Best Colonial Poems
La capinera's wintering pieces of tropic tunes
The garden warbler's echoes of dark melodies
Post-colonial poets return by summering fortunes
Learnt by rote as sacred Oxbridge duties
Note
The French "pantoum" may be modeled on the Malay pantun,
or at least it may aspire to, but it does not adhere to its
fundamental compositional criteria. For the original prototype,
cf. T. Wignesan, "The Poietics of the Pantun" in Journal of the
Institute of Asian studies, Vol. XII, n° 2 (Chennai), March 1995,
pp. 1-15; reproduced with corrections in T. Wignesan. Sporadic
Striving amid Echoed Voices, Mirrored Images and Stereotypic
Posturing in Malaysian-Singaporean Literatures. Allahabad:
Cyberwit.net, 2008, pp. 49-67.
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2012
The colonial duty of an iron is to smooth the untamed grass into areas of growth.
Dismiss shell like existence and reveal the warrior within using the light bulb glow.
Dance. Dinner.
smoldering cattails
mosquito swarms kept at bay
gathering mussels
Fallacy....inappropriate fantasy
Fantasy.....anticipated reality
Reality.....imaginative stability
Stability.....exacting security
Security....forfeiture from fallacy......
Vain glory be hi-story......infamy be thy shame
baneful flourish from ruse historic,
enemies created to blame......
From the heart of their country to a new world they did sail
Over an expanse of ocean through storms and gales
They settled in New Amsterdam, this Dutch colonial place
To create a new world in their progressional space
Many years later after conflicts took their toll
New York was born, under British control
The gate to this city is passed by a lady so proud
A gift from the French, freedoms torch raised to her clouds
The Big Apple, this city in the year 2001
Where infidels and cowards tried to bring this gem down
But deep from their depths from the loss of their Twin Towers
Feel its heart and strength, its unity powers
Two hundred forty two
(12.1 score) years ago
countless stripling soldiers
strapping farming homeboys
healthy agrarian lads
raised among generations
in summer re:
offspring original settlers heirs
family acreage encompassed
wide uninterrupted forested swaths
across sprawling vistas
sparsely populated enclaves,
now heavily industrialized
lovely bones occupying
unmarked never known graves
buried amidst avast
cleft rapacious urbanization
long forgotten innocent youths
hailing within then bucolic
Montgomery, Delaware and Chester county
forsook their young precious lives
voluntarily promising sons
risking life and limb
more often former versus latter
sacrificing stripling flesh
encompassing urbanized tracts
quite familiar to yours truly
suddenly made aware
unbeknownst till yesterday
informative literary handiwork
titled "A Glimpse of Freedom"
engagingly written by Douglas Shupinski
details innocently naive country bumpkins
sacrificing potential sweat of brow,
albeit grueling labor
fostering holistic existence
transforming boyz to men
hardened green soldiers
into battle weary fighters
regarding, kickstarting, envisioning
inchoate cause named freedom
emancipating fledgling America
against British throne
awareness percolates,
perturbs, permeates psyche
synchronizing, manifesting, galvanizing
how past historical events
within close proximity,
where I mostly resided
since birth, now experience
absorption, communion, edification...
with dead souls
nearly deathly quiet
only most perceptive can detect!
Colonial master:
A lot was doing faster
Many stubborn chains able to loosen
Like the vessels whom Christ had chosen.
Colonial master:
Hatefully fought by Rasta
But they were also safeguarding Jamaican rights,
Which sometimes would their sanctity lose
In the darkness of tragic nights
At the hands of The Conquered by booze.
This Great Master though was a great slave
To every African cultivable soil
And ready to hysterically rave,
If we twice looked in the direction of our own crude oil
Ever willing to perish wherever it was in huge deposits:
An assertion of blacks and white being irreversible opposites
More than fifty years now he our bridges built,
Whose survival lengthen our Engineers’ guilt
For having worn the same bowler hats
And chances had to use the same enormous CATS
Beside daring to look as much decisive
In the rarest of bow ties, very massive!
First we Cain 'em
~ That dis-Abels 'em
Though I posted the following poem
(B)efore (C)ovid, a sense
of glee donned my being
the notion arose to trumpet anew
said literary handily crafted endeavor.
Not far from here – Perkiomen Valley -
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
regular folks going about their business
unwittingly participated in history,
a couple scant few years
after the American Revolution.
Two hundred forty three
(12.3 score) years ago
countless stripling soldiers
strapping farming homeboys
healthy agrarian lads
raised among generations
unseasoned lads in summer re:
offspring original settlers heirs
family acreage encompassed
wide uninterrupted forested swaths
across sprawling vistas
sparsely populated enclaves,
now heavily industrialized
lovely bones occupying
unmarked never known graves
buried amidst avast
cleft rapacious urbanization
long forgotten innocent youths
hailing within then bucolic
Montgomery, Delaware and Chester county
forsook their young precious lives
voluntarily promising sons
risking life and limb
more often former versus latter
sacrificing stripling flesh
encompassing urbanized tracts
quite familiar to yours truly
suddenly made aware
unbeknownst till yesterday
informative literary handiwork
titled "A Glimpse of Freedom"
engagingly written by Douglas Shupinski
details innocently naive country bumpkins
sacrificing potential sweat of brow,
albeit grueling labor
fostering holistic existence
transforming boyz to men
hardened green soldiers
into battle weary fighters
regarding, kickstarting, envisioning
inchoate cause named freedom
emancipating fledgling America
against British throne
awareness percolates,
perturbs, permeates psyche
synchronizing, manifesting, galvanizing
how past historical events
within close proximity,
where I mostly resided
since birth, now experience
absorption, communion, edification...
with dead souls
nearly deathly quiet
only most perceptive can detect!
Nails, loose nails!
Boards, banging in the wind.
Mast sways through storm
Brace sails till dawn!
Shackles tear at their skin!
Sea. Damn Sea water tries to break in.
Shackles bent out of shape
Bones broke and scarred in its cruel and violent quake. Hatch. Hatch - close and keep them there down.
Nails bang in and bang then boards down!
Holes fixed where sea caused them to drown.
Fresh Cargo, sign here! Yes sir, this time I promise it will be; a more profitable transport of these slaves over the sea.
A writer whose writings are meaningful
A writer whose words are bold
A writer who writes for the well-being of fellow men
A writer who shows you who you really are
A writer who is stable and soft delight
A writer who is creative and Scotch Brite.
Note. A colonial writer is like an artist who produces a picture of a colony.
One country controls an another is colonization, This process of power leads to imperialism, Is it benefitting our mother nation?, Modern thinkers feel it as an act of barbarism.
Indians were nearly 200 years under the crown rule, Was it a period of massive economic stagnation? We can't catch fish in a confused pool, Once, in the world, Colonialism had become a fashion.
It is the cousin of the social evil, slavery, We have to mould our nation's destiny, It is the right time to show our bravery, And we have to follow our ancient ancestry.
Anglo-Indian is reflecting the history of colonization,
Social evils are stopped during British rule, Introduction of English education is its persuasion, Was the concept of coloniality is a rule or mis rule?.
Colonialism had given birth to the middle class obviously, Who became the pioneer of modern industrialization really, Colonial rule is a curse or boon to some countries surely,
It acted transparency like a transparent glass clearly.
The colonial mentality
Penetrated our mind and heart;
We as people felt inferior
Race after the raiders depart.
Such invaders like the Spanish
Had influenced our attitude;
We had followed their tradition,
Thinking that those customs were good.
After we were colonized by
The United States from the west;
Yes, another culture prevailed,
As we thought that it was the best.
After we were slaved by the men
From the land of the rising sun;
We thought that the Japanese were
Superior race with their own gun.
We believed that their products were
Practically in highest grade;
We were convinced to patronize
Everything that was Japan-made.
Spain, US, and Japan are just
Powerful and truly mighty;
This is the main reason why we
Have colonial mentality.
Where am I?
Don't tell me I'm in Nigeria
Did I tell you I want to be born here
Is this wickedness or something.
Where am I?
Why Africa why not the world?
Why subject me to the colonial masters
Why making me a slave to westerners.
Where am I?
Why the world why not Heaven?
Is this mere wickedness or Ignorance?
Why bring me to this hostile world?
Unborn me right now
I prefer peace to war, love over hatred
Acceptance rather than rejection
A world filled with love, peace and harmony.
Trump's colonial riffs an elite doodle
Sanctimonial meet & greet canoodle
Baronial seats for cheats still feudal
Sheriffs tariffs tiffs will eat our strudel
Testimonial tweet use your own noodle
Whiffs of taking the complete caboodle
Sniffs EU bleat of what ifs America's poodle