Inspired by Issa - Village Child
village child tells
city boy where and how
to get an eel
inspired by
the village child
makes a river branch...
melting snow
-Issa,1793
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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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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The snow is melting
The snow is melting
and the village is flooded
with children.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
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Inspired by Issa - Melting snow
melting snow -
warming up the day
my cup of milk coffee
inspired by
melting snow-
the morning voices
of pilgrims
-Issa,1810
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Story Of Ali Rıza And Ahmet
How strange is the story of
Ali Rıza and Ahmet
One lives in the village
The other in the city
And every morning
The one in the city goes to the village
And the one in the village to the city
poem by Orhan Veli Kanik
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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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The River of Desire
On the banks of the River of Desire
The abodes of our Gods are empty
The Gods deserted our village long ago
Leaving behind all the sanctums
Their broken walls yielded fine bricks
For the masonry of our village homes.
The River meandered around our village
Threatening to swallow our temples
Our children have hunger in their eyes
We have no oil to light God’s lamps
The River now threatens to swallow
Our parched paddy fields and our homes.
poem by Jagannath rao Adukuri
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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 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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Victoria's Secret
She fell in love secretly with someone because of lust and,
She had sex with the boy who impregnated her and left her alone;
And now, she who is called Victoria is with a child in her teenage;
For, this had been her secret all along in the village that she grew up with.
Victori's secret,
And of all the boys that she slept with in this village;
Yes, in her teenage without a clue by playing around with her nakedness!
All in the name of lust by sleeping with the boys around,
But, she who is called Victoria is now with a child! !
And, there is no father to take care of this child.
Love is a beautiful thing and hate is like the grave!
But lust has taken control over true love in our various societies;
And, most of the teenage girls are with babies without fathers.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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River Korotoa
(DEDICATED TO SHOVA
A FRIEND)
..................................
THE RIVER KOROTOA
THROUGH THE VILLAGE IT FLOWS,
WITH ALL HER BEAUTY AND SPLASH
ROUND AND ROUND THE SILVERY STREAM GOES.
BESIDE THE GREEN PADDY FIELD,
ON IT`S WAY THE KOROTOA RUNS
DAWN TO DUSK SHE GURGLES AND HUMS.
WHEN THE MOON COMES DOWN
OH YOU SEE WHEN YOU FEEL LONELY,
AND THE VILLAGE GOES ROUND.
RIVER GOES LIKE THE GIRL SHOVA
WHO LIVES BESIDE THE BANK OF KOROTOA.
OH THE DREAMY RIVER RUNS
TO DONATE SILT TO THE FARMER
AH THE MUSICAL RHYTHM
WHEN IT PASSES THE VILLAGE DAUGHTER.
YOU THE RIVER KOROTOA
SO BLUE AND CLEAN
LIKE THE LOVE OF SHOVA
WHISPERS AND MURMURS DURING THE SPRING.
(RIVER KOROTOA-NEARLY DYING)
poem by Sohel Mahamud
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There's an assumption in many of these cultures that these children are mentally retarded, when in fact they're not at all. I saw how the operation affects the child, as well as the child's family and often the village.
quote by Roma Downey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Give your child a Heart.
Give your child a heart, Oh, Mother
Give your child a heart.
Heart that makes them kind
Oh, Mother, heart that rules the mind.
Give your child a heart, Oh, Mother
Give your child a heart.
Heart that makes them wise
Oh, Mother, heart that fights the vice.
Give your child a heart, Oh, Mother
Give your child a heart.
Heart that tells them to care
Oh, Mother, heart that tells them to share.
Give your child a heart, Oh, Mother
Give your child a heart.
Heart that nourishes the hurt
Oh, Mother, heart that consoles the heart.
.
.
posted on 14-06-2008
Copyright ©®2008, Palas Kumar Ray. All rights reserved.
poem by Palas kumar Ray
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Ahinful
In the thick forest of my own village,
With the light from the moon to guide us on;
But, this valley is 12 feet wide! !
And like the muse of love in the land of many roses.
Stand, brand, and, strand, band, grand, land, Ireland;
And like the muse of love around a candle stand,
But this moon gives us light in the dark around this village.
Words!
Being with the muse of kindness;
Love!
Being with a child in this village;
Works!
Labouring in pain;
But near at hand to respect your muse! !
For, the light of the moon guides us on in this village.
Plan and scheme,
Hope and dreams,
Works and acts,
And, to secure a place! !
But, Ahinful my lover is still in the thick forest.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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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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Song Of Being A Child
When the child was a child
It walked with arms hanging
Wanted the stream to be a river and the river a torrent
And this puddle, the sea
When the child was a child, it didnt know
It was a child
Everything for it was filled with life and all life was one
Saw the horizon without trying to reach it
Couldnt rush itself and think on command
Was often terribly bored
And couldnt wait
Passed up greeting the moments
And prayed only with its lips
When the child was a child
It didnt have an opinion about a thing
Had no habits
Often sat crossed-legged, took off running
Had a cow lick in its hair
And didnt put on a face when photographed
When the child was a child
It was the time of the following questions
Why am I me and why not you
Why am I here and why not there
Why did time begin and where does space end
Isnt what I see and hear and smell
Just the appearance of the world in front of the world
Isnt life under the sun just a dream
Does evil actually exist in people
Who really are evil
Why cant it be that I who am
Wasnt before I was
And that sometime i, the i, I am
No longer will be the i, I am
When the child was a child
It gagged on spinach, on peas, on rice pudding
And on steamed cauliflower
And now eats all of it and not just because it has to
When the child was a child
It woke up once in a strange bed
And now time and time again
Many people seem beautiful to it
And now not so many and now only if its lucky
It had a precise picture of paradise
And now can only vaguely conceive of it at best
It couldnt imagine nothingness
And today shudders in the face of it
Go for the ball
Which today rolls between its legs
With its Im here it came
Into the house which now is empty
When the child was a child
It played with enthusiasm
And now only with such former concentration
Where its work is concerned
When the game, task, activity, subject happens to be its work
When the child was a child
It was enough to live on apples and bread. and its still that way
When the child was a child berries fell
Only like berries into its hand. and still do
The fresh walnuts made its tongue raw. and still do
Atop each mountain it craved
Yet a higher mountain. and in each city it craved
Yet a bigger city. and still does
Reach for the cherries in the treetop
As elated as it still is today
Was shy in front of strangers. and still is
It waited for the first snow. and still waits that way
When the child was a child
It waited restlessly each day for the return of the loved one
And still waits that way
When the child was a child
It hurled a stick like a lance into a tree
And its still quivering there today
The child, the child was a child
Was a child, was a child, was a child, was a child
Child, child, child
When the child, when the child, when the child
When the child, when the child
The child, child, child, child, child
(added words by van morrison)
And on and on and on and on, etc. and onward
With a sense of wonder
Upon the highest hill. upon the highest hill
When the child was a child
Are you there
Shassas, shassas
Up on a highest hill
When the child was a child, was a child, was a child
Was a child, was a child, was a child, etc.
(fade to end)
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Inspired by Issa - Telling the sky
telling the sky all your grouses,
magpie, is there no one
to help you?
inspired by
are you calling
for your devoted child?
evening sparrow
-Issa,1819
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Child In These Hills
I am a child in these hills
I am away
I am alone
I am a child in these hills
And looking for water
And looking for life
Who will show me the river and ask my name?
Is there nobody here wholl do that?
Well I have come to these hills
I will come to the river
As I choose to be gone from the house of my father
I am a child in these hills
I am a child
Chased from the gates of the city where no one had touched me
I am away
I am alone
I am a child in these hills
And looking for water
And looking for life
Who will show me the river and ask me my name?
Is there nobody here wholl do that?
Well I have come to these hills
I will come to the river
As I choose to be gone from the house of my father
I am a child in these hills
I am a child
I am a child
I am a child
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Electric Eel Song
Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Take out you’ foot
From the black river water
Haul out you’ hand
Out the slow river water
Stay ‘pon the bank
Of the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
Shadow ‘pon the bottom
Is the eel in the river
Something like you’ hand
Is the eel in the river
Swimming like you’ foot
Is the eel in the river
Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Foot after foot
Though the black river water
She can’t touch the bottom
Out the slow river water
Shirt like umbrella
In the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
Cutlass shape
Is the eel in the river
Black blade or brown
Is the eel in the river
Dozing so quiet
Is the eel in the river
Ay! me one child Ay-eeee!
Ay! me one daughter
Slap of a tail
Through the black river water
Shiver like ague
Out the slow river water
As if she take cramp
Of the cold river water
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
Electric eel
Is the eel in the river
No blood, just a thrill
Is the eel in the river
Lightning bold
Is the eel in the river
And she Drown now, she chilly
Is the eel in the river
Ay! me one daughter
Ay! me one child! Ay-eeee!
poem by Slade Hopkinson
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Don't know about the people
Approaching my village:
Don't know about the people,
but all the scarecrows
are crooked.
Translated by Robert Hass
poem by Kobayashi Issa
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Inspired by Issa - A screaming child
a screaming child
as auntie lifts knife
to chop frog's head
inspired by
pond snails sing
they're in the kettle
but don't know it
-Issa,1812
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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