Pacific shore...
I speak to the chestnut moon
in my mother tongue
haiku by Chenou Liu
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Two Years Later
HAS no one said those daring
Kind eyes should be more learn'd?
Or warned you how despairing
The moths are when they are burned?
I could have warned you; but you are young,
So we speak a different tongue.
O you will take whatever's offered
And dream that all the world's a friend,
Suffer as your mother suffered,
Be as broken in the end.
But I am old and you are young,
And I speak a barbarous tongue.
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Ode To The Child
the child is the
father, mother
mentor of the man
he gathers the whole
language for him
his mother tongue
with all the shades of meaning
in the first many years of his life
when you hear a man speak
he is speaking the tongue
of his childhood
when you hear a man lie
he is lying on the inoncence
of his childhood
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Apollo 13, as you may remember, gave us a reactor that is bubbling away right now somewhere in the Pacific. It's supposed to be bubbling away on the moon, but it's in the Pacific Ocean instead.
quote by David R. Brower
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: The Tongue
Tongue, the muscle belly in the mouth’s floor!
That grandmothers used to narrate folklore;
With sensors to taste the food that we eat,
And speak fluently with neighbors who cheat.
The boneless tongue gives creatures satiety;
In misdemeanor, speaks words so nasty;
The tongue-tied man cannot speak out too well;
The one with a long tongue argues like hell.
The tongue can emit both a soothing word,
And also cut like a double-edged sword;
The tongue helps one to sing a sweet song,
And touch one’s nose-tip whenever too long.
The tongue can start a war or conclude it;
Some stars use it for their kissing habit.
poem by John Celes
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A New Pilgrimage: Sonnet VIII
I will sit down awhile in dalliance
With my dead life, and dream that it is young.
My earliest memories have their home in France,
The chestnut woods of Bearn and streams among,
Where first I learned to stammer the French tongue.
Fair ancient France. No railroad insolence
Had mixed her peoples then, and still men clung
Each to his ways, and viewed the world askance.
We, too, as exiles from our northern shore,
Surveyed things sparsely; and my own child's scorn
Remained, how long, a rebel to all lore
Save its lost English, nor was quite o'erborne
Till, as I swore I'd speak no French frog's word,
I swore in French, and so laid down my sword.
poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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Her protector
The moon was shining over a town
It was pure quiet
Until the moon heard a giggle in the park
A woman with chestnut hair was walking around the grass
The wind was blowing around her nightgown
As if it was guiding her to dance
She twirled around in the night giggling
Like a little girl again
She was the moon's daughter
Every night the moon would watch over her
The moon is her protector
poem by Krystal Galvis
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Here Comes The Moon
Everybodys talking up a storm
Act like they dont notice it
But here it is and here it comes . . .
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Impulse always quickens when its full
As it turns my head around me
Yes it does and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Gods gift I see thats moving up there into the night . . .
Though dark the mirror in the sky reflects us our light:
Looks like a little brother to the sun
Or mother to the stars at night
And here it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon, the moon.
Breath is always taken when its new
Enhance upon the clouds around it
Yes it is and here it comes
Here comes the moon, the moon, the moon.
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Moon’s lady
Moon’s lady
Moon’s lady is weaving yarn
like my mother’s mother.
I’ve seen her in my childhood & to
the moon’s lady every day in nights.
Moon’s lady is an imaginary photo
which I have seen so many times
when moon lits in full swing.
Moon’s lady recalls
Memories of my childhood
Passed in the lap of my mother’s mother.
poem by Vijay Gupta
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Culture Diffuses By Osmosis.
Tamils settled in Kerala
Feel shy to speak Tamil
And want to hide their race
From their tongue and looks.
.
Tamil Brahmins proudly use it.
They keep it as their mother tongue.
They speak, sing and dance in Tamil,
Generation after generation.
Tamils, save Brahmins, are held as black.
In a culture, inferior dissolves in the superior.
10.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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A Child's Fancy
"Hush, hush! Speak softly, Mother dear,
So that the daisies may not hear;
For when the stars begin to peep,
The pretty daisies go to sleep.
"See, Mother, round us on the lawn,
With soft white lashes closely drawn,
They've shut their eyes so golden-gay,
That looked up through the long, long day.
"But now they're tired of all the fun--
Of bees and birds, of wind and sun
Playing their game at hide-and-seek;--
Then very softly let us speak."
A myriad stars above the child
Looked down from heaven and sweetly smiled;
But not a star in all the skies
Beamed on him with his Mother's eyes.
She stroked his curly chestnut head,
And whispering very softly, said,
"I'd quite forgotten they might hear;
Thank you for that reminder, dear.
poem by Mathilde Blind
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Classical Tamil World Conference (Semmozhi Tamizh Ulaga Manadu)
Through you, I came, Mother;
Lucky was my birth in Bharat, my Motherland;
I was nurtured and grew up by mother’s milk;
I drew strength from my mother’s love.
I knew the world through my mother-tongue;
I learnt most things by mother-tongue;
Thanks to my dear earthly mother;
Thanks to my Mother, Tamil!
The place where I was born was Tamilnadu;
Tamil is my mother-tongue;
Tamil was my first breath;
My first cry was in Tamil.
My last breath shall be Tamil;
My life will be for Tamil;
I am proud of my mother-tongue, Tamil;
I am proud to be a Tamilian!
Tamil is a great language;
Tamil is a popular language;
Tamil is an ancient language;
Tamil is a classical language.
Tamil is a world language;
Tamil is a language of Gods!
Dedicated to ‘Classical Tamil World Conference,2010, Coimbatore’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 23-06-2010
poem by John Celes
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‘The Moon’ (a Parody of ‘The Sea’ by Natividad Marquez)
Why does the moon smile, mother
as it blooms above the sky.
Because the moon loves to observe, my dear
Those buddies passing by.
Why does the moon blanch, mother
As if someone disappeared?
He is saddened by the envious clouds
Because he is sheltered.
Why is the moon so bright, mother
As if it is just five kilometers at sight?
Because he wants hurl our anxious night
By shedding his formidable light.
poem by Borgjie Distura
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Who's To Blame
Oh Mother Ghana; Mother Ghana
What has happened to you?
What has happened to your culture?
They say we've fold arms against 'Vernacular' language
Instead opened arms wide to 'English' language
Oh Mother Ghana Mother Ghana
Why?
At school, we are taught the things we do not know
By the 'English' language
Why not 'Vernacular' language?
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Where is your true identity as pure African?
Where is your pride as true Ghanaian?
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana,
Day after day
When we put on the uniform as students
We are forbidden to speak 'Vernacular' language
Instead the 'English' language
Why Mother Ghana, why Mother Ghana?
When we speak 'Vernacular' language; your culture,
They say: 'Speak English' someone's culture!
When we speak 'English' that someone's culture
They say: 'Abrofosem; speak vernacular language' your culture!
Oh Mother Ghana, Oh Mother Ghana
Who's to blame?
'English or Vernacular language'
Oh Mother Ghana; Oh Mother Ghana.
poem by Francis Julian Zewu
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Religion of a Child
It is religion that you speak your life for,
With a voice of angels, with certain talk.
Your mother is very great at living with God,
And she is becoming thin, unhappy, and glum.
The search is for a time, the search is mine,
For the God who loves my mother,
And I speak almost continuously over the doctrines.
His attributes are his names and knowledge,
My wisdom is my mother’s,
So I pray like my mother like my father,
And feel hope for the religion to speak to me
About why you die in a job called life
After earning the sunset and sunrise.
I can not cooperate further,
For my childhood is small and it is gone.
Pilgrims do speak like my soul,
And the pilgrimage is not with my parents now.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Moon Festival
alone, I whisper to myself
in my mother tongue
haiku by Chenou Liu
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a crow's cry...
I whisper to the moon
in my mother tongue
haiku by Chenou Liu
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Pacific shore...
my poem is folded
into a boat
haiku by Chenou Liu
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bare maple tree
standing on the front lawn…
with no one around
I speak to it
in my mother tongue
tanka by Chenou Liu
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Clouds and Waves
Mother, the folk who live up in the clouds call out to me-
"We play from the time we wake till the day ends.
We play with the golden dawn, we play with the silver moon."
I ask, "But how am I to get up to you ?"
They answer, "Come to the edge of the earth, lift up your
hands to the sky, and you will be taken up into the clouds."
"My mother is waiting for me at home, "I say, "How can I leave
her and come?"
Then they smile and float away.
But I know a nicer game than that, mother.
I shall be the cloud and you the moon.
I shall cover you with both my hands, and our house-top will
be the blue sky.
The folk who live in the waves call out to me-
"We sing from morning till night; on and on we travel and know
not where we pass."
I ask, "But how am I to join you?"
They tell me, "Come to the edge of the shore and stand with
your eyes tight shut, and you will be carried out upon the waves."
I say, "My mother always wants me at home in the everything-
how can I leave her and go?"
They smile, dance and pass by.
But I know a better game than that.
I will be the waves and you will be a strange shore.
I shall roll on and on and on, and break upon your lap with
laughter.
And no one in the world will know where we both are.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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The Ocean Blue
The ocean shining like crystals
The fish swimming in the blue lagoon
Area so vast in miles
Large enough to hold the reflection of the moon
Mountains under the salty depths
Creatures with undescribable beauty
Palm trees on the shore nearby
Caring for unappreciated duties
Tails of unknown animals
Flowing waves that they create
Forming many more families
As the mother and father mates
The sun heats the crests
The hot sand on the shore
Standing on the sidelines
Wishing animals could speak, so you can have a tour
The chilling waters only covering the toes
Missing out will make you only rue
That you have missed out on the true beauty of the world
The magnificent, majestic ocean blue
poem by TaBresha Bozeman
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