You all should know my aim:
To hit the lasting fame.
I wasn’t made a lame,
Not, at present, Old Dame,
And great prizes could claim…
Men who to Peaks lay claim
Forget not strength would wane:
The once fleshy turns “Cane”
Exciting bubbles ‘Pain’,
Much labour “Little Gain”
The Sane “A bit insane”:
Soon, Towing Van with Crane…
Not washed away by Rain
Here, there or in Bahrain.
The whole shame, the whole Stain…
Don’t join The Delay Train.
A Poem for the Grey Shrike written on Earth Day 2016
At sunrise while asleep
I was called by a bird tweet
Like a childhood song
So sharp so sweet
Awoke. Washed. Dressed . Prepared to greet
But the voice got swallowed by the noise of the street
Oh son: let's go . This trip will go down a treat
Entered a beach garden. Green. Simple n Neat
The Mown grass was wet. And the son waded the feet
Despite the moist. Despite the light. Despite the heat
Scanned the shrubs & trees. Then heard the beat
Like a childhood song. So sharp so sweet
Sped and goggled. To see. To snap. To greet n meet
A silvery spot. Perching. Scanning. Landing to eat
A worm, an insect, a snake, a mouse or a piece of meat
It was a grey shrike. Mature. Strong. Hard to beat
Despite the moist. Despite the light. Despite the heat
Came to see. To hear the voice. So sharp so sweet
I like a book to take me
to a site by me unknown
though not necessarily
all that far from home
Though an action thriller
may land me in old Bahrain
'Discoveries in Neuroscience'
might reshape my whole brain
I like a book to teach me
something fresh, brand-new
What to feed my pet iguana
or how to build a canoe
Oh, what great glory
to curl up with an adventure story
or ponder viewpoints that inspire
And it's so comforting to know, for sure
~ I'll have more to read when I retire...
Visited Bahrain a few years ago and took the drive to the "tree of life" It struck me odd that there was nothing there but a small fence around it. Truly in the middle of nowhere though.
Submitted for the Landscapes and Towns Contest.
The Tree of Life
Secluded, alone in the midst of the sand
On top of a mound in a desolate land
Sits a single mesquite, a fabled old tree
How it survives and thrives is a mystery
There’s no water around for its roots to find
But there it stands tall and boggles the mind
It’s forlorn location, a quiet repose
Provides shade from hot sun with green hanging boughs
Isolated from all, not even a sign
To indicate it’s role in the annals of time
This Tree of Life as the stories are told
Is all that remains of the Eden of old
Am on my knees Father
Bearing in mind that you never sleep
Crying for those trapped in a foreign country
Dark days have befallen them
Equality rules broken, screwed humanity
Frequent hunger, little or no pay and slaving labour
Golden days are over for them
Having greener pastures and better opportunities
Is a dream that burnt on their arrival
Just want to go back home, even in poverty
Keeping their fingers crossed, for safe arrival
Looking forward to getting out of captivity, passports in hands
Making every effort because there is no place like home.
*For those suffering in places like Lebanon, Dubai, Saudi Arabia, Bahrain etc. After going for better opportunities/jobs but they end up in the hands of mistreating employers. They sign long contracts and their documents are taken. There are many cases of abuse and neglects, some reported & some unreported.
NB: not all employers are like that & there are those seeking greener pastures that come out satisfied*
The Sultan of sunny Bahrain,
was caught one day in the rain,
‘So soothing,’ he said,
as it splashed on his head
I hope it happens again.
The Sultan of sunny Bahrain,
now wants to stand in the rain,
‘I’m sure it will help,
to freshen my scalp,
let’s hope it happens again.’
The Sultan of sunny Bahrain,
still waits to stand in the rain,
‘I cannot be sure
it’ll occur once more,
but I hope it happens again.’
The Sultan of sunny Bahrain,
is sure he will stand in the rain,
the temperatures showing,
it soon will be snowing,
it surely it will happen again.
The Sultan of sunny Bahrain,
is standing once more in the rain,
‘Life feels so complete,
now it’s washing my feet,
I so hope it happens again.’
My prayers not in vain,
It rains,
In Bahrain!
"then they get into this....
we love the way the
sunshine through the
diamond ring and
real delicatto
so, you made your $20
and grabbed your line
you end up in Bahrain
it's illegal now to be a kid
no matter what, once, was did
no longer allowed, they now forbid
put a sock in it, slam down the lid
there was a time, that many know
when it wasn't so
and kids romped wildly, to and fro
from yard to wood to overflow
across the day, squealing joy
the privilege of the hoi polloi
no silvered girls or golden boys
everyone was the real McCoy
and played innocent because they were
devious played plans did not occur
because life was all a sharpened blur
of play day friends in all grandeur
now, many lament of days gone by
when innocence was a feast whereby
kids grew flying clear-blue sky
to adults who can't see eye to eye
in fact those times - they still are
no adieu uttered - no au revoir
no quench of light from brightened star
childhood's about being a kid, so far
so kids are kids the whole world over
L.A. to Bahrain to country farms all over
they can see a day, fresh with sweet clover
to roll in, an' play on, an' lose their composure
kids don't have to remember that life's fun
they naturally want to summersault and run
it's been that way since time had begun
and will always be, 'til all time, is all done
© Goode Guy 2013-04-15
The spring is wilting, it's leaves of veins slit red and makeshift graves where truth once layed upon a bed of roses.
Those roses whose shoots once rose, through ashes of adversity now show no signs that the roots are even there; the blood has drowned it everywhere.
The petals are burning through the smog, which strangles voices in it's fog; the vegetation doesn't grow, it bellows in pain as the rockets rain another day.
The spring is wilting, the summer's doubtful if it comes. All time is ending; and no ears can hear a sound. The fires suffocate it all.
The glimmer of truth still skies the hope but still the peasants die; there isn't time to mourn their passing for here come yet more rockets from the sky.
Will there ever be a summer?
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
To the martyrs and innocents killed in Libya, Syria and Bahrain. Let us pray your deaths were not in vain and that the world will see a summer come again.
There was an old camel from Bahrain
who sought adventures far off in Spain.
He made plans to sightsee
and ordered cups of tea
then danced the flamenco on the plane.
An American Marine
On tour in Bahrain
Falls in love with a Princess
Love is his blame
The lengths that he went to
To protect his Meriam
Bring her to his America
To live and be with him
For although she was a princess
She wanted more from life
A prisoner in her royalty
She left and became his wife
Because she was an illegal
Asylum she has sought
Lost in the system
She became a forget me not
In May 2001
A Green Card came her way
The 9/11 bombings
Their marriage in disarray
Then came that final hour
Divorce was on the cards
Las Vegas night life grasped her
Their marriage, now in discard
This became the end of their journey
They went their separate ways
What could have been of a lifetime
Distance has had its say
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-8.php
Tree of Life, stands in
A place completely free of
Water, and survives
This unique tree stands alone in the desert, about 2 kilometres (1.2 mi) from the Jebel
Dukhan, the highest point in Bahrain. It is considered a Natural Wonder.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/places.php