepared quadratic equations

to simplify life we offer simple equations
we reject too many complications and lessen the variables

eating breakfast, drinking the water
mastering the daily sequences and shying away from new innovations

there is no need for more vacations
they are all the same roads and seashores same malls and

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poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Elegy XIV. Declining an Invitation To Visit Foreign Countries

DECLINING AN INVITATION TO VISIT FOREIGN COUNTRIES, HE TAKES OCCASION TO INTIMATE THE ADVANTAGES OF HIS OWN. TO LORD TEMPLE.

While others, lost to friendship, lost to love,
Waste their best minutes on a foreign strand,
Be mine, with British nymph or swain to rove,
And court the Genius of my native land.

Deluded Youth! that quits these verdant plains,
To catch the follies of an alien soil!
To win the vice his genuine soul disdains,
Return exultant, and import the spoil!

In vain he boasts of his detested prize;
No more it blooms, to British climes convey'd;
Cramp'd by the impulse of ungenial skies,
See its fresh vigour in a moment fade;

Th' exotic folly knows its native clime;
An awkward stranger, if we waft it o'er;

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poem by William Shenstone
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German Faith

Once for the sceptre of Germany, fought with Bavarian Louis
Frederick, of Hapsburg descent, both being called to the throne.
But the envious fortune of war delivered the Austrian
Into the hands of the foe, who overcame him in fight.
With the throne he purchased his freedom, pledging his honor
For the victor to draw 'gainst his own people his sword;
But what he vowed when in chains, when free he could not accomplish,
So, of his own free accord, put on his fetters again.
Deeply moved, his foe embraced him,--and from thenceforward
As a friend with a friend, pledged they the cup at the feast;
Arm-in-arm, the princes on one couch slumbered together.
While a still bloodier hate severed the nations apart.
'Gainst the army of Frederick Louis now went, and behind him
Left the foe he had fought, over Bavaria to watch.
"Ay, it is true! 'Tis really true! I have it in writing!"
Thus did the Pontifex cry, when he first heard of the news.

poem by Friedrich Schiller
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End Of Austerity

End of Austerity

Winter had ice on the village pond, under elm trees sweet snow,
and our village was a postcard. Now it is about the price of potatoes,
no herring in the sea. Austerity, old women have been cooked and
made into lard. Old men have been rounded up, put in barrels and
salted; to be eaten, -as dry cod fish, - with green leaves of spring.
No winter wood, shot gun pellet damp and rabbits eat the carrots,
bankers live on curried eels rolled in euro notes, they let no one in.
Austrian mist dwells over Europe, yet there is the promise, EU has
disappeared like the romantic alpine fog; the drachma and escudos
are a legal tender again. Winter of discontent is over the English
will be scheming while waiting for approval by the USA (the special
relationship is a misty London dream) The French and Germans can
continue their natural enmity, as Belgium, Holland and Luxembourg
stir, as always, the big black pot of political intrigues.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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There Are Those Who Have Known Daily Horrors

THERE ARE THOSE WHO HAVE KNOWN DAILY HORRORS

I have had a relatively easy life-
There are those who have known daily horrors
Beyond those any human being should ever have to imagine
I think of the last generation of survivors of the Shoah
Slowly dying out now
Taking with them their memories of loved ones murdered before their eyes
Of incredible tortures and cruelty
Of horrible partings and endless humiliations-

I think of these people my fellow Jews
And wonder why God allowed it to happen to them
And what it all means-

I certainly don't know-

I have had a relatively easy life
With of course my own griefs and sorrows and failings
But nothing at all like what they went through -

[...] Read more

poem by Shalom Freedman
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Cassidy's Epitaph

Here lies a bloke who's just gone West,
A Number One Australian;
He took his gun and did his best
To mitigate the alien.
So long as he could get to work
He needed no sagacity;
A German, Austrian, or Turk,
Were all the same to Cassidy.
Wherever he could raise "the stuff"
-- A liquor deleterious --
The question when he'd have enough
Was apt to be mysterious.
'Twould worry prudent folks a lot
Through mental incapacity;
If he could keep it down or not,
Was all the same to Cassidy.

And when the boys would start a dance,
In honour of Terpsichore,
'Twas just an even-money chance

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poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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Facing The Door (Life Poem)

Here is life and love, pain and pleasure,
Ten years traversing those steps,
Tired waitress, twelve hours hell,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.

Too-jolly Australians on a budget,
Eating soup and dessert, are missing,
The pasta, the best part, it seems,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.

Miscreant male constantly corralled,
By his Austrian authoritarian aunt,
Filling her face with a pasta mountain,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.

New lovers lost in each other’s eyes,
Carpaccio di salmon slices sharp cold,
Their Gaja Barbaresco lust blood red,
I am facing the door in Fratelli’s.

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poem by Ian Beckett
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Code of Conduct

THE ugly faces
harsh realities, the schemes of your enemies,
the way the group together and laugh at you
don't waste your time on those that
hurt you

this world is a haven of choices
don't settle for less
chart your own pleasures
choose your own friends
plan your next trip
Thailand is amazing
Beijing offers you the longest wall that can be seen if you are in the moon
Fly to the moon
Search for the magic carpet
Buy yourself a magic broom
Reset your mind
Focus on the happiness
Junk sadness
Buy those tickets now

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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12-07-07 No Poem Here

Just an observation on the anniversary of the failed intelligence that led to the US being unprepared and surprised by the attack on Pearl Harbor. An estimated loss of American lives that day 3,400.
It was also on this date in 1917 that the US declared war on Austria-Hungary.
I write this in light of the recent reevaluation of Iran's nuclear capability and intentions. Two articles in the London Times today reflect that we haven't come very far since 1917. 1) 'It should ceretainly not be the basis for declaring peace in our time and welcoming those nice Iranians back into the global family....(Iran's) proxies and friends in Hezballah and Hamas and among the Iraqi Shia extremists.'
2) new threats of Balkins conflict - -Serbia made threats of war with the breakaway province of Kosovo.
I have no poems about this. I went to bed last night after watching a re-run on TV of 'I Robot' staring Will Smith. Neither this fiction nor my reflections on reality this morning give me much encouragment for positive developments in world peace.
Thanks. I just had to let someone else know.

poem by Tom J. Mariani
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No Butter?

No Butter? (when a country practice monopoly)

“Butter, the chef said, I can’t fry a snitzel without butter? If I use margarine
it gets too salty and tastes like whale, if I use olive oil, it gets a Portuguese
flavour, a snitzel is Austrian. How can you fry an egg without using butter,
one loses the taste of clover and rural idyll, farm yards and chickens looking
for worms? ” ” Sorry the restaurant manager said, but we have no butter,
you gotta use margarine and anyway the guests are not chefs they will not
notice the difference.”The chef looked aghast, put down his ladle and said:
“You can’t mean that, has all my work comes to nothing? ” Took off his apron,
had tears in his eyes, ready to walk out into the cold night and not return.
“Hang on the manager said, without you I can’t run this place, it is the caring
way you prepare food that our guests like you they know there is a butter
shortage, but they don’t mind as long as they now you are the chef.”
Mollified the cook took his apron back on lifted his ladle and said, “Ok, but
see if you can get some butter even if you have to buy it from the Danes.

poem by Oskar Hansen
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Fifty Years On: for Bastille Day 2

Her hands behind her back were bound
as if they held a flower
Her cheeks were dry, her eye resigned-
it seemed an honest sorrow.
She seemed an urn of miseries
that someone overturned
some time before and just now drained
beyond the bitter lees.

At her back the sentries tramped-
(she didn't lack for footmen)
their muskets bright with bayonette
turned back the morning sun.
Around, behind the little cart
trooped citizons, newly coined
The shadows of their pikes and spades
fell forward on the ground.

Many in her could see the cure
to every ill that plagued them.

[...] Read more

poem by Morgan Michaels
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The Terminator

“I too am an immigrant’ he stated
when I came to Ameri ka
I had nothing “
He paused and sucked in air
adjusted the priceless tie at his bobbling apple
recommenced in his broken English
in the splendorous works
of a German Argonaut camera
“I want to forge a future in Kaleefornia”
he said with his square metal jaw
flexing at its hinge
and in that moment he was from Austria
standing on the frozen apron of a platform
where broken humans filed from trains
below him
with crossed arms holding shopping bags
or condemned children
and he swatted at them mentally
with a horse switch at his thigh
But the ones he addressed now

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poem by George Murdock
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Kossuth

Type of two mighty continents!--combining
The strength of Europe with the warmth and glow
Of Asian song and prophecy,--the shining
Of Orient splendors over Northern snow!
Who shall receive him? Who, unblushing, speak
Welcome to him, who, while he strove to break
The Austrian yoke from Magyar necks, smote off
At the same blow the fetters of the serf,
Rearing the altar of his Fatherland
On the firm base of freedom, and thereby
Lifting to Heaven a patriot's stainless hand,
Mocked not the God of Justice with a lie!
Who shall be Freedom's mouthpiece? Who shall give
Her welcoming cheer to the great fugitive?
Not he who, all her sacred trusts betraying,
Is scourging back to slavery's hell of pain
The swarthy Kossuths of our land again!
Not he whose utterance now from lips designed
The bugle-march of Liberty to wind,
And call her hosts beneath the breaking light,

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poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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A Bad Beginning

The yellow sun steps over the mountain-top
And falters a few short steps across the lake—
Are you awake?

See, glittering on the milk-blue, morning lake
They are laying the golden racing-track of the sun;
The day has begun.

The sun is in my eyes, I must get up.
I want to go, there’s a gold road blazes before
My breast—which is so sore.

What?—your throat is bruised, bruised with my kisses?
Ah, but if I am cruel what then are you?
I am bruised right through.

What if I love you!—This misery
Of your dissatisfaction and misprision
Stupefies me.

[...] Read more

poem by D.H. Lawrence from Look! We Have Come Through! (1918)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Polka

The polka is a Central European dance and also a genre of dance music familiar throughout Europe and the Americas. It originated in the middle of the 19th century in Bohemia. Polka is still a popular genre of folk music in many European countries and is performed by folk artists in Poland, Latvia, Lithuania, Czech Republic, Netherlands, Croatia, Slovenia, Germany, Hungary, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, Ukraine, Belarus, Russia and Slovakia. Local varieties of this dance are also found in the Nordic countries, United Kingdom, Republic of Ireland, Latin America (especially Mexico) , and in the United States.

Month of February finishes
And March comes
With heavy snow here?
Frozen tears fallen from the sky
As she cannot bear the severe coldness
It seems?
And I think of my loving deceased Mother
Who secured me for nine months in her
Precious polyphony Womb?
How she cried deeply
When she heard that my handsome father
Met an accident in his young age?
Both were in a secluded place now
And practice their favorite *dance
That I am sure.
But I would like to know that
Your place get snow and bombs too sometimes
What we get on this planet Earth

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poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Conversation Piece

I took this walk to ease my mind
To find out whats gnawing at me
Wouldn't think to look at me,
That I've spent a lot of time in education
It all seems so long ago
I'm a thinker, not a talker
I've no-one to talk to, anyway
I can't see the road
For the rain in my eyes
Ahhh ...
I live above the grocers store,
Owned by an Austrian
He often calls me down to eat
And he jokes about his broken English,
Tries to be a friend to me
But for all my years of reading conversation,
I stand without a word to say
I can't see the bridge
For the rain in my eye
Ahhh...

[...] Read more

song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Vacation 13

I went to Niagara, and saw a giant waterfall
When I was in Paris, I saw a tower that is tall

I was in Muenster Germany, and rode a bike
On Champs-Elysees Avenue, I had quite a hike

I had dinner with Andrea, and paid with my VISA
I went to The Louvre, and saw the Mona Lisa

I took a few trains, and rode a bus all night
I saw a total eclipse, that was OUTTA SIGHT! ! !

I rented a car, and drove to Nice
When I was in Italy, I was flagged down by police

I was driving very fast, without a mishap
My entire time in Italy, I had no map

I saw topless girls, catching a sunbeam
When I was in Venice, I had the BEST ice cream! ! ! !

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poem by Pineapple.... XVI
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