Best Xiv Poems
At this very moment coolies screamed, ‘train',
We scampered, packing up our bags and bales;
A long-awaited train’s at times a bane,
But this one turned a boon, such were the tales.
An English gentleman hailed our hero
From his carriage, and we parted to go
Our diverse ways—to our cattle-class seats.
There was no chance to know who that man was,
Nor could more light upon his tale be lit;
Indeed, never-ending may prove some pause.
Some truths, some lies of life lie ever so;
Maybe, he took us as credulous fools.
A painful nerve, if anxious, seldom cools,
Some truths and lies forever curious grow.
Perchance the man minted fun at our cost,
And damsels in distress lay buried, lost.
_____________________________________________
Narrative |01.04.2024|
Note: A poetic translation of Rabindranath Tagore’s story in Bengali: Kshudhaarto Paashaana, divided in I to XIV parts, largely in blank verse that lapses into rhymes along with its twists and turns. The story is known to have happened during Tagore’s stay at Shaahibaug palace in Ahmadabad, the nearby river Sabarmati becoming river Suista in the story.
Unquotable quotes – XIV
Don’t trouble trouble until trouble gobbles you ; don’t
rubble rouble until rouble rubbles you.
Don’t marry a woman out of pity ; she’ll make you
regret her lack of fidelity for a ditty.
Don’t lose your temper with any old party member ;
they are all in league licking the leader’s member.
Don’t meddle with paddles if you have never rowed on
water ; it’s not the self-same action you practice with
your partner.
Don’t run to get insurance coverage when you’re
hanging from a ledge ; better wait for the dredger to
empty the valley of sludge.
Don’t go to the cinema to rub or warm thighs and legs ;
what you’re watching is not what you see.
Don’t climb mountains only to be rescued in the public
eye ; there are other more subtle ways like making
naked love to appear on TV.
Don’t crack jokes to make others croak ; crack their
skulls open with a rebuke.
Don’t eat with your fingers noodles soup ; drink the
soup first, then slurp the noodles through fingers.
Don’t tease the neighbour’s daughter for lack of
laughter ; for all you know she may be Bob Hope’s
screen writer.
Don’t turn tables in a fight if you haven’t got the might,
unless you’re John Wayne in a Western with a
broken hind stern.
Don’t squirm in bed dreaming of Clark Gable ; his teeth
kept great actresses crying out for a gargle.
Don’t swim against the current pretending to be Tarzan,
unless you have a Jane willing to put up with any
bane.
Don’t cry for help with a mere yelp.
© T. Wignesxan – Paris, 2016
Tarzan could yodel with a beat
A whale can sing melodies sweet
But Donald is mean
His mouthpiece the machine
That disseminates hate with a tweet
one-legged pigeon
pecks at crumbs
of crumbs
SONNET XIV
I SING OF HIS FAITHFULNESS
Since Childhood have I severally been told
That the Blessed Mind Knows Gratitude
Till lately, this has been more of a Mystery
That His Promises are there,
That He is good with ever enduring Mercies
That for me, He works all things for good.
The Grace that gave me all I deserved not,
And His Mercies that exempt me from Karma
That it all comes from Him
That by me, all has gone exacly as planned; No,
But; He has daily led me to the expected end
Beyond what Eyes have seen or Ears heard
The Light I’ve seen I’ll share
I’ll sing of His Faithfulness.
@DECEMBER 2016/ ©M.H.O.G Unveilings
I awoke in a kitchen
on a pillow of aprons;
my body covered with bruises
from a mob of angry patrons.
Then I came to in my bed
with all my ex-lovers
and their menstrual blood
absorbed by my covers.
Then I was asleep on the freeway,
alone in the carpool lane;
drove off a bridge in California
and woke up underwater in Maine.
Then I was alive in a coffin
snuggled with a teddy bear –
a knocking at my door,
but I pretended I wasn’t there.
Then I was back to the mirror
engraving my eyes with glass;
as the lights went out,
my ears started to laugh.
Then I was shivering on a pier
with a needle in my arm,
and my intestines unraveling
like a ball of yarn.
Then I was behind steel bars -
opposite a prison guard;
telling him your address,
and handing him a postcard.
The divine flame, the torch of eternal truth lit,
And passed it onto Pope's Leo XIV trembling hand
Who, fervently, prayed to our God almighty,
Peace and love to bring, upon men's tormented land.
© Demetrios Trifiatis
09 May 2025
Did this vampire think I would not comply?
Chance expected me to let someone die;
Blood lust has taken away my conscience,
compassion is no match for violence;
Being treated horribly for so long
can really do nothing but make you strong;
All the anger that was never addressed,
the woman I once was there’s nothing left;
Suddenly everything went crystal clear,
two pairs of eyes had become a mirror;
To me it was not too complicated;
Something about this? I felt vindicated;
Rage like a storm was brewing deep within,
a smile grew and I whispered ‘Count me in.’
Through hazy mirrors
A doxy appears to be doused
Within suicide languages
Hips bemoaning white filigrees
Caressed by a famine of beatitude
designed to elicit tragedy
IF ever I had a country : XIII - XIV
XIII
IF ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Sports Secretary
I'd remind every sportsman performing for money
That the buying and selling of humans born free
Died with slavery in the Nineteenth Century
And put behind bars all club committees found guilty
That is, if ever I were the Sports Secretary
And even if I never ever had no country
XIV
If ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Sports Secretary
I'd fine any sportsman his salary for hood-winking the referee
After every judo throw and karate jab above or below the knee
Just when the ball's dribbled to the goal --- for a penalty
Even if the VAR-referee is blind to what we see on TV
That is, if ever I were the Sports Secretary
And this, even if I never ever had no country
© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 3, 2018
XIV.
Come now before thee vested only in Equity.
Arbiter for non-save the spirit of the Doctrine.
Upon which that is inscribed upon the foundations are intrinsic.
Immutable and indelible.
Say now what cause exist to bar those that supplicate to thee.
Be not deaf to thine supplicant’s.
Avert not your gaze.
Before you subjected to thy query.
In resolute prayer.
© veritatem voluntatem 2015?
Choked us up,
as love is being victimized
and burned at the stake.
Take me back to your place,
and I'll love you all night long,
and you'll feel my wrath
in the pleasure.
Let's drive in the Camaro,
with the top down,
and see the wind blowing through your
love laced hair,
and I take my eyes off the road for a second,
you panic,
you feel my kiss,
"Ah what the hell!"
Take me back to your place,
show me your vintage record player,
play me some smooth jazz,
as I strip you slowly and kiss you on your neck,
work down your shoulder
and your sweet and tight abdomen;
and bang!- love me one more time.
Don't victimize love,
don't hurt me,
prove to me that love is with you and me.
Kiss me,
and I'll kiss you back,
and I'll keep you more and more,
and stroke you over and over,
pop goes the weasel-
and love we'll make over and over.
.2.28.2014.
Freed from its cell in the hive
T-rumposaurus comes alive
This monster is back
And plans to attack
With project twenty twenty-five
Allure,
Winds capture then release
open with appease
flutter in the tease
and deepened trust
motion, flirting with an ease
flickers, a jaded breeze
the rush of a sacred sea
overcoming impossibility
wet, more than water streams
filtering the cracks and every seam
molten gold, we're burning red
engraved and alive
entrenched inside
elaborate
intimacy paints the tides
seen with touch
felt with heart
the soul knows
the soul knows
whispers in the night
holding, holding on
holding her
it's so so right
roads weaving from the past
two strings that did not pass
tied together and Bonded
exploring all the tiny details
thru time,
a love
can forever last
IF YOU PULL A LONG FACE : Part XIV
IF you pull a long stiff face
Week after week while you parley
You risk stoking the furnace
Ill-chosen words all ending in nay
If you keep pulling the long red face
The Picador will puncture your vertebrae
Blood-splashed mane from banderillas
Beware you'll be the only felled prey
If you keep pulling that long mane face
The blood-thirsty chorus crowd cry Olé
Eyes mist over ears dim to the populace
Beware Beware the Torrero about to slay
If you insist on pulling the long bull-face
Horns flayed by muleta-faena coup d'épée
The Torrero bucked up with rude applause
Take heed the estocade's only an inch away
Now if you must pull that long lost face
Neither party willing to give some leeway
No Wall can stop the People ALL debase
Hell to pay in havoc-wreaked 2020's back pay
© T. Wignesan - Paris, January 10, 2019