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Trevor Dsouza Poem
A Fixer’s Change
Lost! He was lost to us all
A son, on whom all hope was pinned,
Lost to the world of his desire;
Substance abuse, needles and wind.
He was a shame, disgrace to them
Family felt bad, knowing his deeds,
But he was in bondage of those highs-
Robbed, cheated to buy his needs.
A few grams of powder to sniff away
To another realm of dimension and space,
Just a few hours then back to the strain
Fixing, sniffing or snorting a chase.
Time was running out, he had to change
Went into rehab and struggled his way
Through recovery, life to rearrange,
For wife and children, once three he betrayed.
He surrendered to God his life so broken
Began to be trusted by kids and wife
Society forgot his inglorious past
Learnt to relive and honestly survive.
Copyright © Trevor Dsouza | Year Posted 2023
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Trevor Dsouza Poem
On Floyd
Riots unleashed, arson, looting and destruction.
You officers of law mindful of your job
Are you aware of what you have done?
You judged and executed not your duty
But a human life.
Is that ‘bill’ more precious than breath
You constricted so brutally?
Were you so inhuman not to see him struggle
For his life?
You are no better than a beast
Officer of the Law.
You heard the protest of one man
Now, you have thousands screaming for your blood.
Copyright © Trevor Dsouza | Year Posted 2023
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Trevor Dsouza Poem
A Farmer’s Plight
The field is ready
The work is done
Toiling in the soil
Under the sun.
We wait now for the monsoon rain
To end our hunger and our pain.
Loans, in part will be paid
When we harvest our toils, we laid.
“I the landlord tell you so
That which you must know.
The land is mine not yours to own
Till you pay back all your loan.”
“I need some time to pay you back
Right now, money is what I lack.”
“These papers you need to sign
Give me back what is mine.
We have waited long enough
We’ve been patient, not so tough.
We can’t wait longer now
You need to pay the cash somehow”.
They drag him down, treat him rough
Might and power they wielded tough
Destroying all he had sown
Because of that sordid loan.
They pull the gold off his wife
Earrings, chain adding to his strife.
The farmer had no strong response
They took away his every ounce-
Away with wife and child they went
Leaving the farmer desolate and spent.
There on his field, left alone
The farmer had all cause to mourn.
He knew not what to do or say
In the darkness of his day.
His body pained and bruised so bad
All was taken what he had.
His tortured mind was filled with pain
He couldn’t stand on his feet again.
All hope lost; confused distraught
To think his labour, pain had brought.
What was left for him to do?
He couldn’t think nor reason too.
There was no reason to live no more
When all was lost what he did sow.
Nothing was there left in life
Desolate without child and wife.
Darkness grew e’en though day
Sun was clouded in mid of May.
He decided this was the end
No other way he could comprehend.
Darkness grew in the light of day
His spirit shattered in every way.
Darkest hour of all time
True labour seemed his only crime.
Then his son grew to be a man
Fathered a son no better than
His sire whom lost to fret
For fate bred him in a farmer’s sect.
His son he sent to school to learn
Desire for greatness in his son did burn.
His father too deep in loan
Couldn’t afford cream or eau-de-cologne
Son was not troubled by his fate
Life’s ambition was to immigrate.
Then they came again as in the past
Abusing him for his farmer’s caste.
They said, some part of the farmer’s land
Be mortgaged: the son did understand
That this is it: enough is enough
Forget his dreams of ties and cuffs.
He had a friend, he spoke his plan
Began to work within their span.
He left the shores of his homeland
Sorrowed though, pursued his plan.
Years later his parents too went
Broke their hearts: son now earned
In pounds and pence.
Happily, they lived; no worry or fret
Forgetting the past without regret.
Copyright © Trevor Dsouza | Year Posted 2023
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Trevor Dsouza Poem
A Soldier That Lost His All
Despite his means, despite his plight
He rendered help to those in need,
No place he had fixed for each night
His life lived in faith and creed.
Dressed in tatters, braved the cold
Ragged shoes, save his sole.
Thanked the Lord, each day he spent
Ate what offerings, people sent.
Every passer-by smiled his way
Answering greetings friendly warm,
Was not contemptuously cast away,
Remembered by all, in his uniform.
Served his country through many strife
Lost his property, home and wife.
Children too buried in a bombing raid
All this made him much dismayed.
Pension strained, slight; he’d live upon
His life was a real hardscrabble,
To the Bureau, monthly he’d respond
Facing another cyclic grapple.
To the graves he’d go, wife and sons to greet
For each, flowers: his grief was still incomplete,
Back to base, poor children run and seek
Distributing candies, warm smile to receive:
Giving satisfaction more than their relief.
Church bells was his call to God, praising and to thank
Every morning ritual even before the war began.
Spending time with the Lord
While silent tears he’d weep
No remorse, no regret
He was the shepherd’s sheep.
Copyright © Trevor Dsouza | Year Posted 2023
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Trevor Dsouza Poem
As told to me in confidence
Many years ago,
This is her story
Which I write here below.
I am a prostitute
Not that I wanted to be
Life was difficult
For the household and me.
I turned to this life
The style and living
Nights were days
Sans feeling and loving.
My in-laws objected
To this life in the beginning
But later condescended
For the money I was spinning.
The earning was good
Men too were useful
When times were hard
Their manipulation was skillful
I had them old, young and handsome
Beginners and veterans;
Cheating husbands would come.
I am sure my husband
Would not be like them
He was faithful, is still so
Handsome though unkempt,
I love him even more.
I was advised an operation
Decided my husband to inform
I know he wouldn't object
To my latest damned reform
He wouldn't hear my voice nor see
Me, his wife that needs to be
Not that I enjoyed this life I live
But the care to him I must give.
He lies there in the bed
Paralysed from foot to head.
My husband means much to me
I am a prostitute to earn his keep.
Copyright © Trevor Dsouza | Year Posted 2024
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Trevor Dsouza Poem
I’ll be home for Christmas
But not the driver of my bus
Busy dropping passengers home
A modern Santa Claus.
It’s Christmas Eve today
He knows glad tidings in the air
Delivering people to all who need
To see their loving papa present there.
He is happy to see them smile
Happy for the children too
Happy for some aged folk
Would have had a Christmas blue.
He serves, taking them home in time
Before that midnight hour
Children, old Santa, will not see
Descend the cold, icy tower .
The bus driver misses out on fun
Forgetting his family joy at home :
Chestnuts roasting on an open fire
Doesn’t want to see someone else alone.
He drops an old couple at their stop
Exchanging a smile; greeting of peace
Watches them walk to a closed door
With aching in their hearts and knees.
Suddenly, the door is opened with a roar
Grandkids exuberant, welcome them in
Now the Bus Driver’s happy to see
Their Christmas is warm, his is cold within.
He drives off to his last stop that night
Lights a cigarette with a cup of tea,
Drives his car to reach him home
In church, his family Christian devotees.
Alone he sits, gazes at the clock
Waiting for his family, all in glee
Thinks about all the happy folk
That made his Christmas brighter be.
Copyright © Trevor Dsouza | Year Posted 2024
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Trevor Dsouza Poem
Crisda Rodriguez
My fleet of cars included high end wheels
Now I drive them not.
Helped by someone to wheel me around
Driving is now forgot.
Wardrobe full of designer wears
Valuables in my vault,
Now, I'm wrapped in a piece of cloth
Nurses attend my call.
Money, plenty stored in banks; earned
Through few working years,
With laughter, work, fun and toil
No tissue for my tears.
House is a mansion adorned with art
Crystals from round the globe,
Left behind for this single room
With a bed and hospital robe.
Salon, I frequented; makeover my hair
Prided its delicate touch,
Time has changed, my head's now bald
Not a style I loved so much.
From five star to five star, I'd move my days
To dine or celebrate,
Now, I'm moved from bed to lab
Back again to isolate.
Private jets with ease I flew
From place of work to home,
Then a holiday on a cruise enjoy
But now I frequent the dome.
Nothing matters: no not wealth, delight,
Good times, pomp and fame,
Copyright © Trevor Dsouza | Year Posted 2023
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Trevor Dsouza Poem
A Lonely Christmas, Not So Lonely Afterall.
I closed the door with flowers in hand
Walked the side walk alone,
People passed me without a wave
Was going to read the epitaph on stone.
Flowers for my darling that passed away
Leaving me with children far away
To celebrate another lonely Christmas Day.
I entered the house of the dead
Where people find a final place to rest,
It was quiet, peaceful, solemn and still
Not a tune of wind like on blueberry hill.
I doffed my cap placing flowers gently down:
Remember meeting her in the busy town.
Sixty years together we spent in joy
Sixty Christmas trees built with lights and toys.
Children were small once, now all grown
Found their way, living in their own zone.
They phone to wish on Christmas day
With love and kisses from far away.
I walked alone trudging along
People passing by
Not a wave or nod or wish
Though their Christmas spirits were high.
Someone seated on a bench
Ignored my struggling legs,
I wanted to say hello friend
But he turned away his neck.
I entered a small café warm:
Splendid to the bone
A stranger offered me a drink
I suddenly felt not alone.
A little dog came up to me
Jumped upon my seat;
Petted him; he my hand licked
Then jumped down to my feet.
A lady seeing her dog with me
Came, greeting me with glee
Wishing me for Christmas
With a plate of warm pastry.
Her husband joined me at table
After hugging me warmly
I suddenly felt not alone,
That Christmas afterall.
Copyright © Trevor Dsouza | Year Posted 2023
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Trevor Dsouza Poem
Good Samaritan
There once was time
Visitors would stream,
When a person’s health
Was like milk with cream.
Now, that milk is soured cream
No knock-on door no visitors stream.
There were many to wine and dine
Any place at any time,
Now, they’ve vanished into thin air
Only calls to say they are there.
Sometimes a good Samaritan
Will come by with true concern,
With a prayer he’d join the infirm
Leaving, but I’m not now alone.
Copyright © Trevor Dsouza | Year Posted 2023
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Trevor Dsouza Poem
Women Have a Voice
Women have a voice
Strength in their silence
They have caused heads to turn
Rocking the world with defiance.
Marie Currie turned the tide
Against male dominance
Mother Teresa the weaker side
Overpowered men of prominence
Much against their heaves and sighs
To save many without supplies.
Women are stronger now,
With social platforms giving voice
They control every rank
Which once, men them employed.
Copyright © Trevor Dsouza | Year Posted 2023
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