Long Practising Poems
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Part Three
...swishing away with your sunshrivelled burgundy knotty arms with broad disdainful harvesting sweeps the cobras come out to water in the sweltering heat by the thatched fly-buzzed hole
your low under-the-breath warning tones a reminder of the will of your self-inflicted charge
you never ate until i gorged myself
like the dutiful wife given with a dowry
watching me all the time through the shield of the wisp of cloud of cheroot smoke in your sentinel corner against the far wall your eyes glinting fearing that i might take exception and even before my plate was half-empty you had already darted across the kitchen floor to bring me more fried brinjals mashed greens fried and sliced plantain the steaming rice lying bare by its metal cover hanging on the lip of the open pot-mouth in a clear aluminium pot by my side
now they say you are gone for some plotted and took your life in haste
even before you had time to ensure an heir
others say you were alone dismayed abandoned by your own
prey to enchanters coveting
the plot of land the house derelict forsaken by your absence
they say some one else caretakes it for himself
others no a forbidden son of your husband’s has raked it for himself
alas would you have known how landless nationless stateless i’d be
this dot of ancestral land clinging-clanging in memory
did you know then you might never see me again
nor probably ever hear of me
or if you had how might you have taken it all
did you believe the tales true and false they told
or only what you wanted to hear
of your precious prince you once served in silence and
who had gone to slave in other lands
Notes
eevaa peerankal muuvaa marunthu is a take on another well-known Tamil proverb: eevaa makkal muuvaa marunthu meaning “children who obey even before the order is given are a God-send”. Here, in lieu of children, the word “grandparents” is substituted
chembu: a small usually copper vessel shaped like a rounded vase with a tapering neck and open mouth, used for holding drinking water or milk
kuul: thick holdall gruel which may also be highly spiced
chemman: red soil
Vaithi: ayurvedic doctor, practising the traditional Indian homeopathic medicine
© T.Wignesan 1997 - Paris May 7, 1997 (from the Sequence/Collection: "Words for a Lost Sub-Continent")
CECE YA FAMILIA, HONOR, LIKE TWINS
She is looking at mi with love.
in her eyes and a look..
concerned about her bro...
i try to second guess her
today she inst playing ball
she stares back determined..
hedging me between a rock
and a hard place.. i know
she knows my secret and
she knows.....i know
i do know she wants me to
confess... am tongue tied
she implores for the last time
its like my tongue is immobilized..
i mumble an incoherent sorry..
what did you say..she asks
i try to talk ...end up choking
how can i tell her what am
sworn never to reveal..
my word is my honor..
but the secret is killing me...
and i cant share with her thou..
I love her so much.. thou i know
she already knows.. for we are like twins
second guessing each others thots...
cece..like twins
where is the family honor..
she walks out on me..
leaving my cheap lunch untouched..
i wander ....if it was in a five star hotel
by the beach would she av done the
same.. plus she kept looking at her phone
and i realized there was no winning her...
she had sold her heart to another
whose tongue was very fluent.
using french with words like.. amour
amour tata tinauma..amour..
word i dont know how they mean
tata tinauma.. could be the name of a god..
for all i care...
amour tata tinauma.. my stomach pains
and she was off.. nearly being hit by the bus
she didn't see me looking out of the
balcony as she fell into the hands of her
beloved... amour tata tinauma
and cece my sista ran into the hands of
her lover.. am yet to give him
a piece of my mind for he broke her heart
amour tata tinauma ...cece left her food
and rushed in the hands of her beloved...
who ended insulting our beloved mama..
she left my cheap lunch uneaten,
amour tata tinauma..and cece forgot..
like twins we are- where is the family honor
....ya familiaa honour eku sista..
am practising the lingo
for i know, sisy like twins
where is the family honour,
ya familia cece.. you will be back
like twins..ya familia honor
cece the one true love..familia..
for my sista love will always be there..
And honor for am full of it..cece
lewis nyaga
To say this metabolises my heart.
Luckily, I still have my brain and my sight,
to rectify and do what is right.
How did we get here, from apartheid to this violence?
What kills us the most is the silence
Of keeping such shame for the audience,
waiting for change yet drained by patience.
Is it worth it?
Being kicked and hit?
Being killed bit by bit?
OH, the intended pain,
Suffering from all the strain
Which affects even the brain.
Is this the end of the world?
Is there nothing to be said,
About the souls who are forever sad
Because of violence and nothing more
What about their hearts which are forever sore?
Why are we turning a blind eye?
To let others die.
Is this the way we want our children to live?
Is this what we want them to believe?
If so, then world has come to an end
Racism, a pandemic spreading quick with no cure
All the pain and struggle some people endure,
we ask angels, the Lord, to send.
Why does the world care less?
Maybe because we’re all covered by one dress
A dress of shame, OH my dear Lord!
This world is so flawed.
What are we doing to your people?
Pushing each other over a steep hill.
Our hearts are covered in sin
people are stranded because of all they have seen.
We treat each other like animals.
What a prejudice
We have let race rip us apart,
divide us and forced others to depart.
We exchange words sharper than blades
Such words responsible for many deaths
I feel tears ready to come out
Yet my heart is attacked by drought.
What have we turned out to be?
People practising prejudice,
Ill-treating each other, causing a fuss?
If so, this world will never be free.
that is not who we are, not today or any day
Let the world start afresh, in a different way
Let equity own the world not racism
Let us not be part of fascism
Let race combine and not separate
Let love to own our hearts not hate
Let us all laugh instead of frowning
Let us fix the world and quit ruining.
Why do people talk to babies as though they were stupid?
Isn’t he lovely? the old woman said
And doesn’t he look the spit of his Dad
Is he on solids, how long does he sleep
And how many other kids have you had?
Who does he look like? the young woman said
I’m not really sure if he’s anyone’s kid
I feed him on burgers, he doesn’t sleep much
And I’ve had one for each of the blokes that I did
Not quite the answers the old woman sought
The one about blokes pretty much struck her dumb
The young woman giggled, she’d made it all up
And what’s more she wasn’t even 'his' Mum
But what fun to be had as she walked around town
To the ‘ooohs’ and the ‘aaahs’ and the helium cries
Oh, the amusement of dressing a girl
In an outfit as blue as conventional skies
His name’s Rupert, she’d say, (sometimes Nobby or Fred)
Depending on who was that nosey that day
He’s got rickets, or measles, whatever disease
Occurred to her, and that seemed funny to say
It entertained baby, she really was bright
And sick of inane inappropriate chat
And of people who leaned far too near to her face
Who were nosey and smelly and frequently spat
She was in on the joke, and well up for the crack
For the stuff folk came out with was simply absurd
She was practising swearwords at night in her cot
To prepare for the day she could utter a word
And then she would show ‘em, she’d show ‘em alright
Not to treat her as though she was some kind of fool
It’s my business how many nappies I fill
Such personal questions, completely uncool
In the meantime, she’s watching, she’s mentally noting
How humans make speech in particular forms
Who is good, who is bad, who speaks some kind of sense
And who is averse to conventional norms
Oh, babies are little and can’t answer back
But don’t think for a moment they’re not on the ball
They’re not poodles, or Martians, or mentally ill
So speak to them nicely, or don’t speak at all
by Gail
Cages of Angels
Have you hungered enough
As you lay bereft of sleep
The changing seconds in dead red digital light
Stare you blankly into thoughts
Seeping from your pours like tears
Afraid to close your eyes
Shutter your lids into another night
And hear the loveless breathing beside you
The long and mundane rigmarole of remorseless continuation
Counting out those dieing wishes
Those weeping hopes
Seethe with vampire blood cells
Feeding on every dream you ever had
How can you bare to watch yourself wither
The unrecognised martyrdom
The unknown sacrifice
Has everyone a practising pugilist
Made you their target
And beat you back on your own split lip
Of what you think they all deserve
Broken and shattered they let you fall to the vacancies of their love
Have you hungered enough
Behind the flimsy lace of prison bars
In the cages of angels where your demons tormented you to ridicule
Your loneliness you wear as a ritual mask
A tribal dance behind your words
A crying freedom that no one has ever heard
You berate yourself against your heart
And cannot see for all their lies
The single solitary truth
Have they ripped out my love
And turned it into a debacle of mistrust
Scourged my every word with dubious uncertainty
And left me to wear their shadow
Do you walk alone
Head bent beneath the sun
With the purpose of your soul hanging on the gibbet
The wretched forlorn and fallen weak dragging at your footsteps
Does your mouth push past the emptiness
To level you
Drag you through your sense of duty
To fruitless searching’s for some reason
Not to love me
I dropped my sackcloth of inconsequential burdens long ago
It fell with its bricks to the cemented dust
Others would have built my dungeon with
There is only one cage
The cage of not having anyone to share my freedom with
Have you hungered enough
Our voices linger on this line desperate to stay together
Sending requests to our nervous systems for any information we can gather
We hold relationships accountable for not practising this method
They tap our line hoping to record our feelings, we have mastered that method
They can't find time to analyse the hours of recordings produced by that
particular method
We never say "goodbye", our voices share a conversation long after we doze
off
Lights off, television off, the words exchanged light up everything else
Oprah has been looking for us for a while, maybe she should pursue
something else
Purely constructed from above, no men can tamper with
Our line is the only visible line in their radar, they can't stand it
We watch our words like parents looking on as their son fades away to the
college residence
In our relationship we are permanent residents
She has a door locked, "Isivumelwano sakhe" (Pyjamas) on,
Although sleep and exhaustion are locked outside, their entrance is somehow
inevitable but we are reluctant to look outside, so we carry on
Her voice sets off feelings that I can't describe to save my life
She knows exactly what she needs, she needs me in her life
"Yah neh", that phrase takes a huge part of our conversation
It is so simple but it holds a lot of words unsaid
If I hold the line long enough, she's right next to me
We know how to say "I love you" without actually saying the words
If I hold the line long enough, I see her making coffee and then making her
way right next to me
We know how to say "I long for you" without putting it into words
We both wake up in the middle of the night with phones on our ears
We have a look at the door only to realise that sleep and exhaustion have
made their way through.
Tingles
down my spine
for me it’s nearly time
my very first performance
in the Parkinson’s choir
Practising the songs
morning
noon
and night
memorising lyrics
ready for tonight
but now my mind is blank
don’t even know my name
oh golly ~ oh gosh
will they ever want me back again
The music it begins
and the soloist she sings
awaiting for our cue
before we can begin
Our voices sing in harmony
blend beautifully as one
uplifting ~ euphoric
a joyous sound we make
I am reaching new heights
as my heart starts to race
adrenaline is rising
I am touching the sky...
Lyrics so poignant
bring tears to my eyes
voices
rise to a crescendo
jubilation
can't be disguised
Audience is roaring
with rapturous applause
I am wrecked
I am crying
I am smiling
I'm on fire
And my soul…
well really ~ truly
it could not get any higher
Written 27th July 2019 - after performing in the Parkinson’s Choir for the first time…
1st October 2019
Contest Name Your Best Poem That is Trophy Worthy (Premiere Contest Trophy)
Contest 2
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
N/A
This was such an uplifting experience for me and as soon as I arrived home I had to express my utter joy and euphoria felt during and after our performance otherwise I would have burst! It is without doubt one of my favourite poems for it came from deep within my soul and I truly was "Touching the Sky"...
Contest N/A rerun 5
Sponsor John Hamilton
3rd Place
Contest Name Favourite Poem from June 2019 or July 2019
Sponsor Julia Wardn
Poem written 07.27.2019
Contest Brian's Choice 10
Sponsor Brian Strand
1st PLACE
I think I can remember, maybe dreamed,
a bright green field one handsome summer day,
the Duke's blue tent resplendent with its flags,
his drummers practising for Festival,
a sense of things to come - that's happiness -
a chimera you're certain you deserve,
but, like the Jews in their Messiah-vigil,
you wait until the waiting rots your bones,
and in your heart concede it's not for you.
I don't see life as hopeless - goodness, no.
It's possible to wade through misery,
to cross, and clamber out the other side.
And work will help you do it. I don't love
my work. But I have reached accommodation.
A labourer is what I happen to be,
a cobbler, sir. A brandisher of tools.
The habit of work bestows dexterity,
an easy, nerveless knack of hand and eye,
but it takes back. I'm not so steady now.
I do not relish ladders. Spandrel work,
above head height, with cold paint dripping down,
is horror for an old man's finger joints.
I cover this blind wall with squares of meaning,
and - in my little way - I've changed the world.
I've taken a recalcitrant universe,
and branded it with purpose. My threefold
accomplishments are here before your eyes -
I overlap the figures, so, for depth,
the satisfying quadrilaterals,
the bloom I give to human flesh. Yes, these.
But these themselves are far from unheroic.
Encountering nothingness, I've used it up,
and spent it. These, my children, will survive
me. Ah, the plaster's ready. It won't wait.
I'll use the daylight that remains to me,
sir, by your leave, for these December days
allow no tarrying. Thanks for your pains.
So, look about below! One coming down.
Man loves man
Man helps, and cares of man
Man wishes and prays for man
Man does these for human betterment,
I don’t negate these but say for some reasons
I see what man does well for man
Man gets that instant hand in hand.
Again, man hates, envies man,
Man is hostile to man limitlessly
Man plots against man silently or openly,
Man exercises black arts to harm man
Yet man is not satisfied; so man
Has invented modern weapons to kill man
Mainly, mercilessly, brutally and entirely,
Yet man is not satisfied; so man
Is practising the science of destruction,
To destroy all ins and outs and
To be superhuman man is practising
The science of superpower to gain all
Wasting a vast amount of wealth playfully;
When a group of people without basic needs
Are living a miserable, inferior, inhuman life.
Another group to whom wealth is subjective
Without rules and regulations living a sinful
Which is to them called a luxurious, pompous,
Carefree, heavenly, ever happy, plentiful life.
I don’t deny man’s well side of inventions
For those civilization has much advanced,
Again for the bad side of inventions and
The science of ruin we are losing everything,
Our beautiful world is getting unsuitable
For us and for our future generations,
The wheels of good cycle are almost stopped
And all that bad ones are geared up to speed.
May man get new ways and means to live
Rationally, peacefully, perfectly and harmlessly
Without hatred, enmity, envy for anybody
Wishing real and every triumph for humanity
To avoid sinking down into the centuries
Fathomless sea of chaos and vulnerabilities.
From now on
I must gain some focus
Find a way to be motivated,
Study and find the light and love
I wonder if I've been practising enough,
Nothing comes easy, that's a fact
Got to try and improve and up my act,
Fill in the gaps where I lack
And find the strength to come back,
I should not be waiting for things to happen
I got start to stir things up,
I've got to make things happen
If I want to get anywhere in life,
Come at it old
So I got to be bold
And try,
To fulfil my potential
I have wasted so much time,
I am an honest critic
And I am critiquing my life,
It's not good enough
To sit and watch life go by,
As if I am waiting in a queue
For my time to come,
For my fifteen moments of fame
It doesn't work like that,
I got set targets and take aim and achieve
And stop making excuses
It has nothing to do with age,
Yes I work hard every single day
But it's for other people
It's time to do something for me
And if I want to achieve this
I got to make my pen bleed,
I got face myself honestly
Accept the fact I've never done enough,
To push myself forward
I've lacked the self belief and that's tough,
I got start believing in me,
If I expect others to do the same
It's about time that I upped my game,
Stop looking for others to blame
Stop dreaming and wishing my life away,
From now on I got to go against the grain
And get on the fast train
And be who I want to be
And do what I want to achieve,
Don't look to others
This is all down to me.