Long Seminars Poems
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Aah Harry ! How can we not ode a domestic cat
cousin of the great Lyrans of Cosmic Fate : leo, jaguar, panther, lynx, tiger, cheetah to name but a few — you carry their genetic makeup across dews, giving these chosen their gross due ~
geometric accurate your agility to leap onto roof
imitating their ricochets into branches rustle, to view jungle, forest or curious humans tour ogling
as you sound your mellow meows to starlings
harking —- even to crows soaring, cat darling !
across time’s hours your intuition assess a neighbour’s aches and pains, where you visit
to dish cat medicine by purring for gain, so sane
is your senses, paws not profane, making us guffaw our admiration raw —-
salute we your leadership as you hold whisker
seminars at night discussing needless cat fights check mates who are late, ruin ardent rodent runs through drains insane, shaking your
head like a lion did his m a n e !
comical beloved Harry ! how you wrinkle your nose at flavoured sardines we feed you as a treat
no way will you eat what we think of as sweet
sit you meditative at garden gate, patient for a
purr-fect date ~ she does not arrive, contrived another mate ——
care you not since sovereignty is your mark, hark
independence gains your favour to savour every
moment free — no leash for your gallant strolls
among trolls, your joy watching crawling ants
kiss-kiss as they scurry in a hurry collecting
winter stores galore for quiet insect snores
Aah Harry ! let this be one ode to you, another shall be sung, maybe scrolled, to be sold, on a
“I love my cat’s hat” mug, so snug —
sadly, you do not want my bug hug
today, you say…
as you rush into garage hay !
—————————-
Third Placement: Ode to Cat
August 26
All religions in the world preach the noblest morals
Show us live harmoniously without quarrels.
Constitutions of nations advocate ideal ways
Inculcate unity and fraternity always.
The pious scriptures, great preaching contained
Rights and duties, the manuals clearly explained
Ancient cultures are forever to be cherished
Their roots and origins shouldn’t be perished
Wars, never be the antidotes; take issues to discussions
Or else the whole race has to face the repercussions
Acknowledge that no race is superior to others
All have their own radiance and unseen covers
Self-centric, the only reason for all plights
Change mindsets and then think for the rights
Are we the sole owners of this soil?
To rebuild this pristine land, need to toil.
Summits and seminars may find out reasons and remedies
Let’s start! Be a part of the marathon to bring back the melodies.
Placed: 2nd
Your Peace Message to the World Poetry Contest
Free verse poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Date: 05-04-2022
My life as a grade school teacher
Is like a life-long student and schooler
Always working with colors, pens and papers
While taking care of kids as their second mother.
Still, I oftentimes sleep quite late at night
Check exams, plan learner’s lessons that delight
In the morning, I need to wake up early
To be at school before our flag ceremony.
As I impart my knowledge and skills
I learn a lot of things, head down to my heels
I learn to be more patient and understanding
More hardworking, very kind and loving.
I learn by experience, seminars and discovery
Embracing new teaching techniques and technology
Continue enhancing all my talents and creativity
In many areas, to teach my learners efficiently.
I’ve got so many other exciting multiple roles
Classroom maintenance, nurse, guidance counsellor
Dancer, singer, artist, director, actress or actor
A lot more, to mold and shape learner’s life and future.
I also play with my learners like a big kid
To promote relationship, inculcate values, I also read
Despite our emotional farewell on every graduation
They’ll always come, visit me in my school-roles repetition.
I believe, teacher has a schooler’s life that'll last
Only after a long journey loaded in a carabao's drawn cart
Grand graduation will come with unimaginable fulfillment
And achievement felt in the heart only on age of retirement.
Weapons are worn..By street police passive-agressive placebo pieced.?
Planes are armed, expressly to kill
The messaging is, more overt cacophonic
Cause; outcomes ill.' Tanks have cannons
Rockets too, ships the same its (what they)
Do..Who might you ask are the they i note?
Well quite supercillious slanted people with pockets gilt.' Innocous looking they project
Serious
airs..Are benefactors of charities
(That proves they care) they do give some
Millions to the damaged souls caused by wars, that they demanded we hold.' They are also benificiarirs..After and before yet
( these ammounts are in billions ) that is quietly off-shored.' No pomp' no fanfare just those screams and shells, the distant
Soundtrack 'oh tony didn't you do well' you
Hold buisness seminars ( definatley not for free!) And after invading Iraq 'you invaded your own country' it
all seems of a theme? like.? A
Pattern of sorts.' With one golden thread; also you accumulate many naughts.' Oh yes.? There is a lot (spoken of zero!) So it
Seems all to gel..Into a theatre of death and payments, bout near as i can tell.? And
The plan-demic musn't forget..I'll bet you were fully on board.? Along with gates and
The Bushes schwab obama scoros.' And did the drainstream media applaud? Yet I
Stand as just one witness, among so many
More that detest the application ( of death as an industry ) upon which you all set such store..You never weild a weapon yet
There are razors in your words.'
To keep the privilege and funding.' They
are quite
Useful in skinning, and preparing
your verbal utterings; of turds.'
Classes started up again today. Soon, we’ll be gloriously stressed, and clocked-up on whatever. Our hearts will swell to the pre-med symphony - a frantic opus, composed in the key of no sleep.
In seminars for rising pre-med seniors, (What's needed to get that med-school slot!), it’s obvious that 60% of the students who started out with us, on this track, are gone - left for other majors. “I wasn’t happy, it was too much,” they said.
I feel a pang when I hear that undergrads we’ve shared a trench with have switched their major to basket weaving (‘political science’), TikTok (computer science) or Phys-Ed.
I envy those defectors, I pity those defectors, I envy.. Wait, aren’t deserters supposed to be, well, you know.
Meanwhile, the rest of us, the stubborn few, cling to the dream. It’s a waking dream, for caffeinated zombies, obsessive-compulsive workaholics and maladjusted wonks who neglect personal needs, relationships and in some cases personal hygiene (not me, of course) in favor of a goal.
Maybe there’s something wrong with us?
In our country’s
calendar of events
September is replete with
pursuits worth enumerating
reminding me to bask in meaningful
involvements, optimizing God-granted strength
midst pressure, propelled by blissful functionality.
With well-being focus…
I learned that September 16-22
is Cerebral Palsy Awareness Week,
thus, my schedule seeks for appropriate
on-line seminars for the sake of our special child.
As to educational endeavours
Sports Heroes Day was celebrated
on the 10th, while all virtual classes for
Academic Year 2021-2022 did start last 13
along festivities like Family Thanksgiving Day.
Then birthdays and anniversaries
of loved ones radiate with greetings...
thus, fellowships abound, although compliance
to social distancing and health protocols is practiced.
Topping these all, September
commences Christmas celebration…
now, here am I preparing for my teaching
engagement, grateful to God for opportunities
to do* my life-building roles, with joy and diligence.
Philippians 4:13 I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.
September 17, 2021
Inhaling, hushed, from hashed cigars
my mind implodes in Malimar
where Naiads bathe in caviar -
I dream of dwarves and three-eyed tsars.
The captive kiss of Princess Mars
(who talks in tongues at seminars)
burns red beyond Her blue boudoir -
I writhe within Her pale peignoir.
Her Maids gloss lips with cinnabar,
bedizen cheeks in dusts that mar,
serve teas beside the reservoir -
I sip them from a samovar.
Disguised in smoke and lamps of spar
Her Genies gender gold dinars,
evoking flames in ginger jars -
I plea before the Commissar.
At Princess’ neighbourhood bazaar,
white shadows slip through doors ajar
to drape my dreams in ash and char -
I long await the Avatar.
Her Merchants (preening, proud Hussars)
paint pretty scenes on VCR’s
while sailing ships to Zanzibar -
I strum the strings of warped sitars.
Her Prophets sometimes cruise in cars
else while at each and every bar
to speak of space and time bizarre -
I pass my pride for small pourboires.
Her Necromancers trace in tar
tall tales of wisdom flung afar,
transported by the Registrars -
I hitchhike on their handlebars.
Her seers conjure repertoires
where She and I are on a par
in infinite surreal memoirs -
I sometimes sense the void is ours.
My Princess never sees the scars
cut by Her whispered “au revoirs” -
I often wake to ask ‘who are
these Gods that sail the distant stars?’
Our green campus favorite
MuseSpeech Teacher
always hosted outside seminars
at noon,
Sharp!
And served chocolates
while mentoring
Her systemic theology
"Doesn't get on well
with academic secularized ecology
we have
and have not
personally experienced."
This is today's thesis
and antithesis
for engaging stories
of synergetic peak experiences,
amusing EarthBright passions,
peace-warrior beauty,
scents of sage sensed joy.
S/he mediates lunchtime vocations
inviting us to try again
replacing all our "mono" orthodox theories,
with "poly" orthopraxis
to reconsider
healthy freedoms
shamelessly uncovered
through personal experience.
Trading in monotheistic theories
for polytheistic compassion
Monocultural nationalism
for polycultural globalism
Mono-polistic win/lose contention
for poly-polistic win/win intention.
As our internal clocks
move from ZeroSoul search
to OneSum find,
s/he concisely
and precisely creolizes
resilient bipartisan
transparency
through less transient opportunities
for curiosity
"Thank you for investing this lunchtime
with me
and each sacred Other
to learn to listen
before speaking nighttime's questions,
wondering and wandering on
and on
about why tumescent monotheistic poles
most always feel so happy
to taste and smell
our officious pantheistic holes."
My dear brother Butch,
Hair are the highlights of my week:
I got a job at the Hairway to Heaven salon!
Our motto: "We color your hair or dye trying"
When the interviewer said "I mustache you a question..."
I answered, "May I mullet over?"
Seriously, working there is a shear delight,
with some nice fringe benefits
They're a real cut above the rest
and I shave a lot of money on hair products...
I bought Dad a comb for Father's Day… I bet he'll never part with it
It is a long drive to the salon, but now I know all the short cuts
Oh hey, I know hair-growth seminars are not your style, but
call up your receding hairline buddies and comb on over!
It was great to see you last week, you are looking so trim!
I still feel terrible about the curling iron incident…
You can rest a-sheared I'll straighten it out
but I mussed warn you, you might get fro straighted
Just remember, $15 for a hairpiece is a small price toupée
You may not like short hair at first, but it will grow on you
...that's the mane thing
Did you hear Mom and Dad had a brush with death?
It was a very hairy situation with a real twist:
buzzing down the highway at a decent clip
someone tried to cut them off
Mom was ready to wig out, curl up and dye, but thankfully
Dad went to great lengths to avoid an accident
so there was no permanent damage
you had to see it to be-weave it
Ok, time for a couple of jokes to lighten the mood:
How does the man on the moon trim his hair?
Eclipse.
Why did Pavlov have such fabulous looking hair?
Conditioning.
Why do felines groom with their tongues?
They can't find their catacombs.
Why did the little girl watch "Black Stallion" more than "Babe"?
She liked pony tales more than pig tales.
What was the barber's sign before he went on vacation?
"Hair today, gone to Maui"
Did you hear about the novelty store selling fake piles of dung?
It was sham poo.
Just teasing!
Take hair,
Curly
What is this fell beast, whose image swarms within my head?
An interloper, psychopomp, who gazes with the dead?
Swarming visions of the dark, Shades advance through Asphodel,
Silently shambling with minds dulled, no more secrets left to tell.
What can we look for in the light of tainted stars?
Looking for enlightened signs of blessed seminars
when there is nothing in this darkened sky to love us.
Gazing at the eternal cold expanse above us
and realizing, once more, with awe and dread,
the insignificance of everything that's bred.
With existential certainty on the long road ashore,
and nihilistic impulses screaming yet for more,
the road we walk can seem an endless nightmare.
but fear not, for fear has died
die gently, having never cried
see the world for what it was
embrace the world for what it is
Time and tide, shifting sands in the hourglass of time
swift approaching that climactic final climb.
Transcendental thoughts disorganize into the void that is eternity
and find peace in the emptiness of our existence.
Form: