Best Lat Poems
Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekt, born at the close,
defeat your only destiny.
Thunder Rolling Down the Mountain, sometimes the strong
are chosen to fight the hopeless wars.
You began to lose before you rose;
they who called you Joseph
sought the land which held your father's body,
but you would not sell the bones of your father and mother.
Chief Joseph, they followed you a thousand miles.
You left your home,
but they would not let you go.
You fought with the frantic fury of the bush fire.
Thunder Rolling Down the Mountain, they caught you
but forty miles from your goal.
Your people broken, slaughtered, scattered.
Count the children, O Chief Joseph.
Hin-mah-too-yah-lat-kekt, they would not kill you.
The heart beats, the spirit dead.
The strong man born to bitter end.
"From where the sun now stands, I will fight no more forever."
Going on a tram to Lattes*,
the tram rails winding this and that,
but first, Montpellier was seen.
Tall buildings, cream and white,
and the sight of seagulls
near bright sea.
Best day was to be had in Lattes,
and ice-cream from bow-fronted shop.
Eight euros then to pay...
Tall buildings, monochrome,
and the sight of seagulls
near the sea.
The seagulls followed the tram back,
the tram rails winding this and that,
and then Montpellier re-seen.
Shops were shutting for the day
in tall buildings cream and white,
before the seagulls went away.
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* pronounced Lat.
12/22/2015
Contest - My Abiding Memory
Sponsor - Viv Wigley
1st placement win - a real prize for it (a ornament of a bird).
Habitually, feeling an itch to write,
I’m introspective: sitting at the table
over a blank sheet, cherishing my blight
and rust, I think: “What if I'll not be able
to write a single stanza anymore?
What if to chuck it all, to travel, omnia
mea mecum porto*… What is all this for:
the doubts, the all-nighters, the insomnia?
What if…" Oh, wonder! In my line of sight
I have the lines: “…feeling an itch to write,
I’m introspective”.
(lat.) "All that is mine I carry with me", the quote that Cicero ascribes to Bias of Priene.
25.10.2019
Itch, Witch, Glitch Or Twitch Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nina Parmenter
Nathaniel Bains was a kindly man but had little brains
He was as skinny as a lat
Lived in a small country village
And a bird nested in his tall top hat.
Nathaniel resembled a scarecrow his clothes were well worn and mucky
Although a pleasant man he was born so unlucky
When he was two he fell in a well
And the locals complained because he smelled
When he was three he fell from a tree when he was four he fell on the floor
Poor Nathaniel couldn't do anything right
A walking disaster
But like a good man prayed each night.
When Nathaniel grew up he was nearly seven foot tall
And could peer over the tallest wall
And pick apple off the trees
Until he got stung on the bum by a swarm of bees.
One day in march or may Nathaniel entered a competition
And sent off his entry straight away the prise a cruise
Nathaniel thought he couldn't lose.
Weeks passed by and Nathaniel forgot
If he'd won or not until postman Egbert with letter in hand
Shouted ''Nathaniel''a letters arrived you have won first prize''
Nathaniel never had a letter before and had someone read it by the door.
The village folk were so excited they invited Nathaniel to the squires mansion
And had a ball. hip hip hurrah! our Nathaniel has won a prize and is unlucky no
more went up in a mighty roar.
Nathaniel packed his old tatty suitcase and the village folk went with him to see
him off at the Southampton Docs they waved as the ship set off
But poor Nathaniel wasn't lucky and everyone panicked
It was a prize of a cruise on the Titanic!.
The village folk were so sad he was a pleasant lad and not that bad
They erected a statue in his honour in the town but even that fell down.
Some say sometimes you can still hear Nathaniel whistling as he passes in the
Town after the sun goes down
''Idea came to me in a dream.''
Peter Dome copyright.2014. July.
remember it's not the "actual" data
it's only the metadata, but we
never met a data we didn't love
there's treasure in detritus debris
with intense Holmesian determination
we'll be able to infer and deduce
some linked reference, some correlation
between pointed data bits obtuse
government or company or corporation
don't matter the size of digital scrap
data microscope will reveal motivation
wanted are all of the small bits of crap
listing phone logs, search queries and such
myriad IP addresses and email recipients
to squirrel away with the lightest of touch
GPS Lat-Long located and databased insidious
to imply we spy on domestics is irrational
since we're "multi-national" by determiner
we're only looking at the "foreign nationals"
'course from "over there" you're the foreigner
you see there's nowhere to run away
no thought too trivial or secret to reveal
what networked digital crumbs can convey
is what gives metadata its big data appeal
© Goode Guy 2013-08-22
The ship was atoss on the ungallant sea
The swells took a toll as the hull strained and cracked
It would be fair time afore it sought the lee
With the slams and the pitching the ship could be wracked.
The foc'sle went down, the stern rose on high
And in the next instant the ship yawed aside
The water rushed in torrents, the Bo'sun heaved a sigh
If the hatches gave way, then woe betide.
The men on the watch were tied to their posts
The lookouts puked blood, the buckets were filled
They stood out limned as outworldly ghosts
Clamping teeth with their might, their bones fully chilled.
The wind was a-roaring, it blew off the 'rafts
The riggings danced the stays started steaming
The boats in the davits went banging abaft
The klaxons went wild as they started their screaming.
"Abandon ship" blared the hailer as the Cap stood on the bridge
And soon was heard a sound that all hoped never to hear
A tearing, a snap, a boom, for gone was the ridge
Of the keel gave up it's struggle unable to bear.
The Cap stood his post as his men jumped overboard
Wrote in his log in indelible ink
Today I commend these lost souls unto thee my Lord
At this lat and this long did my doughty ship sink.
Thus ends my tale of those souls lost at sea
Not uncommon to those whose sea-legs are firm
For a tough life's their lot unlike the land lubbery
I've denied Davy Jone's Locker, I have served my full term.
~04 Jun 2016~
FLAGELLUM
limerick
Harry yelled out "aut pax aut bellum"
Indeed he lost his cerebellum
He kept the piece in dish
And the peace on a fish
The next war he lost his flagellum
aut pax aut bellum (lat.)= either peace or war
copyright (C) rajat kanti chakrabarty
seeds of paradise
sowed in the palm of my dream
gave birth to rainbows...
i was given wings of light
to fly among memories...
fas (lat.) - fate
Hymn to the Three Consorts of Allah
O El-Lat, radiant in the moon’s gentle glow,
Your silver beams illuminate the night,
Guide lovers with your tender, soothing light,
In your embrace, true affections grow.
Guardian of secret trysts beneath the stars,
You witness vows whispered in the dark,
With every kiss, you leave a spark,
Blessing those who dare to love who they are.
Chorus:
Three goddesses, we honor your grace,
In your divine light, our hearts find their place,
El-Lat, El-Uzza, and Manat, so dear,
In your sacred presence, love is clear.
El-Uzza, harbinger of laughter and delight,
With you, love’s journey is ever bright,
Your joy unites hearts with endless might,
In your presence, every soul takes flight.
You dance through fields where flowers bloom,
A symbol of love’s eternal spring,
In your name, joyous anthems sing,
For in your love, there is no room for gloom.
Chorus:
Three goddesses, we honor your grace,
In your divine light, our hearts find their place,
El-Lat, El-Uzza, and Manat, so dear,
In your sacred presence, love is clear.
Manat, a fierce protector of the true,
With strength, you guide us through,
Your light illuminates a dark path anew,
Empowering life to blossom in view.
No fear can stand where your love reigns,
With you, we break all binding chains,
Your spirit Allah's passion rains,
In your honor, love’s freedom gains.
Chorus:
Three goddesses, we honor your grace,
In your divine light, our hearts find their place,
El-Lat, El-Uzza, and Manat, so dear,
In your sacred presence, love is clear.
it would be a last request, before the gallows
like baloo sings it
i'm being led there, the narrow path between the
faces of the people
my hands tied behind my back
the rope taut against the skin
and i'm going,
de-zop-ba-ronie
hap-da-dee-ba-lat
da-dat-dat-non
hey, a-baby-dot-doo
zaba-doo-doo-day-doo-bop
doo-boo-doo-day, ze-bonz
za-bop-bop-bobby
we arrive
i turn to the hooded executioner.
'take me home, daddy.'
my love, into thy hands I trust my heart,
for you to keep it safe, away from tears,
until the day when we shall be apart,
when we'll be free from any earthly fears.
I hereby pray thy hands to hold it well
and not to let it fall from heavens nest,
where, since I’ve met thee, secretly found dwell
and in a perfect harmony doth rest.
so please, my lord, enthrall me with thy touch,
and let my heart enjoy your loving sight,
for never have I loved a man so much
as to confide him with my soul each night...
and if I were to live my life anew,
again I would entrust my heart to you...
commissum (lat.) – that which is entrusted
Metrics,
Real concs.
Problems,
Solve ‘ems.
Nature,
Culture.
See slave,
Behave.
Faction,
Action.
Mating,
Dating.
Suckle,
Chuckle.
Test tube,
Stat loop.
Scope read,
Nodes said.
Bi drive,
Lat hive.
Theory,
Clearly.
Method,
Deft thud.
Method,
Deft cod.
Select,
Chain checked.
Gather,
Blether.
Science,
Finance.
Science,
Distance.
Freedom,
Kingdom.
Freedom,
Random.
Dead Memories
Do you miss me?
Who are you?
Do you still love me?
Why do you ask?
Do you still think I'm wonderful?
I do not know
Am I how you remember me?
Should I know you?
Do you remember me?
Through all this time and I shall not lie nor do I have heart to do so
I am not who I was today i was reborn anew for I died lat night.
So you are new but you still are you when you look even if your heart as
change you no matter what are there.
You speak of nonsense I'm reborn I died and I have returned this is that and nothing
more.
Your memories are dead but to me you are still alive.
Yes my memories are dead but keep that me alive and one day I will return.
that day I lost my friend for their memories no longer was with them they were dead.But even with dead memories they still are someone close to me.
Beatrice: Tu miri a la funestia de l'austeria
commistion de l'invidia e d'acerbe
quando crescer non vive e pur ingeria:
principia sono falde e non riserbe,
scienza che non impozza ma s'intenda
innesta a la puerizia unìce berbe;
così l'amplesso de' sofismi addenda
a 'l mondo la piètra ancora e rude,
e non liquor ch'accidia disincenda.
O altrove negasi qüelle drude
artefatte sentenze sanza cura
d'esser venène se non crude?
Ed esse cinte d'ingloriose mura
inspazia lo su' autor ne l'avvenire
non come munificio ma 'n usura;
per ciò che 'l suo miasma 'ntende aulire
intorno al pensier suo immaturo e marcio,
e assuono di sua sorditate benedire.
Ioàn: In nome de la tua spada disquarcio
onne mia dedizione pria diletta
se no da mia equità meco disarcio:
name mi sono appreso intra la letta
in che lo flume de 'l discorso rade
d'aver d'una rugiada l'aude umetta;
(Lat.absisto)astito da le mie false contrade
i' vegno a 'l primo freddo de 'l mattino
e sì novella possa mi pervade!
Beatrice: Ricorditi virtute è 'l tuo confino
ma 'n ella libertate a te è plenaria
e teco suggellar non può 'l destino.
Allora fa': di molte isquame acquaria
il laco de 'l tuo cuore mai diverso
d' amor che tutto 'nvita e seco invaria
e fé l'oceano sempre limpio e terso.
I remember going to the next door store;
I remember a shelf of books
I opened one to see what was written within,
To see the dry ink an author carved onto its pages
But, the book was empty and imprisoned with straight black lines
I flipped through some other books, but there was nothing too...
And so, I bought two with no idea how to free them
But, I knew that I would use them some day
A year passed and I remembered the two books I bought
I opened one and began my journey with it
I was eleven when my pen's tip laid its secrets onto that imprisoned book
I kept writing till one day, a new technology arrived
As the book lat in the dark for a while,
I didn't forget about it, for I introduced it to the new techno.
Day by day, I wrote some more
Day by day, topics changed; to learn more
Now, the once imprisoned book lay carved with so many words
Now, the once 'so' empty and lonely book lay to end...
I remember buying it as a 'Nemo'
And now it's grown to be a 'Journal of New;'
A 'Journal of Poems and Notes; of Quotes and Lessons'
Yes, it is no longer empty, for it is a book of 'me'....
My pen's tip shall no longer meet your pages, but
My hand shall flip through your pages as my eyes read the tales
Once upon a time, there were empty books
"I bought two with no idea how to free them"
One lay in my hands, while the other lay in my sister's hands
And now, I bid my book, my 'Little Nemo'
....Farewell....
Goodbye, from my pen's tip, for it shall no longer carve your pages with secrets,
yet you hold my kids; my dried ink
'Little Nemo' you carry words from 'me'
And I ask you to treasure them for they are precious to me...
Never let go, for I shall flip through your pages a lot more...
You are a book with and author; 'me'
Farewell my 'Little Nemo'