En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Mini Dubai

Silvered canal sprawls with a smile of wisdom.

Like a tamarind seed, my town nicknamed Mini Dubai
Burgeoned, then branched on Kanoli canal bank.
To come up to their own town, busy pedestrians step down
An ancient bridge of imperialism built by the British.

As the traffic lights have lost the eye balls,
A potbellied police man dances and controls.
Jalopies groan, and modern cars whiz.
A long whistle: ambulance with the wounded
And van with a wedding party halt side by side,
As the southern and northern hemispheres of
Emotions meet at a single point, by chance.

Among the concrete buildings seethe under the tanning rays,
Splurging women whirl in the hurry wind. Stink of sweats
And aroma of Arabian perfumes choke the air in the shops,
Where, sometimes, chicanery and dupery peek through the glassed.
To the government offices nearby, applications drafted in blood
And salt scurry only to get the obsequies in the waste baskets.
The sots creep like snakes in the yard of Sandra Bar.

Nostalgic smell of canal mud sops in sizzling tang from a cafeteria.

Two love birds kiss
On the high bough of the tamarind:
Fluttering of natural mirth –
Paradise is in the height.

A crow sits on electric post and watches all beneath with a smile of wisdom.

FABIYAS M V

poem by Fabiyas M V
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A Lunatic Lady

Along the canal bank
And harvested field,
She roams, with a mind
That had slid from its rail.

Her muddy skirt
And brownish hairs
Flutter in the salty wind,
Like the flags of insanity.

Lonely nights, fire burns
On the distant banks;
Wind smell does tell
She barbecues canal fish.

"During the windy seasons,
Lunacy is let loose" -
Her night shrieks and shouts
Are thus neglected in village logic.

Her stomach swells like our morality
That drowns and swells, day by day,
With myriads of questions
To be answered by Time.

Fabiyas M V

poem by Fabiyas M V
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Hookywooky

Im standing with you on your roof
Looking at the chemical sky
All purple blue and oranges
Some pigeons flying by
The traffic on canal streets so noisy
Its a shock
And someones shooting fireworks or a gun
On the next block
An-an-and, I wanna hookywooky with you
I wanna hookywooky with you
The traffics so noisy its a shock
Sounds like fireworks or a gun on the next block
Ah, hookywooky with you
Your ex-lover satchel is here from france
Yet another ex
They gather about you like a mother superior
All of you still friends, but -
None of my old flames ever talk to me when things
End for me they end
They take your pants, your money, your name
But the song still remains
An-an-and, I wanna hookywooky with you
Ah-ha-ha-ha, I wanna hookywooky with you
Then they take your pants, your money, your name
But the song still remains, sayin -
I wanna hookywooky with you
Youre so civilized it hurts
I guess I could learn a lot, ha-ha...
About people, plants and relationships
How not to get hurt a lot
And each lover I meet up your roof
I wouldnt want to throw him off, mmmmm..
Into the chemical sky, down into the streets to die
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
And each lover I meet up on your roof
I wouldnt want to throw him off, mmmmm..
Into the chemical sky
Under the wheels of a car to die on canal street
Ah-ah-hi, I wanna, ah, hookywooky with you
Ah-huh, huh-huh-huh-ah
I wanna hookywooky with you
I wouldnt want to throw him off into the chemical sky
Down into the streets to die
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Hookywooky
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Hookywooky
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Under the wheels of a car on canal street
Hooky-hooky-hooky-wooky
(under the wheels of a car on canal street)
(under the wheels of a car on canal street)
(under the wheels of a car on canal street)
(under the wheels of a car on canal street)

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time Rules Carved Out Empire Journeys

Darius I of Persia earlier standout stars;
having attacked conquered Ancient Egypt
built a canal linking his Persian Red Sea?

To the Mediterranean through desert sands;
Darius's canal wide enough for two triremes
to pass each other with all oars extended?

Required mere four days to canal traverse;
history turns Persian Roman Empires are extinct?
No Eastern Roman Empire now time rules?

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Daily Routine

Every evening at 5.09
he leaves the office,
takes the streetcar
into town,
goes for a stroll
down to the park
by the canal,
there he sits
on the bench nearest
the ornate water fountain;
He dreams,
of a lost childhood
long summers ago
by the sea,
days filled with singing,
laughing and
crying;
Crying now,
the little girl
by the fountain
who has lost her way,
golden hair, eyes of grey,
reflected in his thick lenses;
As he watches her
he dreams,
of long summers ago,
a childhood by the sea
filled with laughing
and crying;
now in the park
he lies beneath a summer sky,
side by side with
the golden girl
and
she lies
very still.

poem by Louis Kasatkin
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The Auld Triangle

A hungry feeling
Came oer me stealing
And the mice were squeeling
In my prison cell
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
Oh! to start the morning
The warden bawling
Get up out of bed, you! and clean out your cell!
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
Oh! the screw was peeping
And the loike was sleeping
As he lay weeping
For his girl sal
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
On a fine spring evening
The loike lay dreaming
And the sea-gulls were wheeling
High above the wall
And that auld triangle went jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
Oh! the wind was sighing
And the day was dying
As the loike lay crying
In his prison cell
And that auld triangle went jingle-bloody-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal
In the womens prison
There are seventy women
And I wish it was with them
That I did dwell
Then that auld triangle could go jingle-jangle
All along the banks of the royal canal

song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Boatman Recalls and Repents

Riverside market to markets,
The boat man had propelled with a long pole.
Mat roofed boat,
Full of goods and intrigues,
Gets visible with
High tide of recollections…

Boiling rice on kerosene stove
And a blinking night lamp
Boil and blink again.
Had plucked tender coconuts
From the grove nearby,
When its owner fast asleep.
Had shattered the widow’s solitude
On the bank of Kanoli canal.
Had peeped into the secrecy
Of bathing village damsels…

Moist events after events
The boat man recalls and repents.
Roads became kings,
Boat decay tied,
And the boat man a wrinkled storyteller,
Often, looking up the sky
For the rain washing out all.

poem by Fabiyas M V
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Anxieties Of A Widow

May stretched its legs into the grave.
Thunder heralds the rains.
Hut on the bank of Kanoli canal
Is not re-thatched this year.
Her infant’s illness made the doctor gay
With all the wages she had kept.
Summer takes the last breath,
But the coconut leaf thatched roof
Is not re-thatched this year.

As the widow stands on the threshold,
The rain clouds gather over her sky
And the wind scatters terror in her corridor.
Will the tattered roof be flown away?
Will the rain drops make pores
On the roof of her life?
Where will her child crawl and smile?
Question waves are thus getting high;
Her canoe is ready to be tossed.

(Summer ends in the month of May and rainy season begins in the month of June in Kerala)

poem by Fabiyas M V
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The Chopped Women

now i need not blame the culprit
of this chopping incident: the head thrown from a cliff
rolling down
the deep part of the river below
a taxi driver did it
where blood of some fish
try to conceal
the stink of the the human blood
of two women

their four arms
wrapped in black plastic bags
apart from their thighs
thrown in different
places of the town

the police officers found
some other human parts
under the bridge
far from the others finally located
in the canal
of a distant barrio

i read the papers
the headlines of the city
about a cold murder

the killer said
he admitted the killing and will serve the sentence in jail

all because of the woman's word
demeaning his manhood
all because she wanted him out of her life

the words that finally know how to kill
to chop and throw the mouth, the lips, the teeth, the tongue
the arms and legs
and thighs

apart from each other

i do not mean to side with the killer
we simply have to be careful with the word that also knows how to kill

simple courtesy could have avoided
a cold murder
a kind word could have make a better place
a world of peace

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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On The Lonely Side Of Town

On the lonely side of town
When no one else is around
Her brown eyes cry those tears
Over her loves from the past years
Her heart is breaking without a sound

On the lonely side of town
She feels just like a clown
With tears pouring from her eyes
With no rhymn or reason why
But life has turned her upside down

On the lonely side of town
Her head is hanging down
Shaking from side to side
With not much left of her pride
There on that lonely side of town

On the lonely side of town
She is lost behind her frown
But in ways she may never know
Her love fine it's way to show
And by her love she is bound

On the lonely side of town
You can hear the old train sound
Reminding her of those days
When life glowed with brighter rays
Even on that lonely side of town

On the lonely side of town
She is loved by leaps and bounds
Even though she may not see
Love'S the only thing that's free
And it creaps up on her without a sound

poem by Norman Hale
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Canal Walk

..canal walk with taytay and rayray…..

We are sitting here together
Me, my grandfather and my brother
We’ve been out all day
Walking the canal and snapping away.
The ducks and the swans paddled
The barges and canoes slipped by
There were chirping and buzzing
From the creatures, even in a birds beak was a fly
We’ve had some dinner and some
Ice cream, cake and chicken in between
The only thing left to be said
Is, ”right boys…time for bed.

poem by Brian Roy Skyers
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Church Street, Pretoria

Right down the street the traffic lights are green
and a couple of homeless men stand around a fire
in a half drum and ambulances and police cars scream
while they past rows and rows of flats for hire
and a couple of kids stand smoking at the stream
and this is reality, the heart of the city.

On the sidewalk pedestrians walk in crowds of men,
women and some children, some booted up to the knee
others with mini skirts short enough to condemn them
and my city stays lovely to me.

People queue for fried chicken, fish
and chips at shops and cafés and the smells fill my nose
and tomatoes and onions, lamb and steak are fried with a hiss
and in the traffic an angry speed-cop tries to retain his pose
when a minibus taxi almost runs him over, gives him a fright
at a flickering traffic light
and cars stream by into the coming night.

poem by Gert Strydom
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Dirty Old Town

I met my love by the gas works wall
Dreamed a dream by the old canal
Kissed a girl by the factory wall
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
Clouds a drifting across the moon
Cats a prowling on their beat
Springs a girl in the street at night
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
Heard a siren from the docks
Saw a train set the night on fire
Smelled the spring on the smoky wind
Dirty old town
Dirty old town
Im going to make me a good sharp axe
Shining steel tempered in the fire
Will chop you down like an old dead tree
Dirty old town
Dirty old town

song performed by by Pogues
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It's Like Mrs.Chakki's Base

‘It's like Mrs.Chakki’s base’-
It’s a saying in a countryside.
Her husband and the camels
Walk together in the desert.

It’s his first return:
Riyals bless the soul of their dream
With a body; a base of home
Takes its birth on the canal bank.

The oasis allures him again:
He flies over the Arabian sea,
Leaving the base with Mrs.Chakki.
Dream balls roll in her eyes.

She awaits in sweet expectancy,
But the postman passes by,
Like her days,
Holding not out a letter for her.

The decades slip into
The barranca of past,
Leaving wrinkles and silver streaks
On her dreams.

The time partitions every hole
And every chink in the base –
Mongooses, bandicoots
And rats get due shares.

“Will he ever return, Chakki? ”
Silent answer fills her eyes.
‘It's like Mrs.Chakki’s base’-
It’s a saying, and an ember as well.

FABIYAS M V

poem by Fabiyas M V
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Carny Town

(words & music by wise - starr)
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Now the show youre going to see is strictly high class
Therell be ten hoola dancers shaking their grass
So step right up and put your money down
This way to carny town
We got a man so skinny you can see his bones
We play on his ribs like a xylophone
With a pair of spoons we get a rockin song
Youll hear it all, in carny town
Hurry, hurry, hurry, the house is almost full
We got a two headed cow and thats no bull
Theres a man who swallows swords and he never gets hurt
He eats razor blades for dessert
Hes just about the sharpest guy around
Youll see him here, in carny town
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha hurry, hurry step this way
Aha-ha I say were gonna win
I said hurry up

song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Paychecks Of Lost Men

Dying figments unsuited for these hours
Sit underneath the dabs of wasps,
Or at the corners of her cheek where she lives:
In the pornography of rusting cars,
Or at the sad confines of the canal:
Floating along in her trailer park underneath
The washout heavens of those
Billboards trying to sell their god to the highway-
When she smiles, a long ways off,
She can see her children even if they cannot
Recognize her- and it is her art form to do this,
And to sit beautifully alone,
Pleasuring herself as if she believed in ghosts:
Like my own childhood where I remember sitting
With my mother and reading books
Underneath skyscrapers and landmines of sunshine:
Or leaning over to see our doppelgangers in the
Canal,
The tadpoles swimming with the paychecks of
Lost men: reticent to transform,
They remain in my childhood long after I have gone.

poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
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Flight to Dubai

Clouded farewell pains;
Hopes from pauperism did flee;
And took off from Kochin air base.
Mr.Jas, bucolic purely,
Landed in Dubai, as in heaven.

Mummies of Arabian culture in museums;
Building striving to kiss the moonlet;
Marvellous lights
In the street,
Luring as the first smile of a lover…

Mirth floating creek;
Date bunches, fresh as virgins;
Pleasure selling girls exotic;
Beach with beauties chainless…
Mr.Jas does spree after each day’s toil.

Soon an Indian air-craft
The mind boarded;
Body followed it within fortnight;
Concentration camp of insolvency Mr.Jas returned.
Why?

“Great is Dubai with its fame;
Greater is the goal;
But the greatest is warmth of home,
Rebounding always.”

poem by Fabiyas M V
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A beam of luminous hydrogen canal rays has, owing to its velocity, exactly the same direction as that of the electric field in which it may be made to move.

quote by Johannes Stark
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I took the Canal Zone and let Congress debate; and while the debate goes on, the canal does also.

quote by Theodore Roosevelt
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Modern Dance

Maybe I should go and live in amsterdam
In a side street near a big canal
Spend my evenings in the van gogh museum
What a dream, van gogh museum
Maybe its time to see tangiers
A different life-style, some different fears
And maybe I should be in edinburgh
In a kilt in edinburgh
Doin a modern dance
Doin a modern dance
Or maybe I should get a farm in southern france
Where the winds are wispy and the villagers dance
And you and I wed sleep beneath a moon
Moon in june and sleep till noon
And maybe you and I could fall in love
Regain the spirit that we once had
Youd let me hold you and touch the night
That shines so bright, so bright with fright
Doin a modern dance
Doin a modern dance
Shit, maybe I could go to yucatan
Where women are women, a mans a man
Ah, no one confused, ever loses place
With their place in the human race
Maybe Im not cut out for city life
The smell of exhaust, the smell of strife
And maybe you dont wanna be a wife
Its not a life being a wife
Doin a modern dance
Doin a modern dance
So maybe I should go to tanganyika
Where the rivers run, down mountains tall and steep
Or go to india to study chants
And lose romance to a mantras dance
I need a guru, I need some law
Explain to me the things we saw
Why it always comes to this
Its all downhill after the first kiss
Maybe I should move to rotterdam
Maybe move to amsterdam
I should move to ireland, italy, spain
Afghanistan where there is no rain
Or maybe I should just learn a modern dance
Where roles are shifting the modern dance
You never touch you dont know who youre with
This week, this month, this time of year
This week, this month, this time of year
Doin a modern dance
You dont know who youre with modern dance
I should move to pakistan, go to afghanistan
Dance, you dont know who youre with
Dance, you dont know who youre with
Modern dance
And maybe you dont wanna be a wife
Its not life being a wife
Doin a modern dance
You never touch you dont know who youre with
Dance, modern dance
The roles are shifting dance
You never touch you dont know who youre with
Dance, modern dance
Maybe you dont wanna be a wife
Its not a life being a wife

song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tailback

In a traffic jam and I can see
Daffodils bedeck the ditches,
Benches in a people’s park.

Sideways there is a swamp
Where in the water preening
Stands a swan unperturbed.

A proud heron flies up above:
Once a tall and lordly one
Upheld its native landing rights,
Strutting around the grass
Within a nearby roundabout,
Reclaiming its own wetland.

As my patience in the tailback
Further ticks away from me
A brazen ambulance overtakes
This queue of cars and breaks
With flashing lights of blue
The traffic rules to save a life
By Limerick’s Shannon side
Across The Whistling Bridge.

poem by Matt Mooney
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