IF ever I had a country : XIX - XX
XIX
If ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Minister of Industry
I'd put a stop to the production of machines that disturb the peace
Electric-drillers motor-bikes clanking street-cars trains infested with fleas
Exile all Formula One champions to Singapore and Monaco
Where only the reeking rich besides you-know-who go
That is, if ever I were the Minister of Industry
And even if I never ever had no country
XX
If ever I had a country
And if ever I were the Minister of Technology
I'd clamp huge fines on manufacturers of machines without silencers
Banish all noise-making inventors wifeless to the Antartica's fastnesses
Lock-up for life all architects and engineers who build tenement-flat cities
With walls and floors so paper-thin to permit all kinds of sleepless atrocities
That is, if ever I were the Minister of Technology
And even if I never ever had no country
© T. Wignesan - Paris, July 8, 2018
Categories:
wifeless, abuse, environment, nature, peace,
Form: Dramatic Monologue
My Name is Bill!
The mist clears
Lavender green and lavender grey
Again!
On the menu
Creme caramel.
Honeydew dreams
I remember from yesterday.
If only. If only I was solvent
Again,
My bed feathered
My dog coiffeured
My wife would gaze at me lovingly.
But it is cold
And I am motherless, friendless,
Wifeless!
On the streets: stone cold.
My rockweiler and my lice as my
Only company.
* To all the homeless living on the streets.
Categories:
wifeless, absence, analogy, angst, anxiety,
Form: Imagism
On the galley I stood. I could see, a shadowy figure,
wearing a black dress and a hood.
It’s stories I have heard. Legends of a lifeless captain,
his boat and his bird.
Fifty-four I was, till the lifeless captain took me in
his masterpiece, his work, his canvas, a sea made entirely of us.
Wifeless, lifeless, colorless. I was sure it wasn’t alive,
he or she, it, moved like a puppet, soulless.
Whilst waves of memories hit the prow, the figure proceeded to say:
“These memories are you,
your friends,
your family,
I, and where you lay.”
The sentence was punctuated by a loud, distant-yet-near screech.
A black crow with a silver-like beak could be seen by my curiously intrepid eyes.
We reached the docks, and the figure left me beneath the cloudless skies.
Categories:
wifeless, age, boat, death, life,
Form: Free verse
Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/submit_poems.aspx
Once in the village of Daka in Burkina Faso,
Lived Koussé the incorrigible drunkard
Very popular was he that his presence was necessary
In all the ceremonies and feasts and meetings,
Wifeless and childless and houseless and penniless was he
But was feared and respected and admired by all.
He is sharp tongued and short tempered
And knows all the secret and history of everyone,
I shall never die till I’ve revealed all your abominations,
And witchcraft and adulterous acts! He’d say
Go away Koussé! You’ve drunk your brain
And chewed your sense!
Yes! I’ve nothing but my senseless boneless rotten baldhead.
He died one rainy midnight lonely and miserably
With a calabash full of alcohol beside his corpse,
Koussé is gone! Some shouted and danced;
All the hidden secrets and history and abominations
Still remains in the village of Daka up till this day.
Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/submit_poems.aspx
Categories:
wifeless, africa, death, dedication,
Form: Elegy
Invisible, when he appears; He has no Heart, no Soul, no Tears
Emotions never born; his Mother is Death, his Father Forlorn
He gazes through the Past, stares into the future, looking for his caste
Living in his Dreams, A non-fictional Life : Reality; not what it seems
A human android, survival for a hollow man, In a depleted void
Loveless, Lifeless, the existence of an Empty Man : WIFELESS
Categories:
wifeless, fantasy, life, love, wife
Form: Rhyme
Greasy slick hair cover,
Buried face into the Wall Street Journal.
Battleground of numerous wars,
Breakfast table.
Wifeless he see,
Another stranger off the street sharing his domain.
Muted out,
Issue of the day,
In the office,
Destiny awaits.
Enough of the meaningless,
Lover of his soul,
Swept away in one handful.
Laptop briefcase,
Under his arm,
Leaving the weeping,
In desperate acts.
All or none,
Breathing deeper the golden rule.
Red eyes of number figures,
Greater passion to crush his colleagues.
52 floors,
Sitting in his kingdom,
Overlooking the city of ants,
Viewpoint thinking.
Secretary walks in,
Never hiding her smile.
"Look like I'll be working late tonight."
"My husband? Worry not! Why should you!"
Lifting up her skirt.
He laughs the fear into the abyss.
Ticking of his heart slowly faded many decades passed.
Replaced with the quietness buzzing,
His world,
Just arrived at,
No-
Went digital years ago.
Categories:
wifeless, sad, social, time,
Form: I do not know?