Thoughts, they float on rivers,
they roam anywhere at all,
a joyful heart has risen,
invitation from the dawn,
misty eye reflection caught,
on early morning camera,
picture this upon a bridge,
today I dream waterfalls,
lucid skyline mental prompt,
motive in the dna,
my smartphone wake-up,
idle day on pushcart,
learning to relax a while,
entering a strange carnival,
droll oppidan bounceback,
applied to lax sojourn,
my mind has cache,
in hock to laissez-faire,
awestruck flamboyant spot,
indulging every reverie throughout
You might perchance think: why this change of heart,
But things do change. Not so is from change free,
Give me one chance, one chance for a new start.
I thought, he cannot think of life sans me,
And hence this uncharacteristic plea:
Time changes and I'd too— for my own sake.
Look, my life's a golf ball perched ‘pon a tee,
I agreed, not sure where would go this rake.
The life when lurks on point of no return,
Oft turns, prodded by head, much less by heart,
Nor yet knows what it wants, nor cares to learn,
And my life had become oh a pushcart—
You get when frozen, snow sinks down lower,
Chilly frost's felt and stupor takes over.
______________________________________________
Sonnets | 02.11.2016, revised Sept 2022 |
Poet’s note: Life often turns out a series of compromises, not just adjustments. Marriage is sometimes more so. The lady of this sonnet here is caught in one such marriage, a victim of infidelity and falsehoods. A time comes when she no more cares, or she is too tired to, and a stupor takes over.
Cadaver, Godiva and Quiver
I believe that I've poisoned my liver
Pushcart on the ramp fell apart
I'm afraid I've damaged my heart
Pencil Lead, Interbred, Seeing Red
I think I've a hole in my head
Had to beg for a keg of bootleg
They just amputated both legs
Only one thing I dread even more
~ A fall from the bed to the floor
Though building his own tomb,
he’s not insane.
His violinist friend’s body lies
within a glass box.
Violin tunes drizzle
over memory.
This musical funeral,
he finds charming.
A corpse and a carcass are alike
in the sand.
He wonders
how long the world has to wait
before a soul emerges
out of mystery.
Life is like a light
spreading between the two misty ends.
A lion-tailed macaque,
a Malabar pit viper,
a Carpenter ant,
a golden rain tree…
all die serenely.
But blood and brain turn
a man’s death
doleful and dreadful.
Today he renovates his tomb
that stands as the sole certainty
among several uncertainties.
Poetry Nook nominated this poem for the 2019 Pushcart Prize
At Sunday Market in Srinagar
---------------------
My son pulling my arm,
Pointing with his finger dragged me
To the little (Bihari) boy,
Selling toys on a cart
In a corner of a busy street.
I said," Son, what is the price? "
He replied without looking at me, knotting the toys, "Fifty Rupees."
Will you give us at Forty?
He just cut the hanging nylon thread, with his small scissor!
As I handed him a hundred rupee note
He hurried to a not far away pushcart, a thin black poorly man(perhaps his father).
Take, he said to me as he returned back,
Four ten rupee coins and a fifty rupee note in his hand;
And a ten rupee note in the held behind left hand.
The poor boy's poor calculation
Dropped a stone into my well
And made a resounding shake!
Therefore, before I returned the tiny innocent fellow his coins,
I kissed and kissed on his brow
And oh had a long hug!
Well, bless your cotton-picking heart,
she said in that sweet southern way
they have of nicely saying dumb fart.
Sorry i didn't know your precious art
was not Picasso, but paint by numbers
Well, "bless your cotton-picking heart"
Well didn't know it was a pushcart
When the nag, I tried to saddle
as they were nicely saying dumb fart,
So when music they fiddled "Mozart,"
Sneeringly flipped "Oh Mozart is it?"
And they smirking said Bless your heart,
Knew had surely their ignorance I did outsmart,
When to fisticuffs challenged, knocked out,
Knew I was that mythical dumb fart
Therefore, knew had to face this challenging fact,
That the South never, never rises unattacked,
Unless you mess with bless your heart,
Which they use to call you so sweetly a "dumb fart."
Here by these shores
Salty waves splash
Certain and true
Sun drenched boats
Weathered afloat
Forlorn in the wind
Noisy seagulls chatter
Endless cacophony
On jetty rails
Sea shells unearthed
By looting children
Shouting happy finds
Kites in the air
Following windy fancies
Skyward faces glance
Ice-cream pushcart
Desserts for the hot day
Long caterpillar queue
Food fair stalls
Fun fair atmosphere
A family day affair
This charity event here
By this salty beach
Hurls crowded commotions
Even the seagulls
Seem quiet now
For humans are loud
Salty air and midday sun
Tan the skin tones
To deeper shades
Leon Enriquez
17 October 2014
Singapore
The LES is still there
Spanish people playing dominoes
Orthodox and Hasidic people
Walking around
The years have changed the place
There is a nice mural with drawings of the past
Jewish life there
The years have changed the place
Chinese people walking through
A Roman Catholic church or two
Guess I'll remain a Jew
But I do not keep kosher
so some call l me a goy
Yet Sabbath services sometimes fill me with joy
Winds over the LES
Pushcart Coffee
serves tasty brew
I'll listen to whatever music I want to
Your taste may be better than mine
I'll forgive you if you choose wine over the brine
LES is now my home
Some gave me a tome
Eros and the Jews
I'll read it soon......
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