Kunta Kinte
The galvanizing torrents of the Gambia,
In these backwaters of a luscious Casamance
The Mandinka mettle reverberates to a sashay of currents
A heritage unspoilt, unscathed and pristine in its bounty
A colossal iceberg parched by the African sun
One in spirit with the ferocious surge of a Gambian princess
Roar of a primal Lion, pitter-patter of a lone tribal warrior
Lighter than a feather yet rooted to her legacy
The bough of a Baobab, standing regal and tall
Against the ferocious presence of an omniscient Ra
Tirelessly exuding her radiance in an act of a sweltering defiance
At the icy façades of the palest of hues, marching with barking canines
Hollow ungainly barrels clasped in hand, fedoras burning on the crown
As the copious backwaters were transformed to a trading colony
Where humanity was anchored to power-wielding collars and the clatter of chains
As a precious destiny was swindled by sweeping winds of subjugation
As the roaming white man, tainted white water with sanguine smears
As the supreme heritage of a foolhardy warrior persona
Died a million deaths, to rise back up again two centuries later
As she, the Mandinka heritage levitated from the ashes, like a dexterous Phoenix
To conquer her terrain, to soar yet again, like an emancipated feather
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Related quotes
The Legacy Of The Soil
In my forefather's blood
Rests my gentile peasant legacy, of a dexterous islander
Born to the fertile soils of Serendip
As the seeds of my legacy were cultivated
On soggy terrain for an opportune metamorphosis
Golden terraces laden with logged grains of prosperity
A tribal farmer persona transcending mortality
To the throne of a medieval mythical kingdom
To the august presence of a sorcerer of the soil
A sower granted the wish of king Midas, miraculous palms
Sowing the twines of the intricate tapestry of my heritage
Where no swords were wielded, no blood was shed
Where no battlefields were fronted, no prisoners were seized
Where roots were laid and sprouts were sprung
A legacy like no other, to own the spirit of the soil
To harness the blessings of the sun gods
To garner the vitality of the seasonal monsoon
To cultivate hope in the promise of a bowl of rice
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rhinoceros
The clamor of shields of armor
As the quintessential knight
Of the animal kingdom
Plods on the boundless savannahs
An ungainly grace yet a ferocious roar
As twirls of fir pirouette like a feisty tornado
To capture the embodiment of her heritage
The grandeur of an indomitable horn
Standing tall on the shadow of Kilimanjaro
As fairy tales and folklore reverberate
Of the greatest of them all, the albino
The one that leaped from the heavens
To be captured by a wandering virgin
To unscramble the fallacy of a cardinal myth - the fountain of chastity
As to the beholding eye, the enigma of the celestial unicorn
Blurred in to a sprightly Rhinoceros
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Pitter Patter
It looks like rain and its been comin on for hours
It looks like rain I hear the rumble of thunder showers
Pretty soon the rain will play its sweet refrain
While we listen from inside
And until it stops, well hear the drips and drops
From beside the fireside
So let it rain (pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain) (goin drip
Drop drip drop)
Yeah and well be happy when it stops (pitter patter, pitter patter of
The rain) (goin drip drop drip drop)
cause when it rains (pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain) (goin
Drip drop drip drop)
The ways of love rise in my heart (pitter patter, pitter patter of the
Rain) (goin drip drop drip drop)
We wont be sad when there is a storm (ooooo)
And we can be glad (ooooo)
cause we can keep warm, yeah, yeah
Listen to the rain
Pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter oooo
A rain swept plain
Soon after springtime rains blow over
Will sprout new grain
And miles of fresh green fields of clover
Winter and its cold soon will lose its hold
With the changes spring will bring
Sun comes pourin down warmin up the ground
Bringin new life with the spring
So let it rain (pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain) (goin drip
Drop drip drop)
Yeah and well be happy when it stops (pitter patter, pitter patter of
The rain) (goin drip drop drip drop)
cause when it rains (pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain) (goin
Drip drop drip drop)
The ways of love rise in my heart (pitter patter, pitter patter of the
Rain) (goin drip drop drip drop)
And like the risin tides love is growin stronger (ooooo)
Lets ride out the storm just a little bit longer yeah (ooooo)
Listen to the rain
Pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter oooo
Listen to the rain
Pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter oooo
Listen to the rain
Pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter oooo
Listen to the rain
Pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter oooo
Listen to the rain yeah
Pitter patter, pitter patter of the rain (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter, pitter patter, pitter patter (goin drip drop drip drop)
Pitter patter oooo
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain On The Window
(hicks / clarke / nash)
When I hear pitter-patter the rain on the window
Reminds of her
When I hear pitter-patter the rain on the window
It was raining hard
The trees looked bare the night I met her
She was wet her hands were cold
The wind blew through her hair
Though Id known her quite a long time
We were just good friends
So it didnt seem so strange
Inviting her back home
We sat by the fire
The flames brought out something in her
Melting all the cold
Projecting warmth I never knew
As the rain beat on my window
Did she understand
That in the glow of dying embers
Everything was planned
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
Pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter pitter-patter
We made love later on that night
While the rain beat on my window
I cant forget the things that happened
While the rain beat down on my window
Next time I saw her
I knew she didnt want to know me
If I disappointed her
I think she should have told me
Cant she understand
I only tried to be a man
She made me feel so ashamed
Of everything I am
When I hear pitter-patter
The rain on the window
Reminds of her
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mercenary
The soil as his witness, walking on footpaths
Self-laid, the soul a renegade
No ownerships of the reckless heart
Except for an illusory god, hung by a thread
The soul pacifier in this no man's land
Walking in alleyways and backstreets
In cocaine country, pushed by the palms of fate
To a frontier, where destiny is snorted up the nostrils
To soar to the heights of Seraphim, towering above the heavens
A shrouded mission of a lone warrior, a man of many masks
Blending in to the theatrics of the narcotic kings
As humanity is razed for their daily wages
Where powders reign, deceptively virgin in hue
On table tops and within hollow chambers of ungainly barrels
As law men fall like the Amazonian rainforests
Logs of human flesh covered in sanguine coats
Floating on to river banks and beds
Yet he thrives in this bloodshed landscape
A chameleon in thespian action, fusing in to the bleakest of backdrops
Even snorting bliss, as anointment, an investiture to a ominous practice
For a resonating fraternity within a prospering cartel
Waiting for kismet to lend in a gentle push, for the final chapter
To spell the doomsday for a thriving trade
A crusader with a heart of a lion and the loyalty of a templar
Sketching the Armageddon of powder's hold
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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White Heritage
White lion cubs are very rare,
Yet how are they to know?
Nobody tells them that we care
And thank God that they grow!
Across the world our children learn
Of creatures on this Earth...
Those lion cubs don't know we yearn
For them to prove their worth...
The little cubs are weak today,
Just fragile balls of fluff...
Yet childhood soon must fly away,
Although this time we love...
Their friendships form strong bonds for life,
To bless each heart and mind...
Togetherness helps them survive,
This truth you'll always find...
We cherish them for what they are...
We wonder what they'll do.
As each one wanders near and far,
Exploring all things new...
Each bears a noble heritage,
As princes of renown.
The future years will form a bridge -
Each king will wear his crown...
Denis Martindale, copyright, November 2010.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'White Heritage'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
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Pitter-Patter
The sound of pitter-patter
Around the scintillating corona of a blazing bonfire
In the bleakness of a sun-parched terrain
On cracked veneers where jagged scripts are engraved
In the tongue of the earth, screeching towards the heavens
As the beats of the palms, on svelte drum heads
Even the reverberating echoes of a warrior persona
Calls forth a deluge from the heavens
As the soil awaits its call for a metamorphosis from within
For the seeds of the earth to leaven, to spiral
Towards a larger than life mural of a cascading Azure curtain
To embrace falling tears from the breaching heavens
To carry forth in their arms, the bed of civilization
A bequest of the gods, the seepage of celestial tear ducts
To spawn a grove of shoots, to engender a gathering of life forms
To divide and multiply in gay abandon,
Listening to the melodies of a different pitter-patter
One calling forth the genesis of life, to the bleakest of land
As the pulsating drum beats transform to a thanksgiving prayer
An oratorio resonating towards the heavens
To sash and bouquet the attentive gods for a heavenly intervention
The advent of a pluri-genic offspring, to mother Africa
For the liberation of her maternal instincts, her supple buxom breasts
To nurture the pitter-patter of her fledgling innocence
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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My African Damsel
Skin shimmering of molten ivory
Scorching in Ra's immovable gaze
As bountiful locks flow to Amun's whispers of sweet nothings
In copper's opulence of a zesty auburn patina
Tantalizing curves of a Rhodesian ridgeback
A spectacular heritage of an imperial Grevy zebra
Proudly sporting her colonial stripes and her Zulu roots
Yet bearing an unscathed legacy, the poise of an Ethiopian wolf
Absent of feudal conquests, toil's buxom union with hemorrhagic outpour
As love's enduring labor shunned alcoves of segregation
For white man's seed to be sown on sable soil
As she, an African princess, matured like a diamond in a mine
To sprout in the savannahs of my psyche
As she dances to the Congo beats of my heart
My breathtaking beauty, my African damsel
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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The Migrant Heart
The hold of the deep-rooted heart
Imprints laid on the impressionable soil
Toil shed on perforated veneers, sun-baked terrain
Fusing to the die-hard ethos of the land
Cultivating seeds of destiny, harvesting grains of serendipity
Yet the seasonal winds rampant, the birth of change inevitable
The call of an opportune cupidity trading the unsuspecting heart
To trade winds of migration, blown to unfamiliar frontiers
As vessels are docked, cultures are exchanged
Anchors are declined, new beginnings are unveiled
Journey of the heart to the potpourri of pluri-culturism
To the divine truth of homogeneity, the bounty of a universal being
Sons and daughters of the same mother, her supremeness, the ubiquitous Gaia
Pilgrims of the same sun, a sultry yellow dwarf
Nomads of the same azure curtain, a boundless blue giant
Yet scathing and bleeding is the alienated heart
As scarecrows are forgone for the snow men of winter
No longer holding the hand out for the pitter-patter of the monsoons
As snow befalls to the chilliness of a winter's alienation
As the heart searches for the bygone times
To the blood, the toil, the tears, the semen of one's legacy
To the miraculous symbiosis of man and soil
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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And it's a crime because the great plays of history, going all the way back to the Greeks, are part of everybody's heritage. It's just like in music, Beethoven or Mozart, that's everybody's heritage.
quote by Tony Randall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To achieve the mood of a warrior is not a simple matter. It is a revolution. To regard the lion and the water rats and our fellow men as equals is a magnificent act of a warrior's spirit. It takes power to do that.
quote by Carlos Castaneda
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Defiance of a Female Warrior
When she stepped out of the shower
In pale wet skin
And splendor
She wore water like a queenly robe
Dripping breasts
Made of gold and treasure
Such beauty deserved
To be inscribed
Something no man should forget
In case I couldn’t memorize the bite of her
Kiss
The trembling release of her depth
In case I might forget the flavor of her
Cries
The excited rasp of her breath
I needed a photo of that naked pout
A vision
Never to forget
“Don’t take my picture, ”
She warned me
In ferocious warrior tongue
Daughter of Nordic barbarians
Beauty unlike anyone
What did she think I would do
With the image she might surrender?
Sell it to the highest bidder
For thirty pieces of silver?
Send it to perverts and sex addicts
Specialists in self-pleasure?
Post it on church walls
So celibates might be tempted?
Raise it upon a flag
For an entire nation to be offended?
“Don’t take my picture, ”
She warned me
In ferocious warrior tongue
Daughter of Nordic barbarians
Beauty unlike anyone
But I defied her fierce instruction
Spit from heroic luscious lips
Picture snapped
In a flash
Naked beauty captured
At last
And
Never saw that warrior again
poem by Catman Cohen
Submitted by anonym
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The White Feather
A pure white feather floats silently towards the ground.
As it lands, I pick it up,
and rest it gently in the palm of my hand.
Perhaps it's a delicate fragment from an Angel's wing,
possibly, a token of heavenly love,
or maybe, I see it as my own delight in a gentle white feather.
But as my eyes alight on this fragile plume,
my spirit lifts,
and I have a feeling
that my Guardian Angel is near me,
and is ever watchful.
I believe this perception will always stay with me,
and each time I glimpse a pure white feather
I will offer thanks to my
imperceivable protector.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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Quiet Warrior
Standing in a circle the wolves have come
But they wont bother her, no
cause dancing with her hands of leaves shell sing for them
And ease their hungerin
Shes a quiet warrior.
Standing at the oceans stoney shores
The waves all worship her
She stands in trust and lets the night swallow her
Because she knows that shes a piece of the sun
And a quiet warrior.
You ask her where from the wind blows
Shell say its how the sky sings
And you ask her how does the sun rise
Shell say cause you desire it to be seen
And you ask her how does she make your heart fly
And shell tell you, you know why
Shes your quiet warrior.
Ravens they rest on his golden crown
And steal your soul
He smiles and it feels like youve known him
Yes it feels like coming home
Hes a quiet warrior.
And roaring silently hes a lion
And hell hunt for you
His eyes are warm because his hands they are made of light
And they seduce your soul
Hes a quiet warrior.
You ask him where from the wind blows
He says that the earth breathes
And you ask him how does the sun rise
Hell say that shes got wings
And you ask him how does he make your heart fly
And hell tell you, you know why
Hes your quiet warrior.
Transcribed by dan stark
song performed by by Jewel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Heritage Hills Class Of Eighty-One
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Here it is, the year two thousand eleven
Thirty years, thirty years, where did it go
Saddened to learn a few are gone on to Heaven
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
My, oh my, where did the time fly
Wow…victories, tears, joy, and fun
Being a grandparent is love not to deny
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Some led the life of the moth to the flame
Many went on to higher knowledge
Knowing happiness in a life that's tame
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
One time Providence dealt us a course unknown
We handled it, conquered it, survived it
Now, we bask in seeing our children grown
Heritage Hills Class of Eighty One
Yes, we are middle aged and gray
A few aches, a few pains, but no complaints
It's class reunion time…oh what a great day
poem by Charles Hancock
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White Feather
(fish / marillion)
When I hit the streets back in 81
Found a heart in the gutter and a poets crown
I felt barbed wire kisses and icicle tears
Where have I been for all these years?
I saw political intrigue, political lies
Gonna wipe those smiles of self-satisfaction from their eyes
I will wear your white feather I will carry your white flag
I will swear I have no nation but Im proud to own my heart
I will wear your white feather I will carry your white flag
I will swear I have no nation but Im proud to own my heart
My heart, this is my heart
We dont need no uniforms, we have no disguise
Divided we stand, together well rise
We will wear your white feather
All the children
We will carry your white flag
We will swear we have no nations
Beirut children
But were proud to own our hearts
Jeruzalem children
We will wear your white feather
Tokio children
We will carry your white flag
Moscow children
We will swear we have no nations
Washington children
But were proud to own our hearts
Munich children
These are our hearts
Chicago children
These are our hearts
Cairo children
You cant take away our hearts ...
You cant steal our hearts away
I cant walk away I cant walk away
No more, no more, no more, no more...
song performed by by Marillion
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Oklahoma Heritage Center
I wish you could have been with us
When we went on a trip the other day
Our tour guide did a great job
With the Heritage Center on display
The building was renovated
And done with such style and grace
Housing historical pieces
It’s a very exceptional place
The furniture is extraordinary
And you should see the glass chairs
The history just seeps into your mind
And done with wonderful flair
You learn about Oklahomans
That founded this wonderful state
Going way back to the beginning
We can’t even begin to relate
We’re so proud of our heritage
And I know you would love to enter
A special place of past history
Called Oklahoma Heritage Center!
poem by Marilyn Lott
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The Wild Dogs
They are here
where winds of hope stir
but they are here to tear
not to serve hope but despair
The wild dogs licking
with their tongues dripping
and with their legs limping
in terror seething
all the children leaving
claws of greed tearing
into the womb of the nation
canines of power biting
into the foundations of our heritage
growls of shame lingering
in the hearts of our leaders
so wild but for a while
where power corrupts absolutely
so foreign but not forever
we pray they come back home
to share our plight; and lead the fight
poem by Timothy muggaga
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European Heritage Invasion Versus Pacific Peace Isolation
Your heritage childhood learning post communist Yugoslavia
splintered by bitter nationalism rural urban divisive civil war
I isolation the Buller West Coast South Island New Zealand
province values were old country colonial family status core
we embrace histories of diversity invasions splinter identities
religion belief nationality posed threats to communist policies
religious differences between Orthodox Serbs Catholic Croats
and Muslim Bosniaks mixes into volatile political aspirations
in contrast isolated colony New Zealand enters European wars
under the banner of British Empire assumes her own identities
heritage ancestry denomination Christian mixes with Polynesian
the government encourages Asian immigration multiculturalism
post Maori New Zealand Wars NZ embraced peace in isolation
post Yugoslavia accepts European power surge manipulation?
accept 'the situation in the terrain' common message it's a mess
up manipulation crime spiral from local to global level policies?
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Souls Asylum - Ode to a forgotten kind
Pack my bags in a confused neuronal frenzy
A ticket to an unknown paradise the shores of my Casamance
A runaway train scanning the signs of the forgotten land
As the feet rhythmically splatter to the mud soaked bus stand
It's two in the morning the heart devoid of any feeling
An inevitable choice to escape the iron fist dealing
Paitre the re-incarnation of a cannibalistic leviathan creature
Maitre the banshee shrieking the tune of a venomous child eater
I remember the tale of my sister Mary Jane
Who had her last dance on the lap of her guardian's pubic mane
As the pearl jammed against the restrictive oyster shell
She escaped to her destiny from her chambers of an eternal hell
I am the victim of the inevitability of human nature
That mutates the temples to a carnivorous amorphous creature
Not even innocence is spared as the amazons are brutally ravaged
Orellano the guide to those boats that escaped the hands of the savaged
Across the Atlantic, unfolded the story of innocence lost
To the devils in robes un-empathetic to the human cost
As the runaway trains reached the shores the calming Irish
The echoes the church walls haunting the predators' conscience-leash
I remember the stories of the earliest of them all
When human cargo was unloaded from the southern costal trawl
When Casamance was lost to the tyrants in many hues pale
The Mandinka spirit escaped to tell their rapturous emancipation tale
Now the story of the Asian mestiza sold to contemporary's slave trade
A forced destiny to crash against the fluid, as the bounty of innocence fade
Escape the shanty badlands on the shores of the unforgiving Pasig
Her runaway train to catch, a new lease for life's second dig
These are the stories of the downtrodden in their quest for an earthly paradise
In the roulette tables of life to find their unique serendipitous sunrise
To the arms of angles showering grace to these forgotten soles in their forsaken phylum
The journey to an eternal freedom to the chainless soul asylum
The underground soul asylum flourishes under the radar
A abolitionist network spanning the badlands even the grand crater
Run by angels in their vengeance against humanity's sins
A sanctuary for the emancipated for a lease of new wings
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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