Best On Leave Poems
Inspiration : Our eminent poet, Krish Radhakrishnan who is also a doctor handling corona patients. Once he commented that I feel guilty when they give me leave. Another time he commented that some days we are so exhausted that we have no heart to do anything. If everyone followed rules corona cannot spread. This would give health workers much needed respite.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As you go out without worry
Without precaution, not wearing a mask...
think of the doctors out there
working hard and day and night
trying to save every life
It is not easy for them!
Frightened faces all around
so many deaths in front of them
just think of their state of mind
Covered by PPE, sweating inside
mask on face, not easy to breathe
full day handling patients with patience
life is most tough for them
Still they are doing it for us!
we are duty bound to take precautions
Please think about them before you go out
Or do any social function
Just because they are good we should not take advantage
suppose they become irresponsible
say we are tired we are going on leave
Just imagine your plight
A big salute to their sincerity and dedication
working under extreme conditions still they smile to their patients
talk with hope and faith
this has been going on for months
still they continue to serve
Being a doctor is not easy
Wear PPE for 1 hour and see
Wear mask at home for 1 hour and see
Serve a corona patient without thinking of self and family
They are doing so much
how are we ever going to repay them?
By doing our best to avoid getting corona we can help big way
If all take care, how will corona spread?
Doctors are God to me
Being a doctor is not easy
My Wellie boots are battered
and all frayed at the top,
They cost me fifty bob
in C.D. Ellis’s shop.
They have seem better days
but they still keep water out
and that after all is what
Wellie boots are about.
I bought them on leave
way back in 1962
and with a little care
I reckon they’ll see me through.
We wandered winter nights
over Billy Bulson's crisp cold land?
under country clear skies
a twelve bore close to hand.
They’ve tramped may a mile,
kept me dry in a Lambwaths flood
and fifty years later those
Wellie boots are still good.
I shall wear my battered boots
until my very end,
putting them on my feet is like
communing with an old valued friend.
In my Last Will and Testment I shall
decree they are honourably burned
because that’s the fitting end
those Wellie boots have earned.
They cost me 50 bob
at C.D Ellis’s shop
and they’re now torn and battered
and well frayed at their very top.
One or two of us
Were home on leave;
For the rest of us,
Christmas came by mail.
Our callsign: Gunslingers.
Our Military Transition Team
Was embedded with
The "Triple Deuce" Iraqi Infantry,
For a year our home
Was LSA Diamondback
Mosul, Nineveh province,
In northern Iraq
A Team member's wife
Gave us all Santa hats.
I have an old photo
Of us standing on top
Of an old Iraqi bunker,
Bearing pistols, rifles,
And those Santa hats.
My wife sent a small
Plastic Christmas tree,
Which was decorated
In the Gunslingers' office.
My mom sent a warm quilt.
When you're acclimatized
To wearing battle armor
In the high 90s and 100s,
80-something feels cold!
I remember the nights--
Dark, but full of stars,
With Orion's belt
On the horizon.
Soldiers made bonfires
In the oddest places:
By a concrete shelter,
Or in classified burn pits.
Once exiting my office,
I saw a fire in the sky.
Soldiers were on top of a bunker
Drinking near-beer, singing.
Another night, I stood
Just outside of the light
Looking at some troops,
And the chiaroscuro image.
I went back to my "choo",
And penciled the scene.
To complete the masterpiece,
I inserted myself
Roasting marshmallos.
I went back to visit them,
Showed them the drawing,
Then completed the picture
By searing a marshmallow.
Christmas was what we made of it.
Dad Revisited
RIP 1924-2015
Last night I sat up in bed and prayed a little longer,
I asked god to send dad back for just one more day with great fervour.
Dad was waiting for me in the verandah as soon as I reached,
Seated on his cane chair with legs outstretched.
Suited- booted, neat crisp turban, expectant eyes so tender
The same tweed coat, the warm muffler across his shoulder.
The moment he saw me he fumbled for his walking stick,
Stood up took a few steps forward in a nick.
We embraced each other tight as he planted as kiss on my head,
I nuzzled against his warm coat enjoying the love of my figurehead.
Warm drops of love fell on my cheeks,
Saw oceans pouring through his teary creeks.
'I can't control them', he said chokingly,
Feeling the other's heart beats we clung to each other tightly.
'Let's go to the garden, the grape fruit is waiting for you!'
We walked together slowly over his leafy garden dew.
Dad showed me the new cuttings and saplings he had potted for me,
He pointed to the overgrown grass and said his workers were on leave.
He said,' Ah, for more varieties of flowers!
But the dogs don't spare them in my bowers'.
We smiled and saw the overladen grape fruit trees,
I plucked three grapefruits and said they would suffice with a tease.
We slowly climbed up the steps to our sunny verandah to sit alone,
He asked me what was it that I had wanted to tell him over the phone.
I read out my poem, '13, West Macott Road', a nostalgia shakeup,
Of our ancestral home in Poona where he had grown up.
I was reared up there, too, by my grandparents,
He wept and hugged each other, our undying love evident.
'I can't believe you had this talent and I didn't know about it till now,
You always make me cry with your emotions, but no more will I allow!'
He took out his kerchief to wipe my tears, his permanent flair,
I was still sniffing when I sighted his empty cane chair.
December 10, 2015
Contest: Just One More Day
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Sometimes trees’ green fingers
Stand still like reposing harbingers
Of hope and despair; they meditate
On our ignorance of them who medicate
Us when diseases burgle into our souls
Taking us unawares like April fools.
At times tree branches and leaves
Come to a halt and fold up their sleeves.
Like parentless kids, they stand still,
Holding Ozone Crisis Meetings until
God’s silent servants come and sway
Them from angle to angle, wiping away
The spells of fear that cloud our faces
Each time leaves go on leave leaving no traces
Of further existence for Man who digs
His graves whenever he murders figs—
The figs that link us to the Unseen Being
Who reveals His presence in Man’s wellbeing.
But when God’s blowing sons and daughters
Sweep across Earth, letting twigs leave their fathers,
Falling twigs and dried leaves clatter
And produce celestial music to flatter
Man while lizards play basses with tails
And flying fowls chant solos and tales.
Then Man joins this universal worship,
Going down on knees to supplicate God’s fellowship,
Feeding his doubting heart with conviction
As Christ’s promises come to completion
Revealing the active hands of a Father Invisible
Who marvels His creatures with things invincible.
When these invisible but active servants of God gather
More momentum in synergy with Sun, leaves wither,
Tree trunks go epileptic while roofs migrate
And mortal Man gets to concentrate
On these leaves and stems which go on retirement
To remind him of his own imminent retirement.
(Between Carriere and Mbankolo, Sunday 02 December 2012)
I hated my payday
Creditors I couldn't pay
The pain I felt was like one of a stingray
O! Lord I pray
This misery can't stay
Please flee
Hear my plea
Look at me
My eyes are bloody
Fly away, misery
My Lord please, lend me a key
I'm on my knee
Asking a shadow of your tree
I need to be free
Please give me the key
To unlock my misery
What a relieve
I'm no longer naïve
I standing before you with disbelieve
You are swift to hear
Now I believe! I believe!
Today I'm a man
Respected by my woman
Because my Lord you are real man
You gave me what I needed as man
Means to provide for my family like other man
Thank you Lord, you are a real man
Now I believe.
Because I believed
I did not lose hope to continue to live
Contentment surpass me I leave
To work for my children to better their lives
Now my pay day I enjoy like being on leave
All this was impossible If I did not believe
Now I believe!
I am a daughter of an army soldier,
I am stronger and bolder than all other children.
I have seen fathers give their children goodbye kisses every time,
And promising that they will come back sometime.
My father has been serving in the army for 18 glorious years,
Every time he used to miss my birthday party, I held back my tears.
When on leave he used to come home,
In my mind a fervent excitement used to roam,
He had a saga of army experiences,
And I used to tell him about my Sports Day performances.
I never understood why he used to get upset on a layer of dust on his uniform,
As it was just a piece of green cloth covered with medals and stars.
I used to wonder on what was the difference between my school uniform and his uniform?
For him it was not just a uniform,
It was his pride and honor.
It made me believe how much he loved his uniform.
Whenever he goes back after leave,
A handful of sorrow sinks in my heart.
Mom always says that brave girls don’t cry
And these motivational words lift my spirit high,
As we sighed and said goodbye.
Life may not be easy for a daughter of an army soldier,
But I have now understood that,
Life is not a journey,
The journey is life.
The moon was on leave,
The stars were no more
It was not, but in the mid of the darkest night
It was not rain, but the tears of the sleepless eyes
That washed away the beauty of the beautiful sky
It was, but a night of moonless sky,
A night of starless sky
It was, but a wonderful night of the waterlog eyes
It was a fearful night for the fearless heart,
A breathless night for the breathing heart
A restless night for the resting soul
It was in the middle of the darkest night,
A night of light less sky
In high school we met...walked the halls hand in hand;
he carried my books...by our lockers, we'd stand.
We went out to dinner, our special first date,
shared thoughts, later kissed; each had found a soul-mate.
Before very long, our true love appeared strong,
and we knew in each other's arms we belonged.
He joined the Marines after school, end of June.
Our hearts held together by cupid's harpoon.
Consumed by deep love, it was painful to part;
we would meet 'neath our moon many miles apart.
Wrote letters each day and prayed hard for time when
he'd come home on leave, be together again.
Two years later, we married...new life to start.
Now fifty-eight years still each other's sweetheart.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Long Distance Love
Sponsor: Nicola Byrne
Judged: 10/19/2016
~5th Place~
Contest: Our Year In Love
Sponsor: Olive Eloisa Guillermo
Judged: 02/20/2016
Then I went to see the other man’s condition. Blood was running from his ears, and his
nose. three men stood by, just watching the show. I asked them to help me, and leaned
over the man, I asked if he could hear me, and he replied with a grunt, then a groan. His
eyes were glazed over and rolled back in his head. Some one half chuckled, “leave him
he’s dead.” I stood and met the man directly in his face. “Unless you are God, that’s not
your call to make.”
We offered our help and I knew he was passing; I held his hand and cradled his head…
I said to the man, ‘It’s okay…you can go; if God is calling don’t wait….go home.’ He died
in my arms, and I held him till the helicopter came. I was proud of my wife, as she gave
her boy aid; they took him away, and saved his life that day. The weekend was over, we
lost the mood. The drive home was somber, as we cried for a man we never knew.
The next day we received a phone call…it was a General from our base, seems the man I
was holding was a soldier on leave. God gave me the chance to say thank you for real.
Not just a gesture but an act of humanity. Seems all the people around, made comments
of how my wife and I acted better than most. And offered our kindness and help to man
we never even knew. So the General got on the phone, called the police and found out
our names. We were honored by his friends on that one given day, If I hadn’t have
gotten back in the car, the soldier would have died along the road all alone.
The point of this story is just simply put, “there is no such thing as coincidence” God puts
us right where he needs us. He’s ready to use us, if we are only willing.
Migrant workers and street children
Tarek Hasan
I do not sleep on eyes
Early action is away on leave
I have the luxury of back pain.
I did not question my race today
Abroad my identity?
Most of the walls are stained the conscience of the question
Minded as unwanted, what is the worst?
There is still the heart of the depression fall down.
Logo people tarite torn sail the way,
Common goal pursued by the will-o'-the-wisp
Children in memory of the way up the wall of the picture .
Children born faceless way, why?
Why is he silent, still did not answer
Human cruelty, not their distant
They are hated, god luck on the way out
There's still retired, their running play.
Sometimes the station the station never seen Mohakhali, Jatrabari, Gabtoli intersection,
Look out the rotten dumps to drain the water heater,
Sometimes the traveler exile
Sometimes money Sadarghat two porters.
The way they address their shelterless
There is no guidance on the identity of their birth,
They are sitting next to dumps
The smell of rotten rice spread on the nose,
When fatigue, happiness nest don't find
Do not fall asleep on the way to the park,
I space where foreigners with them.
Hard job labor malicious belly
I went down the road where there Pedestrian
Is next to the trash cans at them,
Nonra afternoon sat down with hand-goody
it does not smell like an owl.
There is no identity of their birth but spent the day
And so what I have received,
What is the way I walked Logo
Lived my life the ultimate curse.
When fatigue overheating on the labor body
Not finding the shadow of the vacation home
Fall asleep by the side of the road, with the head of bricks
And they do not mind, I
And do not be sad whisper, not torn,
I am a migrant worker, my identity
Today, the street children.
There are great dragons in my life
that came to me from long ago.
They traveled from across the sea
inside some boxes stored below
His seat during the flight's long trip,
to be a gift for sister dear.
In nineteen forty-four, on leave
from World War II, that distant year,
My Uncle, Air Force pilot then,
came home this time, to be his last.
His sis, my mom, had cherished them,
and when she died, to me they passed.
There are great dragons in my life
that came to me from long ago.
They traveled from across the sea
inside some boxes packed, and so,
Within my home now safe and sound
for me to keep close in my care;
gifts from the war, my Uncle brought
my antique set of Dragonware.
Tea set for eight, dessert plates too
all these with dragons painted on,
in moriage, raised slip decor
made in Japan, but bought in Guam.
There are great dragons in my life
this antique set came 'cross the sea.
His gift is all that's left of him
His gift of dragons saved for me.
October 19, 2015
Contest: Dragons
Sponsor: Silent One
4th Place
I arrived at gadgados
today TD our receptionist
is on leave and i have to multitask
between HR and customer care desk
We did lose the keys to the washrooms
turns out the HR forgot and they ended
accompanying her home.. as we are almost
giving up hope of ever finding them..
The boss arrived and they popped out of her bag..
TD arriving at the office these days he keeps popping
up like hes traveling on the fourth dimension
And mi i do know there is no way those keys could
have ended in Madams handbag for the previous day
i am the one who had custody of them last
But the cybertrack ringing in the air.. ability
give me ability... i bet it must be young bujas
who is up to his usual tricks once more
they say he formed the puma squad with the crown prince
and here at gadgados no one really knows what the silver
sentinels are up to... the pumas are very evasive
today the HR trying to corner me wanted to know why
the crown prince deserted duty at the military academy
i don't know i mussed... no one really does know
Maybe Bujas does.. its rumored left to start the puma squad
private silver sentinels... and they have made gadgados facility
their operating base... what they do no one wants to knows
Later in the evening we lost the front door keys only for them
to mysteriously reappear again an echo of the cyber track.. strength
strength give me strength to overcome for you are strength...
I have to mention Bujas strange companion Roy now prowls this area
and the other day i heard Lemmy roughed up people after i declined....
declined work... like TD and took a leave of absence to do music
for i week i sojourned in music traveling trans dimensional arriving...
at the land of light not very unlike Roy.. but different from Roy i traveled
in the eye of my mind and unlike Bujas i have no need for a time machine
Lewis Nyaga
a day at gadgados
Laid down on the sofa today, memory
taking me back to teen years of so long ago.
When friend Danny and I would go down
town on Saturday afternoon to see a movie
at the Paramount, a movie palace with a wide
screen, that would put the theaters of today to shame.
We saw such movies as "The True Story of Jesse James",
Gunfight at the Ok Corral", "The Incredible Shrinking Man'
and so many more. Sometimes we would go over to Marshall's
Music room next door and play records for hours in the sound booth
upstairs, where we would listen to such stars as Jerry Lee Lewis, Buddy Holly, little
Richard, Chuck Berry, The Everly Brothers, Bill Haley and the comets,
the man who started Rock ' n Roll. Then later we would go across the street to the
City Drug and have a coke for ten cents, then catch a bus home. Where on
Saturday night these two college students from Iowa State had a TV Show called
Graves 'n Manor, which showed monster movies until 2 in the morning, we made
some popcorn and had our Pepsi in the bottle.
Lets not forget this was the year that " Leave it to Beaver" had its start on TV
and American Bandstand and a very young Dick Clark was on Saturday afternoon.
This was the year that the New York Yankess and the Milwaukee Braves played
in the World Series won by the Braves in seven games.
Ford put out one of the best cars ever that year, which for a time was driven by
Ward Clever on "Leave it to Beaver". My brother who was still in the Navy came
home on leave and to our surprise had bought one and brought it home with him,
and my friend Danny and i helped my brother wash it one Saturday afternoon,
while we listend to "That'll Be the Days" What a car, what a song, and what a great
year it was, I could write a book about this year along.
Written 5-12-11
We jump off the delirious thoughts into measured wisdom
Big huge chains of thought and mists of dream boat invention
While out on leave from the present day
The world turns another inch in your favor
Misty morning metal armor, the dream bent on delivering the goods
Trying to peel the outer layer of a person
Trimming the infested material born drumbeat
Hey man it's one more time and I'll be on my way
Back to the brilliant splash of molten storybook teamwork
Jeffrey Bovee 01/11/2012