Long Cormorants Poems
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I live in Arrubluc by the sea
much like the fabled Llareggub
made famous by Dylan Thomas
in the radio play 'Under Milk Wood'.
The land meets the sea here as well,
but it's a beachside town, beside the sea,
not a portside fishing village.
The sleepy town awakens, with a yawning sigh,
As the gentle kiss of dawn paints the sky.
Fiery orange and red, a sailor's warning cry,
Ignored by seagulls squabbling to fly on by.
The sun bursts up in the East through the ocean,
And the curved horizon rippled by waves in motion.
For the sea is seldom calm and exudes its emotion
Driven by wind and waves into pulsing commotion.
The waves and shore are coupled in embrace,
The sands are caressed lovingly with grace,
There's hiss and splash as waves surge through the flat space,
Leaving behind wedding veil trails of pure white lace.
At dawn, the sea birds gather in flocks on the lake,
To chat and squabble, to preen and feather shake.
The black swans cruise single file shoreward at daybreak
Grumbling and mumbling grunts, as they come in to take a break.
The gulls and terns, cormorants and stilts gather together
In groups of kin, returning like fishing boats to tether
Up on the shore for rest and relief from the weather.
They gather in a congregation, massing with friends of feather.
The surfers and fishers, come to worship the sea,
Paying homage to the beach and waves with heartfelt glee,
Frolicking in the swell, casting out their lines in a spree,
To catch the whooper waves on offer, and big fish all for free.
The surf club is alive with laughter and cheer,
Where mates gather for bawdy gossip and a beer
Every Friday afternoon as week's end draws near
Enjoying the ballads and shanties of the local balladeer
As twilight falls to night, and the moon ascends,
Darkness reveals its velvety somber blends,
The stars return to the sky, like eternal friends,
Amid the calm and peace as day's end descends.
Arrubluc beachside,
here beside by the sea,
says "Bye, Bye, Good Night"!
On the bay the wind is scurrying
along its flock of waves,
with white crests honey combed,
to flip over their edges,
on blue foreheads.
The bow of the yacht slices
through the waves driven by the wind
in the sails, rattling the rigging,
heeling the boat over,
relenting to force of wind,
tricking the wind to drive the yacht
forward wind into the wind.
On the bay the currents play with the tides.
The ferries ply their routes,
hurrying and streaming,
with passengers waving to passersby
for no good reason, for no one asks them why.
The ferries toot their horns to
sloops, ships, skiffs, tugs, tinnies, dinghies and row boats,
hoping they will get out of their way soon.
Dolphins, twist, glide and turn, riding the bow currents.
They pop up to say: "Gidday!", "How's it Going!"
Surfacing for a one-eyed glace up at
the bow-riders standing up front like a figurehead.
Gulls dip and squabble overhead, as terns dive for food,
Cormorants pop to the surface looking around,
before diving back down,
with syrupy smooth surge below.
Pelicans cruise by like flying boats, with folded bills.
For whatever we lose from ourselves on the land,
we'll find it again out there on the wide blue sea,
where life began, and it still sustains us.
For Planet Water is indeed our true home
where life began in water.
It's our matter and matrix,
mother and medium.
Truly our everlasting living sustainer.
Boated through the tantalizing Kerala backwater
in a pleasant summer morning;
Coconut groves were adorning
our way and perky fishes were chased by river otters
Cacophony of the swaying lofty coconut trees
and the nearby evergreen plants
produced a mesmerizing chant
that certainly consoled the chaotic minds and appease
Majestic banyan tree with its spiraled pillar branches
enthralled the endemic birds
and the migrating animal herds
on the river bank, renovated the place into the ranch
Suddenly the boat entered into the hollow way
where tangled trees made archways,
and fallen flowers filled our pathways
welcomed us, it was such an unforgettable day
Reflections of the slender palm trees on the waters,
painted a flawless picturesque picture
with the kaleidoscope of colors and mixtures
Which was untapped only in the perpetual back waters
Coots and cormorants swiftly plunged into water
When they heard the sound of the boat
Tranquility of the place calmed the hysteria
and it led to the apocalypse of worldly emotions
Sep-9-2017
POTD on Sep 11 2017
I was so happy and I felt so blessed as I received this honour on the death anniversary of my favorite poet Mahakavi Bharathiyar.
The morning seemed unreal,
too perfect in a way -
the waking river
where small boats ignited
like candles on being lit
by first light and where
a cormorant dived
into a blazing sun.
And here, where
a certain magic began
to find its way into
the great, glowing bulk
of a passing ship
towing its fiery wake
down river
towards a grand idea
that was forming
in a corner of the mind.
I should have left
it there in the unspoken
margins of the morning,
to gather and let
it warm, as cormorants do
by stretching out their wings
to catch the sun.
I was too impatient
and fell back
into where all things
are restrained within
their own space
and have a name.
Show me a place where I can be in a little island far above the sea where the skies touch the hills and transmit a message to my window sill. Show me a place where I can be to touch your heart and sing sweet melodies to thee and when the night rings out in the skies I will gaze at the stars and sing you a sweet lullaby. It seems just like yesterday when you kneel down at my bedside to pray and the moon was my covering and the miracle appears in the morning.
Show me a place where I can be to join your friends and company, a place that bears its bosom in the sea and I can lay my head in the sand and sing sweet melodies for thee.
Show me a place where I can be to romance with the fish in the great big sea, to ride out in the fishing boat and catch some trout. I would hold the sword fish by its mouth and put the Atlantic cod in my bag. I would catch hundreds of mackerel for my deceased dad and put the great white shark in a chokehold.
I would catch some red mullet and make some Barramundi tea for you, and catch the mahi-mahi for the aquarium and prepare the haddock and anchovies for dinner and reserve the red seabream for supper.
Show me a place where I can be to find peace and tranquility, to listen to the birds in the hill as they fly from tree to tree and watch the pileated woodpecker conversing with the bald eagle. The robin and the pelican have nothing in common but when the sorrow join them, they can sing a happy song.
I can see you standing there yearning to join me over here, your heart is real and you are full of zeal and the artic loon will meet with you at noon accompanied by the cormorants, the great auk, dovekie and the storm petrels.
Show me a place where I can be so that I can spend quality time with thee. Take me to Gibraltar in a boat and leave me at the French border with white wine and steak frites. Show me a place where I can be.
I've almost forgotten it.
It got too big -
holes appeared,
entire towns fell through
my memory.
The Forbidden City
is a convoluted red and gold ribbon,
my mind cannot now untangle.
Images float off the ink
of curling maps.
Snapshots flutter
like flags in a desert sky.
I recall in parts and pieces:
middle-aged couple’s street dancing,
no revolutionary strutting,
just Quickstep, Foxtrot,
and Bossa Nova.
The young watching,
taking notes, as if
studying for an exam.
A small one-armed boy,
riding a peddle bike,
weaving through traffic,
four black cormorants strapped to his back,
their necks craning out of their wicker cage,
like sight-seeing dogs.
A quick look at Mongolia
through a hole in the Wall.
China got loose,
it escaped the hotels,
the tour buses, the itinerary.
It went down a crowded alley,
draped with roast ducks,
and paper lanterns.
If I were now to follow it,
it might lead me,
to a restaurant in London,
San Francisco, or Toronto,
or like today
come together again,
in the eyes of a girl
who sells me a smart phone.
Evening Dream
Dr Ranjit Dutta
With your ardour
In that green valley
You raised your hand
To the evening sky,
I remember too.
Looking two glazing stars of
That silvery evening,
Two cormorants were
Swimming in the morass
Chewing the verses
Fearing nothing.
Keeping aside
The gloomy darkness,
I was talking with my
Poetry of cosmic green
Who was grazing in your bosom.
Suddenly
Her rude face and
your blue costumes searched someone
In broken words .
The wan pink spread
silken perfume
On her cottony body,
My poetry fell in the bog
While you came close and closer,
The evening dream of
Blue and pink
Became pale green.
1
the goose is putting signature
on the plume detaching from its tail
the queue is overflowed with crowd
groping in the memory of the gathering people
so many safety pins and cello-tapes
are found
on the shoulders of some wayfarers
there is the stammering cold
2.
the body-language of the moon
is being so changed
the enthusiastic may test
blood came down
when the tap is on
and sweat
now birds from siberia
are flowing in through the disc antenna
the dravidian air is ever changing
now none can get ruined
following all the grammar
3.
the sole hunger of the winter
is being noted down in the note book
covered with human-skin
the clouds of the summer and the rainy season
are salivating
the garrulous spiders are detaching the shells
of the dead deer and putting the gardens in the iron-chest
throwing dry leaves to shoo away the coke
oh, the sleeveless palms
are all the new girl-friends ok
4.
putting on the rain-coat to save the skin
or it’s an armour
is your body safe
fireworks are twinkling
piercing
the fire-brigade has gone to a joyful journey with the clouds
admit the charisma of the bathroom
you the adult buffalo
don’t forget to tell
the experienced cormorants have flown in from the marshland
5.
diving in search of kisses
I saw all are stings
even the wicker tray with the articles of ceremonial reception
can’t escape bite
would you be clean
oh engrossed abir
so many flakes of snow on the branches of the guava tree
the festival is in your teeth also
tame your blood
don’t submerge the river into the waves
and there is the sky
beg a rail
What is it why
So morbid
New war, Corvid
Who is this new alien
And is it from this world
Is he it totally from sin nature
Is it he man made scientifical spiritual political
Or All the Above who is it based on my choice opinion
I just don't know is it political scientifical from our enemy
Is it Red, shall we die
Will we all be dying and or dead
Genocide after me what is it
Why so morbid New World Corvid
You may be I'll be not free so what if I eat bats
What do you and me call it
That what's it about the delicacies
Should we go back to Leviticus
so we don't eat Eagles, Vultures, Kites
Why we don't eat Crows, Ravens, Cormorants Gulls, and Hawks
What is it
why so morbid
New World Corvid
a sometime some Christians restrictions
a Judaism Islamic decision
That thou shall not eat
But what of Jesus
The more you know
Death burial Resurrection had freed us
From these laws
Sin nature free choice
What is it why so morbid
New World Court
Just cause it may taste good doesn't make it right
And everything with all with fins and scales
Shall we not eat
The raw Mouse, Rat and Bats
Even if you cooked them??
Swarming flying insects unclean do not eat should we be Under the Leviticus laws again
Could you imagine
Your now a new Citizen in...
CORVID NEW WORLD ORDER
5/17/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr 2020
The foliage unruffled, the tree trunks utterly baffled
The reign of darkness all along
A nightly hoot of owl, the occasional growl
Of a tiger bold and strong
The silence of night, the crescent moon’s light
A play of light and dark
The serene nature sleeps a strange fever creeps
The homebound wings of a lark
An eerie silence reigns in the forest now.
A few huts of people living in this forest
Can be seen at the distance. The faint light spilled
Through the roofs is busy in hiding its scantiness;
Though darkness and silence of the forest are extending
A sympathetic hand to it. A baby cries, its mother cradles
The new-found affection gently, gently, it is bound to be
Lulled into sleep whereas all the leaping flames
Circle the mother and baby in an enchanted dance
The morning glows in stranger shine. The ferny floor
All teeming with greedy shadows; the day shows the door
Of immeasurable wealth; they tread invisible ways
To usurpation, primitive hands fail to prevent
Modern cormorants and voracious sharks in complete sway
Timeline
Corpses of trees mutilated arms, legs and breasts bear proof to genocide
Timeline
Huge bulldozers mechanical drone flourish of contemptuous tide
Timeline
Herds of cattle lead an impeccable people’s exodus
Timeline
The forest relegates into history, a state-of-the art mall shows its class
…………
Timeline