Every peasant is proud of the pond in his village because from it he measures the sea.
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The Village Pond
Here, there, women, children and men
Talk animatedly, little water waves disrupted by scooping
Water vessels, the faded green water lilies, shoved aside.
Cows moo, the goats bleat,
School children scramble for a spill,
The edges, slippery and muddy, non of a bother.
The gold, liquid of life, simmers under the hot sun,
Though, shrinking in size, by every draw,
The earth is bare, the pond tags their hope.
Here in the pond, they see, sigh and fall
The feminine and masculine bodies attract
The gossip, filters, confirmed, a new life sees dawn.
Wild tree fruits, like monsters surround the village pond
I'm told the fruits, purify the village pond
Lives ruled, made to see day, Honor to the village pond.
poem by Charles Jagongo Ogola
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I Am a Peasant
I was a peasant like the world of old nature,
Wood and bone made me a beggar for life.
The real value of a village produced animal
Feelings in my head and soul, the very drink of blood.
I was a peasant from a neighbouring village
That constructed the time of bouts and bites,
The begging became as useful as pride,
Asking me to be kinder to the world of new nature.
Carefully I resented pleasant news but good names
Were my fellows, their owners were strange, they were all
Old in the world, old on the planet I adore so well.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Our 1st Anniversary
A marriage is a special
And a rare bond
That brings two people
Very close in the pond
In the pond of joy
Love, care and smile
That goes a long way
Very far away miles
And today I'm happy
And proud to tell its true
That on our 1st anniversary
I'm thinking about you
And all other nice times
And things that we have shared
that always showed me
How much you really cared.
poem by Seema Chowdhury
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Temple of Hope
Long night will start the pincer movement;
pyrexia is rising.
Something like an extraterrestrial hand
digs deep in the mind to open the tomb
to unravel the tragedy of nuts and bolts
which could not fix
the mutation of the hour of death.
Dark blinking lashes of soul
measures the cliffs of silence
and then pours the hot red
vermilion in parted wisdom of sky.
The clang of bones again penetrates
the liver. The green flaming jelly of
innocent bellies.
The hyacinth is choking the village pond
hiding the corpses of precious flowers
with green blood.
One day foundation of skeletons will build a
temple of hope.
poem by Satish Verma
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Byantium -2
Long night will start the pincer movement;
pyrexia is rising.
Something like an extraterrestrial hand
digs deep in the mind to open the tomb
to unravel the tragedy of nuts and bolts
which could not fix
the mutation of the hour of death.
Dark blinking lashes of soul
measures the cliffs of silence
and then pours the hot red
vermilion in parted wisdom of sky.
The clang of bones again penetrates
the liver. The green flaming jelly of
innocent bellies.
The hyacinth is choking the village pond
hiding the corpses of precious flowers
with green blood.
One day foundation of skeletons will build a
temple of hope.
poem by Satish Verma
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Water so Deep and Profound
Water so sinuous and devious,
And as mystifying as you.
Water is always hiding its true self,
Never in one form.
Water can be the shimmer,
Reflecting off the light of the pond,
Making the pond seem magnificent.
Water can be the rushing sound,
As it escapes the secretive pond,
And runes down into the vast ocean,
Seeking adventure and unfound dreams.
Water can be the feeling of calmness,
As it sits there, overlooking the pond,
With wonder and seeing how it made it what it is.
Water so supple and wondrous,
The pond is born from the water.
Water so deep and profound,
Just like you,
The pond so incomplete without water,
Just like your family.
poem by Music Galore
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Villagizing Their Villagicity
I'm not trying to disturb my peace.
I've been there before...
To give of myself and then some more.
But it takes a village of villagers,
With vlllageousness...
Villagizing their villagicity!
And without identity or a mindset agreed...
That village nonsense is an impossibility!
Since many would like to view it,
As a tribalistic thing.
You know...
With Tarzan swinging from a vine.
Swooping down from the heavens...
Looking tanned and Cary Grantish!
In full movie star splendor!
Seeing folks walking tall and being proud,
Is my ideal of a people in a village advancing.
Any other image...?
Flip it to the birds!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Duck Pond
There's a pond at the centre of the village green,
Where ducks, moorhen and coot can be seen.
It's a feature which adds to the character and charm.
When sat by the pond, you feel a real sense of calm.
Pond-skaters and other small insects on the water skate:
The surface tension supporting their miniscule weight.
Waving their heads, the long, lush, green reeds,
Provide partial shelter for a fish as it feeds.
A frog pops its head up and looks around,
Then slips back under the water with a plopping sound.
Darting this way and that, are beautiful blue dragonflies:
Their motion so quick, they're gone in the blink of an eye.
There's sweet gallingale, marsh marigold and watercress,
But, for me, the pretty pink water lilies are by far the best.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Im So Proud
Youre prettier than all the world
And Im so proud, Im so proud, Im so proud of you
cause youre only one fellows girl
Im so proud, Im so proud, Im so proud of you
Im so proud of being loved by you
And it would hurt, hurt to know,
If you ever were untrue, yeah
Sweeter than the taste of a cherry so sweet
Yeah, and Im so proud, Im so proud,
Im so proud of you
Compliments to you from all the people we meet
Yes babe and Im so proud, Im so proud,
Im so proud of you
Im so proud of being loved by you
song performed by by Todd Rundgren
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Global Village
Global village
Though we are all human
we are made to be different
by forces beyond our clout
Yet they want remake us
in a new image of their choice
in a village too big to be safe
The world they now call
a single village in the globe
with a big brother to match
As long as we are second class
within that large village fashioned
we would be subjected to
someone’s standards
someone’s culture
someone’s technology
someone’s understanding
someone’s world view
someone’s theories and concepts
They try hard in harder ways
to make us part of that village
but we know we are different
and shall strive to leave outside
that fashioned unsafe village
poem by Yusuf Adamu
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Village Of The Sun
Well Ive been hanging down side up
Feeling really banged up
Whishing everybody would shut up in the village of the sun
Yes
More than just a little bit loud
Well I was more than just a little proud
To think that the opinions of the rocks and clouds
Would even give us recognition
Oh I ever (? )
I hear a sound that is delayed
I know that help is on the way
To the village of the sun
To the powers that be
To the powers that be
To an hour to be
Is it the intention of that child
To be a bastard in the wild
Eventually (? )
Like (? )
Of course the cannon makes a rucus
Like the lady in the circus
We can try to (? )
To the powers that be
To the powers that be
To an hour to be
Maybe Ive said enough
I wasnt trying to be all funny
And I wasnt trying to be all tough
Im almost done
No matter what I see
That matter will say of me
Aint that the way
Of the village of the sun
To the powers that be
To the powers that be
To an hour to be
song performed by by Frank Black
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Deserving Is An Evaluation
If a peasant got a princes as wife,
Everyone would say he doesn’t deserve her.
The peasant would not subscribe to it.
The evaluation is from jealousy.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Clean Paws
These days call for sarcastic measures.
'You mean 'drastic' measures! '
No...
Those days have passed.
If drastic measures had been taken,
When first warned foundations were shaking...
Sarcastic comments about blind leadership,
That should be leashed by seeing eye dogs...
Would not be made to flowingly cascade.
To parade in mud like they do today!
IF those blinded by the power of 'dirt'...
Had apologized for not having clean paws.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I'm confident that we have measures in place. And the additional measures that we announced yesterday will be even more protective of our food supply in this country.
quote by Ann Veneman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Lover's Gifts XVI: She Dwelt Here by the Pool
She dwelt here by the pool with its landing-stairs in ruins. Many
an evening she had watched the moon made dizzy by the shaking of
bamboo leaves, and on many a rainy day the smell of the wet earth
had come to her over the young shoots of rice.
Her pet name is known here among those date-palm groves and
in the courtyards where girls sit and talk while stitching their
winter quilts. The water in this pool keeps in its depth the memory
of her swimming limbs, and her wet feet had left their marks, day
after day, on the footpath leading to the village.
The women who come to-day with their vessels to the water have
all seen her smile over simple jests, and the old peasant, taking
his bullocks to their bath, used to stop at her door every day to
greet her.
Many a sailing-boat passes by this village; many a traveller
takes rest beneath that banyan tree; the ferry-boat crosses to
yonder ford carrying crowds to the market; but they never notice
this spot by the village road, near the pool with its ruined
landing-stairs,-where dwelt she whom I love.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Karate
Two people dressed in white
take steps around each other,
and around their middles
black bands are tied.
Like lightning bolts feet shoot out
are averted fast as thunder,
a fist is folded deadly
and held in a striking blow.
Shapes move like spectres in a dangerous dance,
eagles get wings with speed and course
and four eyes measures courage, measures speed,
measures soul, body and craft.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Signs Of Winter
The cat runs races with her tail. The dog
Leaps oer the orchard hedge and knarls the grass.
The swine run round and grunt and play with straw,
Snatching out hasty mouthfuls from the stack.
Sudden upon the elmtree tops the crow
Unceremonious visit pays and croaks,
Then swops away. From mossy barn the owl
Bobs hasty out--wheels round and, scared as soon,
As hastily retires. The ducks grow wild
And from the muddy pond fly up and wheel
A circle round the village and soon, tired,
Plunge in the pond again. The maids in haste
Snatch from the orchard hedge the mizzled clothes
And laughing hurry in to keep them dry.
poem by John Clare
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Village Idiot
Did you see the lad, on the corner
He was standing drinking wine
Wears his overcoat in the summer
And short sleeves in the winter time
Takes his holidays, down at the bookies
Well he knows how to pick a horse
Village tramping round the countryside
He wears a smile, but he doesnt say much
Village idiot, hes complicated
Village idiot, simple mind
Village idiot, he does know something
But hes just not saying
Dont you know hes onto something
You can see it, you can see it in his eyes
Sometimes he looks so happy
As he goes strolling by
Oh village idiot, hes complicated
Village idiot, hes got a simple mind
Village idiot, must know something
But hes just not saying
Well you all know hes onto something
You can see it in his eyes
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by
Sometimes he looks so happy
When he goes walking by.
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inspired by Issa - My Home Village
my home village
the virgin mary still stands
young as ever
my home village
old friends like me
away from home
my home village
old friends live in
new homes
inspired by
my home village-
the winter rain targets
a standing Buddha
-Issa,1816
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Village Green
Out in the country,
Far from all the soot and noise of the city,
Theres a village green.
Its been a long time
Since I last set eyes on the church with the steeple
Down by the village green.
twas there I met a girl called daisy
And kissed her by the old oak tree.
Although I loved my daisy, I saw fame,
And so I left the village green.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And now all the houses
Are rare antiquities.
American tourists flock to see the village green.
They snap their photographs and say gawd darn it,
Isnt it a pretty scene?
And daisys married tom the grocer boy,
And now he owns a grocery.
I miss the village green,
And all the simple people.
I miss the village green,
The church, the clock, the steeple.
I miss the morning dew, fresh air and sunday school.
And I will return there,
And Ill and daisy,
And well sip tea, laugh,
And talk about the village green.
We will laugh and talk about the village green.
song performed by by Kinks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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