Bound in supple molded leather, nondescript,
are manmade pages with rough jagged edge;
between their lines my unkempt thoughts are kept,
Whatever thoughts I fancy or things I fear,
however vain my conceit to try and make them art.
Long past when mold becomes my mantle set,
and my form feeds the growing sedge,
after even up the wind my bones has swept,
the words herein will still inhere;
and so, apart from pulse I will exist, in part.
But it’s true import none shall see:
that you once gifted this to me.
The stellar realms their laws obey
regardless what our scopes display
or how we wriggle facts around
in outer space, on earthly ground,
to match what present pundits say.
For truth is truth whate’er the sway
of those who mark our mortal stay
while in reality are found
the stellar realms.
With reaches deeper than one may
yet fathom in the mind’s array—
enlightenment beyond the bound—
but oh delusion’s sleep is sound—
inhere within and faraway
the stellar realms.
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
The poem is in the form of a rondeau…
Though we got the land on name of religion,
But we tend to be far more traditional,
As being a post-colonial, still baffled,
But now again my nation is girdled!
Every province have its language but,
Radically alike semantics in our spirit,
Some wear waistcoat or some jeans,
This polarization persists in our teens,
But to this point of disparity, still,
We all offer Him together and will!
A time comes in a year, twice
Where we gather with family and cheer,
A reason of celebration twice the year,
One for the fasting in holy month inhere,
While merry on the Latter is premier,
Subdued in the celebrations we’re
Thus so in satisfaction of love,
only of father and mother,
This is the life in my homeland lived,
Mundanely lived … ah seems outlived!
Oh this sweat upon my brow
Pours from this weather I must embrace
Thick moist air curls my hair and drips from my face
Oh the dog days of summer are here
Where my clothes are stuck and dirt does adhere
Bare foot running across the tar and concrete
Burning the soles of my feet
Breathless and hot not wanting to move
Waiting for a storm to pass over and this oppression to improve
My garden finds elation in this humidity
Making it leaves grow with great solidity
The kids run lemonade stand down the street
The elders stop to buy it and beat the heat
Tho theses days are short in caparison
To view ones perspiration is somewhat embarrassing
I am so thankful for my air-conditioning
I’m just complaining and petitioning
For a brake for this extreme heat
And I shall whistle along with my sweet treat
Oh this sweat upon my brow
Pours from this weather I must embrace
Thick moist air curls my hair and drips from my face
I guess I shall inhere to July and it’s slower pace