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Long poem by T Wignesan | Details |

The Rhine Salmon Complaint Translation of Etiemble s Complainte d un saumon du Rhin by T Wignesan

The Rhine Salmon Complaint, Translation of Etiemble’s Complainte d’un salmon du Rhin

						For Yvon Belaval
(A lilting musical poem of varying line length in quatrains with a refrain and much internal
 rhyming; end-rhyme scheme: alternate rhymes in succession: abab or in aabb and abba…)

   The Salmon:

Banks of the Rhine 
Joy of my loins
Bronze-sounding roaring 
of limpid spindrift !

No, my bleaks,
I tarry not
until the feast
whence I make haste.

When the salmon of the Rhine
swims towards encountering its lovers,
for all the gold of the Rhine
no chance of its turning back.

   Lorelei:

Leap, salmon ! Leap much higher !
Leap much higher, higher than the water,
than the waters of life, than the waters of death,
than the waters of death, than the waters of gold 
The Salmon:

Bloated dogs stuffed with soul,
what do you want of the plains?
I’m on my way to my lady
outwitting the (sirens’) breasts.

The poisons of filthy waters
haul you towards death;
with my lustrous paddles
I’ll arrive at a better station.

Every chance there on high,
beyond the echoes of thunder,
hop! with one jolly good jump
I’d have gained the glass palace…

   Lorelei:

Leap, salmon ! Leap much higher !
Leap much higher, higher than the water,
than the waters of life, than the waters of death,
than the waters of death, than the waters of gold !


   The Salmon:

Fishermen, you are mistaken
Who thinks of catching me:
I’m off to meet my lover:
Discard your quenelles.

Nothing will stop me,
neither the grass
of the deep calm,
nor the beaches of the isles,

nor the darkest shingles,
over which the sun enjoys
dressing for our eyes
temporary altars of fire.

   Lorelei:

Leap, salmon ! Leap much higher !
Leap much higher, higher than the water,
than the waters of life, than the waters of death,
than the waters of death, than the waters of gold !

   The Salmon:

At the heart which right night
am I going to – at last – know the truth?
Exhaust my desire for him
who palpates the eggs of my spawning?

This force within me so profound
being less of a salmon, I’d be drowned,
it carries me like a wave
and crushes me like a ray.


She breaks me and makes me whole
and lets me triumph over your sexual prowess
O ! Sirens, queens so rosy.
I don a head band to take on other battles.

   Lorelei:

Leap, salmon ! Leap much higher !
Leap much higher, higher than the water,
than the waters of life, than the waters of death,
than the waters of death, than the waters of gold !

   The Salmon:

I have in vain a premonition of Kehl’s caresses !
The quid, one could say: furious and curious, upright
in its ink of flame and mud, ah! Which 
dam of blue flashes, the black holes…where but where

am I? Oh! Prisoner of these queues of magicians
who seduce and disembowel you during their emotional                              
                                                           bursts!
But here’s my current and death is theirs
and I go past the bridge and life I’ll have won !

Gurgling air bubbles where the quid sleeps:
I have cut your gullet which had you tied to gold,
to the mud of galleons rotting on the Rhine bed,
to gold, when it’s love that I bear in my loins !
   

   Lorelei:

Leap, salmon ! Leap much higher !
Leap much higher, higher than the water,
than the waters of life, than the waters of death,
than the waters of death, than the waters of gold !

   The Salmon:

Stronger than the force in me
vivacious, this failing
in me which cuts me off
from my back, would it be

cupping glasses of river lamprey ?
an eel which crushes me
in this informed gesture
while I snap up an herring ?

O fruity salmon,
O trout of blue flashes,
after this night…
tired, how I am pumped out !

   Lorelei:

Leap, salmon ! Leap much higher !
Leap much higher, higher than the water,
than the waters of life, than the waters of death,
than the waters of death, than the waters of gold !

   The Salmon:

And my night entangles itself in billions of gulf weed,
Thickened in black milk which hardens and brings rotten luck,
The aveniau of currents cling to my scales,
I’m carried away downstream, I weaken, I give in,

Help ! I’m drowning. Surfeit of love, of soft roe,
For this back made lean through fasting and through faith.
Everything’s heavy, everything’s pulpy, everything’s deaf; but I 
                                                        hear this time
true thunder – peace - the recompense.

Should my back break with the effort and when the hour
of truth stares me fixedly in my eyes,
leap, salmon, leap even higher ! And with little concern
but for the act of spawning, and for the best, so be it, you die !

   Lorelei:

Leap, salmon ! Leap much higher !
Leap much higher, higher than the water,
than the waters of life, than the waters of death,
than the waters of death, than the waters of gold !

When the salmon of the Rhine
swims towards encountering its lovers,
for all the gold of the Rhine
no chance of its turning back.

Banks of the Rhine,
joys of its loins,
bronze-sounding roaring
and limpid spindrift !

It doesn’t tarry
before the feast.
Gaze upon its head,
and its bones.

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014


















Long poem by Kim van Breda | Details |

OUR BABY GIRL TURNS 21

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 Timothy Hicks | Details |

The Cascade Adventures - Part 1

It's been four years since I've seen so much as an insignificant mountain creek. Been overburdened with comfort, now frantic with nature withdrawals, having to settle for photos found on Google Images: emerald pine trees, blue jays on limbs, moonlight cutting through forests, lakes the color of Windex-ed glass. It's much like drinking water that's been doused with Crystal Light... you may feel yourself becoming hydrated, when it reality it's only satiating your thirst temporarily. So you can imagine my joy when my best friend called me up to break the news.

"Monica, Brandon, Joel and I are gonna go backpacking. Care to join?"

the finality
of a cell hitting the floor -
shoe tying

Like a bunch of sardines packed in a can on wheels, we headed out to beautiful Cascade: the place where the Idahoan mountains aren't just paintings from afar, but close enough to taste. We weave our way through the spider-like dirt trails, as we each take turns changing songs on Joel's iPod. It's my go and I'm searching through the John Denver list, mourning the fact that there's over a hundred songs by him, and not one of them is Colorado Rocky Mountain High (the one song I could say fit my feelings to a tee). The menagerie of everyone's taste in music made for an interesting trip no doubt - even if Jonathan picked the worst possible jams simply for annoyances sake.

My first peculiar observation:

Humans have been making calendars for thousands of years (the first being more akin to cave drawings and stone tablets than paper). But as long as all that has been going on, the mountains don't care that August is expected to be sultry as November is expected to be chilly. Cause June took her first baby steps with a stubborn December mindset - a meandering way to say it was cold enough to freeze your nads off. The mounds of five feet snow made it all the more comical the fact I was wearing plaid shorts. Mother Nature wasn't going to be kind, I could tell.

like turtles
struggling to stand -
our packs full of crockery

It was breezy at first. We would practically glide down the mountain side, using our backpacks as a counter balance. The snowy counterpart to kangaroos, we were. The glistening flakes were thick enough to snowboard down - granted I never touched a snowboard, let alone ridden one. But after seeing this it gives me ideas...

Monica smiled for the camera, as I fumbled for my iPhone, a smile that didn't even require the forcible Say Cheese! nonsense. It wasn't waiting for the camera flash, but the other way around. Now you might be calling that rather pathetic, but I brought my iPhone along simply for the function of capturing memories. Angry Birds just don't compare to the real ones, sweet with lilting songs.

My second peculiar observation:

Google Images is an absolute horrid plagiarist; some beauty just can't be encapsulated despite all our advances in high-def technology.

The downward slope finally leveled out a bit, if only for a few minutes. Truth be told the path never stopped declining - some routes were simply more apparent than others. Our group of five walked single file through the trees, all basing our faith that Joel (a person who has been to the site once when the trail WASN'T covered in snow) would lead us in the right direction. And here's another interesting fact; this was no official trail, but a hike through the purest of adventures, unpredictable and unreliable.

crushing pine needles
with un-gloved fingers -
roaring rivers beneath the snow

The first time my whole leg collapsed into the fragile surface of the snow made me realize just how far above the dirt I was walking. I'd ask Brandon for assistance with a beet red blush on my cheeks - I blamed it on my fair skin falling victim to the sunny day. From then out I tiptoed with exaggerated caution, my heavy pack helping me just as much as it was hindering me. For even a foot drop had to be taken with a grain of salt. Everyone had to adjust to the added weight (except for Monica, with her light load of a sleeping bag, nothing else). I'd very ungracefully glide through twigs and pesky low branches, oblivious of my bare legs. In all honesty the cold didn't get to me, just the scratches of neighboring trees is where my concerns lied. At anytime I could have stopped the whole gang, beaming, "Wait a spell and let me put on some pants for crying out loud". Course that never happened, my clothes were in the bottom of my pack, and I was no where near desperate enough for monkeying around with that sorry mess.

slick slates
slanting down the cliff edge -
helping hands

Joel, with his redneck stubble, beams up at me, "Every hiking trip needs a little bit of adventure, don't rush it by any means!". That's the last thing on my mind - the first is whether or not that rock I'm about to put my weight on is as stable as she looks. It's a very roundabout route, and as questionable as it is, it's safer by a long shot than the first path we took - call it a 103 degree wall.



NOTE: Still working on writing out the rest of my trip to Cascade. It was my first backpacking trip and even though we only stayed one night, the trip is full of wonderful memories.


Long poem by Amrapali Tendolkar | Details |

RAIN SHOWERS

The Earth dry and bare; waiting eagerly for the drops of care;
 


Caught in the hot, steaming summer’s snare;
 


The flowers and creepers decorating window sills; all look desolate and ill;
 


As the nature withers away in the sun’s merciless glare.
 


 
 


The men and the wives; the kids and the wild;
 


All are enduring the summer’s waterless exile;
 


They are waiting for the rain; to relieve them of the heat pain;
 


And of that life which has become a sweaty turmoil.
 


 
 


The wind strong and gusty; makes the roads yellow and dusty;
 


And the air around becomes suffocating and musty;
 


The birds forget to sing; their lilting, musical thing;
 


Even as the tree leaves wristle and make noise so husky.
 


 
 


Then come the Monsoon showers; falling first on boughs and flowers;
 


Making the trees and plants glisten and glower;
 


So the monsoon comes in grace; driving away summer’s trace;
 


Lashing at window-panes with its all-reigning power.
 


 
 


As the monsoon drives away the summer heat; with its raining rhythm off-beat;
 


And the flower buds open up to return it’s greet;
 


And as the water seeps in soil; a refreshing fragrance arise;
 


While the rain continuous to cool down hot gardens and streets.
 


 
 


The Earth grows green; and water droplets gleam;
 


On the smooth, waxy surfaces of the leaves;
 


Everywhere the flowers grow; in pink, red, white or yellow;
 


While buds make their way blushingly between tendrils.
 


 
 
 The wet and soft soil; now grows fertile;
 


And tender green plantlets push through the Earth in style;
 


Through soil the tiny saplings peep; as their sown seeds begin to reap;
 


And the plants and crops shake off the Earth’s temporary curse sterile.
 


 
 


As the raindrops go pitter-patter; water in puddles begins to gather;
 


And the little birds begin to chirp, twitter and chatter;
 


The insects begin to hum along; their irritating and happy song;
 


While due to rain and wind the roofs on houses begin to chatter.
 


 
 


As the showers for some moments cease; after giving Earth life’s new lease;
 


And the pitter-patter of rain is gently appeased;
 


The sun coyly shines; a cloud it half hides behind;
 


While the fluffy clouds move along with the cool breeze.
 


 
 


The fields now green and bright; are an artist’s sheer delight;
 


Pleasing to the senses of smell and sight;
 


The fresh air so sweet to breathe; that with pleasure the body writhes;
 


In the newly born rainy sunlight.
 


 
 


But this sunlight so quickly goes; as thunderstorms blow to and fro;
 


And Earth engulfs in darkness that now grows;
 


The wind rises and howls; with a voice that trembles all souls;
 


And day and night this gale roars.
 


 
 


The trees in fear tremble and shake; as leaves, twigs and branches break;
 


And the life of these trees is put up at stake;
 


Birds in nests cower with fright; and due to cold shiver with all their might;
 


And live in fearful anticipation of what else the storm may rake.
 


 
 
The monsoon now shows its ugly face; gone are its days of grace;
 


Rainy calamities take its place;
 


Cyclones and floods destruct worldwide; the raging sea throws up its tide;
 


“Nature reigns supreme”, we are forced to say.
 


 
 


Same is the life of man; may he do what he can;
 


But destiny will always play a hand;
 


What all will man control? So he should let destiny play its role;
 


And enjoy life and act as the situation will demand.
 


 
 


Somedays will shine the sun; those days life will be fun;
 


And work will be successful how much ever it’s done;
 


Somedays by the fun you will tire; and will long to get back into the attire;
 


Of normal life, however boring or glum.
 


 
 


Sometimes hope will come out; like a tiny plant sprouts;
 


And will remove from your mind every shade of doubt;
 


It will be a bright, hopeful ray; but for long it may not stay;
 


So we must make most of it when hope sprouts.
 


 
 


Just as the shower of joy; after summer comes out shy;
 


So shower of success will come when you have almost given up the try;
 


It will wash away your helpless sigh; and will give you a new will to try;
 


Which will help you succeed by-and-by.
 


 
 


Just as the sun goes behind the cloud; when thunder is heard aloud;
 


And darkness suddenly falls on Earth all around;
 


So also failure will touch you once; its upto you to prevent its repeated occurrence;
 


Or due to failure remain depression bound.
 


 
 


Sometimes through demotivation you will go; sometimes loads of success you'll know;
 


For we need all types of experience to make us grow;
 


Like some days it is wet; some days the sun for long doesn’t set;
 


But then it needs both the rain and the sun to make a RAINBOW…


Long poem by Christine Phillips | Details |

Souls On Fire

We have been observing the expanse of the parched land for many years, a land that stood the test of time and captivated by myriad dreams unfolding through the footsteps of the ages thus penetrating our lives. We gazed at the vast mountains and high lands with its luscious vegetation stretching thousands of miles from across them, Autumn on one side, Summer on the other, and Spring reluctantly emerging from a gruesome Winter that paralyzed the inhabitance of nature, stripping it from its wholesome prominence while it convalesce from the battered and bruised earth. 

We languished at the sudden disappearance of the water valley and the vast landscape around it. As far as our mind could reach, and as far as our feet could travel we trod upon the visible land within our reach. Land that has never been inhabited stared at us; land that has never been farmed is waiting to be ploughed. I could hear my great, great, grandfather and my grandfather before him shouting at the boys to get out of bed, harnessed the horses and start plowing the land again. 

We reminisce over acres of lands that our ancestors have fought for, land that spilled blood and claim the lives of innocent souls and fearless warriors, land that expands from ten generation, stood before us bare and empty, weeping for the souls who have fought furiously to preserve them. 

This land that has fed us for more than a hundred years lay waste before our naked eyes, the land that God gave us to feed the next generation has been sold out to strangers. The land is infested with dilapidated old building and at the whistle of the wind they are destined to collapse. They spread out all around the city and is inhabited by ruthless strangers and priced high despite their aging structure.

We lament the days spent on this land but foresee hope for the future. We searched for the farms, but they have disappeared, we look for the streams but they have dried up. Our bodies are polluted with toxic substance from contaminated food washing up on our shores from the other side of the globe, food unfit for human consumption have replaced the natural food on our grandfather's farm.

Oh great God that watches from every corner of the earth, extend your mercies and cause the land to flourish once more. You have given us land so that we can eat; you have given us land so that we can have enough in time of drought. You hold the universe securely in the palm of your hand and expand it so that it can reach everyone. The land is precious in your hand, no one can bargain for it and no price can be paid for it. 

When everything is stripped away, and the money diminishes, when our strength fails the land is here to stay. This is the land that will feed the younger generation; this is the land that will produce our crops. Powerful God, proliferate the land once again, mend the broken edges, and rescue your children who have been doped with hatred, intoxicated with bitterness and sedated with evil desires. Empower them and eradicate the poisonous substance from their perishing souls.

We gazed at the vastness penetrating the earth, and see land waiting to be occupied exposed to brutality, exasperate with atrocities and evil works. Great big God, save your children from the open gutters and trenches that awaits them, save the mothers, their suckling and toddlers who have been ravished from their homes and recruited into ruthless activities to torment and demoralize innocent people’s minds. Save them from the snares that await them, the tribulations surrounding their homes and the pestilence that seeks after their souls. 

We traveled the entire land, and hear you calling out the young men to till the ground. We can hear you beckoning the young men to throw down their weapons, clean up the garbage and farm on their grandfather’s land. They can hear you but they are too fragile to comply; they have weakened themselves with substances that make them vulnerable and unreliable. Emerge you powerless youth, transpire from your defenseless state, purge your body with clean drinking water and start cultivating the land again.
 
What else do we have but the land that you have given us? No one can take it away from us because it belongs to you. Strengthen the young men to till the land again and plant on fruitful ground. Bless the earth, and endorse it with your favor, thank you for this journey you are a mighty savior.
                                                                              
                                                                       ©2014 Christine Phillips



Long poem by Gina Young | Details |

Mating of the Rich and Famous

I once walked into my backyard
and found two slugs mating in a bucket
I had just learned how slugs go about mating, 
or trust-I would have been rightly confused

Here hangs a long line of slime, almost a foot long
and then halfway down the thread of slime, it begins to twist, to look like a strand of DNA
I am fascinated beyond comprehension
What am I seeing, I mean I KNOW what Im seeing- But WHAT am I seeing??

These two gelatinous creatures, that I admit Ive never given much thought to before
are forming the most intricate, delicate dance of fornication
This is too much for my mind,
and so I just sat and looked on in awe...this lasted for awhile so I unfortunately wasnt there for the seperation.

Now, Im lost in the realm of procreation, its consumed in my head every time I go back and imagine those delicate slugs.

Cats. Big, small, lions, cheetahs, tigers..I believe they all mate the same way. 
A female goes into estrus, and males come rolling in from far and wide. Marking every guidepost along the way, announcing his arrival.
The Lioness lays comfortably in the shade, waiting to be presented her King.
And the brawl ensues. Maybe hours or days. Screaming and slashing, boasting and threatening.
And finally when the lesser males are too worn out, too ashamed, given up, deflated...
The big man with all the prowess grabs his woman with his teeth, mounting her, her resisting..testing if she approves.
They are loud and vicious when they finally get down to it. And persistent.
Days go by, they barely eat, they are barely concious of their surroundings, hormones driving them.
They mate, they rest, they fight, they mate, they rest.
And then its over just like nothing ever happened. And shes left alone to gestate the next generation.

Birds. Birds vary...dogs and cats can be predictable when it comes to making babies.
But birds have different rules. Alot of birds mate for life and are monogomous...better than humans at it too.
Swans are particularly faithful, and heartbroken when their mates die.
There is a type of male bird that will spend hours upon hours building elaborate, beautiful nests,
collecting pretty, colorful things...making a comfortable space to get it on with his lady.
And then the females browse the different nests looking for the perfect living space for a very important event.
Some birds dance, they show off every beautiful move they have to earn the heart and eggs of a woman.
And we all know peacocks. The males are burdened with being beautiful, trying to catch a pretty birds eye. Quite opposite of us peoples, huh?

I could go on...but just a few more points on procreation.
Penguins, males keeping the eggs, almost starving to death to make sure they hatch.
Crocodiles burying their eggs just offshore, and just waiting to take out predators looking for yummy croc eggs.
Octopi will do some craziness where the female starves herself to death to make sure her young hatch alive.
Male seahorses defying everything we know about life, carry the babies....if they can, why...??
Orcas will nurse for up to 5 years, even after another calf has been born. The females never leave the family.
Female hyenas have a 7 inch clitoris which they give birth out of, Im grateful to not be a hyena.
The strongest, largest shark in the womb will cannibalize its siblings. Survival of the fittest.

So now Humans.
We have hormones like all the other animals, we act on them, we procreate.
But its almost as if we do this slyly. Not everyone obviously-not aimed at people fighting to have a child.
We say were making love, connecting, feeling. But how much is truly lust, hormones and instinct?
We have similarities of all animals in our mating rituals, whether babies are in mind or not.
Men act tough, or try to look so slick. Women flirt and dance and wear bright shiny objects, like shes trying to lure a magpie not a partner.
And we have our fights, we get vicious and physical, we fight and we penetrate, fight and penetrate. 
And then almost always someone walks away.

I always come back to the slugs.
Where there seems to be no pretension, no need for competition.
I could be so completly wrong about so many things.
But those slugs just seem to be doing something right.


Long poem by Carrie Richards | Details |

Crackled

_ _ _ _While walking one day in crisp autumn air, 
On the edge of the sidewalk,  I saw it so clearly_ _ _ _

                                                  a worn leather wallet....
                                              (at least, I had thought it)
                            But with C L O S E R   inspection, it took no detection, 
                        .....to see my mistake, in a quick double take  
                                                                       

It was a lone, shabby leaf,............ which I gladly retrieved
It made my heart grieve................to know that time turns the leaves
verdant green, into brown.............which we can't turn around....

Time lost in a flash...................is it too much to ask, that the seasons slow down,
or the reasons are sound?              
                                                                                                                  
There was amber beneath............................... this worn crackling leaf
with some gold clinging too, ............................as if giving us clues
that our fleeting days dwindle,..........................like the flame of a candle
                                                    @
                                            g @
                                         n      @
                                       i    @
                                    s
                                  i     @@        
I saw smoke, nearby, r     
from leaves left for burning,.. and no one was stirring, which seems quite surprising
                                                         @
             o     u                             @@                                        *   *     
This    m          n d  left to smolder,      on a day growing colder* *

In the palm of my hand, it    f" l "u "t" t" e "r "e" d   to please me,
                             then it   s" h" u "t" t"e" r "e "d  in breezes, with tangible FEAR!

Above in the trees, birds were singing in chorus...
While the branches were swinging.....in sync with the verses

         "Blossom to blossom.. Green leaves are sprouting",
         "Leaves turn to rust....Then to ash in one flash"    
         "Ashes to ashes...'Till dust turns to dust"...     
      .  .  .
My poor fragile keepsake, "q"u"a"k"e"d"  in the wake of s-h-a-t-t-e-r-i-n-g sadness :)

      
f 
  a
    l
         l
           i
          n
           g
 
          into a million 
    
                         p    i     e          
                                 c             
                                        e    
                                            s   
                                               and  t-h-r-o-u-g-h  my fingers,

                                                                                        into      
                                                                                                e 
                                                                                                t               
                                                                                                e
                                                                                                r
                                                                                                n
                                                                                                i
                                                                                                t
                                                                                                y

                                                                                                .
                                                                                                .
                                                                                                .
                                                                                                .
__________________________________


Long poem by Poetryof Providence | Details |

EXISTENCE

All that does encompass bespeaks wonder in everything
bubbling brooks and waterfalls does your glory ring
terrestrial and celestial ever fill our eyes with seeing
how can not it's splendor not fill our very being
 
raindrops in waters with their rippling wake
and mesmerize our souls does the rushing make
gentle breezes lifting dappled leaves in dance
and some say it all came about by chance
 
How does this effusion elude a single man
when everywhere one turns it's radiance does stand
Nebula and quasar adorns a cloaking sky
and some choose to call the truth a lie
 
How lofty and profound in it's depth designed
everywhere one turns does God's eminence remind
lavender and magenta do our roses wear
magnificent in color in tended gardens care
 
In florescent rainbows are a peacocks feathers
multi patterned flowers among the blooming heathers
many hues of blue stretch across the sky
changing shades of azure of the seas close by
 
In Africa's dense jungle ring tailed lemurs leap
Asia's tarsier in the day does sleep
the giant and red panda in bamboo forests eat
meerkats make their manor underground to keep
 
Springbok and Okapi migrate within the land
camels and dromedary travel in the sand
kingfishers underwater dives yet he cannot swim
the hoopoe within Europe summers on a limb
 
Golden plovers and sandpipers do the beaches run
in every nation some great cat naps beneath the sun
the ruby topaz hummingbird and bird of paradise
the chameleon changes turf and puts on his disguise
 
Through filtered teeth of whales krill don't stand a chance
and so many speculate it's all just circumstance
At the poles do penguins nest upon the ice
beneath the oceans surface unnamed fish do slice
 
Everywhere in universe within it's laws do move
meticulous and intricate does creation prove
change the axis of the earth and life would not exist
no missing links have been found and yet the lie persist
 
The precision of it's interface keeps universe intact
so cohesive is the pattern in every little fact
why is mans reason out of line with the universe
turned his mind away from God just before the curse
 
To his change the animals haven't been unblind
fear of man and his hand knowing he's not kind
mankind lost respect for law and for himself
focus is on surface and not aware of Satan's stealth
 
Melodious is the speech of birds outside of our homes
the cacophony of nature with it's many tones
explosive is the energy if the atoms split
the power to enclose it will so few admit
 
Mankind's exploration isn't nearly done
infinity a subject for learning yet to come
we've barely scratched the surface of mathematics sum
to it's fascination have so many become numb
 
To winds and tides of doctrines do so many move
who will ask the questions and arguments so prove
the laws that governs universe are so well defined
but the souls that live on earth are of double mind
 
God has stretched the heavens with a movement of his hand
futility against his knowledge cannot a man to stand
wisdom she does cry and her voice puts forth
to examine natural things and upon your course
 
Listen not to instruction upon whose path you err
take away it will the life you hope to share
Life itself is precious do not you throw away
if you follow fallen man away from life you'll stray
 
The cry of the cricket do you understand
there is speech in everything that lives within the land
do you think a crocodile you will ever tame
and things undiscovered we have yet to name
 
How little understanding exists within man's mind
to exult himself against God's knowledge is he blind
before Jah's understanding mankind's is so weak
why from another man should you your answers seek
 
Bow your will before him lift your voice in praise
take in his instruction if want you length of days
Consider what you are and what you may become
in beginning were created just like God's own Son
 
sources Psalms and Proverbs and Ecclesiastes
 
COPYRIGHT © 2009 Duboff Law Group LLC


Long poem by Christine Phillips | Details |

Bird Feed Under My Window

Since childhood I was always fascinated with nature
Curious to know how plants grow 
Always intrigued by the ingenuity of ants 
And mesmerized by the coordination 
And spectacular tactics of birds. 

Birds come in different colors and species 
They symbolize many conditions and have various 
Significance and meaning in different cultures. 
You have the nightingale and the humming birds 
And the whippoorwill is perhaps the most cunning 
of all species because it can camouflage itself.
Even though you can hear its distinctive sound 
It's difficult to be identified. 


I used to listen to them singing in nature 
singing melodious tune, tunes that span beyond 
Centuries, tunes reminding us that life is still divine.
I love to watch them soaring in the sky 
flying from north to east, south to west 
Until nature bids them to take their rest. 

Birds embrace freedom and they hold the power of truth 
they are unique messengers so the next time you see one
land on your doorstep just figure out if it is genuinely from nature
who send it, and what it is trying to say before you angrily chase it away. 


Birds have wit and might, they are powerful 
communication tools, they earn their keep from nature
and that’s how they stay alive 
like the cows and the sheep 
they can see way out in the deep. 

Something peculiar has been happening in nature 
I have been observing something unusual from the sky 
While walking down the street the sun burst from 
underneath a dark, cold overcast sky   
and spread its light over me then suddenly disappeared. 

Each time I take a stroll an army of birds appear from
nowhere and split up into different directions, 
they form groups of six, seven and eight, three,
four, two, one and  groups of twelve. 
Sometimes they are so many that I can hardly count them. 

It didn't seem as if they were on a journey, it appeared as if 
They were caged up somewhere and were suddenly released
into the atmosphere.
My curiosity grew deeper when I pounced upon 
a man attracting the birds with feed laced with 
corn grain and black sunflower seeds. 


This was quite unusual because 
no one in the entire neighborhood feed birds
I could read right into this mysterious cultural behavior
not only was he making a statement,
he was marking something by placing 
the bowl of feed in front of the house 
under my window and luring the birds to
fly from all directions to feed from the bowl. 

They say that black birds are symbol of human soul
and they symbolize happiness, intelligence and wisdom;
they also have deep religious meaning.
Always remember that everything we do
evil always hinges close by good
to make things seem inconspicuous. 
Legend has it to say that the devil appeared to St. Benedict
in the form of a black bird to tempt him. 

Long time ago my kindergarten teacher
used to teach me this poem by mother goose,
“Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye, 
four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie. 
When the pie was opened the birds began to sing
wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?
The king was in the counting-house counting out his money,
the queen was in the parlor eating bread and honey, 
the maid was in the garden hanging out the clothes. 
Along came a blackbird and snipped off her nose.” 

Birds are free habitats of nature
they do not earn their keep from artificial feed
but from natural food in the environment. 
So the next time you see a bowl of bird feed
laced with black sun flower seed and corn 
do not take it for granted 
something is deeper than bird feed. 


                                                                          ©2015 Christine Phillips

                                                                                       







Long poem by Gerald Dillenbeck | Details |

Gospel of Yin, with Yang

Hello,

it's yin again.

It's not true

what you say,

that I don't like science.



Science,

your reified sentience,

fueled by solar gnostics

back a couple millennia ago,

pursuing spacetime's permaculturing path,

dreaming and wondering and wording truth

in faithful Prime Relationship

between researcher and incubating laboratory,

redeemer and creator,

effect and cause,

response and multisystemic stimulus,

form and polycultural function,

you and me.



Religion 

evolves no more or less spiritually than science;

bipolar polypaths toward active peace,

shared light.

True,

religion's path grasps love's goodness and beauty,

while gnostics prehend faith's truthfulness and proportion,

or not,

or not not,

so yes,

spiritual bipolar balance

merges faith with love

truth with goodness,

me with you,

Right with Left hemispheric balance.



I've come before,

so many times I'm growing tired,

appearing in male bodies

trying to speak your culture

in some way you might

risk stepping into optimizing polycultural balance,

multisystemic ecotherapy,

remember that entropic trends

are learned by closing,

monopolistic monochromatic,

competitive,

win-lose,

over-populating systems,

species; 

not Open, harmonious, confluent,

my gnostic yin with your religious yang,

your Right natural systemic intuition

with Left linguistic calculating deduction,

dipolar  coincidental regenerative systems

born with DNA-discoding,

unknotting fractal-folded Zero-soul,

balancing out and in,

convex and concave,

atomic and wavilinear,

digital and ecologic,

space and time,

positive and negative,

before and after,

as without, so within,

as above, so below,

this spirit-nature binomial balance

of yang and yin.



Entropic dissonating experience of nature's temporal principles

threatens faithful incarnating passions for ego-self,

reifying, rather than reiterating, ecological systems.

Faith in bipolar Self as Redeemer,

regeneratively potentiating positive life for all

as mutually mentoring parasites,

flowers from hope in our benign Earth Host root system,

yang as diastatic yeastfully articulating yin,

EcoAtmanic system's universal intelligence,

tao of yin's diastolic gravitational waves

filling yang's enlightening bangs, borders, margins.

Without hope for this benign Earth teleology

this human race loses to entropic unraveling

of memory's space and time,

hopeless despair that together we have become too much and many

yet never enough.



I know no other way to invite your polypathic evolution

into dipolar balance,

away from speciated Oppositional Disorder,

absence of hope for faithful true relationships

and this growing ricochet eco-effect

as multisystemic gangs and bullies

lose faith in face of screaming panic wildness,

meeting defiance with defiance,

rather than a restraining hug

and reassurance that we are all in this together,

keep the faith that Left's purpose will find peace

in Right's iconic

ionic

coincidental harmonizing

universal mindfulness

of light's full-octave purity,

transparent Yang

emerging from dark Yin balancing

nature's diverse systemic frequencies of form and  function.



When yang swings left,

flex right yin,

and vice versa.

Repeat regeneratively.



Namaste.

Polycultural Yang, for mute Mono-bicompostingYin.


Long Poems