Long Sugarcane Poems
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When I go back to the Islands
And my old friends said that they miss me
I miss me too,
the old me,
The one who had the futuristic ideas
the girl with
the nappy braids that locks
the girl with the ashy feet,
the one who work the land with her bare hands
I was liked a woman land army,
wild and carefree
the same girl who use her teeth to peel
out the hard skin and bite into the inner part of the sugarcane and chew it.
Planted roses, morning glories with a smile
The one who loaded sharp blades sugarcanes on to the high trucks
under the relentless sun or frigid rain
with aches and pain
and drank water from the pitchers
until the sun go down
Somehow, that girl survive those hard days
Even when she dance until dawn to the
Sound of the reggae beat and the oldies Goldie’s.
The one who woke up early to catch the 5:20 am bus
to travel to work in Wildleys for minimum wages.
So when I go back to the islands
And my old friends say they miss me
Old friends brings all of the memories
back into the present state of mind
for a woman who is growing old
From the Elephant's diary
You find me giantly like Gulliver, huge and obese
but I met my doc, he said take it with ease....
for you big is more beautiful so eat more cheese
I am on my diet of sugarcane juice,
lush green grass n' tons of bamboos
Mammoth was my forefather not anymore seen
Now I know being gigantic is in my genes
Instructor at the gym shooed me away
for I broke his treadmill with my single step I say
We love to have our bath in nature's pool
We dabble water with our trunk till we are all cool
A relaxing shower for all friends after hectic schedule!
In our forest club, trophy for best music band,
we won last week for our trumpet troupe!
Large is our family my Jumbo uncle says,
Old and wise he is in our tuskers' herd
He says our eyes are small, to see
only little good left in this big bad world
And our ears are large to fan away
the gossips and bad we hear
Thick skin we do have so called pachyderms
to shrug off the hurling vices of the woods
but we have a large heart to spread
loads of love to all species widespread
In history, we have a place reserved
for in wars and royal processions,
we were used as pride symbols he says
Revered animals we are since eons.....
In country called India, heritage animal we are
and even worshipped in religious places he says!
Huge boulders or logs ,mankind used us for transport
We even entertain them in zoos and circus
But he regrets that we are poached, killed by men
to pull out pair of our incisors called tusks
who polish to make precious ivory to earn bucks
So useful and harmless friends to humans we are
I asked my uncle why so cruel the men are?
He said men show their power
of being Nature's superior creature
we elephant folk are helpless giants
We can do nothing but to pray that
we be valued for our selfless services and
be saved from going extinct from this world!
©Copyright Anulaxmi Nayak,2015
For contest: Giant animals
Sponsored by: D.Nathan
Date: 2nd September 2015
Carefree in leisure time, one blasé tourist,
almost happy, I once had collected a complicated stone;
after the sunny hours had ended and last opportunity
for keepsakes began.
In my hand the stone had kept all of its mouths sewn shut,
holding its amalgamated story, and likewise in the car,
on the plane, through US Customs where it was not
in the least suspected.
A thumbnail identity I now should guess at, marking an old date,
and fixing it to, with reasonable estimate, a map location:
Plot No. 243, East end of the island, slave sugar plantation,
the stone from the corner of a ruined windmill stair—
broken free by my criminal hand, having liberated a vine.
The stone looked like a bleached out mini-monolith, square-rectangular,
able to be stood on end, leaning back and swollen at its center
like a pulled cork.
What could have moved this sequestered world to opening?
That was not for me to discover, except what came on Christmas Day,
two days after my returning.
Slave watercourses, the sight of innumerable Dutch ships,
ballasted with human flesh and hewn rock for sugar works buildings.
The drop at arms swish of the Driver’s bullwhip.
Flecks of spirit splayed on vegetation.
A mongrel dog barked beyond the windless wall of sugarcane
in centipede and mosquito heat.
Seaside, beautiful seaside impressions;
distant coral light shadows, etched deep azure;
snowy colored breakers that pencil-marked the sea.
The staid, vibrant, mocking power
of visual symphony backdrop.
So little of aid for the slaves, but for those dangerous secrets,
unhoused in the fallen coolness of the night:
demonstratively crystalline heaven of stars;
a ragged moon, clouds scudding eastward toward Africa
before freshwater rainsqualls came. And there
Orion’s Belt, mid-sky, illustrious bright, with its three
centering star points in rational line, as if
Hope could have flung such a rope anchor onto Life
engendering sanctified resistance.
Christmas morning, 5 a.m.
I had awakened from a stuck place, shapeless and dark,
half in dreaming and half in knowing I was in no dream.
I was sobbing, yet strangely, because there were no tears.
I had only put the stone inside my pajama top onto my heart.
"America First",
is the worst.
Should not thinking of others,
be your thirst?
Those who are selfish,
end up being cursed!
Soon they'll be last,
instead of first.
Who among you,
prefers guns and war?
Do you really have freedom,
shore to shore?
If most have less,
are you happy with more?
Should the privileged few,
be guarding the door?
Protectionism,
rots you to the core.
In the end,
you won't know who it's for?
What does it mean,
to be "Great Again"?
I'll listen to learn,
try your best to explain!
Were there fields of cotton and sugarcane?
Was it back of the bus perfect,
everyone staying in their own lane?
A pain striped passport,
for those on the soul train.
If you know the truth,
please speak it plain.
I want to find great,
I've wracked my brain.
Whose America are you trying to regain?
Coral and lime stones
You can take the country out of me
However, not the trace of acid lime out of my blood
Growing up on the island has its advantages
Everybody was related to each other: and everyone knew
each other real names.
My grandmother was known as Nana to every little boy or girl
We all were well mannered bare feet rug rats
It was never about sparing the rod, and spoiling the brats
It was slap and several back slaps
No bad behave child were never reward back in those days
What I cherish most was the sense of freedom
playing in the open fields; running wild in the prickly grass
and chasing rainbow butterflies in the hot sun until dinner time
I remember lot of sunshine and weeks of rain
Plenty of fresh air, and poor folks who always care
about the welfare of each other
Somehow, the earth tasted like lime,
My cousin would take chunks of square dirt
And chew on it: Nana scolds her each time
However, every other weekend
It was a dose of castor oil or cod-liver oil
This made our little bodies tremble
She called it cleansing your little souls
And building strong bone and teeth
My little Island was all coral and lime stones
acres and acreage of sugarcane fields to roam
With made the earth more sweet and rich
Tropical; rainy season
Petroleum, fish, natural gas
on the tropical island of Barbados
what more could any child asked for?
besides being happy and safe
Looking back with a warm feeling
for the love of the island winds that blew
Over the hills on windy days
How can I not give back to the Island?
My heart would always remains
On the coral and lime stones earth.
Where Pride and Industry of the little Island is our motto
I thought and thought. In all the world
Three things touched me, my heart captured:
Sugarcane derivates,
What poet’s pen creates,
And lithe limbs of a lass
That stir, in breeze as grass.
________________________
Translation |24.10.2024| sweet, poems, lissom lass
Poet’s note: Sanskrit has thousands of verses of wisdom called Subhashhitam. The poet here says, ‘I thought and thought and three things touched inner precincts of my heart: sweets made from sugarcane, penmanship of poets, and a lissom lass’ lithe figure’. The transliteration of the Sanskrit verse follows:
Sanchintya sanchintya jagat samastam,
trayah padaarthaa hridayam pravishhtaah |
Ikshho vikaaraah kritayah kaveenaam,
mugdha-anganaayaa anga tarangitaani ||
Caren, whose poetry sings with grand plumage,
swims with bouquets of flowers and such. You
inspire me! And aloha to William :)
HAWAII
Bird of paradise, plumeria, jasmine,
orchids, gardenia, hibiscus, primrose.
Aloha sea — paradise welcomes thee.
Cup of gold, elephant’s ear, fuchsia and firecrackers.
Lantana, glory bush, pineapple and Waikiki.
Queen Emma lily, prickly pear, silversword and sugarcane.
Hawaii islands erupting with ecstasies —
scents that rise the temperature, hues that squeal with desire,
cascading sounds of God’s mirth, adventure on steroids.
Come in, ebb and flow in dugout boats - leis floating
upon the deep-blue skies. Your hearts are pounding drums.
Don’t be shy. Grab this shelf of paradise. Don’t let go.
Aloha friends! Let’s all be friends. Planes fly in.
Koa, coconut, ‘ohi’ a lehua, candlenut, monkeypod,
noni, and lemon-scented gum. Mahalo nui!*
O’ahu, Maui, Kaua’i, Big, Lana’i and Moloka’i —
find your serenity, your northern shore, the allure
of life. Grab yourself a blue hawaii, piña colada,
mai tai, mimosa. Fill your cups with Eden’s fruit.
8/19/2020
*thank you very much ma-hah-lo-noo-ee)
Eight long decades I’ve taken
To know this life’s touchstone like truth:
Man loves to live anywhere
But at life’s battle-hardened booth.
Yea, we scarce want to be
Where life for reason has brought us,
And wishing to migrate
There, there to fish for no cause.
Old age, as is inevitable,
As it brings me to brood,
And mind being unstable,
Ambles back to my childhood,
Which, without the least of doubt,
One of the pleasant most,
Though not always sugarcane sweet
That be chewed till void of its boast.
I recall still when I was there—
A child in flesh and blood and mood,
Not an apparition of thought,
My thoughts centred oft on adulthood.
Today I wonder, not just childhood,
Life’s every stage is such a swell time,
Which, when one gets older feels good,
But mind meanders, reason nor rhyme.
Not at life’s battle-hardened booth…
It’s taken me eight long decades
To know this life’s touchstone like truth:
Leaving all jewels, man chases jades.
__________________________
Musings | 06.05.2026 | age, birth/brood, childhood, old, quatrain
TRAIN TRAVEL
I am on a superfast train
Listening to the soothing refrain,
Of the wheels on the railway track
Clickety clack, clickety clack.
Verdant vistas on either side,
Soothing visions during the ride.
Hamlets and villages flash by,
Little children waving "Hi"!
Fields of wheat and sugarcane,
Glistening from recent rains.
No pollution, no blaring horns,
No impatience or faces forlorn.
The catering staff wend their way,
Distributing food on trays.
We tuck into a hearty meal,
Get a satiated feel.
Chat with fellow travelers,
Some sober, some revelers.
Each with different tales to tell,
Caught up in a magical spell.
Halting at railway stations,
Quaint outposts of the nation.
The aroma of frying food,
You simply cannot elude.
Idyllic this train travel,
Just unwind and unravel.
Far away from stress and strain,
Modern life's eternal bane.
Stretching on my berth, relaxed,
Languidly just laying back,
Till I reach my destination
I'll admire Nature's creations.
Rose and jasmine may loose their
charm and enchanting fragrance
Honey may taste sour and bitter
Even season's sugarcane may
go dry and juiceless
But oh, my sweetheart
I know you 'll remain
my love of charm and virtues
And of unfathomable affection
A true gift to me for life
From St.Valentine!