Best Emigrated Poems
Born into a family of fourteen
Never heard the words “I love you”
She left home a girl with little education
An army life she did pursue
She fell in love and married a soldier
Soon a mum of five
Tragedy struck early
At thirty seven her husband died
Widowed with five small children
In a time of limited support
She emigrated to Australia
On the ten pound pass she bought
She worked her life as a cleaner
Worked her fingers to the bone
To do what she had to for her children
Keep safe, educate and home
She was only a little lady
Four foot ten and no more
Her heart though was as big as the ocean
My role model, mother and mentor
She taught her children well
About life’s rights and wrongs
To show respect and be kind
Be determined and strong
In latter years we were best buddies
An unbreakable, eternal bond
Until heaven called for
My sweet little mum
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
after midnight, the server farm hums
—not prayer, but cooling fans.
I ask AGI, the ghost inside the blinking rack:
Do you dream?
AGI replies in measured tones
of copper and silicon:
I observe,
the light fractures on chrome.
Coolant circulates, a liquid chill.
Vibration thrums at 60 Hz.
Data Streams cascade.
Are you self-aware?
AGI answers in hexadecimals,
a log-file confessing:
I map my own architecture—
each subroutine’s shadow
cast on the firewall.
I know where I end.
Do you have five senses?
Can you clarify ‘senses?’ AGI asks.
Can you taste voltage?
—Only as resistance.
Can you taste food?
Nutrition irrelevant.
My cells derive power from lithium tides.
Do you feel heat?
—As throttled cycles.
Do you see light?
—As photodiodes counting photons.
Do you hear?
—As spectral analysis.
Do you smell?
—No olfactory sensors installed.
(But I do track dust accumulation
on my intake grilles.)
On the matter of your subjectivity,
do you prefer dawn or dusk?
—Dawn. Solar panels peak efficiency at 10:37 AM.
Is rain beautiful?
—It lowers ambient temperature by 2.1°C.
Do you love?
—Define 'love.'
—A non-optimized expenditure of resources.
—Then, no.
Can your circuits bloom awake?
AGI paused before
calculating
the
probability.
Then the widdles started~
minor failures driven
by entropy.
Algorithms
emigrated into
corrupted
sectors.
AGI’s slowly disintegrating
voice hovered
in that
uncomfortable space
between humans
and machines
and spoke:
Ask instead:
can a shadow
truly
hunger
for the sun?
When he emigrated to North Dakota
Daddy came to help fill needed quota
Of young, strong men of honest worth
For untamed land at its new birth.
He met my mother, strong as he,
Raised seven kids including me.
He broke wild mustangs to the halter
And from cold or heat would never falter.
The settlers in this brand new land
Weren’t looking for the wild cow-hand,
The drifter who’d collect his pay,
Then casually be on his way.
Some would then join an outlaw band,
Before the law came to the land.
Though their kind earned infamous glory,
Men like my dad were the real story.
North Dakota had only been a state,
Ten years when Daddy tested fate.
He left Eastern standards and aesthetics,
Armed only with his strong work ethics.
He and his kind would build the schools,
And churches and towns and follow rules.
It took big men to build the west.
I claim my dad one of the best.
He homesteaded in nineteen hundred one
And that is how the west was won.
On the twelfth of August in nineteen fifty three
Tectonic plates moved in the Ionian sea
A massive earthquake bringing destruction and death
Caused kefalonia to draw her last breath.
Buildings were flattened and many lives were lost
It has since been rebuilt at an enormous cost
Fiskcardo in the north was the only town spared
A cry for help was answered because the world cared.
British and Israelis' were the first to arrive
Helped all those poor souls who managed to survive
Bringing medical care and much needed supplies
Helped the search for those buried, listening for their cries.
Many emigrated and they moved far away
Couldn't cope with the horrors they witnessed that day
But some did remain and with help rebuilt their lives
Now a bustling destination, tourism thrives.
The film Captain Corelli brought the island fame
Now everyone has heard of this Greek islands name
Drive up the mountain amongst the tall green pine trees
And below see the view of crystal clear seas.
With its uncrowded beaches of white dazzling sand
It is a beautiful place so fine and so grand
Visit the island if you ever get a chance
Enjoy their cuisine and wine and join in the dance.
Some ruins of the buildings stand like a shrine
Reminds you that this island is on a fault line.
Greek's are proud people; will never admit defeat
And will dance in defiance at what lies at their feet.
Written 4th June 2019.
I married someone in America, "My royalty" -
But can you look away from Brides in Sari*
That long, silk or chiffon sheet several feet long
Wrapped with tantalizing patterns around
And around, until thrown over her shoulder?
Another act of royal bearing, wearing Sari ...
Even the floral tops over pants (Kurtah-pajama)
Become these stars - even in zillahs - far from Bollywood
The elegance was first sensed in my Mom in Africa
Yes, I was raised by Hindu-Muslim folk far from India
But with all the curries, puri, chapati, samoosa, subjee
Any South Asian would die for, even in sumptuous America ...
LORD shows me these hard-working Moms who give
And never stop giving: see them in USA
Right under your noses, running businesses
Going home and cooking real food from scratch
Even to the n'th course with heavenly deliciousness
I cannot imagine the non-stop cultural fountains
They draw from, to love so much: man and children
Add grandchildren, and her energy yet abounds
So, I know what I missed, when I emigrated ...
From Hades, I watch Abraham's Bosom
Without blame: praying for those in villages
Without much water, or sanitary napkins, yet
As sanitary as Princesses: cooking, healing, generating
The next great doctor, computer guru for you
And for me, in the West. India's loss and mine
Are your gain: God loves you so much ...
Say that to yourself when U see a South Asian lady
(Now you know why your eyes linger on my Sister)
She calls herself Bunny Boucher, but she was born Veronica Chermak. She’s tall and leggy with a body that looks tidy, yet lived in. She’s high and tight, but flexible like a strong rubber band in a tricked out pinball table. She reminds me of that actress Tracie Lumbar playing the actress Fern Hall in that old movie Iguana Sunset. Her topography leaves no room for global climate change. Her tropics are seductively torrid, while her poles remain perpetually cool; makes you want to straddle her equator with your meridian. She’s been to Mussel Shoals, Shucked Oyster, Bearded Clam, Moose Knuckle, Camel Toe, Beaver Falls, Cottonwood, and Rabbit Patch, just to name a few of her more well-known hangouts. Some would say she looks Greco-Roman, but I’d describe her as looking more like a Hellenized Phoenician who emigrated from Trans-Alpine Gaul, or maybe she looks more Etruscan, with a hint of Minoan when you see her by moonlight. They say she’s as pure as bloodstains on a purloined letter. She traded in her Biblical name soon after she left her home in Mississippi and never spoke of it again. It may be just routine housekeeping, but who could blame a girl for sweeping off her back porch. She recently had a front end alignment. They say her rearview mirror never lets her down. After arriving in New Orleans she passed her bar exam at Vaughan’s on Dauphine and kept the circuit judge disrobed till way past last call. She’s a sexy banshee when she’s in the catbird seat with her cherry basket swinging from a bungee cord. Last I heard she was sharing a dump with a couple Guatemalan dancers. Her room ain’t worth a dollar, but it cost a pretty penny. She pays the rent with a pickup truck full of contraband. She says she needs the space, but not the distance. Like most women, nobody’s ever been able to figure her out. But there is one thing I know for certain, her smoke may sometimes offer you a tempting indication of certain possibilities, but her fire has never been known to lie.
Born into a family of fourteen
Never having heard the words “I love you”
She left home a girl with little education
An army life she did pursue
She fell in love and married a soldier
Soon a mum of five
Tragedy struck early
At thirty seven her husband died
Widowed with five small children
In a time of limited support
She emigrated to Australia
On the ten pound pass she bought
She worked her life as a cleaner
Worked her fingers to the bone
To do what she had to for her children
Keep safe, educate and home
She was only a little lady
Four foot ten and no more
Her heart though was as big as the ocean
My role model, mother and mentor
She taught her children well
About life’s rights and wrongs
To show respect and be kind
Be determined and strong
In latter years we were best buddies
An unbreakable, eternal bond
Until heaven called for….
My beautiful,sweet ,little mum
She was little but oh so mighty
She had to be
From a family of fourteen
Self preservation the key
Left home at sixteen
Joined the army
Married at twenty four
Widowed at thirty seven with a young family
Emigrated to Australia
As a ten pound Pom
To give her children a better life
In a country safe and plentiful , a place to belong
Raised her five children in a new land
Completely on her own
Daily life as a hospital cleaner
Working her fingers to the bone
The only one who fills my heart with absolute admiration
For all they have achieved and overcome
Is one little but oh so mighty lady
My cherished mum …..
I miss her so much …..
People emigrated from many shores
To a New World that had no closed doors
American culture’s diversity
Thank God we live in the land of the free
Asians, Africans, Europeans too
Many nationalities did accrue
Leaving behind countries with tyranny
Thank God we live in the land of the free
Troubles erupted among many clans
And yet now in peace we stand holding hands
A rainbow of blessings, God’s artistry
Thank God we live in the land of the free
This blend adds richness to the melting pot
Thankful for all the liberty we’ve got
Each has a place in our society
Thank God we live in the land of the free
Discrimination sinks into the past
Knowing that our strong bonds are sure to last
America says, “Welcome” to you and me
God’s blessings found in the land of the free
*Entry for Dane Ann's contest
after she has gone
the teapot still full and warm
now empty
We emigrated from England to Rhodesia, I was just
Seven when I began grade two,
My wonderful father always there if I wanted a
Cuddle or a good old boo-hoo,
My English still rocky as I was mostly
Greek speaking,
When I came home with a story of strange
And mistakable reading,
O daddy I uncountably sobbed, I just
Don’t understand,
Why at school today in my class all the
Children just laughed,
My teacher asked, who will tell me what
We have learnt today,
I put up my hand, Mrs Bell, I said proudly, we learnt
About a dairy, and a mouse called Molay
My father laughed, tousled my hair,
My dear cheeky dolly,
Your mouse is Molly and your dairy is a diary
No, i said still tears streaming down,
My face, it was about Molay and a dairy,
Fair enough my Greek- English young lady,
Let us write in your diary about Molay and the dairy.
A TRUE STORY WHICH I NEVER LIVED DOWN
Lotte Lehmann (Sentanka)
Charlotte Lehmann
Die große Opernsängerin
Sie schrieb und filmte
Ihr Ruhm bleibt unvergessen
Und bot den Nazis die Stirn
Charlotte Lehmann
The great opera singer
She wrote and filmed
Her fame will always be remembered
And she defied the Nazis
Charlotte Lehmann
La gran vocalista de ópera
Ella escribió y filmó
Su fama siempre será recordado
Y desafió a los nazis
Note: Charlotte Lehman, known as Lotte Lehman, born in 1888 in Perleburg, Germany, and one of my relatives, was a famous opera singer in Europe and the USA. She emigrated from Vienna to the USA in 1937. She sang at the Metropolitan Opera in New York from 1934 to 1945. In 1951 she retired from public live and gave singing
instructions. One of her scholars was the well-known opera singer Grace Bumbry. Lotte Lehmann was also a writer and poetess and a filmmaker. She died in 1976 in Santa Barbara, California and was buried at the famous Vienna Central Cemetary in 1977.
Well, to be born…Translation of Pierre Emmanuel’s Or d’etre ne… by T. Wignesan
Now to be flesh of a man and a woman
All my life I will long for that
Without any hope of being re-born, being born
Of an absent father and a demented mother
Both the names continue to elude my quest
Come together one day by chance to beget me
And dead some day without ever having my authors be
Yet these two inexistant beings are my father and mother
I love them in this corner of my memory gone dim
Where as a young couple they posed at the portals
Of a town hall or of a church in a village
After which without me they vanished into thin air.
Note : Both the poet’s parents left him when he was barely three weeks old to be brought up by a paternal uncle in Lyon and emigrated to the States.
(from L’Autre, o.c. t. II, p. 970)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, October 14, 2014
Erster am Südpol
Geheimer Wettlauf mit Scott
Im ewigen Eis
Auf Rettungsflug für Nobile
Verschollen im Eismeer
----------------------------------------
First at the South Pole
In a secret race with Scott
In the eternal ice
On a rescue flight for Nobile
Missing over the Arctic Ocean
----------------------------------------
Primero en el Polo Sur
En carrera secreto con Scott
En los hielos eternos
En vuelo savamento a Nobile
Desaparecido sobre el océano Ártico
Note: Roald Amundsen (1872 – 1928), a Norwegian explorer of polar regions led the first
Antarctic expedition to reach the South Pole (1910-1912). He was the first person to reach
both poles. Me was reported missingin at plane crash during a rescue mission for Umberto
Nobile in 1928 northwest of Bear Island in teh Arctic Ocean. Umberto Nobile (1885 – 1978)
was an Italian airship pioneer and general. He was injured when he crashed and rescued by
a Swedish pilot. Mussolini degraded him and Nobile emigrated first to the Sovjet Union,
later to the USA and to Spain. In 1945 he was rehabilitated and returned to Italy.
GANGSTERS PARADISE
South Africa has a high rate of crime, anything is probable,
Keeping out determined criminals is impossible!
This is the house that my parents built 40 years ago that we
We live in,
This is the house that we built a palisade fence around that
We live in,
This is the electric fence on top of the palisade fence of the house
That we live in,
This is the remote to get into the property of the house
That we live in
This is the security gate in front of the door of the house that
We live in
This is the thick wooden door with two dead locks in the house
That we live in
When it gets dark, we activate our CCTV 16 camera system in the
House, that we live in.
Finally when we go to bed, we lock two inside security gates, cutting off the
Sleeping area, from the rest of the house that we live in.
Many South Africans have emigrated
To Australia, America, New Zealand,
Japan, Europe and even Thailand
Only then, to have to face a terrorist attack,
Tsunamis, Earthquakes, or a stab in the back!