Long poem by
William J. Jr. Atfield | Details |
Star dust, the stuff of a fool’s dreams.
Oh !!!, to travel upon star dust streams
- that glorious, never ending journey -
into the realms, the space of many.
This old spirit, seems, not to fit into any
mold nor on any rung of the social latter,
that, I think, should not, ever matter.
And so I have to wonder ?,
as upon this planet, I wander.
Is there any place for me ?,
where I might fit in – one day to see ?
In my youth, some perceived me to be
Sall Minnio, even the King,
- Elvis Presley, - this idea girls would bring
with them, in their pursuit of me.
As an adult, I came to be seen
– an Italian, a Greek, a Mexican –
a First Nations is what I’ve been
as folks do the best they can.
As people guessed at my race,
looking and looking into my face,
the essence, the spirit, the soul of this man.
Yet nowhere do I fit - I belong to no place.
Nowhere do I find a fitting space
for this German, French, British, Native,
gene pool, my heritage doth give.
Plus the few – long forgotten – more
that came through the genetic door
– open for viewing the heart of this old soul –
where there is reflection and getting to know.
There have been some who would pass
this face of many – this face of looking glass
refraction – to see truth – a Redman’s blood in the veins
of this First Nation soul – the spirit which remains
for this old soul, the essence of my spirit,
even in times when many would not tolerate it.
And so, it is not a wonder
why this soul seems to flounder,
cannot find anything sounder,
between the jagged, ragged edges
of created, keen, sharp - wedges
between who and what I am, and
where it is I could possibly stand.
There is not – it seems to me – a place
where I fit in, can stand, turn and face,
see a possible niche – a place to belong,
before, my life is almost gone,
as I look back upon all the roads,
- the stories, the tales, the heavy loads –
I have travelled, yet know not what will be told
of what rung, on the social ladder I hold,
what plateau to find shelter in ?,
what plane to fly above, be comfortable in ?,
what place to rest my spirit, my soul within ?,
what space can I find to forget all the sin ?
I have walked with the sane and insane.
I have talked with the educated and uneducated.
I have been in the company of intelligence and unintelligent.
I have laid with the secure and the insecure.
I have laid with passion’s fire and frigid’s cold.
I have known the moral and the immoral.
I have known those of faith and the faithless
I have known the killed and the killer
I have known those who have taken their own lives
I have known the givers and the takers
I have known the movers and the shakers
I have known the honest and the dishonest
I have known the psychic and the blind.
I have known the truth sayers and the bullshitters,
The fast lane, the slow lane, the middle lane I’ve moved in.
The sober, the drunkard – I’ve been and been with.
The strong, the weak – I’ve been and been with.
The used, the abused – I’ve been and been with.
The users and the abusers -- I’ve known and know me.
The wealthy, the poor – I’ve known and know me.
Financial wealth and Spirituality -- I’ve known and know me.
The saver of a life -- I’ve known and was me.
The living and the dead -- I’ve known and know me.
Having a brush with artists has been my fate.
Having acted up with entertainers has been my fate.
Having had words with writers has been my fate.
Having become a rhymer, like my forth cousin, has been my fate.
I have played with players – strummed a note or two.
I have laid with singers-- sung a note or two.
I have laid with dancers – danced a step or two.
I have struck an arc alongside a welder – a time or two.
I have sprayed painted cars alongside a painter – a time or two.
Hammering out metal with body men – I have done.
Twisting wrenches with mechanics – I have done.
Busining along side business men – I have done.
Being a lover, I always thought, was my forte.
Being a husband, I thought I knew how to play.
Being a father, I thought I knew I would stay.
Being a friend, I thought was always my way.
To be a son – a child’s dream.
To be a brother – not to be it seems
as all the above drifts downstream,
leaving one to wonder, what life really means ?
Life’s journey can be a wondrous mystery !,
when one leafs through the pages of his history.
One’s life can also be a disastrous story ?,
one of little hope, dim light and no glory.
So what is left for this old fool ?,
but to carry on breaking the old rule,
rules that make it possible to call oneself a poet,
something I never call myself, a poet, and I know it !
I do the best I can
That is who I am !
Being a carny – traveling with The World’s Finest show.
For a couple of seasons – that is all I did know.
Being a dishwasher, a server, a busboy, a waiter, a manager
of a restaurant, many dimensions of life. I was egger
to come into contact with, to try and understand.
As fate would have it, understanding never came to this hand.
Today, a bum – forty eight years ago – father said
“ the best dressed bum in town ” would be my stead.
What goes around – at some point in time – comes around.
There is some truth to this, that I have certainly found.
Even though I have touched the edges of many a life.
Many places, pieces of each and everyone, not one has been
a place for me, a place I felt I belonged, the places I’ve seen
do not leave pillows for my spirit, beds to rest my soul, rife
with uncertainty, is my state, almost every day
I can find no place, no space for me to play.
Looking into this distorted collage
I wonder if it is but a mirage ?
My flaws lie in the heart of my feeling !, it is my sin !,
this belief that there is no place, no space where I fit in.
B. J. “A” 2
May 1st 2004
Long poem by
Isaiah Zerbst | Details |
The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a distant, unknown land:
Once so secure, yet now compelled to roam;
Once rich in love, she treads through foreign sands.
Her weary feet move forward but by faith;
For all left to her name is mere belief:
Mind, heart so far away she seems a wraith-
Love, happiness- all taken by a thief.
When, sometime since, her heart had broke in two,
The path of life, once single, parted way;
Forsake she could, but this she would not do-
All else was gone- with mother she would stay:
"Intreat me not to leave thee," was her plea,
"For whither thou wilt go, there will I; pray
Forbid me not to follow after thee,
For where thou lodgest I would also stay:
"Thy people shall be mine, thy God my God;
And where thou liest, I will gladly lie
Beside thee, overhead the selfsame sod;
That even then thou mightest be closeby.
"And so they twain walk on, hand clasped in hand;
Both hold the only thing they yet possess:
The younger but a stranger in the land,
An enemy, a widow in distress.
She rose before the sun to find a place
Where she might gather barley ears and wheat;
A field where she might find some needed grace
To gather for their winter store of meat:
Then Boaz comes from Bethlehem, and see,
He tarries with the reapers of the wheat:
He comes to Ruth and says, "Hear'st not thou me?
Remain until the harvest is complete:
"Go not from hence, but in my fields abide,
And let thine eyes be on the field they reap;
Behold, these maidens thou may'st work beside,
And near the reapers thou may'st ever keep."
Then to her face she fell, and wond'ringly
Asked why to her, a stranger, was so kind;
And he replied that she unfailingly
Had cleaved unto her mother with one mind,
And left her father, mother, and the soil
Of her nativity, and kissed the dust
Of some strange land wherein she meant to toil;
Forsaking gods of Moab God to trust:
"The Lord," said he, "reward thee for thy deeds,
And recompense thy labour and thy love:
The God of Israel answer all thy needs,
And make his wings a shelter from above."
Then said the maid, "My lord, please let me find
Some grace and favour in thy blessed sight,
For that thou hast been friendly, spoken kind,
And I am but a stranger in the night."
Then Boaz said, "At mealtime here abide;
Rest in the shade, come, sit with us and dine:
So down she sat, a reaper on each side;
She ate her wheat and dipped her bread in wine.
Then Ruth arose, and to her work she leaves:
The master thus commands his servant men,
"Let this young maid glean e'en among the sheaves;
Rebuke her not, for she shall come again;
And let some handfuls fall onto the ground,
There let them lie for my sake and for hers
That she may glean and plenty may be found;
For reasons she has need of it are pure."
And as she worked, Ruth knew not what a sight
Of beauty and of diligence she made,
As in the golden field in sunset's light
She bowed her head and knelt as if she prayed.
It came to pass that in his fields she stayed
Until the end of barley harvest came,
When mother told the lovely little maid
To seek for his provision and his name.
She washed and dripped an oil filled with sweet
Perfumes of wild roses on her face:
She had not much; her beauty was complete
With but her finest clothes to seek his grace.
Her braided hair shone brighter than the gem
That never graced her soft and shapely form;
Her eyes, they sparkled brighter than the hem
Of gold and pearls that she had never worn:
Thus Ruth went down unto the threshing floor
Where Boaz winnowed barley till the night,
And peeked at him so shyly 'round the door;
She never let him leave her searching sight.
His workday done, the master ate and drank;
With happiness his heart was full when fed:
Then by a heap of wheat he went and sank
Into the furry robes that made his bed;
And Ruth, a while watching till he sleep
Kept vigil from a stone used as a seat,
Till when his eyes had closed and sleep was deep
She lifted up the cover from his feet
And softly laid her down and dreamed of brides
Until the watchman struck a dozen beats,
And being startled, Boaz woke and spied
A woman sleeping at his very feet:
"Who art thou?" queried he in sleepy voice;
"Thine handmaid, Ruth," was her unsure reply;
Then blessed he her for wise and kindly choice,
For passing poor and rich young fellows by.
"And now, my daughter, gladly shall I do
According to thy wishes, for all here
Consider thee as virtuous and true;
Howbeit, there is one to thee more near,
A kinsman who must duly have his say:
If he decline, then rest assured I will
Perform the part of kinsman." So she lay
Down at his feet, and both were quiet, still.
In grey of early morning she arose,
Before a face could be discernéd there;
To keep from what some people might suppose
And who might stand along the road to stare:
Then Boaz said, "Bring here the vail thou hast
Upon thy head and hold it in thy hand:
Six times the barley measure filled and passed
From heap to vail as much as she could stand.
Then Boaz went up to the city gate
To find the nearer kinsman, whom he sought,
To see if he would purchase the estate
Of Ruth, and she herself, but he could not;
So Boaz purchased all the widows' land;
The houses, barns, and fields, though overgrown;
And bought what pleased him most, Ruth's comely hand
To cherish and to make his very own:
Then Boaz went to find the handmaid, Ruth
And lift her from a servant to a wife;
To love her in all tenderness and truth
In every day God blessed them both with life.
[By Isaiah Zerbst. Published 9/7/14. Parts of poem have been removed due to soup's limitations.]
Long poem by
Neldy Jolo | Details |
Oh well I got an angry email to begin my day
Because of my last post on the Jabidah thing yesterday
Galit sa akin but greeted me with Assalamu alaykum.
And kung personal Moro friends ko naman ito
They know I don't criticize Moro leaders
I always leave that to them to criticize their leaders
According to my friends baka nasa gubyerno or something
Next time I'll write na lang about the sea and the palm trees and the beaches
Pray and pray nalang para walang provocation
ako nga ang daming nag-message sa akin nagalit sa issue ng Sabah standoff
Ikaw pa kaya na wala namanng masama na sinabi dun
Alam mo ‘buti na lang you verbalized that kasi iniisip ko rin ‘yun
I know you have reasons and you know better kaya; I just read your posts
I don’t have to go against parties kasi both have rights
And the issue must be solved
Wala, kasi sa akin kundi independence lamang ang kailangan
May ganyan din kasing realities?
Minsan you are being asked or expected to take sides
Yes, my side is peace – with peace is independence
Yes, I heard that sa dating Jabidah Massacre celebration
Somebody said that, “Walang kapayapaan kasi walang kalayaan”
And that is very universal, kapatid.
Moro or non-Moro and writing should always geared towards humanity
That’s why for me it “anti-humanity” if you will not listen
Or suppress when somebody will talk about freedom.
That’s the problem with Filipinos, they don't listen.
Kasi the leaders may sarili ring interests.
How do you see being Filipino?
Ako, it's a cage, Filipino nationalism
Agenda ng mga oligarchs and landowners
Filipino nationalism is violence against Muslims and lumads
Kasi ‘pag ako ang tatanunginmo I will never say I am Filipino
Because Tausug it’s not a name but an identity...
I understand but kaunti na lang kayo
Ako sasabihin ko na I am a Filipino but I have reservations
When I was a teenager hindi ako tumatayo ‘pag Lupang Hinirang
ngayon tumatayo na kasi napapaaway ang mga kasama ko sa sinehan
Yes and identity should be critically assessed and examined.
Kaya if they say Filipino ang mga Tausug masakit sa aking loob
But not all, kapatid. try mo pumunta sa Manila
Yung mga Moro na malalapit sa mga institusyon ng Pilipinas
Bakit iba ang Moro at ibang ang Tausug
kaya sila naging Moro at masaya na tawaging Moro
May identity na naiiba sa Filipino
Pinag-aaralan ko rin yan and ino-observe ‘yung pag-yield sa 'Filipino'
‘Will give Filipinos a disservice
Because it is tantamount to be an accomplice to a corrupt system
And this system is the one that oppresses Muslims
At alam natin ang Tausug di lamang taga-Sulu
Pati Bisayan, Tausug din
As much as possible I am trying to make my writings 'away'
Away from Filipino nationalism
That's the right way for me and my writing
I will ask first, “How it is to be human?”
At super last na ang, “How to be a Filipino”
And the Bangsamoro struggle is the greatest critique to the violence
And failures of Filipino nationalism
Ang problema kasi kaya di successful ang Bangsamoro struggle
Dahil nagdadala sila ng pangalan na di naman originally sa kanila
How come ang pangalan ko ay Abdul sa rights
Gagamitn ko ang Juan para sa aking bayan?
Kaya war of ideas ito and alam mo naman sa akin, ‘pag ideas
And perspectives walang kompromiso and peace talks
I do not compromise my language, my craft and myself, my writing
Filipino is an imagined nation, as well as Bangsamoro
Bakit di natin magamit ang orignal nation natin
Na based sa Sulu archipelago and Mindanao
Yes, actually diyan ako papunta - papunta
Bakit hindi i-Bangsamoro-ized ang buong Filipinas?
It doesn’t mean na i-convert ang Pilipinas
But the spirit, the struggle it should mean something to Filipinos
It should kasi ang dami na nagbuwis ng buhay
Kaya ko pa na tanggapin kung Maharlika
‘Yan ang gusto kong ma-achieve: Filipinos should listen to Moros
Siyempre marami pang madidiscover along the way
Indeed. Ikaw ba ‘pag sasabahin ko na ‘Tausug’ ano ang maiisip mo?
Tausug is Moro and Moro for me is something that predates 'Filipino'
But now, I would like to know the concept of “Lupah Sug”
I want to know it, I think there are more and beyond Moro on it
Before ‘Moro’ was named to Mindanao and Sulu people
It was first name to Aceh people, Melaka, Brunei and then Manila
Sulu and Mindanao were the last places to have been called the name ‘Moro’
Sulu archipelago was united under the name Sulu archipelago
The name of people is Tausug.
Tausug is composed of different ethnics:
Arab, Banjar, Dampuan, Buranun etcetera.
The concept of Sulu as part of dar al islam
Is already a nation and state
Where the government is the people and itself headed by sultan or raja
Yes, and I would like to feel this from the ordinary Tausugs when I get there
I would like to experience this from ordinary Tausug and on from place itself.
In the hinterland of Jolo, their laws still on the ground not of Philippine law
I believe in narratives
I want to hear and feel this from the place and from the people.
And then capture it; I have these thoughts
That Lupah Sug has something that the Moro concept does not have
And it’s a bit metaphysical but sige lang.
I know my craft can capture it.
I think there is a language that can capture it
And specific craft that can carry its soul
Not fictionalize but put it in a form like a novel or a narrative
Which have their own logic and truths as crafts.
This poem is made after the conversation and sharing with Filipino writer Rogelio Braga who also serves as the editor of the poem. He is currently in Mindanao, travelling and writing; he will then proceed to Sulu Archipelago soon. 2:28PM, 19 March 2013, Facebook Chat across Sulu Sea!
Long poem by
Jorn Kolding | Details |
In the dark of night a wind took hold,
With powers charged to shake the sky,
By moody swings of gods up high,
Their breath alone enraged and bold.
In the dark of night history spoke,
Of a world alive with fury’s voice,
When life was full of fate and choice,
And death the augur in the smoke.
In the dark of night a man did dream,
Whose tale these words we now account,
Be brave my friend this chariot mount,
By nothing less shalt this vision redeem.
Struggling through the combative gales,
A sleepless figure tossed and rolled,
With wondering sight a story was told,
Of mysteries shrouded in ancient tales.
Upon this figure two more did glare,
Faces are but vessels for orbs to divine,
Not sufficient to be one through design,
Two alive but so unlike to us stare.
These twins that see by darkness alone,
Feel the truth in the shine of art,
Ending where the few dare start,
These bright globes make gold of stone.
With raging winds our story begins,
The battle set both within and out,
The world’s pictures thoughts about,
Action the habits, blindness the sins.
With Boreas alight wandering above,
A divine force teased with subtle math,
To follow the Phoenix on its path,
Or kneel in tears with a praying dove.
The tempest in all its mighty flight,
Decreed with a fist the obvious!
So proud, so proud, yet so oblivious,
The storm forgets his humble birthright.
The wild winds be but a paper tiger,
The hands that give it mighty thrust,
Wields no whip to allure its trust,
Holding a low cup, a cat just finds her.
Such be the crispy breeze in deed,
To roar, puff, blow things down,
Seeking doors to equilibrium’s town,
When heat in fact needs cold to feed.
Wind seeks the muse of inspiration,
A lull, then a rush to arms to end,
Her charms the air does commend,
She whispers with bated respiration.
Such my friend is the temperate truth,
The tempest being no storm cries,
For its maker with love sees its lies,
The swordsman’s tail swings uncouth.
With no further aside we now return
To one whose sleep our vision seeks,
Into this mind the devil now peeks,
Intellect put off so symbols could turn.
Seeking passage to dreamlands alter,
Further and further the eyes withdrew,
A fatherly vessel, twos sons the crew,
A ship who by one one would fault her.
The tides of reflection ebbed no more,
For the two in one the world was gone,
Sands of sleep their eyes set upon,
Dreams for obeying in days to store.
‘Saw the one, the troubled of the two,
Again vain Boreas with eyes asquint,
Forged to see not flowers but mere mint,
An ignoble man, through and through.’
‘His drifting eyes of warrior bent bow,
Blind to the combat of peaceful keys,
Gazed upon Orithyia ready to seize,
The light by which he would never know.’
‘In one fell swoop he swept upon her,
An immortal force not fit to engage,
Death by shock, a rose in a cage,
A sword can never a heart procure.’
Tailors we know make not the man,
Nor, to wit, does he who blow impress,
The finest garments fit best to undress,
The suitor, naked, conception’s plan.
The warrior’s blood once led the world,
What man wanted man merely took,
By far better ways the world was shook,
Now only fools let their swords unfurl.
Still within us sleeping reptiles wink,
Side by side the peace laying dove,
Whose golden egg sits on a glove,
Disarming the insults men might think.
Yet by tinted thoughts some still fall,
There walk among us wanting men,
Who touch stones instead of women,
Blind fools like statues they do install.
To such a fellow we now must return,
By unlucky choice he cast his dice,
Gambling rage would make life nice,
His heart of fire for ice would burn.
The I then of the one who took control,
With eye inclined to dote ambition,
In Boreas he saw worthy commission,
Jewels taken justly by godly parole.
‘Reading now the face of himself,
Pleased to see opportunity’s chance,
His office in life he wished to enhance,
His brother’s book push’d off the shelf.’
“This world is made for the taking,
By will alone my will will be done,
A wild beast untamed I roam alone,
But not for long my flight in staking.”
‘Fighting the angel by his side,
He saw in Boreas a better figure,
With sharp mirror set to disfigure,
The Abel eye, his far better guide’
‘Eager as a dog ready to surprise,
Our hero set off to execute his plan,
With canine teeth and on four he ran,
To she who soon would be his prize’
To think a surprise can live in a dog,
Is like seeing a rat for a filet mignon,
So deluded a man can appear to one,
Whose rose is above all mist and fog.
‘With tongue wild about he grabbed,
The hand intended for him that night,
So sure his lust would disarm a fight,
So shocked to see her smile stabbed’
“Unsightly hair-chested beast you are,
Withdraw from here in haste and fast,
Better to drown alone in seas outcast,
Then with you fly off with fettered tar.”
“Listen little man, listen with your ears,
Give not violets your muscular arms,
Whispered fumes make better charms,
Graceful words for love sheds tears.”
“Fear most of all power’s delusion,
For the deluded become denuded,
Gaining nothing, nothing included,
Power wins only a life in seclusion.”
“Go to thy chamber, scream and yell,
Amend, however, by all smart means,
Your spiteful mean loveless routines,
Thou art but a mute, a soundless bell”
‘With reproof in hand he up and went,
To vent the gales in charge of him,
The dogfight over with outlook dim,
He saw his brother of different bent.’
‘Reaching for the floor the fallen book,
Whose pages spoke a turtle’s tongue,
The unread by thorny bees are stung,
So wiser he for counsel stole a look.’
Long poem by
Reshad Yahyaie | Details |
Once there was a girl with a tough personality. She was considered to be a friendly and talkative. She was extremely tough regardless of love and crashes. She had wishes and dreams but was never sure when it’s gone come true. She was hard working always to satisfy her family and be a great daughter. She was tough about love but at the same time she knew a special and incomparable person will come to her life, who will be very different than others. When and where she will meet him, she never thought about it because she believed that we shouldn’t look for love, the reason was that love comes itself. However let’s see how and where she finds that special person.
One night after working so hard of her project she was bored.
“Oh God I am so bored let’s see if my friends are online I will talk to them but at the same time gone download a song” she got online but unfortunately non of her friends were online so she thought to herself why don’t I make a new friend she requested a random boy who she never knew before. After a week passed and that boy accepted her request but they never got the chance to talk to each other.
“Oh this boy looks so cute but why can’t I talk to him” although she wasn’t trusting any boys but her heart would tell her that this boy seems to be a good boy. So she used to leave an offline massages for him in order to contact each other and be friends. One day they both were online so their conversation started.
Boy… how are u and how did u added me
Girl… I’m fine thanks well I was bored last week so I randomly added u.
They started questioning each other and she asked him have you got a brother or a sister he answered I have 5 sister but no bro. She reply but I have 2 sis and no brother. The time of Salah came and she had to pray and she asked if she can leave the conversation and pray but he was surprised that she prays. After she did her prayers she asked him why were you surprised when I said its time for me to pray? He reply afghans who live in foreigner most of them are not religious.
Weeks passed and one day she was so excited.
Girl… You know what
Girl… I have a new baby sister
They kept contacting each other even though he had exams on that time but he would still take out some time for her. At the same time he would study for exams.
Few month later they became best friends and one day he told her that he like her but she didn’t understand what does he mean by like. She called her best friend and told her he told her that he likes her but she doesn’t know why he said this because he loves her or just a simple like.
Hey dude … he told me he likes me but I don’t know what he means by that.
My Friend… ha ha stupid liking is the first step of love I think he loves u.
She also liked him but she needed time to know him more. He was so innocent and respectful boy she had ever meet. They became so closer and their friendship turned to love after a passing of time. She didn’t know much about his family and background but however she loved him and thought he is a right person for her life partner.
For every relationship to became stronger and trust worthy it needs time. Relationships are like building a house. Some relationship ends fast because it was build quick and the foundation was not strong enough but some relationships last forever the reason is that the foundation which that relationship was build was strong. The foundation of every relationship is trust, promises, honesty, truthfulness, modesty, respect and most important thing is a true love. Be the kind of person you would like to be with. Some people come into our lives, make footprints on our hearts and we are never the same. People are lonely because they build walls instead of bridges.
She always wanted someone who is respectful and modest towards girls. Someone who is honest but she never saw any boy with those qualities in him, she only saw those qualities in him. Even though she faced so much hardships, impenetrability and tests in life however she knew that when Allah tests you, it is never to destroy you, it’s to teach us something in life that we do not know. When he removes something in your possession it is only to empty your hands, for an even greater gift. She learned so much from those test and tried hard to become better Muslim.
Now they know each other and they love each other a lot. She has a full trust on him more than herself. Even though they sometimes have argument for some Issues but their love is strong enough and they are a smart people to find the solutions. No matter what we face and how we act towards it but it shouldn’t affect a person’s trust and love in relationship because it’s so hard to make one and takes a second to destroy it. This was a good story. It’s sad that it takes a long time for people to understand values and life. We as people are so consumed with our own lifestyles and duties we have made for ourselves.
I miss him more then he could ever know, I often ask Allah why did he have to go? I fell in love and he means so much to me, if he could look into my heart then he could see. I found something so special and it is for real, being without my love is so hard to deal. I'll be here waiting until I can be with you again, because not only are you the love of my life you are also my friend.
I just want to tell you,
I think of you every moment of the day.
And how much I love you,
Words could never even say....
I just want to tell you,
I love you with all my heart.
I wish for us to be together,
Never shall we be apart.
Long poem by
Kim van Breda | Details |
OUR BABY GIRL TURNS 21
ON 1ST JULY 1990~ THE ANGELS DID SOMETHING ALMIGHTY
FROM HEAVEN THEY SENT US OUR LIFE-LONG DESIRE-A PRECIOUS DAUGHTER TO LOVE AND ADMIRE.
TRUE TO YOUR NATURE YOU ARRIVED WITHOUT FUSS OR PAIN--THE FIRST TIME OUR EYES MET WE KNEW OUR LIVES WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME
AS A BABY AND TODDLER YOU MADE US SO PROUD
YOUR VERY LONG HAIR, GREEN EYES AND SMILE-
ALL THOSE GOOD LOOKS MADE YOU STAND OUT IN A CROWD
YOU STARTED TALKING EARLY WITH MANY VOICEPRINTS
YOUR CHARM AND GOOD LOOKS HAVE NOT STOPPED SINCE
YOU LOVED YOUR DOLLS AND PRAMS-- DREAMT OF BEING A “SINGER”
AND VERY QUICKLY LEARNED HOW TO WRAP YOUR DAD AROUND YOUR LITTLE FINGER
YOUR BIG BROTHER DEVON--BEST FRIEND AND PROTECTER
MOST OF THE TIME YOU GOT ON PERFECTLY TOGETHER
FROM AN EARLY AGE YOU SHOWED YOUR LOVE OF SWIMMING
AGE TWO AND A HALF YOU WERE ABLE AND WILLING
TO SWIM UNDER WATER AND DO MANY LENGTHS
THIS WAS CLEARLY ONE OF YOUR SPORTING STRENGTHS
AT AGE THREE YOU COULD BARELY WAIT TO START PLAYSCHOOL
“MISS INDEPENDENCE”, WAS YOUR GENERAL RULE
THE SLIDE AND JUNGLE GYM WERE YOUR FAVOURITE SPOTS
AND TO OUR HORROR YOU WOULD CLIMB RIGHT TO THE TOP!
AT AROUND THIS TIME, YOUR FIRST BOYFRIEND YOU MET-
HE LIVED NEXT DOOR, AND HIS NAME WAS BRETT
SOON IT WAS TIME FOR PRE-SCHOOL
YOU LOVED YOUR TEACHER--YOUR NEW FRIENDS WERE COOL
‘SPRING BONNETS’ AND THE END OF YEAR SCHOOL PLAYS
THE TEDDY BEAR CLASS GAVE YOU SOME REAL SPECIAL DAYS
NEXT WAS ‘BIG SCHOOL’ AND YOUR FIRST CLASS
WE WERE SERIOUSLY ANXIOUS BUT FOR YOU JUST ANOTHER ‘MISS INDEPENDENCE’ TASK
LETTERLAND, MATHS AND LEARNING TO READ
YOU EXCELLED AT ALL THAT WITH INCREDIBLE SPEED
YOUR ACHIEVEMENTS CONTINUED THROUGH GRADES 2, 3 AND FOUR
YOUR PLACE IN THE SWIMMING TEAM HELPED YOUR SCHOOL WIN MORE
OUR MOVE TO AUSTRALIA… SAD FAREWELLS TO YOUR FRIENDS AND YOUR PETS
BUT, GREAT EXCITEMENT YOU FELT AT ADVENTURES TO BE MET
A NEW SCHOOL--“METHODIST LADIES COLLEGE”
NEW FRIENDS--JUMPING A GRADE-- MET WITH SUCH POSITIVE COURAGE
YOU MADE US SO PROUD IN THE WAY YOU ADAPTED
MRS. WILLIAMSON SAID YOU WERE THEIR NEW CLASS ‘ASSETT’
THE ‘MR BEE’ SPELLING AWARD AND MANY MERITS LATER
WE ALL GOT HOMESICK-- BUT YOUR POSITIVE NATURE DID NOT WAVER
THE DECISION WE MADE TO RETURN TO CAPE TOWN
CAUSED YOU HEARTBROCKEN TEARS AND A PERMANENT FROWN
ONCE AGAIN A SAD FAREWELL TO YOUR NEW FOUND FRIENDS
RETURNING TO S.A. FOR OLD ONES TO MAKE AMMENDS
IT WASN’T VERY LONG THAT YOU PICKED UP WHERE YOU LEFT OFF AT ALL
ADDED TO YOUR TALENTS WERE NOW TEAM HOCKEY AND NETBALL
AS YOU APPROACHED THE FIRST OF YOUR TEEN YEARS
WITH YOUR LOOKS AND CHARM, INEVITABLY THE BOYFRIENDS WOULD APPEAR
SHOPPING, MOVIES AND MANY PARTY SLEEP-OVERS
CHOOSING TRUE FRIENDS AND DUMPING THE LOSERS
DANCE SHOWS AND DANCING EXAMS… YOU EXCELLED AT HIP- HOP
FUN AND OF COURSE THE DESIRE TO SHOP
THE END OF JUNIOR SCHOOL-- THE FINAL ASSEMBLY—AWARDS
TROPHIES FOR SPORTSMANSHIP AND YOUR S.R.C. PRIZE GOT MANY APPLAUDS
SAD FEELINGS AT LEAVING YOUR OLD SCHOOL BEHIND
EXCITEMENT AT STARTING HIGH SCHOOL WOULD SOON COME TO MIND
NO PROBLEM TO YOU, IT WAS ALL JUST A BREEZE
AS YEAR BY YEAR YOU CONTINUED TO ACHIEVE
SWIMMING AND ‘A’ TEAM HOCKY MATCHES ON THE ASTRO TURF
YOU EVEN STARTED TO LEARN HOW TO SURF
FRIDAY AFTERNOON CHRISTIAN MEETINGS AND EVENING CHURCH YOUTH
WE WERE SO HAPPY YOU FOUND GOD AND HIS TRUTH
THE REST OF HIGH SCHOOL PASSED IN THE BLINK OF AN EYE WHILE
YOUR LIST OF ACHIEVEMENTS REMAINED EXCEPTIONALLY HIGH
YOUR ORGANISATIONAL SKILLS WERE ASTOUNDING
COPING WITH TOUGH SUBJECTS LIKE MATHS, SCIENCE AND ACCOUNTING
IN HOCKEY AND SWIMMING YOU MADE THE TOP TEAMS
NO SURPRISE AT ALL THAT SWIMMING COACHES MOVED IN ON THE SCENE.
THEY CULTIVATED YOUR TALENTS FROM STRENGTH TO STRENGTH
EVERY YOUR NIGHT YOUR PASSION SAW YOU DOING MANY LENGTHS
WEEKENDS OF GALA’S AND NATIONAL SWIMMING
S.A.SHORT COURSE, YOUR P.B’S, AND FAIR SHARE OF WINNING
TOGETHER WE CELEBRATED YOUR PLACE IN W.P. SCHOOL CHAMPS THAT YEAR
SO PROUD OF OUR BEAUTIFUL SWIMMER ALWAYS AHEAD OF HER PEERS
FIRST YEAR AT UNIVERSITY YOU BECAME SO INDEPENDENT
STARTING YOUR STUDIES AS A B.Sc. STUDENT
IT WAS ALSO THE YEAR YOU LEARNED TO DRIVE
GOT YOUR LICENSE—DAD SPOILT YOU—NEW CAR—RESPLENDENT
YOUR FAITH AND TRUST IN THE LORD STILL REMAINS FIRM
AS YOU WALK AND GROW SPIRITUALLY DAILY WITH HIM
SO MUCH HAS CHANGED, AND YET SOME THINGS REMAIN
YOU BEAUTY AND TALENTS SO EASILY MAINTAINED
YOUR LOVE OF SWIMMING AND OUTSTANDING ACHIEVEMENTS IN WATER
YOU KNOW WE WILL ALWAYS BE YOUR NO. 1 SUPPORTERS
AND NOW YOU ARE 21, SWEETHEART
YOUR WHOLE LIFE AHEAD OF YOU-- TODAY IS JUST THE START
IT SEEMS LIKE JUST YESTERDAY THAT YOU WERE BORN—
OUR DAUGHTER~LOVES BRIGHT SHINING LIGHT~ WE ADORE
YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND TALENTED IN EVERY WAY
WISHING YOU GOD’S RICHEST BLESSINGS ON YOUR SPECIAL DAY
HAPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY TO OUR BABY GIRL
TO HAVE YOU AS A DAUGHTER HAS BEEN A REAL PLEASURE
-YOU HAVE AND ALWAYS WILL BE OUR MOST BEAUTIFUL TREASURE-
(FOOTNOTE: OUR DAUGHTER WILL BE 23 THIS YEAR, HAS COMPLETED HER BSc. AND HONOURS DEGREE’S IN PHYSIOLOGY AND GENETICS AND NOW DOING HER MASTERS DEGREE IN EXERCISE SCIENCE. SHE IS ALSO A PROFESSIONAL TRIATHLETE—DOING SWIMMING, CYCLING AND RUNNING AS ONE DISCLIPLINE)
Long poem by
Victor Alexander | Details |
They were the best of friends to the best of friendship
They did everything together to the best of friendship
The three wise men that came together from different locations
One from the north, one from the west, the other from the east
These three friends has three different lands in different locations
Trees with different fruits filled their lands; it is a feast
The three friends visited each others farmland anytime they wish
Everything was perfect; there was never any cause to quarrel
The friendship was intact as palm fruit to the hand of a squirrel
So close they live close; always friends.
These friends have another friend that has a brother; both from the south
The three friends met this southern friend and his brother at different time and place
One friendship linked to another friendship and they all became friends
The friend from the south also has a farmland that the friends were free to visit
The five friends have many things in common that brings them regularly together
Everything bound by the seek for fun; anything that gives fun is welcomed
Even though these five friends are close, some are more close to another
The friend from the east is closer to the friend from the west
The friend from the north is closer to the friend from the south
The closer they lived close; still same friends.
There are two or more special trees in the different farmlands of the friends
Since these friends visits each others farm, they became automatic friends with the trees
These special trees are all matured with fruits; anyone can pluck and eat them
These friends have special trees they feed on their fruits from other people’s farmland
There was no rule not to feed on the fruits of the special trees in the friends different farmlands
Somehow it feels natural not to desire fruit from the special trees of the friends’ different farmlands
Nobody said but it seems natural that the fruits in the special trees the their friends farmland is sacred
Believing fruits in the special trees are sacred, there was a natural limit to interaction with the special tree
You can see and talk to the special trees but never to touch and pluck its fruits let alone eat it
Any outsider can pluck and eat the fruits of the special trees but out of bounds for friends.
It happened that the friend from the north has a liking for all special trees irrespective of where it is
It’s interesting to know that every special tree has a liking for the friend from the north irrespective of who he is
This friend from the north got close and closer to the special trees in his friends different farmlands
The friend from the north became more of a friend to the special trees more than his friends
Two special trees became more attached to the northern friend; they don’t mind giving out their fruits to him
The friend from the north asked his friends if it’s okay to pluck and eat the fruits of the special trees in their farms
The friends responded its okay so far they remain unaware when he starts plucking and eating from the special trees
For the northern friend, he has been issued a Go-ahead warrant to pluck and eat as much as he can
The friends were insincere with the approval given to the northern friend he cost them much
They really cared about the special tree so much they can’t let anyone eat it not even friends.
As days passed, the northern friend plucked and ate the fruits of the special tree in the western friend’s farmland
Time come time pass, he plucked and ate the fruits of the special tree in the eastern friend’s farmland
The two special trees grew very fond of the northern friend; they over-fed him more than he asked
The two special trees are ignorant that they are both eaten from; they hear the rumors and ignore it
The northern friend grew very fond of the special trees that he weeds their surroundings
The two special trees are struggling to make sure he ate from only one of them; he ate from both
The special tree from the west forced him to commitment with a promise to feed him all season
The special tree from the east is confused, just doesn’t know what to do as its owner is acting boss
The northern friend still feeds from other special trees; this northern friend has sworn to gluttony
With a smile and an innocent look; the weeds beg to feed him their grasses all through the season.
These friends shared many things in common but some things can never be shared
They can’t share the special trees they feed on and they can’t share the ones in their farmlands
The northern friend plucking and eating grew out hand; the western and eastern friend can no longer tolerate it
One common predator that preys on their farmland; ravaging, plucking and eating recklessly
They tried every strategy possible to stop the northern friend’s quest for ‘feed me more’
These efforts was a waste; when the friends don’t visit, the special trees visit, feeding enhanced
Since all solutions failed; the western and eastern friend proffered another solution
Draw line to the friendship; desist from visiting the northern friend’s farmland
No longer close friends, they exchange fake smiles and other pleasantries
End of friendship for the best yet the feeding continues for the worst.
Long poem by
Poetryof Providence | Details |
I remember the beach sand and swing
when you and mother were still something
I remember the ducks in the lake
you held my hand watching their wake
I remember the sheep dogs when the day was through
and the mornings grass all covered with dew
I remember the dead man and blood on the floor
my hand in my mothers as she went for the door
I remember the stairs I thought I’d fall through
and the building where she was hidden from you
she tried drowning me in the bath and the tub
her hands on my throat on the dining room rug
the pain of the walls where my body flew
the floor of the closet when she was through
I remember you entering the door
as you picked up my body from off the floor
the words were so ugly I’ve forgotten them now
but things haven’t changed much anyhow
I remember the willows and switches not few
a home not mine and the children were new
a string of families never seeming to end
the abuse and the beatings I’m not on the mend
I remember the the rage and the red flushed face
what did I do to fall from your grace
I remember the fear when I tried to hide
the man and the 2by4 when it hit my side
the bruise and welts with noone to care
my mother and father aren’t even there
I remember the family that took me in
they had no daughter just two young men
one boy was loving the other was slime
but the parents protected me most of the time
I was safe for awhile with nightmares not few
and some of my demons she helped to slew
I remember you taking me home at last
you had remarried some six months past
I remember the woman was cruel and mean
she remained that way till I was sixteen
At fifteen I had been already raped twice
the drugs and pills and the wrist yet to slice
I remember the police to the hospital sped
the straight jacket and thorazine I should have been dead
I remember the airplane that sent me away
with my half brothers mother I was to stay
my neck with a forearm pinned to the wall
my half brothers brother screaming he will have all
I remember the screaming as I flew down the stairs
his violence had caught me totally unawares
the pain as he smashed me on the walls of the hall
the kicks in the ribs after my fall
the nine months I walked in a state of fear
how I passed my classes is very unclear
I remember the man when I hitched into town
the car was a sedan of dirty brown
the doors had no handles no way to get out
he pulled out a knife and proceeded to shout
how he would cut me and make me bleed
if I didn’t fill some sort of need
how I grabbed the wheel for steering the car
when he slammed on the brakes down the road not far
when he slid out the door by the side of the road
it seemed to me that all time had slowed
he released me with curses not language unknown
from the cage of his car this bird had flown
I remember the man preaching justice and truth
but to find answers one must become sleuth
I remember the marriage and I made him swear
that to hit or harm me he must never dare
I remember the baby with curls of gold
by seventeen to marriage my father me sold
I remember the lapses of time I had lost
the forge of my youth and the price it had cost
the thread that kept me alive was so thin
in my mind it was always me against him
I remember the children that helped keep me sane
with some sort of focus with the man I had lain
I remember the striving for some sort of truth
what kind of a mother my children had in their youth
I remember it all so plain and clear
that violence from men will always be near
I swore at sixteen no child to have
if you couldn’t play safely with joy and a laugh
forgive me my children for bringing you here
the reasons I do things are sometimes not clear
My parents are gone and I do not mourn
but only for the life I was never shown
I did try to spare you the same kind of fate
I hoped that my love would be never to late
I had no control of the time or the chance
that injustice would look upon you with his glance
I raise my eyes to the heavens and vent to his name
to save all the children who are yet put thru shame
In a blast furnace my life has been forged
the tool of the hammer has formed my discourse
in molten metal I have been shaped
the tool of another I have not escaped
what of the purpose he hopes to hew
a piece of equipment all shiny and new
I remember my maker and the state of his grace
the road laid before me and the words of his face
the view of my nature he seeks to tame
with so many others who walk in the flame
in wails united to pull heaven down
and with its brightness scour the ground
his promise to do so has not yet passed
when all of mankind will feel his blast
the call has gone forth the meaning is clear
to give an accounting is so very near
those who think themselves high shall be made low
the dust of the earth their destined to know
the one that I follow has carved out the path
his star has shown brightly beneath thorn and the lash
I reach my arm forth to take hold his hand
to walk among humans woman and man
he paints a clear future for those of us all
a paradise lost to man in his fall
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC
Long poem by
Debbie Guzzi | Details |
Close your ears, close your eyes and pray to me
for, as close as this, you may never get to God.
What immortals have you hoped to see? What espirit
de corp have you longed for? Who will guide your earthly plod?
Kiss me for I have kissed the lips of Lestat,
nipped and pricked, punctured and sucked to husks,
occasionally with regret, but more often lust's ascot
what once was I, reveling in your taste, your musk.
As Louis, I beguile with tawdry tales surreal
visages of plantation nights, horror of the color green,
Letiche roaming creatures who our trails conceal,
the true demons whose glamour goes unseen.
Yes, I prayed for death, wrapped in the pain of lost kin
but, by God I never wished, I never wished for Him.
But, by God, I never wished, I never wished for Him.
Eternity alone is such a hollow thing, unripe,
never, ever, feeling full, a marrow-less bone, scrim-
shaw's sorry surface, a sperm-less whale to pipe.
Such as this was He, when him came to me that mid-
night, pleading, bleeding, ever feeding morbid life.
A cameo on cowry shell, with skin which bid
the touch of cheek on cheek to assuage my grief
to fill the brother-less gap the lack of wife.
This is how he lured me to the kill, the blood spilled
how fire and innocence flamed when he arrived.
Do not hate me for the fate his kiss instilled
Surely, a family is the normal thing to long for
alive or dead to long for an espirit de corp.
Alive or dead to long for an espirit de corp
crestfallen at the lack of hearth and home, pride
we hidden monsters kill what we adore, and more ...
leaving us in marble crypts with no warmth inside.
Then He saw her, the child beside the corpse of mother
half dead, the pox upon her face, amidst the tears
certainly to save her was His goal, what other?
But now I think her savior - a most foul affair.
Claudia, the child eternal, bidding, unformed blight,
monster among monsters, her wee wicked formed unbudded
curdled, curling ever inward, a trickster charming night
stalker, dragging porcelain dollies by her side.
Daughter mine? Temptress, maker-killer, unformed bride
have you killed your father, dumped him in a swampy hide?
Have you killed your father, dumped Him in a swampy hide?
Years you've planned and plotted, Lestat to defy and I
absorbed in misspent fantasy with you; my fate allied.
Damned one, poisoner, death angel, do you deny
the desecration of the His unmoving vessel,
fed to the fishes, the bottom feeders, oh but He made do ...
absorbed recaste, laid in wait each hungry cell.
We fled the patricide, you and I sought others of
our kind. What gruesome, ill bred misfits the world held
and so hardening the unbeating heart ... beloved
to mankind we returned as if compelled.
To the core of life and lore to Paree, to the bloody stage
the Theatre des Vampires is home. Mockery's the rage.
The Theatre des Vampires is home. Mockery's the rage.
Do you see them now? Four hundred years and Armand
has not changed. See them lure the human meat upstage
with laughter. Reality's the rage and oh the blood coined.
"How gauche!" our petite Claudia sighs, the excess in
gore and waste. But, the coven has my Armand's grace.
For Claudia, Madeleine the doll maker dies, reborn
to mother the horrific woman 'neath this childish face.
A family formed again when Lestat steps in alive and
the coven lets the sun take Claudia and Madeleine.
I entombed, walled in, buried alive, if not for my Armand.
Their ashes, oh my dears, in death entwined.
I burned the lot of them within their caskets, burnt alive;
the curtain fell yet there was still Armand and I.
The curtain fell yet there was still Armand and I.
I could nor forget, would not forget, the fate of Claudia
of which he was no small part, it was a small lust easily untied.
Home was all I wanted, the damp, the swamp, the bougainvillea
sickened of my Old World haunts, all I wanted was home.
Never, never would I make another, a comfort I decline.
Let the modern age wonder where it is I roam;
penance unearned and ungiven in the shadows I hide.
I can not live, I can not breathe, death's my only company
my wife, my child, my brother, so many others. The living dead
is what we're called, Vampire, do you pity me?
Lestat "Do you see me? Your sight I dread!"
West coast, golden gates Baghdad by the bay
in the bars I linger where men are men, aren't they?
In the bars, I linger, where men are men, aren't they?
I find you here, or you find me? I bare my soul to
you of lessons learned, of men, of plays, ah cabarets.
"What do you do, what do you say, you writer you ...
two footed harridan of clay? You long for the eternal kiss
as if the bliss of life was so very little to pay.
Fool that you are ... not in life or death would you be grist
a waste you are, a mortal led so far astray.
No passion's left, no fond memories ... but her golden hair.
Perhaps, I'll take a taste of you, foolish fop, and sigh;
no immortal will I make. On the floor, I will leave you there
refuse beside the pages, the sordid tales as my reply.
As my lips close on your throat, heaven's absentee,
close your ears, close your eyes and pray to me.
Long poem by
Brian Johnston | Details |
Harvest time was winding down,
I was taking lunch in town,
After spending six long hours plowing stubble.
Washing up I met a man,
Guessed he was a harvest hand,
His combine crew, he said, was fixin’ to move out.
He was wearing dungarees,
We exchanged some pleasantries,
His grease stained clothes revealed he’d no fear of trouble
As I left to join the crowd,
Well, the cafe was quite loud,
Chose a corner seat where I would not need to shout.
From my new seat had a view
Of the whole room’s retinue,
Men and women who make a livin’ from the dirt.
A table seating seven,
Which could have held eleven,
Was where my new acquaintance waited for his lunch.
A young woman with three girls,
Blonde hair all done up in curls,
Joked with and teased an older boy with a clean shirt.
The youngest seemed the cutest,
Still with girls there’s no sure test,
It was clear that these seven were a charming bunch.
Well quite soon our meals arrived,
As I ate I still contrived,
To simply take in all the action I could get,
Even though I felt quite blest,
How I longed to be their guest,
What a gift to be their dad, uncle, or brother.
Then, ‘Oh God, ’ there came a shock,
And it hit me like a rock,
As this loving mother smoked her first cigarette.
It was like my best friend died
And deep in my heart I cried
As quietly she lit up and smoked another.
Excuse me if I’m unkind,
But all this brought back to mind,
A smoking relative whose life was soon to end.
Her choice couldn’t be undone,
For her daughter and a son,
Her addiction's death came too late with no one spared.
God has a lien on my heart,
He promised we’d never part,
Required just that I serve Him by being a friend
To others in my pathway,
(Whether they’re pure bred or stray)
My most personal assets always to be shared.
I felt God’s call to action,
But doubting words had traction
I had a C-note that I concealed in my hand,
Walked to the group of seven,
Prayed all the time to heaven,
And as a joke said, ‘Are you all on safari? ’
Told them I was a farmer,
And attempting to charm her,
Praised her family in some ways I’d fore planned,
She beamed at the attention ,
Was surprised when I mentioned,
That I also had designed games for Atari.
I said, ‘You might think this strange,
But do you have plans to change
Your smoking habits? You smoked two after eating! '
She smiled, ‘Of course I’d like to.
But somehow I never do.’
I opened my hand, ‘It’s yours if you’ll quit today! ’
I knew she could feel the Love,
With one source, from God above,
It guided her heart to miraculous meeting.
She looked at my outstretched hand,
Crying, ‘I don’t understand,
This can’t be happening to me, there’s just no way! ’
She still couldn’t quite believe,
And with heart out on her sleeve,
She looked up at me and said, ‘You’re kidding, aren’t you? ’
I answered, ‘Give me your word,
That these changes have occurred,
That you will never smoke again, and all is good! '
She turned to her three daughters,
As if to check the waters,
Asked them, ‘Should Mommy bid her cigarettes adieu? ’
Well the girls all screamed out, ‘Yes! ’
And I really must confess,
The mother’s smile convinced me she too understood.
She didn’t try to hedge her bets,
Handed me her cigarettes,
She took some paper and a pen out of her purse.
I guess I looked kind of blank…
‘Write down who I have to thank, ’
She said, ‘I want to write and tell you how I’m doing.'
As I handed back my name,
She said, ‘Oh look! They’re the same! '
And I found myself rejoicing, ‘I have done worse.’
Fifteen years though now have past,
Oh, My God, they went so fast,
There’s been no word, but no doubts am I pursuing.
On returning to the field,
My work’s promise was to yield
A speedy death to any green weed still growing.
I have farmed now many years
Know just how to shift the gears
Of a tractor which out-pulls five hundred horses.
Things were going pretty good,
When, by landing on the hood
A sparrow made a mockery of all knowing.
To start off the hood is hot,
A place to rest, it is not,
Yet he seemed quite content as I ran my courses.
Engine’s roar did not phase him,
Its harsh sound sure was no hymn,
I was plowing fast over ground that was quite rough.
He’d bounce forward and then aft,
Even slide in the cross draft,
But it seemed like the little sparrow did not care.
I thought maybe he is sick,
Perhaps his brain isn’t quick,
Then I thought, ‘He likes me, ’ and I stopped feeling gruff.
Some days I serve sea gull schools
Circling my tractor’s dust pools,
A moving smorgasbord of insects that rise there.
My friend wasn’t there for food
Which helped establish a mood
Of brotherhood like I’d felt in the restaurant.
It felt closer to caring,
Something more than just sharing,
Though glass stood inbetween, his eyes stayed locked on mine.
If our dance was like a dream,
No enticement did I scheme,
The sweet gift of his presence wasn’t meant to taunt.
When at last he shook his head,
And into the sky he fled,
I understood, by God, his visit was divine.