my ostrich shell painted with
springbok and entangled daisies
blowing in icy wind
I drink yolk and albuminous
whisperings along rushing waves
we are soft dreams where
a fishing boat stood
buildings now deserted
¥
storehouse freshly painted in ochre
fishing nets drawn alleluia
dreams float with the sardines
drinking coke we celebrate catch
wind skips along Hout Bay shore
daisies clap wild petals yellow
shells smashed we eat boiled yolk
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Categories:
springbok, africa, allegory, allusion, change,
Form: Verse
She has the tools to draw you in,
without such tricks as flesh or skin,
perfect orbs that stun unknown:
eyes that spoke, to me alone.
Every feeling would they betray,
want and hatred as clear as day,
love and need given full show,
fear and woe when she was low.
Never shall I again receive
from her the look that makes doubt leave,
or the glance to still my heart:
now are we too far apart.
In my arrogance, I can see
that her face darkened without me.
The eyes that once shone our way
are now downturned, without play.
What I would do to get once more
those lights to open my soul's door.
They will not though, through my fault.
Yet, my yearnings never halt.
Categories:
springbok, africa, animal, break up,
Form: Lyric
It's functionality,is to cover the boobs
Emphasizing the beauty of being an African woman
It is pride that shows its uniqueness
Unveiling it's necessity of manhood
Dance your heart out
It's not the pace that shows its form
Actually it is the components in the body
See how flexible it is
It's not the speed it possesses
Actually it is the strength it accumulates
See how incredible it is
It's not the endurance it has
Actually it is It's mind set
See how versatile it is
The writer never stops writing
It's durability,is to adapt to unforeseen circumstances
Emphasizing the reason of being born
It's importance,is an embarkment of endless dreams
Unveiling It's necessity of becoming what you meant to become
Now,live your life.
Categories:
springbok, adventure, africa, appreciation, celebration,
Form: Free verse
Is there something he’s not telling me?
His eyes pierce through me
Like a sharp arrow does to the poor springbok
Coming from a hunter’s hand of rage
Behind me I can feel his pierce hurting me
A shivering strike of prickles move down my spine
As I pour a glass of wine upon his request
His request was different...
I turn around and he smiles
Is there something he’s not telling me?
His look, his glance, no, his look cuts
Like a pair of scissor on a stubborn paper
I look into his eyes
He turns and looks away
I look away and he looks into my eyes
I come, he goes
I go and he comes
The man who once loved me, hates me so much?
Is there something he’s not telling me?
When I call he’s busy
But when they call, he’s available
His presence is cold
It makes me feel old
My story couldn’t have been told
Such secrets do not unfold
Otherwise I won’t be as bold
But he’s slowly dying on me
I know that this
I’m not telling him
But he too isn’t telling me
Categories:
springbok, betrayal, feelings, love hurts,
Form: Ballad
ALIEN
Someone came to my room last night
An alien, I am sure, in frisson of delight
He crumbled on my dilly springbok breasts
And kissed my **** between love and rests
He was good at love, so how could I fight?
He was from a planetoid, a quicksilver lake
He stopped by my humble hut and saw me awake
He never thought of amber swan up for a take
He smiled like an early bird and put out the light
He was good at love, so how could I fight?
He had a wispy whisper to tell his tale
Which began in a Blanagram and ended in a whale
“My little Mary sunshine my hands go downhill
You are an earthling a cure for alien spill
You are a maritime dream of red sea squill”
I burst at the seams, a jiggery-pokery prank, a twist
Our love went on hand in hand and hand over fist
I sang a willow’s song “How a maid can milk a bull!”
I had no hammer, a chisel, a drake or a drool
But he was good at love, How could I resist?
Next day I bled and I was fresh as tart
I slept with an alien and took other's part
After all he was right, he lost his star chart.
© RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
27th October, 2014
Categories:
springbok, allegory, symbolism,
Form: Rhyme
Gootle bought a springbok(money no problem)
Passed to it a dibbuk
The springbok ran with a little wren
Gootle booked a Reebok ( money?, no problem)
dibbuk= a demon that enters the body of a living person and controls that body's behavior ( found in Jewish Folklore)
Gootle is a creature half-human half-puppet- a humpet, a polite being . He has three eyes on the back of his head( color: blue). He is three legged and two-and-a -half-handed. Body Color: orange. He has no hair and no ears.But he is neither bald nor deaf. He has a long nose -adjustable min 2" max 9". I cannot post his pic because I am not a premium member.However, you can feel his presence slowly.
For copyright reasons he has changed his name from Gubble to Gootle. He never suffers a lack of appetite.His primary foods are: fun bread, nonsense soup, curry of love with a sprinkle of pamper and a dessert of affection( Sorry,Demetrios he has changed his diet a bit).
RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY
Categories:
springbok, fun, nonsense,
Form: I do not know?
Scooby bought a clock from Devonshire
Pumped it up with a Dragon fire
He went against the clock
Clock jumped like a springbok
And rushed to port-not a boat for hire
Categories:
springbok, fun, nonsense,
Form: Limerick
A stealthy tiger stalks his prey
His eyes alight with cunning gleam;
And tho' the world may peaceful seem
The lissome springboks graze and play --
The danger lurks, not far away
He crouches low, his muscles taught
While calculations fill his mind
The perfect arc of force to find;
His quarry, still without a thought
Of what design the tiger sought
The tiger springs, the creatures flee
His mighty limbs with awesome force
Perform their planned and deadly course;
Now lies the springbok piteously
Forever torn from things that be
And o'er his corpse presides the prince
His solid jowls bespecked with blood
His razor claws in crimson flood;
He glories in these trickling glints
That show his skill in ruby tints
And when the prince has et his fill
The birds descend to eat the rest
To feed the young ones in the nest;
But on the tiger roams at will
He's free to wander, hunt, and kill
Written on the twenty-eighth of July, 2013
Categories:
springbok, animal, cat, death, power,
Form: Quintilla
Antelope.
A springbok runs fast on the savanna avoiding
lions and other predators, but ultimately it is
destined to become food for slayers and thus
useful. Going back two and a half million years,
my African ancestors too hunted them.
In Portugal the African heritage is quite strong,
their Fado tells us of a past forever lost.
Our life span is short, mere dust in the eye of
eternity, and people have bought bicycles in
the hope of living longer, we all hope to live to
be hundred years old even if we are overcome
by senility and lose track of time.
On a dairy farm, you will see a pastoral scene
brown& white cows, with full udders, eating
juicy grass, but they do give birth and if it is
a male calf it get killed after two weeks, cause
It is not useful, and destroyed.
There is no money to be made of milk-calves
few eat them and it cost more money sending
them to an abattoir, they are not even worthy
to end up as hamburger meat; and I find this
waste a colossal disgrace a sin against nature.
Lucky is the springbok
Categories:
springbok, life, hope, money,
Form: Blank verse
BLACK BEAUTY
One sunny afternoon
Mooching about the streets to kill time,
Lo and behold! What did I see?
A damsel
A very pretty damsel walking the streets alone.
She had dark oily skin which glittered conspicuously
Under the espy of the hot sun
Her skin was without blemish and
Was as smooth as the sands of the Sahara.
She was nattily dressed in a blue-black gown
And a necklace of pearls was dangling from her neck.
She walked daintily about like a springbok
And had long graceful legs
And very piercing eyes.
By Jove!
This pretty damsel was the cynosure of all eyes
Even a sightless man would have been thrilled by her beauty
A monk would have forgotten his monastic vows
And fall for her charm on sighting her
For her beauty was beyond words.
I was held spell-bound by her beauty
She put me in a state of perpetual delirium
And immediately I wished she was mine
But then she was somebody elses'.
Categories:
springbok, imagination, passion,
Form: Free verse
Situated on the Southern tip of Africa
Where two oceans meet, lies my country of birth
A rainbow nation is what we are called
With eleven official languages
and many diverse cultures
it is not difficult to grasp why...
Skeptics said we would never make it,
against all odds we did,
Apartheid part of our history
a history we will never forget,
A history, we certainly should never disregard.
The budding King Protea,
The Blue Crane takes to flight
and the Springbok that leap over meadows
just a few of South Africa’s jewels...
Categories:
springbok, history, places,
Form: Narrative