Poetry: My Sweet-heart
She was born with me when
I inhaled the first breath;
In infancy she showed herself to me,
In the dim hazy colours of rainbow,
That floated in front of the eyes,
Like an astray flake of coloured cloud.
In childhood she flew in front of me,
Assuming the shape of butterfly,
Stayed close, lingered, hovered over,
The yellow blossomed mustard farms.
In boyhood before the years of maturity,
She played hide and seek,
And I chased her till I did exhaust,
She too oscillated me on the swing,
Under the huge banyan tree,
With thick cool shade.
In the years of adolescence
And the days of full ripeness,
I saw her smiling,
Under the bundle of too lush green grass,
She walked with heart-mincing graceful gait.
Now she dwells in the cottage of my heart,
Thatched with the dried tassels of dreams,
She wipes my tears, consoles me when I weep,
And supports, props my bent body, when I tumble.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Black, White Or Coloured
I was born black and you were born white or coloured;
But we all came from the lovely hands of the Creator,
Because the Creator loves colours!
And like the muse of the rainbow seen across the sky.
I am always black! !
In the sun, in sickness and even when i die;
But the Creator made it so,
And i will be buried as a black when i die.
You were born white or coloured,
But you came out of the womb with the colour of the rose!
And you became whit eor coloured in the process of your growth,
But you are always blue when it is cold.
You do turn green when there is fear in your eyes!
But yellow when you are sick;
And like the various colours of the rainbow as seen across the sky,
But you will be grey when you die.
This shows that i am always black from birth to death,
But you do have various colours to satisfy your muse like the rainbow;
So you are more coloured than i am in this life,
And we all know the reality of these facts on this earth.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Banyan Tree
Banyan tree, banyan tree
that century old banyan tree
standing grandeurly for us to see
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Cool breeze passing through
seeking blessings of banyan tree
branches shaking in approval
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Glassy green with majestic trunk
touching the earth, not breaking free
shelter home for different birds
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Yellowish streaks, some with reddish tinge
welcome every season with a glee
symbol of eternal life
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Shedding leaves, like tears falling
a grandfather lamenting on its knees
new plants cuddling around
banyan tree, banyan tree.
Lord Buddha became its buddy
meditation was the only key
peace you get underneath
that is why it is banyan tree.
Banyan tree, banyan tree
wish fullfilling, it is banyan tree
just pray here and let you see
Banyan tree, banyan tree.
A life giver and just for free
Banyan is my national pride
preserve these at any cost
don't commit a homicide?
God blessed us with banyan tree
heat absorbing banyan tree
has healing powers this banyan tree
banyan tree, banyan tree.
---- X -----
copyright/Children of Lost God/Tribhawan Kaul
All rights reserved
poem by Tribhawan Kaul
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Dreamy Age
Remembering of the dreamy age,
Fills my eyes with tears,
The sights unpolluted and clear,
Now changed into smoky and full of noise,
Where I played with cheerful friends,
Whom ruthless tides have scattered,
As the wind disperses the dried leaves,
A slight before the dead winter,
Some went abroad, some to the Town of Silence
What a delight it was!
At noon under the blue skies,
Running after the butterflies,
Delicate and nicely-colourful,
Spoiling the mustard farms,
Blossomed yellow, sharply fragrant.
The indignant landlady cursed,
Chasing with a stick wet and long,
But we always were out of her access.
In the days of torrential rains,
Under the noses of flowing spouts,
We stood long, making a noise,
The lightening thundered scaring,
Made me afraid, as if we,
The shouting children interrupt.
The grand office of God.
Then for diving and swimming,
Ran to the pond nearby the village,
Beside the huge banyan tree,
What a delicious bat it was!
In the muddy opaque water.
Each delight of child-hood,
Is soul-sucking, worth-recalling,
When before the wintry nights,
Played we all girls and boys,
Out on the ploughed farms,
Hiding in ricks and heaps of fodder.
Under the waning moon,
Unaware to the thoughts obscene.
Often in the downy steeps,
In the deep recesses of thick forest,
Drank water from the trickling fountains,
Carefree, oblivious to woes and worries,
Spent days plucking the sweet berries,
From the thorny branches bending down,
Laden with ripe red fruit.
Sometimes on the rocky ground,
By the luck benevolent we found,
In the fragrant bushes honey wild,
While getting the comb down,
The incensed bees stung the cheeks,
Then returned home swollen faced,
And got chidings kind of the parents.
The intoxicant spring approached,
With thrilling spirit, refreshing hopes,
The soft, gentle breeze blew.
Made the village drowsy fragrant.
In the swaying crops, blooming fields,
Blossomed wild poppies flowering red,
And when we ran bare-footed,
After the fluffy lambs, on the dewy grass,
The birds sang sweet melodies,
Hovered in circles over the head,
Making us feel their presence.
In silence at the warm nights,
A mysterious sound of the distant lute,
Enchanted throwing me into ecstasies.
If the childhood be a commodity,
And I had the heap of gold,
And wealth countless and untold,
I would buy without bargain,
The dreamy age second time.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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The Second Visit (After the Nuclear War)
Oh! Where have gone children, men and women,
The fair featured descendants of Adam and Eve,
I might have come on some disaster-prone planet,
With grim sooty mountains, sterile barren plains,
The treeless valleys extend before my amazed eyes.
Oh! It is the same spot, I vividly summon up,
Though deformed, distorted with horrible looks.
It is the land where the shepherds grazed,
Their sheep, goats and cows from morn to eve.
These were the farms where lush wheat swayed,
And butterflies hovered over the sweet-scented,
The yellow blossomed amphitheatre of sarsoon 1.
The rustic damsels singingly weeded the farms,
Gathering herbs to nourish the bleating goats.
This is the dry banyan tree stands like a ghost,
Where at noon in summer we all took rest,
In its cool shade and played hide and seek,
The older men played cards sitting in circles.
Amid the chirping of sparrows, crowing of crows,
Cooing of doves, and transporting songs,
Of the nightingales and seasonal cuckoos.
Oh! Who are these who drag the bodies,
Like reptiles remotely resemble the human race,
Hairless heads, faces without beards and moustaches,
Shaved brows, sans lashes beady gummy eyes,
The bag-like loose bellies fall on the knees;
Flexible noses hang like lurking beaks.
Arms like jointy-sticks with overgrown hands,
Legs like thick bendy rope made of black polythene.
Here is the rivulet where along with the age fellows,
We took bath in the opaque, muddy water of Saawun 1,
Now I see sitting in lines along the grassless banks,
The post-war generation, outcome of devilish intellect,
Pounce on the crabs, toads and frogs when they
Up rise from the water and some breathless chase
The rodents when they come out of their holes.
And chatter like the swarm of cackling wild-goose,
When the hunter appears from behind the rock,
And with precision points the hunting gun at them.
poem by Muhammad Shanazar
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Childhood Sky
childhood sky is always bright
flying with colourful birds
one exotic hornbill missed
its way to jungle, flew to town
to rest on a neighbour's roof
exhibiting its full splendour
and forever painted itself in
my memory in refreshing
red yellow, horn and all
a migrating egret flew to
a tree right in front of our house,
stayed there like an old wise
white haired man before
flying away my heart with it
the varied coloured pigeons
that turned the roof into their paradise
mating on chimneys, their wings flapping,
crowning in triumph over a female
and their signature rush to build
their nest, holding a straw in their beaks
the way a scintillating professor
out to build a sky of knowledge
for his brood, would
a few of the pigeons even flew
a few kilometres back after having been
given to our cousins holding dear
our hearts high up in the sky
one magpie sang each morn
away on a little chimney provoking me
to speak with it in excited nurseries
a forlorn pigeon waited and
waited till dusk for its companion
to emerge from the ground
disappointed and flew away
a grey world of disappointment*
childhood sky is
always bright with tales
and rains down memories -
sweet, sad, and joyful
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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We Have Been Friends Together
WE have been friends together,
In sunshine and in shade;
Since first beneath the chestnut-trees
In infancy we played.
But coldness dwells within thy heart,
A cloud is on thy brow;
We have been friends together—
Shall a light word part us now?
We have been gay together;
We have laugh’d at little jests;
For the fount of hope was gushing
Warm and joyous in our breasts.
But laughter now hath fled thy lip,
And sullen glooms thy brow;
We have been gay together—
Shall a light word part us now?
We have been sad together,
We have wept, with bitter tears,
O’er the grass-grown graves, where slumber’d
The hopes of early years.
The voices which are silent there
Would bid thee clear thy brow;
We have been sad together—
Oh! what shall part us now?
poem by Caroline Elizabeth Sarah Norton
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What Happened To His Village
He was born just a short distance from Adelaide
And he could see the sea from his back door
And in his young days there were not many houses
But the years have brought great change to Semaphore.
His sea side Village has grown to a coastal suburb
And his old Homeplace has undergone great change
Where once were trees and paddocks now there's houses
A stranger to your old Homeplace seems strange.
What happened to the Village of his childhood
The paddock where he played in years ago
He only can refer now to his memories
Of peaceful place the Homeplace he once did know.
The cottage of his childhood gone forever
A doctor's surgery where once it stood
And not one know him he is now a stranger
In Semaphore the place of his boyhood.
But of the past he still has good old memories
Of his old Village how it used to be
And from the cottage by the wide brown paddock
Six hundred yards off he could see the sea.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The butterfly
I have watched a butterfly now a full half hour
So self-poised upon a yellow budding flower
And a huge winged butterfly with all rainbow colors indeed
I know not if it sleeps or it feeds
How in pure calm motionless it stands on leaf so thin
Even more still as it visits a stump pale with green
And then what joy waits it when the light breeze
Has found it out among the trees
It carried it up, down and away
A whole world on a spangled ray
This plot of Orchard-ground is ours
My son's trees they are, My family flowers
Stop here whenever you are jaded and worry
And take a rest in our green sanctuary
Visit our rich wreathe glorious foreheads of lofty pines
And breathe ambrosial passion from their veins
By the balmy flowers seek refuge from human eye
And smell their scent being shoot to the sky
Come often to us fear no wrong
Sit near us on a balmy bloom of a bough long
We will talk of sunshine and of song
And summer days long lost, for ever gone
When we were young and strong
Our days of youth vigor and rapture sealed in our memory’s throng
My fragile creature, stay, do not take haste your flight
A little longer stray around, delay in my sight
So many converses I have with you in a day bright
You are the historian of my infancy
With you around I can relive my fantasies
Float longer near me, do not yet depart
Tell me again the days of my childhood of lost heart
My sweet times in you I revive
Gay creature as you are to you I owe my strive
You bring solemn images of happy times to my heart
…..
These innocent days of sun and joy free of care
With no worries no burden of life to bare
How sweet, how pleasant were these days
The times when in our childish plays
Some giggling budding girls, few boys and I
Together chased you the flying butterfly
A very hunter did I rush
Upon my prey I leapt, I sprang, I fell
And the heavy odor of the trodden grass I smell
Oh that precious moment in me forever dwells
I lay on my back aloof and watched the sky
The thin gray cloud was spread on high
Sealed and carved in my bosom stone
Inside my very marrow bone
I got up and followed you from brake to bush
In open meadows in dales over brooks and creeks
As the sun of dusk sets behind the mountains peaks
But at the very last moment I feared to brush
The feathered dust from off your wings
This sweet joyful time makes my heart sink
Under huge broad-breast old oak tree lush and green
With trunk and boughs spread with bubbles skin
There under the tree in the warm summer day
I kissed a young maid with gems entangled in her hair
The day was not harsh no clouds in gray
The forest was in full foliage not bare
And the wind moaned soughing bleak
As I kissed her warm enthralling cheek
Yet there was not enough wind in the air
To move away the bright ringlet curl
From her lovely soft cheek
The swans’ lake flapped their wings
And trumped their shrieks in full beak to sing
And as I was sunk in this heavenly bliss
My eyes caught in swift a glance of the lovely valley of her breast
The smell of her silken robe and the scent of her inner vest
Shy and perplexed at her first maiden kiss
Painting in passionate pangs she looked for a liss
She folded her arms beneath her cloak
And she stole to the other side of the oak
At once into the summer air you bounced and flew
And took my joyous soul to fly away with you
Fly, Fly and tower into vaults of heights and heavenly bowers
Creature of sun and joy, wind and sky
My memories of past glory, my soul are with you even as I die
And return to us right after spring thundering showers
Guard yourself from the evil behind your magnificent wings
Hide yourself from the storm, the rain, and the howling winds
The forest gloom foster danger with deadly weight
which haunts us in some sad reverse of fate
Pass by lakes pores and ocean shores
Leap and rest on the back of cloudy rack sailing in ore
A child born out of his mother sweet womb
To turn into a hovering ghost over his stone tomb
Fly butterfly over earth and ocean with waving holy motion
Ride on winds that shake the dew drops that wake
The sweet budding spring flowers in balmy bowers
Carry these divine memories of joy and love to contend eternally with stars above.
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The May Flower Tree
I was walking lone there,
Where we once had been.
I sought the house we lived in,
In the lush lush green.
Perhaps inmates out, I thought,
As none I could see.
She has been haunting ever,
Where's May Flower Tree?
Looked around and discovered,
Ah! she lost her grace!
Hugged her with my eager hands,
Alone at that place.
Touched her old bark earnestly,
Felt the touch of past.
Childhood cried in deep deep pain,
Days crept in we passed.
Suddenly the tree turned green,
The Sun shone brightly.
I saw the May Flower Tree,
An emblem of Infancy!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Mustard field
One day while walking in a mustard field,
I found a swing hanging on a mango tree,
mustard flowers were swirling with breeze,
birds were singing on tree,
there I found a swing on mango tree,
its ropes were long and thick,
I rode on it,
it moved up in the air like a bird,
and return back to move up there,
I saw a well from up there,
and bird nest on tree on back in the air,
the swing was moving here and there,
it was not aware of who I am,
just it was giving me feeling divine,
without any question or discrimination,
I found joy to fill my heart and I lived that moment like a bird!
poem by Hemu Gupta
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Wash Away Those Years
She came calling
One early morning
She showed her crown of thorns
She whispered softly
To tell a story
About how she had been wronged
As she lay lifeless
He stole her innocence
And this is how she carried on
This is how she carried on
Well I guess she closed her eyes
And just imagined everything's alright
But she could not hide her tears
'Cause they were sent to wash away those years
They were sent to wash away those years
My anger's violent
But still I'm silent
When tragedy strikes at home
I know this decadence Is shared by millions
Remember you're not alone
Remember you're not alone
Well if you just close your eyes
And just imagine everything's alright
But do not hide your tears
'Cause they were sent to wash away those years
Well if you just close your eyes
And just imagine everything's alright
But do not hide your tears
'Cause they were sent to wash away those years
They were sent to wash away those years
Maybe we can wash away those years
For we have crossed many oceans
And we labor in between
In life there are many quotients
And I hope I find the mean
the mean
song performed by by Creed from Human Clay
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Childhood Faded Away
My childhood has faded away
In those days I had no bills to pay.
I close my eyes and remember those days.
Childhood dreams filled with love,
Hide and seek, my baseball glove,
No heavy chains,
Warm summer rains.
Fiery dragons, flying high in the sky,
Pirate ships, Captain Bligh.
Munching sweet apples,
Candy peppermint,
Rosy red cheeks,
Innocense.
Long ago, not by chance,
Under my bed, monsters danced.
Through the years a backward glance,
Wishing I had my bell bottom pants.
Eyes so bright,
Flying a kite,
Birds singing cheeful songs.
Quiet days, star filled nights,
Winter snow, on frozen lawns.
I wish that I was back today,
But I've put that life far away,
My childhood moments that I recall,
Childhood years, were the best of all.
poem by Philip Lore
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A Christmas Tree! A Christmas Tree!
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
With dark green needled memories
Of childhood dreams and mysteries
Wrapped present-like in front of me.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
I glimpse a past wherein i see
The child that then grew into me
Not forward fast but haltingly.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
A time for being with family
A time that's gone so fleetingly
Yet lives for always deep in me.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
When twelfth night comes whole hauntingly
One lingered look and then i see
No Christmas tree where it would be.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
With feelings now felt longingly
No corner in my house to see
The magic of that Christmas tree.
poem by David Keig
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Intense Love
In my heart and in front of my eyes
If something or somebody lies
It is nothing but it is your fond memories
If the soul doesn't find you beside me
Then ask me what is an uneasy and jittery?
Among people how I feel lonely!
As if my life will end and meet with death
My blood starts to clot and chocks my breath
The heaven cracks and the hell starts to turn green
All hopes and dreams lost in the chaos and din
In the mind is going on a storm and lighting
As if the solar system has stopped its spinning.
Worries unsettle and tension kills me slowly
Your memories are not letting me die peacefully.
Your thought thrills me to the core very deeply
The pulse and the heart start beating quickly.
Even For a moment If I don't see you in front of my eyes
The whole body starts to shake and the soul cries
My nerve breaks and the heart starts to fret in fear
So Come close, more close so that we can smell each other.
poem by Abdul Wahab
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The Picnic Tree
The picnic tree
abandoned years ago
in a forest
that was once lush
and full of life and love
I sit beneath it
closed eyes
and imagining
my grandparents
newly wed
sitting in the meadow
full of little white flowers,
lush Kentucky blue grass,
and a picnic
all under a tree
I imagine
a grill getting stuck in the tree
only to rust its way to the ground
to be discovered
by younger generations
on four wheelers
the picnic tree
is true history
poem by Suzie Quincy
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Poor Girl
Air that she inhaled
Stabbed her heart
Ice blood running through her veins
She closed her eyes
And exhale
But her souls was empty
When the clock announced noon...
She looked at the mirror
And saw an orange jacket
Sitting on a bed of an angel
Who is he?
The tears that she had in her eyes blinded its face
A lonely heart celebrated with pains
And her tears couldn't fulfill her dreams
And her words flew with the wind
And the air that she inhaled
Stabbed her heart
Ice blood running through her veins again.
poem by Sandy Germain
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No Christmas Tree Where It Should Be
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
With dark green needled memories
Of childhood dreams and mysteries
Wrapped present-like in front of me.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
I glimpse a past wherein i see
The child that then grew into me
Not forward fast but haltingly.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
A time for being with family
A time that's gone so fleetingly
Yet lives for always deep in me.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
When twelfth night comes whole hauntingly
One lingered look and then i see
No Christmas tree where it would be.
A Christmas tree! A Christmas tree!
With feelings now felt tearfully
No home, no kids surrounding me
No corner in my house to see
The magic of that Christmas tree.
poem by David Keig
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A Dog's Life
Sixteen years, now almost seventeen,
I've played at stick and ball, stayed seldom still
until good master's call would whistle shrill
to lead me back - no need to smack. Sight keen.
Sixteen years tail's wagged as faithful friend,
as boon companion, running round fun years.
His mother passed away, I shared the tears
that fountained forth and never seemed to end.
Sixteen years round each revolving moon
from hearth and home I pick up slightest sound,
ears prick, eyes bright, in sight I'm always found
to hold my ground, though often play buffoon.
Sixteen years, come rain or shine, we walk
twice, sometimes thrice a day, I sense each smell
around the house, tell friends from rascals well,
and after dinner hear the table talk.
Sixteen years from pet to family,
from playful pat to priceless kith and kin,
I vet as threat who'd twins' affections win,
can smell a rat or chase cat up a tree.
Sixteen years I've watched the children grow,
suffered unruly hands that now caress,
I guard them still, still at the same address,
as I will willing till my turn to go.
Sixteen years saw summers shedding hair,
saw autumns' colours charm birds from the trees,
saw winter whiteness whose bare branches' frieze
prepared for springs unbounded, weather fair.
Sixteen years, milk - nap - home-made pap brew,
from toothless start, heart full, until depart,
toothless, heart filled beyond all man may chart,
life's cycle spins till ready to renew.
Sixteen years that gambolled life away,
with water, beef and bone, I've played at will.
Scents seem less sharp today, and soon I will
make my last bow - still in thrill dreams I play!
Revised 6 August 2007 Previous Title Sixteen Years
(5 January 1992)
poem by Jonathan Robin
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In Front Of Me
In front of me
In her wide, terrace home
She sat on the old rattan chair
Her body was thin
Her hollow eyes to muse in the sky
She wants tell a definite story
Which keep a more forty years ago?
With fear and apprehensive, under the old bones
Because of politic rumors and propaganda,
To lead astray and bring misfortune,
To day, In front of me, a grand ma told me her story
Story of her husband, which she keeps a more 40 years ago
Who had been arrested by military regime?
Because mismanagement, same name
But different person
One is my father friend,
And the other one, a teacher who became member of PGRI Non Vacsentral
Under bow of Indonesian Communist Party
I am and so your mother, both is member
Of democrat women, under bow of PNI Party
But because mismanagement under military regime,
My husband arrested,
As PKI members,
Without any explanation
Where my children need schooling, food for eat
And cloth, house for protect them in growth
However, to day, after forty years she feels free
After told all what happened
Of her husband and all of their suffering
In front of me
All of her depression
All of her oppress
Was free, like butterfly flying on the flower
Of her new gardens
In front of her home terrace
Bogor,11/01/06 15: 33: 34
poem by Prasetya Utama
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My world is beautiful!
My world is beautiful,
My worlds are beautiful,
Always it will,
Life is full of Nature's bounties
My sweet mother caress and
cares me,
Me and my friends, We look beautiful with what she
gave us,
We make our world happy and
beautiful,
Not worrying,
what she didn't give! I and my friends play hide and
seek,
Colourful butterfly,
Hide behind Flowers,
How thrilling to find these flying
flowers, butterflies dancing to my Heart's silent song! Flowers filling perfume to air,
Adding colours to life,
Shining Sun make them bright,
Lonesome dove sings at dawn,
Goodmorning dear,
Wake up and look at the world, sailing clouds say,
' have a nice day'
Gentle breeze keeping us cool,
Plants swing to my silent song! Flowers smiling in my lap,
Filling my heart with joy,
Dove fly around me and sings in
ears,
Look at smiling innocent flowers,
They smile at you, Though you kill them,
Separating their mother,
Listen to silent cry of plants,
Silent mourning of butterflies,
Can't you mourn,
yes now I am mourning and my heart weeps at death of smiling
flowers! Taking oath in presence of my
friends,
'Never will I kill flowers '!
my days will be more happy and
nice,
With playful smile of flowers!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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