Long Man in the street Poems
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No one seemed to take much note at first.
Old-timers on park benches passed a comment or two,
Somebody wrote a letter to the local rag,
but no one (who mattered, that is)
really seemed to mind.
Of course, you will always have
your bellyachers and woolly romantics
with nothing better to do than whine
about the way things are going, -
the loss of bird life, the silenced dawn chorus,
the vanishing English hedgerow,
you know the sort of thing.
The leaves began falling long before autumn.
"Funny," they said, "curious," "that's one for the book."
This was all very interesting for botanists,
environmentalists, chemists and the like.
Such words as "pollution," "soil erosion"
and "deprivation" were bandied about,
but no one was much the wiser though
the experts were agreed on one point.
"Photosynthesis provides the basis of all life."
This was interesting but nothing like
as interesting as the favourite for Ascot,
the football results, the Top of the Pops,
the late night thriller or the FT index.
All that changed.
Foresters and timber merchants became concerned
about the decaying cores of many trees.
The government became concerned, too,
(not so much about the fate of the trees as such
as about the effect the scarcity of wood
was having on the paper industry and inflation).
Then the doom-watchers caught the scent
and there was talk of an imminent ecological collapse,
but the man in the street still
passed it all off as the usual load of rot.
Then Kew Gardens, Epping Forest, Central Park,
the Everglades and the Bois de Boulogne
went the way of all wood.
A tramp, locally known as Nat the Nut,
was found in the village cemetery gibbering,
Before being bundled into an ambulance,
he was heard to say:
"With these very ears I heard 'em groan,
and this is what one of 'em said:
'Tonight we are dying, yew and I,
and the morrow sees us dead.'
And the willows wept in the valleys
and the trees on the hills pined away."
When the harvest failed,
the church bells tolled
for a woe no man could gainsay,
for none doubted then the trees were lost
or held it was only they.
This poem is a re-post from last year for the situation is worsening daily.
ELEPHANT’S GHOST
I am represented as a trinket on a
Human's wrist.
I was bought from a vendor,
Sometime last September,
I remember the vendor, he was,
Approached by a man in the street,
This man had stepped out of the shadows,
The vendor to meet.
The man from the shadows
Met with two other men
Their march sounded like military feet.
Money was exchanged, someone
Pointed to a truck down a lonely street,
The poachers knew
This deserted, but well known beat,
In the truck were the tusks of us all,
These despicable people had,
Gunned us down, and one by one,
Including me we met our fall.
Our tusks were hacked out,
Some of us not quite dead no doubt!
But I haven’t lost hope,
It isn’t too late,
To stop our bloody, grizzly fate,
Because a trinket made from part of me,
Means that humans can visibly see,
And then ask, for goodness sake,
Can we not try and end this heartache,
This horrible butchery,
With which we can all agree,
That, trinkets made from the tusks of
An elephant like me, never ever be sold,
And become the past, a history,
That will then only be told,
As a fairy story about wicked men
Who killed elephants in scores of ten.
Elephant proudly is my name,
Please stop this greedy killing game,
I chose to have my ghostly say,
And look forward to the day,
When elephant trinkets no more be made,
And for them be paid
In a sleazy vendors store,
Behind drawn curtains and a greasy floor.
I now can rest,
And feel blessed,
I appeal to all who hear,
For I’ve whispered in your ear,
Please be my mouth piece,
Try and make this madness cease,
Let us in unison say,
Poachers go away!
It tolls eighty eight, times to symbolize that someone has died .It wasn’t the ordinary man in the street or the man that frequently disrupt the people’s heart beat; it wasn’t the fellow down the road or the man tending to sheep up the road, it was the man that wore the papacy cap and walks around in a woman’s frock.
He ministers to billions around the globe and his boldness, mercy and kindness captures the soul of the world, his style was different and news of his passing was sudden. The people did not know who until the morning news broke, and four men dressed in black announced that the pope passed away at 7:35 am , Rome local time but his spirit was divine.
My aunt was in the kitchen and she dropped the tea cup on the ground spilling hot tea all around when she heard the news. She dragged herself in the living room and squat into the sofa until the news broadcast was over.
It took some time for it to sink in as she contemplates the final event at the square before he passed away, he was waving, and saying prayers aloud for them, and at the wink of an eye his spirit elevated into the sky and his body lay motionless on the bed.
My heart goes out for you, I know what I was feeling was true
since valentine day he was taken away from you and
I could feel his spirit drifting away in the dust.
Your mission was true and the whole world endures you
the garden that lies behind the gates is springing
new flowers that honors your faith; pick three flowers
and place them in the room to honor the people of the world
especially those that lived without water or food.
You have fought your way through but life was bigger than you
you have fought for life for almost three months, and you have paid that endless sacrifice but you kept holding on to life, and when I saw the daisy in the garden began to bloom I know that things were coming to an end soon but I just could not tell when.
And when I heard the bells of Notre Dame began to tolling from a distance, I know that your spirit has finally gone home to heaven.
But when the bells of Notre Dame began to ring my spirit began to sing and so the tolling of the bells, tells the story of a man’s painful journey to heaven.
DICTATOR – SUCCESSOR - DICTATOR
Absolute power lies in his hands,
How his chest expands!
How long does a Dictator last,
This era should now
Become the past.
His greedy ego,
Should not be fed,
The people all agreed and said,
His hedonistic ways,
Have left him
But a few days.
They all know,
That he must go,
His spies advise
That he lays low.
The masses, the army,
The man in the street,
Ready to march,
Bringing thousands of feet,
So angry, so vengeful,
So ready, so united
Everything’s planned,
It has been decided.
A coup erupts,
The Dictator’s out,
A unanimous decision
Which carried clout,
And in his place
Comes a cunning clone,
Who assertively says
All the land is his own!
The hearts of the masses
Immediately sink,
How stupid
Were they ever to think,
A clone, accomplice
To the Dictators deeds,
But fully aware ,
Of the people’s needs,
Would be re-active,
Sensitive and sane of mind
Not so –
Clone and Dictator were one of a kind.
People come and people go
and how the times do change
but something here needs to be done
it should be rearranged
preachers pundits politicians
won't ever set things right
the man in the street can make a difference
if he takes up the fight
so many souls lost at sea
tho' they're on dry land
action speaks louder than words
they need a helping hand
and I'd rather see one good deed
putting things back on track
than hear one more kind word
a verbal pat on the back
I prefer to see
one good deed done willingly
lip service carries no weight at all
none whatsoever with me
What a Happy day,
as the Sunshine dance
and the Music play.
What a Happy day
as He calls my name,
as I hear His voice,
I just look his way.
What a Happy Day,
As I feel His warmth,
As I feel his love,As
I kneel down and pray.
What a Happy joyful day,
When He calls my name,
in such a special way,Through
the old man in the street,
through the blind boy
that i hug and the prisoners,
i greet.What a Happy day,
as He calls my name,in
the sound of the rain,
through the Colored world,
through each singing bird,
through Our Mother Earth,
I hear Him call my name.
What a Happy day,as Jesus
calls,through my every friend,
As Jesus calls,Give the poor
some food,and the sick,a hand.
What a Happy day,as
I hear him call my name,
in such a special way,
I feel His love,in the flying
dove, As I hear His voice,
in the Celestene sky above.
Saville row suit with lots of loot
You start to talk - his jokes are a hoot
No wedding ring upon his finger
You hold his gaze and let it linger
You leave together in his fancy car
Passionate kisses follow – you go too far
He promises to call you like some men do
Has he just made a fool of you
You don’t know anything; not even his name
It takes two to tango – you are both to blame
Nine months later and your baby arrives
The only thing you know is the car he drives
One day you see this man in the street
A wife by his side, 2 kids at his feet
You stare at him and catch his eye
He looks at the baby and then at the sky
Jan Allison
23rd March 2014
I have no idea where the idea for the poem came from - it just took 5 minutes to write
Confronting conflict
So much to say;
Not much said
Momentary surge
Foolish inquisition;
Curiosity rambles
Trial and error
Foresight blurring;
Curious burdens pain
Age feels fatigue
Turmoil in body-mind;
Forgetfulness lingers
Wandering in circles
Arrival starts ending;
Hurl new departures
Moment to moment
Change boomerangs;
Jigsaw puzzle gamble
Hidden agendas
Many pieces void;
Crazy feelings loiter
Empty passageways
Dark dreary corridors;
Ancient musky odours
Ice cream vendor
Push-cart existence;
Rainy weather losses
Self-destruct mode
Severe gambling losses;
Avaricious woes
Joyride nightmare
Cold sweat agony;
Morning uprising
Uncertain agenda
Confusion descends;
Insane mentality
Man in the street
Mind your own business;
Law of the jungle
Leon Enriquez
14 June 2014
Singapore
Grief greets sorrow this sad sad day;
Broken hearts feel the dry March air;
A taut hollow now comes our way;
A certain chill brings death to bear.
In the last light when sleep brought rest,
Your soul found ease in silence grim;
We mourn your flight to yonder quest;
So Rest In Peace with your sweet dreams.
We want to say how proud we are
That you were here to help us grow;
It's true to say you were our star;
You loved us dear in selfless show.
A people's man who served a cause;
Your death our loss beyond measure;
Your forged bold plans and stayed our course;
Flowers we toss to one treasured.
Farewell fits feel as we mourn and sigh;
No words can sum the impact here;
Will our hearts heal to bear new highs?
We feel shock numb with loss of cheer.
May your soul rest in higher spheres:
May you find joy in love's embrace;
Fly to a quest as twin flame cheers;
Bear love's employ in ample grace.
Here and there see your face brief;
Teary eyes spy man in the street;
Just everywhere your face floods grief;
Singapore cries as the times greet.
A nation mourns a patriot son,
Father figure who made us feel
Great and well-known in the long run;
Fact now triggers a dirge and will.
Leon Enriquez
25 March 2015
Singapore
Whisper not in my ears 'Iam poor'
shower no charity to speak it louder
make me no tool for you to be known
for my toil will humble your shine.
Allure me not with goodies I care less
skeptic am I who gives me free
for you take more than I do receive
with dubious minds men share luxuries.
Am a common man in the street indeed
genius were fed by me in the world
rich were made on my toil and sweat
countries formed for men of my tune.
thoughts of survival guides my muscles
lives on me waiting , make me go on
A simple life yet a lot it demands
loyalty, honesty and love to crown it.
In love I rest and wake up serene
moments I live kept in love's achieve
and when I die I have run my race
race of a man as destined to be.
when I till & sow earth gladly blesses
when I water ,seeds smile and sprout
theyknowing me, will return at last
nestling with them loving their roots.
I never searched self , nor did I lose
for me thoughts are living and life
nothing beyond it, mattered my head
for I still love a sparrow more than a jet