Poem | |
follow the woman’s movements.
I can almost see
Pale beauties unfurl
ivory hued fans.
swan wings fluttering.
I chose both the ribbon dance and the fan dance for the Chinese New Year & Celebrations - Poetry Contest of Debbie Guzzi
Poem | |
In-between sleep and wakefulness,
when my dream still lingers,
entwining free-flown fingers
with the morning rays, dancing across my eyelids.
It is in this state of in-between layers
that my inner-eye blinks its prayers,
and I can move backwards
through all of my many memories
until about the age of three -
the time when my imagination was truly free.
When I was three,
there wasn't one God for me to believe in.
There were thousands of Gods and Goddesses
hiding inside of each and every living thing:
Deities in the woods and wind.
Deities hiding beneath the surface
of our goldfish pond,
water nymphs kissing the feet
of the Lady in the lake.
One of my most vivid memories as a toddler,
was the day I caught a huge, black cricket.
My Father seemed shocked at the size of my catch,
punched holes into the lid of a mason jar
for me to keep the cricket inside of.
He had never seen such an enormous cricket before.
I was so proud.
I remember looking into its mysterious eyes,
believing for some strange reason,
that a loved one, was now inside of this creature.
Such strange thoughts for a three year-old to have.
But at the time, I truly believed in this.
This was sort of my first inner awakening.
My inner-eye was beginning to speye.
The first night with my cricket,
I listened to its hypnotic song,
and realized it sounded similar to the music
that the old Chinese lady listened to, down the street.
This was sort of my second inner awakening.
I didn't know about the Dao back then;
or maybe I just didn't know the labels?
But I did know how I was altering the destiny
of this creature....altering my own being.
The next day, my Father made me release the cricket.
He did not want it to die,
for it was the biggest cricket he had ever seen.
That was still the most proud I had ever been.
Reluctantly, I opened the jar,
waited an eternity for the escape.
That night I swore that I could hear
a distinct "Chiiiiiiirrrrrup" much louder than the rest.
This was sort of my third inner awakening -
my inner-eye, beginning to speye....
....just as I am awakening now,
the morning rays dancing across my eyelids.
Poem | |
Yesterday, I followed her true invisible form
Colors turning a kaleidoscopic deep and warm
A state of mind, that makes reality feel alive
Stabbing moments that teach how tough it is to survive
And still this dagger is penetrating into my back real slow
Sweeping away the grimace under the rug in a one woman show
Illusive dreams asking for more and more
Sinking with doom, as karma sways through heaven's door
There she keeps her walk on stilts avoiding kismet
Removing every single footprint before sunset
Spending eternity planning the bliss we cannot see
Quenching my confidence, with a moisture that pleasures me
Arching a dirty deed, aiming all fingers that point at me
Spreading her demonic ecstasy, a mass of light weight, we can't see
A giggle-some laugh, I cannot hear
Tainted, in a nefarious way as the night disappears
Delighted, she glistens through the celestial world alone
A whisper of love with an impossible auspicious tone
Epic and exquisite, she works incognito striking whomever she wants
She Is The Enigma!" She Is the Illness~ that forever haunts
A mysterious lady whose perception flows with her own timeless oasis
An Empress is working on her own simplicity basis
My body impervious to react to conflicts that dwell with deep desire
Aggressively my defiant ways will allow her excessive universe to transpire
Like a lily we give in to the beauty of her empress exploding ravenous lust
It's magical and feeds off of the revenge that deepens with thrust
Down in the lilac valley, storming down like a glacier leaving nothing below
We caress we emerge, then we dust off the repellent of her forsaken glow
Leaving us with wounds, when our conflicts ricochet
Impacting us with a rebound when everything bounces back our way
She Springs in like a breeze that dwells and leaves gallivant
Past shadows, swing back with a darker chant
Leaving nothing but a Chinese Aster garden terrace
Her crown, sheer vixen and vigor with Victoria's fantastical lace
Her candle desalinate effect with a gentle glow
Everything to her is an issue with the results that come and go
Karma's punishments sail real slow, against the wind, waged by the zephyr
Rebuilding from the aftermath of, Karma's payback splenetic weather
Close your eyes and feel the consequences we embrace
Secretly every wage comes with reward from our hubris sin
A grasp with no escapes from the repercussion and deeds in our hearts
Doors spillover, in a significant unexplained phenomenal start
Poem | |
I have tracked my New Year's Resolutions
over the years these are my fantastic results.
2011: I will try to be more attentive to Lauren.
2012: I will pay more attention to what's her name...ah...Lori...I know I'm close.
2013: I will try for reconciliation with Lo.
2014: I will try to be more attentive to Carol.
2011: I will walk 35,000 steps a day this year.
2012: I will definitely start my walking routine this year at 10,000 steps a day.
2013: I will walk once a week.
2014: I will try to drive past a gym at least once a week.
2008: I will not stare at women's cleavage .
2009: I will cut down the amount of time I stare at women's cleavage.
2010: I will stop being so obvious when I stare at women's cleavage.
2011: I will attempt to stop getting caught staring at women's cleavage.
2012: I will stop increasing the time I spend staring at women's cleavage.
2013: I will seek professional help as directed by the courts.
2014: I will try to stop starring at the female prison guards cleavage.
2011: I will not let my siblings push me around.
2012: I will stick up for myself with at least one of my siblings.
2013: I will not let my siblings bullying depress me.
2014: I will talk to Dr. Potter and the group about my siblings.
2008: I will read Clarissa this year all 1534 pages.
2009: I did not read Clarissa I will read Varney The Vampire all 866 pages.
2010: I will read the first 50 pages of Varney The Vampire this year.
2011: I will read some articles in the newspaper this year.
2012: I will try and finish the comics section this year.
2013: I will read one strip in the cartoon section this year.
2014: I will read the fortune cookie thingy the next time I have Chinese Food.
Sponsor: Regina Riddle
Contest Name: New Year's Resolution
Poem | |
Now I ask you this
A more common name you will not find
Cities have thousands of them
Small towns have at least one
Why pretty much everywhere you go
You will find a Mr. Smith
Why once in china
In the middle of nowhere
This old Chinese man came out of his hut
Shook my hand
Said , Ni Hoa me Mr. Smith
I was truly and duly shocked
Being a Smith, he made me tea and served me lunch
Go to any hockey game and I will tell you this
In the stands
There will be 1000's and more
of Smiths, Mr. and Misses and all manner of Smiths
Why even the Montreal Canadians have one!!!
Now if you turn around, there will be a smith behind
The odds say this is true, and thankfully for all,
To hold a door open
To help an old lady across the street
The Smiths are gods angels
Lending a helping hand
Love and good cheer, you know a smith is near
Now you may ask me how I know all this to be true
The answer is quite simple you see
I know a Tim Smith
A kinder man you will not find
A family that loves him
Friends that appreciate him
A tavern that knows him by first name
Someone who always buys me a DRINK!!!!
A man of loyalty this is for sure
What else explains a Blackhawks fan?
So I tip my hat to my friend Tim
I raise a glass of good cheer and salute
To a family man of honor
With a heart of gold for those lucky enough
To know Him
Poem | |
"Made In China"
They can have my money
If it saves me money
The toys I played with when I was young,
Says I enjoyed their hands
The Labels read
"MADE IN CHINA"
The cheap material on my back, the shoes I wore.
How easily they faded and tore
However, I enjoyed their hands
The Tags on my rags;
"MADE IN CHINA"
The car I own saves money on gas
A tiny Honda Civic, takes me everywhere
I love my sweet silver car
"Manufactured in China"
The never been used--Made in the USA--cookware I own,
Says, I don't work hard at all:)
Yummy to Chinese all you can eat take Outs
Thank you China for being part of this world
Thank you China, for making this world a part of yours.
MADE IN CHINA
Shipped easily in a box
Poem | |
I was blessed to know a woman in my life
Who faced hard times, struggle, and strife.
A Chinese immigrant, she came from a poor town
Lost her husband, was kept from her daughter, but not kept down.
She had three other children who were born here
Getting them a better life was her biggest fear.
She had to fend for herself and them alone you see,
Speaking little of the language in this foreign country.
But, she had always lived a determined life
So she fought back...with a fork and a knife.
She opened a restaurant in a small community
Where her gracious manner made her friends instantly.
Her children would grow up in town with new friends
The restaurant she opened was the mean to her ends.
She worked very hard...sometimes eighteen hours a day
She never complained because that was her way.
Her life's expectations knew more successes sublime
The restaurant grew...one egg roll at a time.
She once told me of the anxiety she felt at the money she'd spent...
Laughing said, "My uncle said sell 2 qts of Chop Suey/Day...you've got the rent."
She was a woman who chose kindness as she felt had to her been shown
To people far and near her generosity was known.
She was thankful that she had the opportunity
To give back with love rather than animosity.
I first met her over some 30 years back
She struck me from the that moment as a person who had the knack
To make others feel at home though strangers they be
She certainly did, because she did it to me.
I still remember her caring for me...it was shown
Once caught in a blizzard, she opened her home.
So often was there a path to this woman's door
Though she stood, less than 5 foot 4.
Her heart was as big and wonderful as one would want
An earthly angel, she was heaven sent.
Though her health began to wane later in life
She never gave in to that world of strife.
Her eyesight began to fail and it was difficult for her to see
But that didn't stop her or her generosity.
She loved people and filled everyone with cheer
Ever thankful that she had had a life here.
Though she is gone I'll never forget her face
Or her love of life, devotion to family, and unstoppable pace.
To me I'll ever be thankful to have had the joy
Of calling her "Ma" ... ONE IN A MILLION~was Connie Moy!
1st Place Winner - "One in a Million" Poetry Contest
Poem | |
This recently happened to me.
I didn’t recover very well from it.
I just sat there
while my partner got dressed
and walked out on me.
She was shaking her head
in disbelief on the way out.
Here is what happened.
We are in the throes of
I am twisted up like a pretzel
with my tongue here,
my fingers there,
you know what
than Chinese mathematics.
I mean my tongue is doing a Spanish Tango
my fingers the Watusi
my center an African Tribal Dance
and when I say African Tribal Dance
I mean my ass
is shaking like a belly dancer
with a vibrator up her ass.
I could hear that sharp female voice
yelling like a soprano in an Italian Opera
and she’s yelling too
but with that deep voice of hers
like a banshee out of hell.
Oh no, oh no,
oh yes oh yes,
oh oh oh oh...
like fireworks on the fourth of July
boom...boom, boom, boom, boom...
I do it
at the peak of orgasm
I do it.
I really blow it.
No pun intended.
I mean we've all done it...
instead of saying her name
At the peak of orgasm
I yell out
my own name!
Knuckle Head Yvonne
Poem | |
As I lie here, eyes half closed, I wonder
Why does the grass wave to me?
Has the summer breeze asked it to greet me
And if so, what does it wish to say
But I think the Chinese whispers of a thousand blades
Might confuse the message beyond recognition
Perhaps I should ask instead, the shaded underbelly of the lonesome oak,
Standing aloof mid-field
For surely he hears the same story from the breeze
And then again perhaps I have it all wrong, it's a message from the grass,
So many strands waving their message make the pleasant breeze
If that is the case then, I think I must lie here a while longer
And listen to the story they wish to tell
Poem | |
Gung Hay Fat Choy, black and white it seems
Oh, it is nothing but Happy New year in Chinese
Call it Lantern festival, pleasant spring festival
Celebrations of 15 days, each one ritualized.
Celebrate, the freedom from that beast Nian
Who swallowed humans in a single bite,
Scare him away with crackers and red color
On this day of GuNian, “ Pass over the Nian”
Offer prayers, to the ancestors and all Gods
Feed the Dogs well as it is dogs’ birthday
Visit friends and relatives to pay respects
Prepare drinks from vegetables, eat noodles
Fish for long life and success in life.
Hang colorful lanterns, eat glutinous rice balls
Enjoy with family welcoming the New Year.
January 18, 2015
Form: Free Verse
Poem | |
A little girl
She comes to a land of ghosts
Almost empty streets
Where are all the people
No one here looks like her
Within her heart
It is so cold
Where oh where, is the mountain of gold
Her mom and dad they are so bold
People of action
Not of words
A new future to find
They endured the sad
A world not kind
Their crowded apartment
A benevolent uncle stole
To leave the country they paid a toll
Plane tickets in her fathers hand
Brought his family to a new land
The little girl did not understand
The language she knew
She spoke it with such ease
She thought, she must throw it away
The bits of her culture slowly stripped day by day
Forced to grow up, with blinding speed
She looks after, siblings needs
No time for her
She couldn't play
Duty and honour
The Chinese way
Mom and dad, working night and day
They do so much, for little pay
Food on the table
A warm home
Within a land of ice
Through the years
A life is built
Yet the little girl, she is filled with guilt
She knows, there's been a sacrifice
Beneath the surface, of all that's nice
Many, many, years ago
Her grandfather was here
Away from her dad, for many years
Cooking for men, who worked the rail line
A small comfort when they would dine
They took the risk
The horrors so many
To long too list
They needed their families
So far away
Yet the politicians, turned them away
The abuse he suffered
With all his friends
It seems now the Government
wants to make amends
The past and future, are combined
You can't move forward
Without looking behind
The little girl, now grown up
For the past, she gives her thanks
Dreams from ties
She rides their rails
Blood and sweat
from hammering nails
She hears echoes, from the past
It seems their gifts, were forged to last
My wife went to a forum where the government
apologized for the awful things that were done
to the Chinese people who came to work in
Canada. So many Chinese men left their homes
in search of a better life for their families. They
were forced into slave like labour to build our
cross country railway. Many of them lost their
lives in the process. They were not allowed to
bring their families. When the earlier generations
came they were charged a head tax to move to Canada.
This discrimination was exclusive to Asian people.
This is a sad chapter in our Canadian History.
Poem | |
I can have the suite recovered
For a thousand pounds or so.
Or, my skirts all torn, all mended
With a stitch that doesn’t show.
At the Chinese round the corner
There are noodles and fried rice,
And a menu for the family
Which I’m sure is very nice.
But the Indian’s even better –
One may ‘buy one get one free!’
And a card pushed through
The removal of a tree.
Came a highly-coloured brochure
(Which was really quite a treat)
One could choose exotic flowers
Or plant food that’s fit to eat.
No, I didn’t really think so.
And each joined the growling
Of things that were not welcome
In the bin, where they belong.
There’s a person here named
With an offer I can’t miss.
For she says she’ll do the ironing
So I don’t need to. Bliss!
Now, this week’s not halfway
through yet –
And what else is in the box?
Then the envelope, when
Offered ever-lasting socks!
We must not forget the pizzas,
They can be delivered too.
And the Cotton Traders’ booklet
Which includes a nifty shoe.
Now, that brings us up to
And the pile grows on apace.
There’s some help for aged
‘Use this cream and change
There’s so much magic in this
If you use it on your hair
In a week you’ve vast
Though you had but little
We’ve a little respite Friday;
It’s a letter from a friend,
Plus a bill that I must settle;
Not at all the usual trend.
Yes, next day returns to
Would I help the lifeboats,
And a chap who’ll do some
That should save my aching
Then – oh, day of rest and
It’s a day that’s free from
‘Till I’m startled by the
‘Please don’t miss this boiler
Poem | |
Death hangs on the poles
At river banks.
The sun smeared smiles
Grow grim grins in the night.
Being loosened ,
Chinese fishing nets
Sink down with baits
To lure in to the fate.
Wide spread death does wait
Till the sudden lifts.
Wet joys dry, and wriggle
In breathless net.
At bottoms lie hidden nets
To snare when care slip.
(Chinese Fishing Nets are common at river banks of Kerala.These are a kind of nets hung on poles.At night ,these are lowered and laid at the bottom of the river.In the morning.these are lifted up with fish)
Poem | |
Hmmm, where do I start? With deep sighs, I am sighing right now.
I just finished burying 2 lizards, and my heart is heavy...
Let me back up a bit...bear with me if I might turn out to be confusing here,
but I just need to write this, release something, in some way
Although I must admit, this is not exactly what I had in mind to write for this day,
hopefully I can write something more decent later...
I have been wanting to write something for my brother since yesterday,
since February 26 is his 10th year death anniversary.
The words remained stuck in my heart, 'til I fell asleep.
Visited him again today, heard mass for him,
ate a Chinese dinner with my parents and sister, went home.
I now needed dessert. Got a piece of Ferrero Rocher, but just one wouldn't do.
So I got a piece of Almond Roca this time and ate it while walking.
All this time, I have managed to keep my tears away
but maybe somehow, someway, if tears want to fall, they will find a way?
I walk to that area again as I ate that piece of chocolate-
when what do you know, what do you know??
I stepped on a lizard. Again
Yes. Almost exactly the Same area, tail falls off, and the lizard skitters away.
But. I did not slip this time. But, yes, I still screamed, scaring everybody again.
I. Could. Not. Simply. Believe. IT.
One month and 25 days after, I step on a lizard. Again.
Today, of all days. As if I needed more reason to be sadder.
This time around, I had the sense to try to find that lizard.
I had to know if it lived, if it was okay.
I pushed away the nearby cabinet.
And there it was.
Rather, and there they were.
The lizard that I stepped on now
and the petrified remains of the lizard that I stepped on on new year's day...
the other one didn't live after all :(
I know it was that lizard, same area, no tail, who else could it be?
Survival mechanism, no match for my killer foot.
By this time, I am crying, sobbing.
Seriously, the tears just start falling, and my heart so heavy.
And I know it's from the combination of so many things.
The day itself, what I had just done, just things running through me.
What broke my heart, was to see that lizard.
I was wearing rubber shoes this time, last time I was wearing slippers.
And its guts had spilled from its sides.
I couldn't help but keep on saying, "Oh, oh, oh lizard, I am so sorry"
I touched it feebly, and it was literally gaping its mouth.
I don't think I can ever forget that?
Such a small creature, gasping, with its insides out,
its skin on its legs and body scraped.
And it was all my fault.
My sister was there with me, trying to help in her own way.
But yes, there's nothing you can really do...I didn't want to stress it even more,
and let death finish what I did.
There's so much I can glean from this, and I want to ramble on, so badly
but I will try to stop myself from rambling too much.
I put the two lizards, along with a note, the dates when I stepped on them
(ok, killed them), and placed them carefully in a chocolate truffle box.
I buried them and still feel so sorry.
In some ways, this is can be so funny, and just freaky & crazy (what's new, this is me?)
What were the odds??? Same place, same thing happening.
And I can't help but roll my eyes at myself as well, just finding it so hard to fathom
how I stepped on not just one but Two lizards in just two months.
I bet that the lizards are all afraid of me now,
saying how I am a lizard killer. A serial lizard killer.
MO: stepping on them while screaming, maybe my screams also killed them off?
I actually took photos of both lizards, I am not sure why though.
Oh dear God, help me, I am acting like one, even documenting them.
I tell you, as I watched that lizard die, I couldn't help but just also
think of St. Jude (for the impossible) and St. Francis of Assisi (for animals).
I know he was dying, but somehow, yes, prayers still comfort me.
I just feel so guilty, with this happening.
I still can't help but cry for those lizards, death by me, for no reason at all,
no purpose served.
I know it's all a part of life...
but it still doesn't change the fact how death can change us
and of how I am responsible for two lizard deaths.
I know they were just small animals, but Still. They were living creatures.
Death can change us in small ways, some in big ways, negatively or positively.
It all boils down to death transforming us one way or another...
I won't expound on it anymore, this is too long,
but one of the ways I can think of comparing it to, is that of a chemical change,
maybe of the spirit, the soul? Not merely a physical change.
And we can never be the same.
Poem | |
by just looking at it from the distance
a picturesque view captures right away our hearts
a stair like going up to heaven on its magnificent appearance
a cogent power beckoning every tourist to visit and become a part
of this historical place and one of our world’s beauty spots
the People’s Republic of China stands tall with pride and glory
in possession of this gigantic dragon-formed and walled stair
a product of their ancestors’ concerted effort to protect their country
from heartless invaders who want to ruin without care
so, they’d built it with masonry and rocks strong enough and fair
let’s all go and experience this great and wonderful place
anytime of the year but winter is still the best, I bet
climbing on every step of the walled stair with nuance pace
so lofty but a gentle breeze will extricate ourselves from sweat
more power and energy will be saved and it’s a challenge a bit
Great Wall of China has been built and renovated until Ming’s Dynasty
a creative work of art by the Chinese and their great masterpiece
along the mountain sides to the top winding up with majesty
so impressively built as if trying to reach an endless place
a breathtaking beauty inviting us to capture tenacious memories
climbing on Great Wall is so much fun and enjoyable
a stop on each pillar shows a full view of the scenery giving us a great tour
a part along our way up is a long chain of padlocks for lovers and couples
an everlasting love, peace, bliss and everything they’ll wish for
believing that leaving a padlock and key there, wishes will be granted for sure
the most challenging and rewarding part is the incentive we’ll get
if we climb and reach the peak, a certificate for us to remember
so, to make our experiences with travel expenses commensurate
let’s all gather our strength and be determined as great explorers
for us to get one of the most precious moments in life to cherish forever
April 8, 2013
The composition of this poem was also inspired by my wonderful experience in this place when we’d our school tour last March 7-10, 2011 at Beijing. Both great happiness and terrible sadness I’ve felt that time. My happiness to see the beauty of the place but terrible sadness was deep inside of me because I was thinking of my father who was already at his critical health condition and, I went back home to visit him just after coming back from our joyful tour.
Contest: Seven Wonders
Sponsor: Greatest Poet Poet Destroyer
Poem | |
All that ever is be God
For God contains all things
The moons the stars, the galaxies
The summer, winter, spring
God is the highest mountain
And the oceans deep and vast
He's there in all that lives and dies
He's the first and he's the last.
I can always feel the breath of God
In everything I do
I'm walking God. I'm breathing God
He is me, and he is you
"But who am I? And who are you?"
When I don't know where I'm at
I only know from the core of me
That God is all of that.
I'll end this little poem of mine
And explain this thing to you
Well I'm not trying to say "I know"
Nay this is hardly true
A wise man said a Chinese sage
"He who knows, knows nil"
But I believe in the power of love
And I know I always will.
23 September 2014
Poem | |
Poems from old and yellowed
Chinese scrolls make me sad,
make me sad: stored in shiny,
lacquered boxes of perfumed teak,
they crumble when unrolled.
And the hands that must have written
Chinese thoughts upon the rolls:
little, leathern, patient hands,
painting poems -- stroke and stroke
and careful, delicate stroke --
stopping, meanwhile, to twirl
a waxed mustache --
for someone else, a foreigner,
who cannot understand, to read,
mull over, and be sad.
And this when Chinese thoughts
are gone, and tiny, trembling
Chinese hands are dust.
Poem | |
During the Civil War, the Mason Dixon Line
Divided North from South, separating families
In 1961 guard towers were erected
On the Berlin Wall, separation strategies
Although the Berlin Wall was finally torn down
The Great Wall of China remains a monument
Created to protect the Chinese Empire
Keep out nomad invaders with a firm armament
Now a line spans the aisle of the US Congress
They’re seated to the right or left, never centered
And if a brave independent tries to speak out
Be assured this courageous soul will be censored
Lines are used to separate wholes into sections
What mankind needs is more unification now
Segregation is wrong, regardless of intent
To those who seek to eradicate “lines,” I bow
Poem | |
SPRING HOUSE CLEANING ( reverse Etheree)
what an awful mess!
dust cobwebs outside dirt
it boggles my mind to think
when I think it’s of other things
wouldn’t it be nice to take a nap
all day but then the mess will still be there
know what? I saw an add in the paper
this old chinese lady cleans houses
she is very reasonable
654 – 7328
“hello chinese lady?
you say she’s out now?
what does she charge?......
Poem | |
A Chinese lad was at table dawdling with his pork and rice.
This upset his mama-san who reprimanded him in a trice!
"Clean your plate! Children in America are starving, son!"
And she continued to berate him - her tirade had only begun!
"Your papa-san has a great job while dads in America are on the dole.
Our economy is booming while that of America is lagging, on the whole!
Papa makes good money to provide Americans with the things they need.
You should be very thankful for the jobs they send here, yes indeed!"
"Kids in America can't get a job even with a college education,
But, son, America will provide you with a job in any old vocation!
This is the land of opportunity, my boy, thanks to American capitalists!
You must appreciate all they have done for us Chinese communists!"
"Not so long ago your father and I didn't have a yuan to our name.
Now we have a house and brand new car - life will never be the same!
So I don't want to hear any of your sass or fiddling with your food.
Thanks to the generous Americans, they have lifted our nation's mood!"
"I want you to clean your plate and grow strong to follow in your dad's shoes.
Uncle Sam needs you to make TVs and shirts or anything else they choose.
No more lip! Clean your plate! I want to see those chopsticks flying!
Think about the kids in America who'll got to bed tonight hungry and crying!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Poem | |
Mama Africa is sick and getting sicker!
Millions suffer from cancer!
Millions have heart attacks!
Millions considered HIV positive!
Millions have tuberculosis!
Millions are affected with diabetes!
Malaria is the first leading cause of death!
And cases of epidemics are reported every year!
Mama Africa, is your behaviour malpractice?
Mama Africa,have you forgotten how you lived
Mama Africa,have you forgotten the healing skills
Mama Africa,have you delibarately avoided your
Europe learnt about you with admiration and awe!
PS;Hats off to the chinese!!!They have completed their
hat trick in traditional medicine.But, alas,here in Africa
,it would be associated with witchcraft and mysticism!
A CRY FROM DEEP DOWN MY HEART!
Poem | |
Autos whizzing by
streetlights and apartment lights cut through the shadows
TV is off - I pick up a pen
Sit down - write another poem
Tomorrow a poetry walk in New York city
Words sometimes leap off the page
Find their way into your inner being
City poets capture the essence of the asphalt homeland
with a well constructed line
There are dangers in this large metropolis
But there is also joy
If you know here to look for it
Drank an egg cream and ate an egg roll today
At a Lower East Side festival
Saw a klezmer band, a Chinese orchestra
and the Peking Opera
What a panoply of cultures here!
The sparkling eyes of a child
catch mine for a moment
We both smile
The years leave their mark on the city streets
and on the inhabitants of this North American Mecca
But this city has a large heart
Sometimes it is difficult to realize that
But at times the soul of New York
reaches out and grabs you
Explains, in urban tones, what it is all about
Poem | |
Here is a new beginning,
at the red mouth of the river,
overlooking the ripple of dark waters
that floats the recent past
beneath the mottled stone bridge
and into the ocean of ancient seas
On this, the first day of the great year,
from the arc of the bridge,
I saw all seasons disappear.
And the reasons for happiness,
come reckoning with good fortune.
While releasing the old ways,
as if they were leaves, drifting downstream
I have seen my own reflection,
and the acceptance of the light,
slicing through the dreaming water,
resolving my old misfortunes,
until they are dissolved into the rust of the silt
So, here I am, once again,
under the tilt of the moon,
on this 15th day of light,
The candles flickering, with gentle flames,
calling my name.
Each an exquisite reminder,
that we can start again.
Beckoning me to start anew...
so that I will part with old pages
that drift away with old years,
beneath the bridge I have walked across...
lit by parchment lanterns,
and the arc of light from the moon's infinite heart
1/30/15 Inspired by Chinese Lanterns
For Deb's "Chinese New Year" Contest
Poem | |
Schneefall / Snowfall / La Nevada (Kintaishi or Kanshi)
Der Schnee fällt wieder
Wo die Natur friert
Dort kehrt Ruhe ein
The snow falls again
Where the nature freeze
There lodges peace
The call of wild ducks
Otra vez cae nieve
Donde la naturaleza congela
Allí aloja la paz
Llamada de patos salvajes
Note: Kintaishi or Kanshi is a Chinese form of poetry an can be written in different not
rhyming lines and syllables e.g. 4 lines with 5,6 or 7 syllables in each line
8 lines with 5 0r 7 syllables in each line
12 lines with 5 or 7 syllables in each line
Poem | |
'Why are you not joining the Money-Glazed World?
Are these penniless winds eating you alive?
Why are you wasting time reading Wordsworth?
We don't need outdated things like poetry!
We only need business knowledge and science.'
A stout, six-feet-tall man, in mid-twenties,
in refined tie and coat, carrying a suitcase and a laptop,
suddenly shouted at me, as he sat down beside me that morning.
He glared at me with red-streaked, insomniac eyes,
like two burning hazel nuts that sank inside pale sockets.
His broad forehead gleamed with beads of sweat.
His eye-brows aggressively thick were frowning,
like two well-practiced, inward-slanting, artistic dashes
of dark ink in a classical Chinese portrait.
They sat on a squarish, muscles-taut face,
with biscuit-thin ears and spiky, crow-black hair,
a stiff nose and pale-pink, flat lips.
They undulated like a mini earthquake when he shouted,
like he had been holding back a wall of emotions a long time.
He continued to bellow:
'Why do you appear contented?
It's sinful to be contented.
You must be driven by desires.
Don't waste your time reading Wordsworth.
Learn how to become indispensable.
Commodify your thinking.
Become a highly marketable product.
Become a highly value-add asset
that keeps adding profit.
No, that won't be enough.
You must keep sharpening your knives.
Character-assassinate your rivals.
Win the favor of your bosses.
If not, we don't need you.
We don't need an escapist reader of poems.
Now get out of my sight! '
Slowly I replied, 'Please bear with me
if my presence irritated you.
I am too common, too small, too human.
Hope to discover the Timeless in Wordsworth's lines.
I only live one day at a time in the strength of God.
Please bear with me.'
I walked away slowly. I could empathize.
I encountered a fair share of difficult bosses when young.
Perhaps I become an old-fashioned vessel,
lessening his anger and passing moods.
A whisper came, 'Today you have passed.'