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
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A Drop of Rain
Dropping from unforeseen heights
From within the resonating heart of a weeping Nimbus
As the cloud cover lazily distends
To plaster the limitless wall of a heavenly fortress
In its luscious coatings of an Azure complexion
As celestial tear ducts seep a valiant tear
Dropping from apical altitudes to the suspecting soil
Sun parched land veiling the secrets of the earth
As beneath the cracked veneers, a bed of seed await their turn
To pack the soil with die-hard stems of leafy chimneys
To save mankind from the guillotines of a sun-baked terrain
Germinating the hopes of the magicians of the soil, Midas's apostles
Sowing their seed with a wand of thought, firmly clasped in to their palms
As a luscious November awaits for a sprinkle from the heavens
The legacy of the seasonal Monsoon, a promise from the Gods
To cultivate hope even in the direst of landscapes
To burgeon the soil with tides of green, for a timely transformation in to golden grains,
As a single droplet of water from the rupturing skies
Metamorphosed arid despair to steadfast optimism
The promise of a fertile crescent logging with golden grains of Serendipity
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Seed
The seed of the soil
Sown by the palms of man
To an opportune terrain
For the endowment of dowry
To the daughters of the soil
To hail the seed of man
Perpetuation of seeds of legacy
Genesis of offspring
Heirloom to human flux
As parts a divine truth - seed the vital force
Of the timelessness of being
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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We Salute You Gallant Sons And Daughters Of The Soil
Gallant sons and daughters of the soil, hail heros, we salute you
for the tremendous and outrageous job you did in restoration of the lost glory and hope, FREEDOM...
We salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil for putting
your lives at risk and the sacrifise
you made in restoring our legacy,
from our fore fathers.
We salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soils, today we
are enjoying the fruits of your sacrifise and dedication of your
lives just to restore the legacy
heritage and freedom which we
enjoy today....
Freedom was born out of bloodshed of the gallant sons and daughters of the soil, freedom was
born out of the armed struggle, we
salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil..
We salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil, thank you
for restoring the glory, heritage
and legacy which had been robbed from us! !
Hail gallant sons and daughters
of the soil, they exchanged freedom with the blood which
the spilt in the process of restoring the lost prestige and glory, heritage..
We salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil for breaking
down the iron york from our necks granting us solace, you did
all this out of love and loyalty.
We salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil for the enduarance, dedication you made
in bringing freedom and the lost
heritage, through the wire and many challenges you met, but you
risked your lives to bring freedom..
Today we enjoy the fruits of the
armed struggle which brought freedom, revolution completed
its course we are enjoying the fruits of the armed struggle
we salute you gallant sons and daughters of the soil may your
soul rest in peace
dedication to the gallant sons and
daughters of the soil of zimbabwe who lost their lives in the process of fighting for freedom..
poem by Donald Kuutsi
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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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Forgotten Fertility Myth
Pranab k c
27/06/2011
a deep depression
carries monsoon again
its raining
five days at a stretch
day and night
she is wet
her chastity
waiting to be ploughed
soil so soft
to be mould in creation
plough hard
my peasant friend
pour dropp to form seed
your personal rain
would make her corny
every dream
of your personal cloud
would make her smile festive
fertile soil seeks seedling
cultivate you the peasant
cultivate hard
cultivate with care
cultivate with unending passion
She waits to bear all the pain
for a pleasure of exposing a life again
poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Nostalgia of Saxophone Blues
A saxophonist on a lonely bar, playing the urban blues
Melodies that resonates the solitude, of this bed of civilization
A tapestry of brick, woven together by the mortar of dreams
Where a legacy of the soil was abandoned
For the rancid flavor of an earthly opulence
Collectors with deep pockets yet shallow temples
Fleeting paper levitating ephemeral dreams
Dipped in the ink of the forefathers of the land
Larger than life figures dwarfed in to paper surfaces
To venerate an ethereal faith, multiplying within brick shrines
Hedonistic soldiers, in a crusade for a tangible Shangri-La
Utopia of fortified castles and backyard swimming pools
As hallucinating agents are inhaled by the gullible minds
Mutant psyches prospering in these overwhelming fogs of napalm
Pilgrims parting their birth-rite to the earthly rite of tangible wealth
In this smorgasbord of intemperance, lavish buffets of temptation
Yet, the heart yearns for the profoundness of fraternity
An eerie loneliness transcending arctic winters, hibernating souls
Valiant for the recapture of their birth rite
The fluidity of village conversations, the resonance of rural brotherhood
The permanence of family, the intangibility of heritage
The promise of cultivation, festivities of rural folklore
All wrapped in to a life resonating in to the heart of a lonely pilgrim
Only a saxophonist can deliver, in the solitude of a barstool
As the nostalgic psyche hunts in the dark
For the remnant sunlight of his gentile peasant legacy
Urban blues transcending the intangibility of a birth rite of rural greens
To the sprouting land unveiling the promise of a timeless mirth
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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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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God Has Such Amazing Faith
We talk about believing in God
Believing in lies believing in truth,
Being a living sacrifice, putting our full trust in something that we
Cannot even see
But man, God is the one who really has strong faith
How does such a being, full of power, trust us?
He had a legacy, He sent His only son to the world
That Son was His hope, His pride, His joy, the world's very Savior
And yet that same Son was crucified
And then He died
But through power He rose again
And gave that power, that exceeding gain
To us.
We have that Spirit
But God entrusted his legacy to mortal man
There is no evidence of the resurrection
That evidence is Jesus Himself who is seated on the throne
The Only evidence we have is the Holy Spirit
God's faith in us amazes me
That He'd trust a fallen people, not only with such power
But the legacy of His Son, His legacy.
That He'd entrust us to spread His gospel.
I can scarce believe that God had such faith
To leave the only evidence of Jesus and His resurrection
In the hearts of men
Thank you God for your faith and trust
It's hard for us to put our faith in You, You who is powerful
You who is merciful, You who is loving.
But in all your great mercy and love
You put your faith in us
To spread that gospel
To use that power
To continue the legacy
To listen to the Spirit
To make disciples
To live
Because before You
Before Your sacrifice
Before the new heart
Before the redemption
Before the forgiveness
Before the healing
We were all dead
So thank You God
Thank You for having faith in me, even when I doubt you
Thank You for having faith in us, when we're a skeptical people
So thank You for the cross
I'll
We'll continue that legacy
Your Spirit, God, You, will be the living and strong evidence
That you are powerful, that Jesus rose from the dead
Lord God
I'll
We'll carry this Spirit to the ends of the earth
Because YOUR love, YOUR grace, and God YOUR FAITH
They give us strength
poem by David Knox
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Land To The Tiller
Cracked and clef soil of tolerated native mother
Beaten halo, attacked by the sun
Being friend and enemy to the end
Monsoon rain drops cried tears
Beyond of measure of sufferings keep in heart
Obeying to nature of god the body always brooks
Courageous mind and crooked back life domesticates
Keeping the dream of the beauty and smell of rose
Barren soil turning into fertile
Making dug well wetted over the land
Reaping seeds beget color of green
Mother of native attests through the centuries in time
By the history, for the people
Hostage curse is inherited
By the heart, for own future
To struggle of unjust is unavoidable
Righteous reality locking by suppression
Release of violence guides the admission
Ceaseless hope of legacy with permission
Though dark, for light dawn of full moon
poem by Udaya R. Tennakoon
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A Family of Friends
I look around me,
And what do I see?
A group of friends,
Who have inspired me,
We're there for each other,
We're there any time,
And I can say...
We're a legacy,
A legacy of friends,
We've come together in unity,
Let's join our hands,
And praise our God,
For we are a family of friends.
We've looked around us,
And found our strength,
He is around us,
O praise his name,
He brought us together,
In this place,
So I say again..
We're a legacy,
A legacy of friends,
We've come together in unity,
Let's join our hands,
And praise our God,
For we are a family of friends.
We thought we knew,
Who we were,
But as the days when it by,
It was unclear,
But we came together,
To talk it out,
And we soon found out...
We're a legacy,
A legacy of friends,
We've come together in unity,
Let's join our hands,
And praise our God,
For we are a family of friends.
(April 2010)
poem by Margaret Shaw
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Projections
We don’t have to try to be eternal
We already are
Our legacy is today
She tries to write poetry for legacy
She is sick and afraid
She wants a legacy
He tries to be profound
He tries to show off
Being ourselves is profound
Being in the moment is love
When we impress we are fake
Emily Dickinson had no fame
She had no audience
She was real and true to herself
Real art needs no mirrors
When we project we are lost
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Rice
On table plateful cooked rice,
Still the steam emits.
On chair I did cling,
Waited my wife curry to bring.
Beyond the plate, I behold
The farm wet with solicitude
Where the peasants
Sow the seeds.
Hot rice brings to the mind,
The paddy plants pined,
And the debt cankered peasants,
Whose sweats the balm to welted awns.
Held the rusty scythes,
And bent like the scythes,
The darkened women sang throat opened,
And the folk song my core vibrated.
Cooked rice still steamy,
And white purely,
As the mind of farmer,
The climate and price fall boiled ever.
Born to toil in the soil,
Farmers return to the soil,
To feed the worms,
Hanging on a rope hopeless.
When my dear curry brought,
I painfully thought:
No life without rice,
And without the peasant no rice.
poem by Fabiyas M V
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With sincere modesty, if there is such a thing, I have never thought of legacy at all. I am always grateful if people like what I have done. A legacy is something no one can forsee.
quote by Tom Glazer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It is up to us to live up to the legacy that was left for us, and to leave a legacy that is worthy of our children and of future generations.
quote by Christine Gregoire
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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When the media defines something, you have to question: Is it the definition that you want applied to your culture? I'm trying to determine who's leaving the legacy, and if the legacy that is being left is a positive one.
Taj Mahal
A supreme dome, luminescent
Amidst falling moonbeams
Sprinkled from the heavenly face
Of a spherical heiress to the throne
Of the celestial citadel, god's adobe
Her perfection only vanquished by the flare and wonder
Of marble's doming incandescence
Majestically holding her poise, yet pirouetting her splendor
A fortress entwined in the fabric of a perpetual love
Transcending time's legacy of an erosive suit
To resist nature's hemorrhagic peel, mother patience's invasive exploit
To bestow on the beholder, the life-blood of a timeless love
Undefiled from doubt or envy yet trapped in the labyrinths of mortality
For man to soar in the exaltation of a pristine love
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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The Nonsensical Enigma - Love
Love
The fusion of being
To an intangible wealth, yet a collector's bounty
When the heart is soaked by surging tides of affection
By the ingrained succulence of another life form
Partiality, transcending roots, kinship or pedigree
Fidelity, surpassing the legacy of your shadow
Devotees to commitment yet free of slavery
Reverence, exceeding faith's inventory of icons
When godship is humanized to flesh and blood
Where blood is rarely splattered, but worshiped in to flush
Where flesh is seldom mutilated, but traversed for pleasure
Where the heart is captured by both an earthly and heavenly desire
The endowment of wings to the flight-impaired
The gift of the fountain of sight to the unsighted
The bestowment of a compass to a wandering heart
The bequest on man, transcendence from mortality
To the surrealism of an earthly divinity
To hold in your heart, that nonsensical enigma - love
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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Why is it that many contemporary male thinkers, especially men of color, repudiate the imperialist legacy of Columbus but affirm dimensions of that legacy by their refusal to repudiate patriarchy?
quote by bell hooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Mirror On The Wall
Silver silence looms her legacy
The pride of fallen angels
Roman slave ships
Us and them
Your words are vain rhymes
Your power a throne of mirrors
Mirror mirror on the wall
Fade into sphinx gray frames
Galleria of superfluous ego
Identity of art
Identity of superficial ownership
Legacy of masks
Charlatans
The cross is bloody with humility
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Legacy Of Kings
Out in the fields
The full moon is rising
Enlightens the name on our shields
Blessed with pride
Steel on our side
Were horsemen of thunder
The ground starts to shake as we ride
Side by side
Stormbringer led us into the unknown
On wings of glory we will carry on
Legacy of kings c legacy of kings
Forever to surrvive, were
Riding on the winds c riding on the winds
Unchained and free, alive forevermore
Deep in the night
We circle around them
The honor compels us to fight
All for one
All hewed with steel
In the toil of the battle
Our enemies fate will reveal
And be sealed
The chill of the wind keeps on calling our names
Theres no turning back now, keep hold of the flame
Legacy of kings c legacy of kings
Forever to surrvive, were
Riding on the winds c riding on the winds
Unchained and free, alive forevermore
Now we are here
And there is nothing left to fear
The secrets of steel
The path of glory will reveal
Legacy of kings c legacy of kings
Forever to surrvive, were
Riding on the winds c riding on the winds
Unchained and free, alive forevermore
song performed by by Hammerfall
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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