Best Gulliver Poems
(I'm
an
Indian
lassie,
was
born
in
West
Africa,
(Nigeria),
Grew
up
in
South
Africa
(Swaziland)
and
currently
live
in
East
Africa.
(Tanzania).
So
I
live
in
Daresalam,
near
the
Indian
Ocean.)
I
might
be
like
any
other
expatriate,
desirous
of
their
homeland
Upon
my
country's
soil
fervently
wishing
to
stand.
I
can't
help
feeling
profusely
foreigner
in
this
highly
foreign
land
I'd
give
anything
to
go
back,
say
even
be
a
mariner
for
there's
an
ocean
to
cross
before
familiar
sand.
An
ocean
with
dear
motherland's
name
greets
me
all
the
way
here
with
tantalizing
lure
Tiring
me
of
nostalgia's
seemingly
endless
game,
reminding
the
distance
between
the
shores
is
galore!
Everything
here
seems
just
too
alien
and
foreign
The
air
seems
foreign
punctuated
by
exotic
birds
In
this
land
I
still
feel
as
if
lost
in
some
warren
and
the
foreign
language
-
I'm
at
a
loss
for
words!
I
feel
estranged
and
disoriented,
struck
with
nostalgia
though
I
might
not
be
such
a
patriot
any
more
The
awaited
journey
to
India
from
Tanzania
to
reach
familiar
ground
of
lakhs
and
crore.
Ah,
the
welcoming
scenes
of
my
homeland
always
so
enticing
and
inviting
It
might
seem
surprising
that
for
me
she's
a
dreamland
but
a
desire
to
go
back,
since
ages
I've
been
fighting.
I'm
home-
sick,
waiting
so
long
to
be
back
home
There's
no
place
like
home-
sweet-
home
Here
I
feel
I've
lost
my
tracks
Like
a
homeless
wanderer
do
I
roam.
As
here
I
feel
no
less
like
a
Gulliver
on
his
travels
yet
to
rehabilitate
from
homesickness
might
take
a
lifetime
For now, I can merely
sing of motherland's
marvels
and wait soberly for fate
and destiny's chime.
But an underlying truth
here: I feel alienated
everywhere
as if I hailed from No-
man's-land
They think I neither
blend with the Indian
nor
the african
but hope they respect
my very individual brand.
Categories:
gulliver, missing, nostalgia, patriotic,
Form:
Quatorzain
I do not know what work there is as many feel
I have always worked with love and taste
In my teens my second home was Library
Reading Gulliver travels and one-act plays.
After getting my master’s degree in English
I got a job in the university campus as a lecturer
And never felt teaching as a work but joy there.
My house was where I could hear college bells.
My class-room lectures were for three hours
And reading at home for next day preparation.
I *dramatized great works for the college fine arts
Even I *directed those works in my spare times.
After retirement my sons look after my needs
I enjoy looking after my needs for the fine arts.
*************
*The title of the poem is a famous
quote of Great Urdu Poet Khalil Zibran
*P.S. I shall be posting some photographs of my activities in
France and England, 1989. in my blog shortly
====================================
Eighth place winner in
Contest: The work you do in Honor of Carolyn Devenshire
Categories:
gulliver, home, work,
Form:
Narrative
How can there be despair when the entire
natural world unfolds with new life?
When the anhinga alights from the Nowhere
he was into the Somewhere you are, negotiating
his spectacular landing, spreading out his
Gulliver wingspan to warmth and healing on
the grassy knoll that rolls down to the lake--
manmade it may be, but the green-gold ducks
don't know that. They swim, they scan,
they disappear into its mysterious depths
for what nurturance is there.
How can there be sorrow when the male cardinal
darts across your line of vision with his red reality
twice in the same day into the Crape Myrtle
as it readies to burst its rooted heart? And, when
he comes again at dusk to rest on a budding
branch to sing a song you never heard before--
allows you to tell him how beautiful he is.
But when you ask him to stay, he darts away
because you are not the regulator.
How is there is no blessing when the stone
gray Buddha in his prayerful place on your porch
with his folded hands and bare feet reminds you
that the gods we respect do not always look like us.
When the Northern mockingbird who fell in love
with the South offers his limitless songbook
in the Laurel Oak, that wise grandfather, whose
leafy language writing the Braille of the senses
says Hold On, Hold on, and So, you do.
Categories:
gulliver, seasons,
Form:
Elegy
A courier of peace; a coupon of hope
Your cost, though, I have been made alien,
Your fruitfulness I heartily grope.
But the lashed back in servitude asks, “WHEN”?
A befitting vestment on servitude
A plague in the metropolis,
Like the Gulliver in Lilliput.
Amass not, thou in bit she seeks.
Though thou enjoyed none methinks,
‘Cos denied is she, much she denies ye.
But let that which we sought be unclink
An ointment on our contuse, we pr’ythee.
And should denial tend your way,
At wrath, me be spared, I pray.
Categories:
gulliver, freedom,
Form:
Sonnet
Once I was sand dab small
urchin of the tides
shrieking with the gulls
on my blanket of sand
and head high as the waves
I was playmate to the sea
One and one were we
under the clouds of foam . . .
Sand crabs tickled my toddles
The conch sang hushabies of the surf
The horses of the sea
whinnied the tunes
of my periwinkle dreams . . . . . .
Who sells cockles for my suckle?
Who can cuddle stars to sleep?
What Sandman rock-a-byes yesternight’s cradle?
All the sun long day
I melted from green to gold
holding the hand of the sea
for only a rainbow long
and gathering handfuls of mist
I was Captain of the tides . . .
Dolphins dipped to my horn
The turrets of my castles
trembled the wind
The shrill of my whistle
shivered the still
of the serpent’s lair . . . . . .
Who can ride the ebbless tide?
Who can borrow wings from the wind?
What Sandman can cool the burn of my yearnings?
Each stolen night and day
I streaming down the shore
danced the fire dance
in the tongues
of the leaping waves
Neptune strong
Colossus high
I strode the shallow deep
Buccaneer of the boundless main
Captain Hook
of my mussel fleet . . .
The peaks of my mountains
scraped the clouds
The crash of my drumbeats
thundered the sky
The sting of the salty spray
blurred my lordly eyes
Hickory Dickory heedlessly
I waded the Gulliver shore
While sands of the hourglass trails
trickled forever by . . . . . .
Who can caress the foam?
Who can touch nevermore?
What Sandman can dry the tears of the sea?
– Harley White
Categories:
gulliver, childhood, emotions, feelings, growing
Form:
Free verse
LEGAL ROMANCE
Law,
Let me plague you
With the infectious love of my heart.
Now that I bear the aftermath of your infections,
And your cold blood boils in me
Like a volcanic eruption,
Let me make babies in the factory of your womb.
My amorous cuddlesome arms
That carry a legal contagion with them,
Let them rip you apart in the angiospermy of my farms
Till every cell in me carries the logo of your emblem
And the semblance of your physiognomy.
Law my love,
Let me be your troubadour,
And I will traverse all the corners of your contours.
With my fluorescent searchlights,
That can seek out all the unexplored
Juicy regions of your legions,
Let me be your spouse or your civil partner
Or at least your intimate cohabitant.
Allow me a minute into the gate of your thighs
And I will dig you damn deep,
Till I plant legal seeds in your flowery uteri,
And we shall fill the entire universe with prodigies
Greater than the Denning’s
Mightier than the Atkin’s
Weightier than the Uwais’s
And more Solomonic than the Tobi’s.
Law my love,
Your untainted mammary prowess
That dangles like a pendulum in their tabula rasa state,
Let it be the sole source of my resource
That waters my thirsty fountain.
Consort with me, and I will consult with you,
And let our royal consortium
Breed in me Lilliputians strong enough to gut Gulliver.
I love you, Law my love
And I doubt if there can be a better lover.
I love your Calliopsis hair
I love your Helen lids and lashes
I love your Cleopatra eyes
I love your Bathsheba nose
I love your Aphrodite lips
And I love the curviness of your womanness.
Law my love,
Let me sing to you a serenade sweeter than Senghor’s,
For you are my day, my night and my Naett.
And let me enjoy the irrevocability of being—
Your stare decisis
Your res ipsa loquitur
Your res judicata
And your issue estoppel.
-Bolaji Ramos, Esq.
copyright 2017
Categories:
gulliver, fantasy, funny love, lust,
Form:
Ode
From the Elephant's diary
You find me giantly like Gulliver, huge and obese
but I met my doc, he said take it with ease....
for you big is more beautiful so eat more cheese
I am on my diet of sugarcane juice,
lush green grass n' tons of bamboos
Mammoth was my forefather not anymore seen
Now I know being gigantic is in my genes
Instructor at the gym shooed me away
for I broke his treadmill with my single step I say
We love to have our bath in nature's pool
We dabble water with our trunk till we are all cool
A relaxing shower for all friends after hectic schedule!
In our forest club, trophy for best music band,
we won last week for our trumpet troupe!
Large is our family my Jumbo uncle says,
Old and wise he is in our tuskers' herd
He says our eyes are small, to see
only little good left in this big bad world
And our ears are large to fan away
the gossips and bad we hear
Thick skin we do have so called pachyderms
to shrug off the hurling vices of the woods
but we have a large heart to spread
loads of love to all species widespread
In history, we have a place reserved
for in wars and royal processions,
we were used as pride symbols he says
Revered animals we are since eons.....
In country called India, heritage animal we are
and even worshipped in religious places he says!
Huge boulders or logs ,mankind used us for transport
We even entertain them in zoos and circus
But he regrets that we are poached, killed by men
to pull out pair of our incisors called tusks
who polish to make precious ivory to earn bucks
So useful and harmless friends to humans we are
I asked my uncle why so cruel the men are?
He said men show their power
of being Nature's superior creature
we elephant folk are helpless giants
We can do nothing but to pray that
we be valued for our selfless services and
be saved from going extinct from this world!
©Copyright Anulaxmi Nayak,2015
For contest: Giant animals
Sponsored by: D.Nathan
Date: 2nd September 2015
Categories:
gulliver, animal, art, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Reading by the light of a flashlight
With the covers pulled over my head
Captain Nemo battled an octopus
Robinson Crusoe was thought to be dead
Gulliver went on his travels
Charlotte spun a new web
Jem wouldn’t kill a mockingbird
Oliver wanted more to be fed
Old Yeller had to be put down
Black Stallion ran faster than wind
Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang flew over the ocean
Tom talked with Huckleberry Finn
Mary Shelley constructed her monster
Natty Bumpo helped the last Mohican
When one adventure finally ended
I couldn’t wait for the next to begin
Categories:
gulliver, childhood,
Form:
Rhyme
we poets are waiting for the moonset
sitting on my balcony, evolutions shamans
now wandering the beach
we are solving every social ill
while walking Blake's path of excess
to some palace of wisdom
this sojourn has but one worry
the hour the liquor store closes
less the worry here, shamans open doors
money, lycanthropy meandering the beach
a ramada where we wake the proprietor
who finds such occurrences propitious
vending beer, most cultures' insanity is sacrosanct
the moon is waning into the ocean
to Bach's Toccata and Fugue
we are singing Eddie Arnold's cattle call
while the other horizon eructs
red-orange warnings poets love to ignore
evanescent crescendos
write something every day, i am not that bored
the sleep never begun is over
quart bottles cover the table
our proprietor lies in the Land of Nod
poets of Laputa, self-serving pataphysicians
the bench is strewn with the problems of Gulliver
La Senora arrives, shift changes, orders breakfast
and this proceeds until siesta time
the repairing of every social ill
retiring into respective hammocks
we are philosophers, possess our epigrams
no siesta, no fiesta, tomorrow i swear
a new and improved version
the beach is safe now
for white bucks scribbling in the sand
while our feet are beyond and supine
covered with flies, killing us
did not the Beats do this
San Blas 91 The Patient Stones
Categories:
gulliver, moving on,
Form:
Free verse
Rid me of this damn corn,
the progeny of past laquered
loves, its to, its fro, they lap
like cats at milk, destroying all
Returning then to orange groves
and furnace fire/sing to me the
song of could have been, sweet
orchard’s milk and valleys
The wiry sheen below the
capstan’s turn, to anchor goes
the choking deep; all’s not well,
fifty fathoms down
Now granted pure by nature’s leap,
the sequinned, peppered snow,
from mountain’s irridesent yawning
glow, descends to us in a throw,
of sower’s hand!
Lilliput and Gulliver, side by side,
lead the band, and bring the sheaf
to altar bare: but quick!
Before the earth be dead, and all
its winsome jewels to share
Categories:
gulliver, environment,
Form:
Verse
My GRANDFATHER loved to work. His schedule from 3 am till 6 pm we were farmers
-we is a lot of people who's here?- He asks.
-We Are.
With the scream of a Legendary fighter we all say "We Are" proudly looking at each other. The cows have a special meaning to WE,
They were Nurture to be Healthy and Beautiful and were a Legendary Hobby after 6 meaning that they Shine, than won all trophy's for strength beauty and behaving. Cerneja was an Imperatriz, temperamental, always ready to fight for her kingdom. Here comes the one of many risk-free situations in a natural site in the Vasdos the the Luso-Amazonia between 4 cows and dozens of Bovidae mammals, sheep and goats included, and with Cerneja out of control trying (have done before) to sacrifice an innocent well nurtured and less beautiful for Cer-kingdom standards and a solution. From HIS 2 meters of an well balanced body structure holding a horn push and propelling with so much energy, Cer smash like a meteor to the floor over the farmers and Farmer and Animal kingdom stupefaction and our daze (the best,the Queen "Cerneja" almost a myth "and what about the empire-we thought". The kingdom always goes on.
Replaced Cer was sold for good money divided between the two owners (some animals like most of the land had more than one owner). The chirurgical eye of my HEART was so right and we were so wrong that Cer killed the unfortunate brand new owner and was given to the local slaughter house for THE FARMER unhappiness our dejection and all the WOMEN in the house joy In killing one of us instead one of others and Cerneja was evil-
What stays is GULLIVER well tied to a chair by dwarves (in any pattern out of NBA tallest) while naptime warding off a fly and waking up smiling and feigning stretching the tight ropes
-It's time to work
Farmers pay back with the same coin to each other-WORK- And money comes from selling shared properties animals and milk.
Sharing HERO type of stories always with coffee, good food and wine I was always involved in the exchange and legendary people are generally anonymous - in this particular that's not true for the heroism and courage stories but still will continue anonymous. Thank You For the Kindness and Patience and I hope You continue to Produce Alike because What We Got, Get For Free We Give Back For Free, Right!
Right or Wrong?
Categories:
gulliver, animal, childhood, culture, grandparents,
Form:
Epic
I traveled with Gulliver in his travails
Often times involving in shipwreck-
Or becoming prisoner of the Lilliputians of life.
I sailed on the ocean of life-
Getting marooned on an island called strife.
I must live; but life someday I must leave.
I thread this path with none to share in my grief
Worried that someday the planter will come to fall his tree.
Guns marching forth on the street of Glover;
Sending its victim on holiday to the cemetery at Akoka.
Speeding vehicles diving deep in the belly of the ocean
Conflagrations wailing along the neighbourhood,
Devouring what is left of the existence of man.
This death, this pain and this hopelessness-
Are the travails warped around our mortal existence-
Which to its realities we shall wake up to when we are long gone.
Categories:
gulliver, life,
Form:
Rhyme
All across the webbed wide esse Scott's wold
emerald green Trifolium
carpets harbor untold
burrows of tiny Leprechauns clover
(leaf) ways grant trifold
wishes if captured might
divulge pot of gold
at rainbow's end, and e'en mend
yar shoes, whence re: souled,
thence tread softly beneath subthreshold
of audibility, cuz unseen universe
hapts tubby microscopically rolled
with subterranean inhabited by Lilliputian
mischievous beings (about bajillion holed
up could fill the Taj Mahal) even donned with
heavy coat protecting them
(usually men) against cold
yet frolic with reel delight jiggling
with inborn instinct exhibit twofold
talent to dance with modesty
downplaying (while fiddling)
averse tubby extolled,
nonetheless, their popular
doth soar, and grievously scold
persistent myth anchored with toehold,
and thus do not indulge
pruriently with pixies considerably dulled,
since libido practically nonexistent told
me (under oath of
confidentiality), one Grunwald
trusted yours truly, the secrete
will not leak out,
nor spread like slime mold,
this descendant of Lemuel Gulliver
(ironically my height
only about threefold
larger than full grown imp possible
to see non elfish (pressed) lee ping auld
timers cavorting with
itty bitty whippersnappers,
averse to any outliers, whether hirsute or bald
an honest to goodness painstaking effort
initially stymied friendship proffered, a cold
reception eventually (while sharing diet of worms)
deep under verdantly festooned knolls of Eire land.
Categories:
gulliver, adventure, blessing, cute, environment,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
LOOKING FOR HOME
a magnifying glass spotted a WE little woods
in a tiny village with the wonder of memories
a crayfish creek with human legs splashing
a stone wall to balance on a sandbox donut
a swing set put together with tweezers and
precision minute tears and laughter wings
a minuscule trunk to yell down from to hang
a rope and seat a peace sign scrawled on
a santa-size mailbox filled to the brim with
bills, cards, letters, and no dope because that
would be illegal and the government truck
might show up to take you away HA HA records
with fingerprints, etchings, scratches, speeds
i’m dizzy spinning around and around landing
on tomorrow where the records have shrunk
and stay entombed in plastic cases or players
and i am gulliver the giant creating havoc on
life’s travels, skipping ahead, practically losing
my head like goliath leaving small problems
behind dragging my feet like a bag of christmas
toys unable to open not allowed to peek NO
FAIR I stomp my heels wanting my way I THOUGHT
big people tall as trees always got their way and
my giant parents now I level with me clap
their hands in cheers and victory forgetting the fog
that encircles their knees in a tiny toon town
Kim Rodrigues © 2016
Categories:
gulliver, childhood, growing up,
Form:
Free verse
So, you have remained.
From those who had crossed
the land of the comparison,
you had taken their heads off
without them to unsheathe their swords
And it seems that time
had been your permanent ally,
for all of your rivals,
with heads still on their necks,
had commited suicide
Oh, those treacherous heads of them:
those that had fallen in the Pantheon
and those that had maddened alone...
I proclaim you, astonishing
Hors concours
That, who will dare to repress you,
you will crush him with the smallest effort
of your single intelligence
You are, in fact, a king not to be equalled
who had never saved
any who had invested against you
and whose throne,
from where you will reign doubtless,
is the folded skirts of my dress
Patrícia Evans
Categories:
gulliver, life, love, passion,
Form:
Free verse