Long Formal Poems
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Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Goree Island
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: February/2014
I see the blood
of my ancestors
that swell
in the Atlantic ocean
on
Goree Island -
The unmerciful ill winds
that fell
over my people,
in Senegal,
on that
horrific night,
brought the European's,
across the Atlantic,
to our Village -
Everything
in the world
changed forever,
and
will never be forgotten,
when the "unthinkable"
cruel acts
of slavery,
cloaked my people
like
darkness in the night -
White men
dressed in British
formal attire,
brought with them,
bullwhip's, chains, machetes,
and rifles,
to capture us.....
to ENSLAVE us!
We were brutally beaten,
and
taken to
the House of Slaves,
on Goree Island -
The malice intent
of
the British,
intensified our
suffering
at the slave house,
as they
cuffed us to
the walls,
in neck, waist,
and
ankle chains -
Days would pass,
some of us died
from
diseases,
and
starvation,
while waiting
for
the slave ship
to come
from the Americas -
The hideous inhumane
acts
by the British,
sold us
as property,
as we were
auctioned off as
commodity,
to the Americas,
during
the Atlantic Slave Trade
The mournful ness
in our helpless eyes,
spoke of horrendous fear,
as a feeling of distraught,
distress,
and despair,
clothed us
like
death -
We are innocent people
that will never
see our families again
Our homeland again -
It's unfathomable,
to see black souls in chains,
taking those final usurious
steps towards the "Door Of No
Return,"
in the House Of Slaves,
which left its ugly mark,
on the whole global earth -
Once through
the Door Of No Return,
we were sold to the Americas,
and
faced a future of
severe beatings, burnings,
hangings, lynchings,
and
rape -
To this day,
ancient spirits
of
black people,
still scream in rage
on
Goree Island,
where an untold number
of us were
slaughtered,
and
branded
before walking
through the slave door,
of
an uncertain future -
The ominous clouds
of slavery,
will
forever cast
a dark shadow,
over the
House Of Slaves,
the Door Of No Return,
and the world -
Goree Island,
in the Atlantic Ocean,
will forever
cry tears of blood,
from the souls of
black people -
Morning has broken as it has done for many years
Day to day we continue without the fear of fears
Then out of the blue their comes thoughts from long ago
Prophecies of a past, that could halt us humans flow
Tablets scribed in gold, have been uncovered in Peru
For in them they tell of the future, surrounding me and you
We await with fervour in the media, the radio and the t.v.
As I try to get my head around it, and what it means to me
The day that they speak of, it's a little over a year
Do we just laugh if off, or do the sensible in us fear
As I drive through my city, towards this impending day
The street corners start to fill, does panic have it's say
Speakers start to recite, of this doom that welcomes we
I see suicides in escalation, jumpers in front off me
Families leave their homes, for they no not where to go
Panic buying surrounds me, anarchy appears to flow
We now reach December 2012, as we gain on the scribed day
Can it be all that was written, have the ancient had their say
My eyes catch the clock, midnight is awaiting it's strike
It'll be the twenty first of December, are the Mayan scribes right
The minutes pass the hour, everything appears to be normal
Maybe the writes are fables, to them simply formal
To pacify myself, will it be the radio or the t.v.
Sometimes one has to ask oneself, to simply look and see
Visions on the screen appear, many screens my eyes do view
Reports from many countries are brought to me and you
They show events of nature, more fierce than naturally so
Rainfall in arid areas, deserts in metres off snow
The Polar ice caps start cracking, exploding ice in crying break
Mudslides now carry cities, everything caught in their wake
Bangladesh now no longer exists, the Maldives have disappeared
The Mariana Trench now starts to rise, her ridges in rampant rear
A bulletin catches my ears, Yellowstone has started to erupt
Is this what the scribes have warned of, our planet being so abrupt
A rumbling I start to feel, where I stand I feel I move
I'm in tumble across my floor, in fear of their impending prove
My apartment on the only hill, allows through my window to view
A giant fissure slices through my city, for into it, buildings spew
The free ways now broken and torn, many cars in tumbledown
From here I hear the screaming voices, I'm deafened by their drown
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy-20.php
In numerous locales countrywide, they hold sway
Pirouetting at intervals like ballerinas from Bolshoi
Beauteous, feline and very feminine
Slender to the point of emaciation, not quite
Cultivating the undernourished look on a frugal diet
Decidedly austere for a longer tenure in the limelight
Basking in the fleeting warmth of an adulatory audience
A gathering of the doting kindred and the upwardly mobile
Some dirty old men on the sly, dirty young men too
Glued to their seats craning for a better view
By and large captive by choice, a handful perforce
Sitting through to pen their weekly column
Giving those they fancy their due in the sun
Witnesses to a parade of demure eyed lasses
And a few with flashy looks walking tall on stilettos
Essentially female and contoured though not prominently so
At least not to a marked degree, yet with excellent muscle tone
Opulence, no longer deemed a career necessity
Once considered right stuff, now rejected as wrong size
An hour-glass shape belonging to an age bygone
But hardly so, from the viewers’ mind, in retrospect
Enchanting and alluring yet not overtly titillating
Each in a state of dress and undress
Willing tools of designers flaunting their creations
Sporting dresses and hats and shoes, and lingerie too
In black or white and loud or subdued hues
Displaying formal wear, casual wear, swimsuits and sleep suits
Some scanty and figure hugging, others flowing and loose
A bony look required for some, others fulsome
A voyeur’s paradise, to be sure
Indulging a fetish without stooping too low
Chilly weather was never reason enough to cancel a show
Heat of arc-lamps taking care of goose pimples
Or brandy taken neat infusing the needed heat
Harbingers of tomorrow’s fashion and pall-bearers of today’s
The strobe lit platform of the pageant
Serving to launch new faces or is it legs?
The leggy look personified by Twiggy of yore
Carried through in the interim and sustained by the new genre
Captivating without doubt, and thorough professionals
Displaying unruffled demeanour and tutored bearing of thoroughbreds
Exuding confidence with every graceful step they take
Cool as ice despite the harsh glare of stage lights
And callous catcalls from boorish males
Performing in a backdrop of future fashion trends
Money and fame finding some, eluding others
Be it centre stage or in the shadows
It is bread on the catwalk for all
--Evil starts as germinated seeds,
noxious weeds of social infestation,
spreading and suffocating human diversity,
pushing all freedoms into extinction,
the loss of Liberty's creed,,
--Men-Women birth their offspring,
but raised by the State,
alienated offspring grow into bastards,
by design to this fate,
no-longer is Family an understanding,,
--Started in guise of education,
parasitic propaganda by subliminal indoctrination,
targeting children of all ages,
instructing apart from parental objections,
future groupthink masses of inclusion,,
--Religion, History, Novel books outlawed,
that promote ideas of Independence,
instructional manuals that's only allowed,
through State approved media correspondence,
making State approved "truths" unflawed,,
--The masses become Independent-less adults,
in a One World State,
populations regulated, mandated birth controls,
but elitists can freely consummate,
elitist offspring perpetuates State results,,
--The State espouses universal equality,
a mandate against humanity's will,
a law silencing humanity's opinions,
or voicing your opinions from jail,
the State sees as insanity,,
--Humanity becomes living taxed products,
feeding the machines of State,
their worth is what's produced,
fearing for failing to compensate,
you're redistributed, if you obstruct,,
--Populations are kept under intoxication,
by the State approved vice(s),
the willing are comfortably numb,
happiness of suffrage the price,
humanity's compliance made through addiction,,
--Outlawed are self-governed rights,
by State tyranny without impunity,
your lives owned until death,
because you are State property,
all controlled by elitist might,,
--Physical privacy regarded as hate,
pedo-molestation considered universally normal,
it matters not your sexuality,
to all ages so formal,
criminal when reject this fate,,
--Evil that's made a right,
guilt is replaced with ethics,
fundamental good is considered evil,
by the State centered civics,
moral evil in everyone's sight,,
--This is a living nightmare,
that insidiously penetrates humanity's soul,
a world never knowing Hope,
or escaping something this cruel,
the State of Evil despair,,
--Freedom, Liberty and self-governance,
does this sound that bad?,-
it's better than being property,
by a State grown Mad,
or take a standing chance.
To my dearest dear…
Am going through a very bad phase
Loads of works and above all business targets,
Once you came to my thought
And out of all yips, I smiled back for a second
Those flicks with you often n often.
It had been days…
And a movie without you is such a draggy em.
My friend writing for you today…
just to hear from you
Have you ever missed me the way I miss you every day!!!
I turned back my pages and a recap from those French classes
It all began when I shared with you few notes and trifle tattles
Best of you three and among you were bit different
Yet once a time to one I was coquettishly attracted.
Befell with usual conversations and sometimes a walk down to the back gate
A smile shared with wonted hi n hello
And an eye to eye abut during the morning break
Day by day and months later we met up at the orkut network.
First few chats pass on with formal gabs
And later I came up with those fiddling craps.
My usual put-ons and your internet slangs
Still reminds me how I use to share with you
Talks about music and movie blabs.
Washed-out few memories, I wonder how I came in touch with you regularly
Familiarity build up and I started to intimate you.
I saw a friend in you and I saw eternality in you
I felt your accent and I felt how much I miss you.
The Nandan erred foreign flicks and lavishly spent at south city
Few snacks and secret fags on our way,
An overnight fuddle…
I just smiled with you all the way.
I wondered your love toward pets
And I wondered your routine aperiodic,
I esteemed your didacticism
And I esteemed your sensation,
I pray at your benevolence
And I wish for your love always be your existence.
Dear Friend! Today I miss you more,
And I wish you to be here
Your presence will give me a blissful core.
I miss you and I will be missing you,
But promise me before you leave
I just want to sit and recollect all those memories with you.
Through my words and through this letter,
I penned you forever n ever
If ever you need me you’ll always find me near.
I wish you a life with smiles and cheers
Just hit me if ever you are invited with undesired tears.
It’s now to say goodbye
Hope to see you soon and hear from you, A reply!!
Till then…take care n bu bye
Yours forever…longed amigo.
(Note: This poem is dedicated to one of my closest friend Shaoni Mukhopadhyay)
Cultural and Social Terms
Idol: In Persian poetry, often refers to the beloved, particularly one who is non-Muslim. The term carries complex connotations of forbidden desire and spiritual challenge.
Veil: Refers both to the physical head covering and the metaphysical veil between the material and spiritual worlds in Sufi thought.
Fate's Wheel: The wheel of fortune or destiny (charkh-e falak), a common motif in Persian literature representing the unpredictable nature of fate.
Character Names
Giti: A Persian name meaning "world" or "universe," suggesting the beloved encompasses all existence for the lover.
Saeed: An Arabic name meaning "happy" or "blessed," ironic given the character's suffering in love.
Poetic Devices and Concepts
Ghazal tradition: Though this is a masnavi, it draws heavily from the ghazal (lyric poem) tradition of Persian literature, with its emphasis on unrequited love and spiritual longing.
Tavern: In Sufi poetry, the tavern represents the place of spiritual gathering and divine intoxication, not literal alcohol consumption.
Cup and Wine: The cup represents the heart or soul, while wine represents divine love or spiritual knowledge.
Dawn: Often symbolizes spiritual awakening, hope, or the appearance of the beloved.
Mystical Concepts
Fana: The Sufi concept of self-annihilation or dissolution of the ego in divine love, reflected in the lovers' ultimate union where individual identity dissolves.
Ishq: Divine or passionate love that transcends ordinary human affection, central to Sufi thought and Persian poetry.
Longing (Hijr): The pain of separation from the beloved, considered a necessary stage in spiritual development.
Historical Context
Persian Literary Tradition: This work draws from the rich tradition of Persian mystical poetry, including works by Rumi, Hafez, Saadi, and others who used love poetry as a vehicle for spiritual expression.
Courtly Love: The formal, ritualized expression of love that characterized medieval Persian court culture, with its emphasis on patience, suffering, and devotion.
____________________________________
Note: Many terms in Persian mystical poetry carry multiple layers of meaning - literal, romantic, and spiritual - simultaneously. This ambiguity is intentional and central to the tradition's power and enduring appeal.
Mi Padre, 2012
V. Ortiz Vazquez ©
Bears the mark since child birth
Incognito until childhood
Development blocks transformed part of his destiny
Twin brother carries the severe load
Not only does he stumble when speaking but also when walking
Both deteriorating with the passing of
Seconds, minutes, hours
Days, weeks, months, years
To remember the days when family went out for a jog
To ride the memory lanes when outings took us to the mountains
Rivers
Lechón Asado
Monitas, Crab hunting
Mud beyond the ankles
To peddle through strange terrain brings the day you taught me how to ride my bike
Hanging on the tree’s branches
Result of your way of teaching
“You have two choices; break or crash,” you said
Remember my swimming training?
“You either swim or drown,” you stated as you threw me into the deep waters
To this day, panic comes when I cannot touch the floor
Next stage in my life a new lesson
To learn how to drive
18 was I, a family friend my teacher this time
Keeping in mind the words you said to me once
“If you want to learn how to drive, watch what I do”
So many words yet no practical techniques with them
Formal education left you at an early age
Life’s education provided you with lifelong lessons
Handy man you became
Trick of trades pass down to you
Childhood road blocks no impediments to you
Sharp mind even when learning was tough at times
Hands no stranger to hard labor
No competition to formal education
Building your life’s traveling path one block at a time
First, you stole my mom
Your wife
Second, came my brother
Then, me and my sister
To wake one day to learn of your demise
Explanation to the changes within you
No longer active
Your hands no longer take pleasure of fixing things
Captive between four walls
Your mind
Diagnosis of schizophrenia
Johnny, Christian, Vadeline, Carlitos, Chadwick, Cody
How long until you can no longer enjoy grandchild’s laugh?
Touch?
Conversations?
Cheated you were, are
Compensated with a wife, children, grandchildren
Nurture with richness of a simple man
Patiently I wait until the next time you say, “Tonta. Así no se hace”
And, in your father’s role explain to me what I already know
Don’t seem to understand
To call you later and ask for your handy hands
No time of waiting
Refuse to part with slipping mind
Sharp hands
They told you and promised your breath will expire
Your soul will go missing like the crackling fire.
They told you -- they advised -- to accept it and live
Use up the time that your creator did give.
And you know all this time that your song will be cut
That the orchestra plays on but the players do not
You know all of this will turn to dust and to ash
And your face'll be preserved by a camera and a flash.
You get taller and dumber, living for Tomorrow
Waiting for your stomach to stop feeling so hollow.
You forget for a while that there's a grave in the future,
Waiting for you to be buried in as closure.
People die all around you and you think, "Oh.
That won't happen to me for a long time, no.
I am immortal, with an age in mind
It's a ripe old age that you can't just unwind."
And I understand since your hands aren't pale
That you haven't even worn the wedding dress and veil.
That it's silly to think of your funeral and legacy
When all you can think about are the formal dresses and dead chivalry.
Living forever is not for eternity.
It's the thought that you'll live up to ninety.
It's the rush in your blood when you're young and unafraid
It's the thrum of your legs when you stomp like a parade
It's the drumming in your chest when the best band starts
It's the springing in your veins that touches both your hearts
It's the lightheaded feeling between summer songs and love affairs
It's the bulletproof comebacks that get you all the ogling stares
And sometime around happiness and that family reunion
You forget about what they gave you as Life's one instruction:
That the future isn't forever, and today might be all you get
Even though you never had any of your own kids yet.
So even though it's unlikely -- and I hope to God that that is true
Know that you will die too.
You'll have a final bow.
So take a moment and inhale the beauty that is now.
Because we all think we're young -- just admit it: it's true.
No amount of birthdays will take that away from you
We are young, the world's out there to kiss our lips
Just on the brink of touching our fingertips.
Live, give, love, and conquer.
You're here just once for an unknown number.
Don't be afraid to die, and don't stress about what's after.
Leave with a suitcase and send me a postcard once you meet our Maker.
My co-worker posed a theory to me
That our boss was born one hundred years later than she was supposed to be
Neither of us could exactly put our finger on why, but I had to agree
No makeup, unbrushed hair, bad teeth
As though she just awoke from a long, troubled sleep
Her mannerisms seem out of sync somehow with contemporary company;
Solitarily sorting books in the back room of the used bookstore she manages each day
to remain distant and dazed, as though unfamiliar with a world that has dramatically changed
Nobody knows how old she is, but I’d guess upper-middle-aged
She never seems relaxed or at home with where she has landed, always looking around as she walks through a room or doorway, ever vigilant
She shows up each day looking like last night was another rough one, but her speech and ways seem oddly quaint and well-bred,
strangely legalistic and more formal than needed in this squalid environment.
She simply doesn’t seem at home in this place;
She can stand two feet away from me and a co-worker as we’re sorting while joking and, while our hands are busy working, our minds are away playing,
But she is immune to the general contagion of the strange repartee and laughs exchanged, seeming to hear nothing we’re saying.
Never laughing herself nor conversing, guarding her thoughts, observations, and history from judgment, and getting lost in her own world such that the sudden awareness of the presence of another person can induce a violently startled jump the other way.
And I know what that’s like, as I’ve spent many years in that state,
so it is painful to see it in another neglected appearance
and another needlessly nervous wreck of a person who is
wishing to just go home or one day somehow escape this place
where her body has ended up by way of a misdirected fate.
But today she took my co-worker and I by surprise when, after being shown a book with a cover featuring a picture of Jesus playing golf, she smiled widely and lively, and she replied,
“That’s ridiculous! Everyone knows Jesus only played tennis!!”
It was just a small joke, but it was like seeing a rainbow in the refracted light on a dark sky
It gave me hope that, despite being meant for a time perhaps one hundred years ago, in this day where she was nonetheless sent, she may someday come home.
My grandfather Hymie
spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion re
enforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes as testimony
to countless years
(spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittled
spumed raw elements que
sin art finest artisanal blended, crafted,
dredged by mother nature pre
pared within each trough and crest only
for thy fiercely weatherbeaten nee,
tough as rawhide, leathery,
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born, bred and near lee
schooled within
briny deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovialy
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he
referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, prith ee
teaching him survival skills asper
getn' taut via eddy fied tests frequently de
siding a life or death outcome,
yet our Dickensian mutual friend
shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man appeared quite be
coming. An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him to exit the uterine lair
at least a few score tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness played across his eyes
one colored green like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
four pearl jam oyster cult year.
ah...them tha many decades past
since the merchant
from Neptune to mast
to nether world, though his parting seems
like it hapt last
year, noot nay twas scores o' full moons ago,
that grim reaper came swift and fast.